Sorry for the delay. The university enrollment turned out to be more complicated than expected. I was supposed to do it yesterday, but there was an issue with the paperwork provided incorrectly by the institution itself, which caused a series of additional setbacks on top of those I already had. I managed to solve most of them, so all that's left now is some luck tomorrow. I'll finish this chapter, upload it, get some sleep, and tomorrow I'll complete the enrollment process at the university. Wish me luck! I hope to get back to the usual publishing schedule soon.
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Previous chapter.
A smile spread across his face as a thought crossed his mind.
"After all... the Outcast has no home, just wanders the world."
Turning around, Merlin extended his fishing lines, closing the curtains of the window, and concluding this chapter
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At dawn, a beam of light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room and forcing Merlín to squint. He stretched, letting out a deep sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed and stood up.
"Today my journey officially begins... I hope I enjoy it."
He started getting ready, putting on a black compression shirt and loose white pants, secured with a belt. Inside, he carried the Enchiridion and some potions stored in a compartment.
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Next, he took some bandages and wrapped them around his arms up to his elbows, finishing them around his fists in the style of boxing wraps.
Taking fishing threads, he carefully wrapped them around his arms and fingers, then made a quick motion with his hand; the threads, guided by his mana, brought the tunic hanging from the coat rack toward him.
He put it on over everything and took a final look around the room, tidying it up in seconds with his threads.
"It was good while it lasted…" he said softly before turning around, taking the Gladius resting by the door. He secured it on his back with mana and closed the door behind him.
Walking down the inn's hallway, he descended the stairs and gave a slight nod of his head to the owner, who bid him farewell with a warm smile.
"Come back whenever you want."
Once outside, Merlín felt the gazes of the people on him. This time, however, it wasn't the usual curiosity about his outfit or long white hair; it was looks full of anxiety and uncertainty.
The streets, usually bustling at this time, now seemed deserted. The people who were still visible passed quickly and silently, their heads down, almost as if they feared being seen.
Merlín walked steadily through the silent streets, leaving the inn behind.
His gaze swept over the dull buildings, the closed doors, and the windows with their curtains drawn.
The whole of Melen seemed enveloped in a gloomy and tense atmosphere, as if the city was holding its breath. He could feel the fear of its inhabitants hanging in the air, dense and palpable.
Merlín arrived at Gorim's forge and entered without knocking. Inside, he saw Gorim, holding an object wrapped in cloth and cradling it gently, as if saying goodbye to an old friend.
"Merlín…" Gorim said without looking up, clutching the object that appeared to be a spear covered in cloth.
Merlín stood silently in the doorway, watching and listening attentively.
"You know, Merlín..." Gorim began, stroking the object with nostalgia. "I'm a blacksmith who, once upon a time, dreamed of forging a weapon worthy of legends..."
As he spoke, he slowly unwrapped the cloth, revealing what he had been holding so dearly.
"For that dream," he continued, "I devoted myself to reading about every ancient and legendary weapon I could find. Anything that spoke of those powerful relics caught my attention. I read about the Thunder Sword of the great hero Argonaut and about the magical sword created by Crozzo, swords that were truly weapons..."
With a sigh, Gorim finally uncovered the spear: a completely black and elegant piece, of imposing beauty.
"It was then," he continued, "that I threw myself into blacksmithing, practicing tirelessly. My goal was to create a weapon that could cast magic, a sword capable of rivaling spirits. But soon, I realized that no matter how hard I tried, creating a magical sword was impossible for someone like me."
The frustration was evident on his face and in his voice.
"I don't have the gift of magic. Even getting the Falna of a god and years of effort didn't grant it to me..."
Gorim held the spear in front of Merlín, who gazed at it with fascination; the weapon was beautiful.
"It didn't matter how much effort I put in!" Gorim exclaimed, his voice heavy with years of frustration. "I couldn't make progress. If I managed to create anything, it would be like those magical swords sold in stores: one-use items, useless tools that serve no purpose after being used... cheap imitations of my dreams!"
Gorim paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"Then, I came up with something different. Instead of a magical sword, I tried to create a wizard's staff that could also be a weapon. A spear that combined strength with magic."
"It wouldn't be like those magic swordsmen who wield a weapon in one hand and a staff in the other; it would be a staff-weapon, with no need to carry both."
A faint smile appeared on his face as he ran his finger along the tip of the spear, causing a small cut without flinching.
"My younger self was naive," he confessed sadly. "Without magic talent, I tried every possibility, but ended up lost, creating insignificant weapons and wasting years."
Finally, he raised his gaze and held the spear with both hands, staring at Merlín with intensity.
"Now older, with my dreams extinguished, I decided to at least lay the foundation so that someone in the future could fulfill my wish."
With solemnity, Gorim lowered his head and handed the spear to Merlín.
"I've seen your skill, Merlín. You're a genius, you learn quickly, you push yourself when you have a goal, you have willpower... and that's why I entrust it to you." Before Merlín could react, Gorim knelt and placed his forehead on the floor. "I beg you, Merlín, my student... fulfill this selfish wish of an old man! Make my dream a reality."
Merlín, surprised by Gorim's plea, felt a weight in his chest. The black spear glowed with an intense darkness, a darkness that seemed to call out to him, calling him to complete it so that, even in its darkness, it would shine brighter than any other weapon.
