After ensuring his weapon was ready, Caelum removed his sister's body from the inventory. He stepped outside into the night, cradling her in his arms one last time. The cool air was a stark reminder of the cold reality he now faced. He knew he had to cremate her; in a world rife with dark magic, even the sanctity of a grave could be violated. The thought of necromancers desecrating her resting place was unbearable.
Finding a secluded spot near the cabin, Caelum gathered dry wood and leaves, constructing a makeshift pyre. As he laid his sister's body atop it, his heart was heavy with grief and unspoken apologies. Striking a flint, he lit the pyre, the flames slowly consuming the wood, casting a warm, flickering light in the darkness.
"Goodbye, little sister," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I promise, your death will not be in vain."
Caelum stood vigil as the fire crackled and hissed, the smoke carrying away the last physical remnants of his sister. He watched until the flames dwindled into embers, a solemn guardian to her final journey.
Caelum had just completed the solemn task of cremating his sister when he turned his attention to the next poignant duty. He retrieved the body of the mother Umbrawolf from the system's inventory, placing it atop another pile of wood. The arrangement was less ceremonial but sufficient for the purpose at hand. As he prepared the pyre, his mind was awash with memories of the fierce battle that had led to this moment, the primal ferocity of the creature, and the tragic circumstances that had brought them both to this fate.
With the pyre ready, Caelum activated the Companion System, summoning the newborn Umbrawolf pup from its sanctuary. The system had been a fortuitous discovery, forcefully awakened when Caelum had formed an unexpected bond with the tiny creature. The Companion System, designed to care for and nurture beasts, had provided a haven for the pup, ensuring its well-being and recovery from the trauma of its birth and subsequent loss.
The pup, though it had spent less than a day in the Companion System, looked notably better. Its fur was cleaner, and there was a newfound vitality in its eyes. Caelum held the pup gently in his hands, feeling the faint warmth of its small body. He looked down at the creature.
"Say your goodbyes to your mother," he whispered softly.
The pup whimpered softly, its small head turning towards the motionless form of the mother Umbrawolf. There was a moment of poignant silence as the tiny creature seemed to sense the finality of the situation. Caelum's expression softened, a rare glimpse of the compassion that lay beneath his hardened exterior.
He placed the pup down near the pyre, allowing it a moment with its mother. The scene was a stark reminder of the brutal realities of this world, where life and death were often entwined in a relentless dance of survival.
After a few moments, Caelum gently picked up the pup and stepped back. He struck a flint, igniting the pyre. Flames quickly enveloped the wood, casting a warm glow in the cool night air. The fire crackled and hissed, consuming the remains of the mother Umbrawolf, a final farewell to a creature that had fought valiantly to protect its young.
Caelum watched the flames, lost in thought. The harsh lessons of this world were evident in the flames that devoured wood and flesh alike. Life was a fragile and fleeting thing, easily extinguished by the unforgiving hand of fate.
Picking through the ashes of the pyre, Caelum's fingers closed around a small, hardened object – the Monster Core of the mother Umbrawolf. It was a poignant momento, the only physical remnant of the fierce creature that had fought so valiantly. Turning to the pup, he presented the core, his voice devoid of any softness, "Your mother's last gift. Use it." With those words, he sent both the core and the pup back to the safety of the Companion System. Monster Cores were prized resources in this world, but Caelum's code of honor forbade him from taking the core for himself. It belonged to the pup, a final legacy from its mother.
The night air was heavy with the scent of smoke as Caelum turned back towards the witch's cabin. His body ached from the day's exertions, and his mind was weary, but there was still work to be done. Stepping over the threshold, he eyed the witch's lifeless body, a reminder of the brutal necessity of survival in this world. "She probably has a bounty on her head," he mused. It was common knowledge that witches, especially those skilled in dark arts, often found themselves targets of guilds and townsfolk alike.
With a pragmatic resolve, Caelum stored the witch's body in his inventory, intending to check for any potential rewards later. He then scoured the cabin, seeking a suitable place to rest. His eyes, still sharp despite the fatigue, scrutinized every corner, every shadow, ensuring there were no more surprises waiting for him.
Finding a small cot tucked away in a corner, he approached it warily. It was a humble resting place, but it would suffice. Before lying down, Caelum checked his system interface, ensuring that all skills, abilities, and inventory items were in order. His meticulous nature, a trait from his past life as Eclipse, afforded him a sense of control in this chaotic world.
As he lay down, his thoughts drifted to the path that lay ahead. The challenges he had faced thus far were just the beginning.
The night passed in uneasy silence, the only sound the occasional crackle of the dying fires outside. Caelum's sleep was fitful, plagued by memories of his past life and the brutal realities of his current existence. He dreamt of battles and bloodshed, of the weight of loss and the burden of vengeance.
As dawn broke, casting a pale light through the cabin's small window, Caelum stirred. His body was stiff, his muscles protesting the previous day's exertions. He rose, his movements deliberate and purposeful. There was no time for rest; each new day brought its own set of challenges and dangers.
Looking at the cabin one last time, Caelum stepped into the early light of dawn, his shadow stretching long across the dew-dampened grass. The events of the night lingered in his mind like ghosts, haunting his every step.
The village, once a haven of warmth and simplicity, now loomed in his mind as a place of unspeakable horror. He remembered the screams, the smell of burning thatch, and the sight of his parents, lifeless, their bodies discarded like broken dolls. The images were vivid, merciless in their clarity. He needed to return, to face the remnants of his past, however painful it might be.
Caelum's steps were resolute, driven by a purpose that transcended mere revenge. It was about closure, about honoring the dead and acknowledging the brutal reality that had become his life. The journey was silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant calls of awakening wildlife. The world seemed oblivious to the turmoil within him, carrying on in its timeless rhythm.
As he neared the village, the familiar sights twisted into something grotesque in his memory. Each landmark, each path, was a reminder of what had been and what was lost. The village gate, once a symbol of safety, now stood as a grim sentinel to a place of massacre.
Caelum's steps slowed as he passed through the gate. The destruction was evident – buildings were charred, the ground was littered with remnants of the battle, and an oppressive silence hung in the air. He walked through the village, his eyes scanning the ruins, searching for any sign of his parents' bodies.
His search was met with a crushing realization; their bodies were gone. Whether taken by scavengers or desecrated by dark magic, he could not tell. The absence of their remains was a final, brutal blow, severing the last physical ties to his former life. Caelum felt a hollow ache in his chest, a void where grief and rage churned in a tumultuous storm.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. There would be no proper farewell, no chance to lay their bodies to rest as he had done for his sister. This reality was a bitter pill to swallow, a reminder of the merciless nature of the world he now inhabited.
Caelum's gaze turned towards the center of the village, where the communal hall once stood. Now it was nothing but a skeletal structure, its charred beams reaching like bony fingers into the sky. It was here that his life had changed forever, where the bandits had unleashed their cruelty.
Suddenly, a pungent smell caught Caelum's nose. It was the unmistakable scent of ash and fire. Drawn by curiosity and a sense of foreboding, he walked towards the source. What he found was a giant pyre, its ashes still warm. Someone had cremated all the bodies in the village. But who? His eyes scanned the vicinity until they landed on a figure standing near the ashes — Elara.