Two days had passed now and the injured soldiers were getting betterand recovering well. So they were getting use to the village and the other soldiers and youths.
In the garrison's field, the air was thick with tales of valor and whispers of awe. Soldiers huddled in small groups, their voices a low hum, as they recounted the exploits of young Levis. His name was on every tongue, his deeds the stuff of legend. They spoke of his unwavering determination, his courage that shone like a beacon, even in the absence of magic. The two soldiers who had witnessed his prowess firsthand during the hunt couldn't contain their admiration. They regaled their comrades with the tale of how Levis, the magicless wonder, had executed a perfect liver shot on his very first hunt—a feat that left even the most seasoned warriors impressed.
Their conversation shifted to Travis, whose spirit was as untamed as the wild winds. His approach might have been reckless, but it was underscored by a strength and honesty that commanded respect. His will was an unbreakable force, a testament to the raw and earnest nature of his character.
Meanwhile, within the dimly lit confines of the alchemist's store, a storm was brewing. Klaus stood face to face with his mother, Serena, their argument reaching a fever pitch. The air crackled with tension as Klaus demanded to know the forbidden method that could save Ryker—the one technique Serena swore she would never use. Her resolve was ironclad, born of the harrowing memories of soldiers who had paid the ultimate price, their magic extinguished, their lives forfeit. Ryker was more than just a patient to her; he was only like a son to her, and she would not risk his life for a cure that carried such a heavy toll.
In a desperate bid to sway her, Klaus led Serena to a secluded room within the garrison's stone walls. It was there, amidst the shadows and echoes of the past, that Serena unveiled the truth that had long been buried. She spoke of a time sixteen years prior when Klaus's grandfather, Jamale, had laid down his mantle as the general of the northern city, haunted by the aftermath of the dark lord's war.
Her voice trembled as she recounted the dark magic that had ensnared Klaus's father seventeen years ago—a malevolent force unlike any she had encountered. As an alchemist on the war front, she had been confronted with the impossible: a magic that defied all known cures and brought only death to those it touched. Klaus's father had been a bastion of strength, enduring days of agony as he fought against the darkness that sought to claim him. Serena had possessed the knowledge to save him, but it required a sacrifice—either the blood of the spell caster or a vast wellspring of magical essence.
The dark lord had vanished, leaving no trace behind after a cataclysmic battle with the five generals, of whom only Jamale had survived. With no other options, Jamale had made the ultimate sacrifice, offering himself as the vessel to purge the darkness. The spell had exacted a heavy price, leaving Jamale bedridden for a year, his magic forever lost, yet he had managed to achieve something miraculous with the last of his power. Beside there was another reason which was the main cause of jamale fate unknown only by a few.
And so, they had retreated from the world, their noble service earning them a special status bestowed by the kind-hearted King Leones. But the mystery lingered—how had a mere goblin come to wield such devastating magic? It was a question that hung unanswered in the air until a sudden realization struck Serena like a bolt of lightning.
"You did kill the goblin responsible, didn't you?" she asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of hope and fear.
"Yes, mother, I did. And I even took its..." Klaus's voice trailed off as the implications dawned on them both. There, in Klaus's bag, lay the severed head of the goblin, its blood a potential key to the potion they desperately needed.
With newfound purpose, Serena hastened to her storeroom, gathering the necessary ingredients with trembling hands. She returned to Ryker's side, sealing themselves within the room as a plume of white smoke began to seep from beneath the door. Moments later, she emerged, her expression grave as she requested the goblin's blood. The head was passed to her with solemn reverence, and they retreated once more into the smoke-filled chamber.
Time seemed to stand still as they labored over the potion. Finally, Serena reappeared, her face etched with exhaustion and determination. She instructed everyone to vacate the premises, her voice carrying the weight of the world. With a final incantation in the ancient orcish tongue, she invoked a spell of such power that the white smoke billowing from the house turned a sinister shade of black.
The fate of Ryker now hung in the balance, his struggle a solitary one within the confines of his mind. Serena's words echoed through the empty rooms: "It's all left to Ryker now. It's his fight from here on." And with that, Ryker was left to confront the illusion that ensnared him, his destiny his own to forge.
Dawn's gentle light crept through the window, casting a warm glow over the room where Ryker lay, his body still, his breath shallow. As the first rays of sunlight kissed his eyelids, he stirred, and his eyes fluttered open to reveal a world bathed in golden hues. For a fleeting moment, he was fifteen again, standing in the verdant fields of his youth, where the pumpkins grew heavy on the vine.
The memory was vivid, a tapestry woven with threads of innocence and wonder. He remembered the weight of the basket, brimming with the fruits of his labor, suddenly as light as a feather in his grasp. Magic had awakened within him, a surge of power that coursed through his veins, lifting the pumpkins with an ease that left him breathless. His heart raced with exhilaration, and he abandoned the field in a sprint, eager to share the miraculous discovery with his parents for he was a rare case of late bloomers. The dream of joining the king's ranks, once a distant star, now seemed within reach, his path illuminated by the newfound magic that promised a future of glory and honor.
But as the sun dipped below the horizon, the day's joy was smothered by the night's terror. The village, once a haven of laughter and life, became a stage for a nightmare. The air was thick with the cries of the helpless and the scent of smoke as goblins descended like a plague, their greed and malice leaving nothing but ash and sorrow in their wake.
Ryker, untrained and unarmed, faced the horde with nothing but raw determination. His hands found a sharp stone, an extension of his will, and with it, he struck down his first foe. Yet, amidst the chaos, a sight more harrowing than any beast stopped him cold—the image of his mother, engulfed in flames, her tears evaporating in the heat. His father, valiant to the last, fell victim to the same cruel fate, their lives extinguished by the very goblin Ryker had wounded.
Fury ignited within him, a blaze that dwarfed the fires consuming his home. With a primal scream, he shattered the goblin's skull, his stone soaked in vengeance. But victory was short-lived, as pain lanced through his chest—a parting gift from the creature he thought to have slayed. The world dimmed, his strength waned, and he felt himself slipping away, cradled by the arms of a stranger who spirited him from death's embrace.
Time lost meaning as darkness enveloped him, a void where only whispers of life remained. Yet, within that abyss, a spark endured, a stubborn defiance that refused to be quenched. Warmth returned, a gentle tide pushing back the shadows, and with a gasp, Ryker clawed his way back to the present.
Three days had passed in the world outside his mind, three days since he had been left to battle the phantoms of his past. Now, as he lay in the quiet room, the weight of the illusion lifted, Ryker found himself whole once more. His wounds, both physical and ethereal, had healed, and he rose from the bed, a man reborn, free from the chains of his haunted memories. The battle was over, and Ryker had emerged victorious, ready to face the dawn of a new day.