"Gorim... Master..." Merlín whispered with determination, gripping the spear tightly. "I will fulfill your dream. I will complete this weapon and turn it into something truly worthy of being called a magical weapon."
Gorim raised his gaze, and a mix of happiness, pride, and gratitude crossed his face. For him, all those years of effort, all the failed attempts, had not been in vain. With tears of joy in his eyes, he nodded.
"Thank you... truly, thank you, Merlín," he said, bowing his head in reverence toward the ground. "You don't know what it means to me that you will carry on this dream."
Merlín stood still in front of the forge's door, watching the man who had taught him, someone he was sure would define his life.
"It's time to go, Master."
It was a moment that hung in the air, dense. Gorim's expression, though tired, was that of a man who had found comfort amid his years of frustration and struggle.
Merlín gripped the spear tightly, trying to anchor in it the pain he felt in his chest. He took a step forward and, without saying a word, bowed deeply to Gorim.
"I won't return until I've completed the weapon. That is my promise."
Gorim nodded and, in a gesture full of tenderness, placed a hand on Merlín's shoulder.
"Go away, pupil" -said Gorim in a deep voice- "Take good care of yourself. Don't trust the gods, don't get into unnecessary trouble, don't stick your dick in any monsters... though, who knows, you'll surely ignore my words and live the great adventure you dreamed of. So, go on, boy, chase your dreams and this old man's."
A knot formed in Merlín's chest, and with one last bow of respect, he turned and began walking down the main street, deserted due to the state of the world, with Gorim as the only figure watching his departure.
After a few steps, he felt his master's gaze upon him. He stopped and turned one last time, etching the image in his memory: Gorim, standing at the entrance of his forge, the dim light from inside casting a glow around him.
"Goodbye, master," Merlín murmured, his voice so low that perhaps only the wind could hear it.
Without waiting for a reply, Merlín continued his walk, the sound of his footsteps the only noise accompanying him as he moved down the street.
"Take care, kid!"
Merlín smiled without turning around. High atop the forge, Gorim had raised a flag with an unfamiliar symbol, waving it proudly, and the people, hidden in their homes, peeked out at the shout.
The rising sun began to peek over the horizon, casting a warm golden light over everything.
......
When he reached the edge of the city, Merlín stopped and turned to look back at Melen from a distance. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, recalling the moments he had lived there, the people he had met.
But something inside him told him it was time to go. A new adventure awaited, one with beautiful stories, with happy endings or sad ones, but stories that were waiting to be lived.
Adjusting his gladius and pulling his hood over his head, Merlín continued walking calmly as the tree leaves fell around him and the wind shook his tunic.
As he ventured further, the serenity of the forest welcomed him. The song of the birds and the murmur of nature seemed to greet the new world that was opening before him.
A few kilometers later, he arrived at a clearing and decided to rest. He sat under a tree and pulled out the Enchiridion, flipping through the notes on monsters and information he had copied during his time in Melen.
When he reached the pages where he had written about Gorim, he smiled and jotted down:
"My master, a man more sentimental than he lets on..."
He sketched a portrait of Gorim and the spear he had entrusted to him, writing next to it the name he had chosen for it: Boundless Aethra.
Turning the page, Merlín quickly began to sketch again.
In the drawing, one could see the city of Melen, with its beautiful lake gleaming under the sunlight, a mountain with two graves beneath a majestic tree, and, in the horizon, the Tower of Babel rising into the sky.
Suddenly, something caught his attention in the direction of Orario. Multiple golden beams shot up from the city, reaching into the sky, filling the heavens with divine light that spread in every direction.
From a distance, Merlín heard the echoes of voices from those witnessing the end of an era.
"It's over..." murmured a voice in the distance, letting its weapon fall with an exhausted smile.
"Sister, we survived!" cried a voice as two sisters embraced, crying and laughing at the same time.
"Ohhhh," exclaimed a pudgy elf, raising his arms to the sky in gratitude, before hugging himself in a near-frenzied ecstasy.
"I curse you, Finn the Pallum," came the distant cry of a voice, only to be abruptly silenced.
"Dad, I avenged you..." whispered a young woman, kneeling and embracing her weapon with tears in her eyes.
"Brother, open your eyes..." pleaded a cat-man, holding his brother's lifeless body in his arms.
"I don't want to return to the heavens..." cried someone desperately, only for their voice to be abruptly cut off.
"Suck it, emos gods!" laughed one pallum as he danced with his companions, embracing them with joy.
"Rita…" murmured an old man, letting his sword fall before collapsing beside it, closing his eyes in peace.
Each voice carried a story, a fragment of that era now fading away.
Cries and murmurs filled the air as people embraced, wept, laughed, danced, or simply gazed at the sky in reverent silence.
And so, the dark era not only for Orario but for the entire world, came to an end. The dawn of a new age had begun.
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[End of Chapter 12]
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Boundless Aethra: "Boundless Aethra" combines the essence of two concepts: "Aethra", which in Greek means "clear sky" or "ether", and "Boundless", which refers to something without borders or restrictions. Together, they suggest a place like a vast sky that extends infinitely.
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