Ronan stood still, his eyes fixed on the names etched into the cold stone. The brother and sister were gone, and their suffering ended in silence. Yet the world remained unchanged.
Footsteps crunched against the gravel behind him. Mr. Alden and Orin approached quietly, their presence breaking the stillness. Mr. Alden placed a firm but gentle hand on Ronan's shoulder and spoke.
"It's time to leave."
Ronan didn't move. His voice was low, burdened with the weight of his thoughts. "Sir... why is it that the weak always suffer? That girl smiled at the end, as if dying was the only relief life ever offered her. What am I supposed to blame for this? The world? Fate?"
Mr. Alden sighed, his gaze heavy with understanding. "The world itself does not choose who suffers, Ronan. And fate? Fate is nothing more than a name we give to things beyond our control. People call it fate because they don't want to acknowledge the true cause. If you must place blame, blame the society that allowed this to happen. Blame the greed and cruelty of those who hold power but do nothing for those beneath them."
Ronan clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. A flicker of rage burned in his eyes. "If I ever find the noble bastard…" His voice darkened, his breath sharp with restrained fury.
Mr. Alden tightened his grip on Ronan's shoulder. "Don't be reckless. You know who they are. They hold power, both politically and within their families. A single misstep could put you in their crosshairs."
A smirk, cold and calculated, flickered across Ronan's face. "I know my limits, sir. I won't act until I'm 100 per cent sure. But when the time comes..." His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken promise lingering in the air.
Mr. Alden studied Ronan for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Good. Now, we should leave for the academy."
Together, they turned toward the path leading out of the graveyard. But before they left, the villagers who had gathered at a distance stepped forward. Their eyes shone with gratitude, and an elder among them bowed deeply.
"Thank you... for saving us," the elder said, his voice trembling with emotion. "If not for you, they would have slaughtered us all. We will never forget this."
The villagers followed suit, offering words of thanks and silent nods of appreciation. A small girl who had been kidnapped tugged at Ronan's and Orin's sleeves. "Will you come back?" she asked softly.
Ronan and Orin knelt, ruffling her hair gently. "Someday," they promised.
With one last look at the gravestone, Ronan turned and followed Mr. Alden and Orin into the night.
Meanwhile, at the Serenwyn Magic Academy, the upcoming Dimensional Rift training loomed ahead. The selected students, including Kairos, Elenor, and Tavin, gathered in the preparation hall, their anticipation mixed with apprehension. Their instructor, Ms. Amara, stood before them, her sharp eyes scanning the group.
Elenor glanced around, a small frown forming. "Ronan and Orin still haven't returned to the academy?"
Kairos crossed his arms and nodded. "No. They haven't."
Ms. Amara, sensing Elenor's worry, offered a reassuring smile. "Don't trouble yourself too much, Elenor. Ronan and Orin are with Mr. Alden. They'll be fine."
Elenor tried to nod, but the worry in her eyes remained. Ronan was like an older brother to her, and she knew he never ignored important events. The celebration yesterday had felt incomplete without him. And now, he hadn't even come to see her off.
Still, she pushed those thoughts aside as the Rift entrance flared to life, its swirling energy reflecting in her eyes. It was time.
With a deep breath, she and the others stepped forward, vanishing into the unknown world beyond.
On the deck of a magical flying boat soaring through the skies, Ronan lay against a stack of wooden crates, his arms folded behind his head, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. The gentle hum of the enchanted vessel and the cool breeze against his face created an oddly tranquil atmosphere. Nearby, under a large umbrella, Mr. Alden sat comfortably, sipping tea as he observed the passing clouds.
Orin approached with an expression of curiosity and contemplation.
"Sir, may I ask you something about Ronan?" he inquired.
Mr. Alden gestured toward an empty chair. "Go ahead. What's on your mind?"
Taking a seat, Orin hesitated before speaking. "Yesterday, when Ronan unleashed that terrifying Killing Intent... it was suffocating. And yet, his mind remained sharp. He never acted recklessly or without thought. How is that even possible?"
