The sun dipped below the horizon as Althar walked the winding road toward the distant city. The ocean breeze had softened, replaced by a warm evening air that whispered through the trees lining the path. Yet, despite the beauty of the world around him, a strange restlessness stirred within him, gnawing at his calm exterior. The encounter with Elira lingered in his mind, her words echoing like an unshakable whisper.
You will feel it.
He had dismissed her cryptic statement, but even now, as the evening sky faded to twilight, her voice refused to fade. He was no stranger to control, to the iron grip of his own mind that had served him in his past life. But here, in this strange world, it felt like something was slipping through his fingers.
Althar clenched his fists at his sides, as if to remind himself of his resolve. He would not let himself be weakened by something as fleeting as emotions. They were a dangerous distraction. His power, his intellect—these were the tools he needed to survive.
But why did her words keep haunting him?
The city loomed in the distance now, a sprawling settlement nestled against the edge of a mountain range. The roads were busy with merchants and travelers, their voices rising in the evening air. Althar could see the glow of torches flickering in the streets, and hear the clatter of carts as they rumbled over cobblestones. Yet it all felt distant, like the scene of a play he was only watching, detached and unmoved.
He reached the city gates, where guards stood watch. They barely spared him a glance as he approached, their eyes focused more on the bustle of travelers than on the lone figure in a dark cloak. Althar's presence, calm and measured, made him an easy part of the backdrop—a stranger in a sea of strangers.
"Enter freely," one of the guards said with a lazy nod, his attention already elsewhere.
Althar passed through the gates without a word, the city's scent of fresh bread, herbs, and the salty air from the sea filling his senses. He walked deeper into the city, observing the people around him, noting the way they interacted—there was an underlying warmth between them. A sense of community. Althar found it curious but didn't understand it. In his previous life, people had either feared him or obeyed him. They had known their place. This was... different.
As he walked down a street lined with shops, a sudden commotion caught his attention. A young woman, no older than twenty, was being harassed by a group of rough-looking men. They were loud, their voices laced with mockery and menace, while the woman clutched her purse tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with fear.
Althar didn't hesitate.
He moved toward them, his footsteps measured, deliberate. The men barely noticed him until he was nearly upon them. He could feel the tension in the air—the oppressive energy that was about to boil over into violence. One of the men, taller than the others, sneered at the woman, his hand reaching for her purse.
"You heard me, girl," he growled. "Hand it over."
Without thinking, Althar stepped forward, grabbing the man's arm with a firm, controlled grip. The thug spun around, startled, and growled in warning, but Althar didn't let go. His calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the man's anger.
"I suggest you leave her alone," Althar said, his voice low but firm. There was no emotion in it—just the cool authority of someone who knew how to control a situation.
The thug snarled and jerked his arm away, but Althar was already several steps ahead, his body moving fluidly. With one swift motion, he shoved the man against the stone wall of a nearby building. The thug staggered, his back hitting the cold stone with a thud.
The other two men, seeing their leader taken down with ease, backed off, clearly hesitant. Althar's cold gaze swept over them, and they quickly made their retreat, muttering curses under their breath.
Althar turned to the woman, who was still standing frozen in place, her wide eyes locked onto him in disbelief. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, she spoke.
"Thank you," she said, her voice shaky but full of gratitude. "I—I don't know what I would have done without you."
Althar nodded once, his expression impassive. "It was nothing."
The woman hesitated for a moment, then took a step closer, her voice quieter this time. "But… you didn't look afraid. You didn't hesitate. You're not like the others."
Althar frowned, the briefest flicker of confusion crossing his mind. "I have no reason to fear."
But as the words left his mouth, something strange tugged at him. Fear. It was a word he had known for most of his life, but it had never touched him. He had ruled with an iron will, driven by intellect and power, but... was that fearlessness? Or was it something else? He had never really questioned it before.
The woman's gaze softened. "You're a stranger here, aren't you?" she asked gently. "I don't know many who would step in like that... especially for someone they don't know."
Althar didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the distant hills that rose behind the city. Emotion. That word echoed again in his mind, her voice once more, like a shadow in his thoughts.
But no. He couldn't allow himself to be influenced by such things. The world was full of those who lived by their hearts, their emotions, their weaknesses. And that was the very thing he would never allow himself to become. Weak.
"I don't need thanks," Althar said after a moment. "Just remember, there's power in standing your ground. Don't let anyone take from you what you've earned."
With that, he turned to leave, but as he walked away, the woman's voice caught him again.
"Wait… what's your name?" she called out, her voice trembling slightly.
For a brief second, Althar considered giving her a name. But his thoughts were distant, caught between the pull of his own detachment and the faint stirrings inside him.
"I have none," he replied flatly. "Not yet."
And without another word, he disappeared into the evening shadows of the city.
Althar's mind raced as he walked through the narrow alleys, the soft rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the city accompanying his thoughts. What had just happened? Why had he felt a strange tug when the woman spoke to him? Was it... concern?
No. It couldn't be.
I will not be weak, he reminded himself, but deep down, a small seed of doubt began to grow.