Mr. Alden exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting toward the sleeping Ronan. "It's likely because he truly despises those people. That hatred fuels his Killing Intent. But the reason he doesn't lose himself to it is his mind, his will. Ronan has a strong and unique soul , one that refuses to be consumed by emotion. Unlike most, he doesn't let his power dictate his actions. He thinks first, then strikes."
Orin frowned slightly, his thoughts wandering. "Now that I think about it… Something seemed off during the competition. He felt weaker compared to our training a few months ago. Especially when fighting those monsters, he looked much stronger back then. But in the tournament, it was like he was holding back, using only about two-thirds of his strength. And he never used that skill... the one he usually relies on against the monsters."
Mr. Alden smiled, impressed. "Sharp observation. Tell me, Orin, how many of you could withstand Ronan's full-force Sky Splitter without getting seriously injured?"
Orin's eyes widened as he realised the answer. "None."
"Exactly. In a real battle, Ronan fights like a raging beast, but in a controlled competition, he can't use those lethal techniques. That's why he lost. But losses are just stepping stones. I'm sure he's already analysing what he needs to improve. He'll develop new skills, ones that will allow him to fight at full potential without holding back. And next time, he won't lose."
Orin turned to look at Ronan, who remained asleep, completely unaware of their discussion. His usual cold, battle-hardened demeanour was absent, replaced by an almost peaceful innocence. Orin sighed, feeling a newfound admiration.
What a madman… Your resolve is beyond anything I've seen. I've been struggling with my own purpose, barely holding on to my will to push forward. But you… You remind me what it means to work hard and to never stop improving. Maybe one day, I'll need your help. I wonder if you'd be willing to lend it…
As if sensing the weight of Orin's thoughts, Ronan stirred, stretching his arms before lazily blinking awake. He got to his feet and walked over to them, rubbing his neck.
"Good afternoon," he greeted groggily.
Orin, shaking off his serious thoughts, smirked. "Good afternoon."
Ronan narrowed his eyes at him. "What? Is there something on my face?"
Orin suddenly straightened his posture, deepened his voice, and attempted his best imitation of Ronan's cold stare. "I thought you would be more like this, serious, brooding, always glaring at people like they owe you money."
Ronan's eye twitched before he scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed smile. "Shut up."
Mr. Alden chuckled. "Alright, enough teasing. We've arrived at the academy. Get some rest today, we'll discuss your training tomorrow morning."
As the magical flying boat gently landed, the three of them disembarked. Ronan and Orin headed toward their dormitories, their banter continuing.
"So, Ronan, do you ever actually smile, or is that a facade?"
Ronan shot him a look. "Do you ever actually shut up, or is that impossible?"
Orin burst into laughter. "I see! The cold glare is back. Truly, a natural talent!"
Ronan groaned, walking faster to escape Orin's endless teasing. "I swear, if you don't stop talking, I'll burn you to death."
"Oh? You'll have to catch me first," Orin retorted, vanishing in a blur as he activated Thunder Step, a high-level movement skill.
Ronan sighed. "I hate you."
Orin grinned. "Nah, you love me, bro," Orin laughed."
And with that, their laughter echoed through the academy grounds as they disappeared into the dormitories.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over Sylvara, Samantha made her way to Ronan's room. She had checked earlier and found it empty, but now, to her surprise, the door was slightly ajar. A faint flicker of candlelight danced on the walls, and inside, she found Ronan sitting by the window, lost in thought.
"Ronan," she called softly, stepping inside. "You're back."
Ronan turned his head slightly, his expression weary, his eyes shadowed with lingering sorrow. Samantha's brows furrowed in concern.
"Where have you been?" she asked gently, taking a seat beside him.
Ronan let out a slow breath, his hands tightening into fists before loosening again. "Last night… I—" His voice faltered, but as he looked at Samantha's patient gaze, he found the strength to continue. He shared everything—his experience, the weight of his choices, the lingering pain that clung to him like a ghost.
Samantha listened intently, never once interrupting, letting him pour his heart out. When he finished, a heavy silence settled between them. Then, without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. She cradled his head gently, her fingers threading through his hair in a soothing motion.
"You did everything you could, Ronan," she murmured, her voice carrying a comforting warmth. "There are things in this world we cannot change, no matter how hard we try. But that doesn't mean we should let them weigh us down. Don't trap yourself in sorrow."