The next morning, the soft hum of nature echoed through the domain. The air shimmered faintly, carrying a warmth that could only belong to a realm untouched by corruption. The sky above stretched endlessly, neither day nor night—bathed in a serene, golden hue. And at the heart of it all, a wide expanse of water gleamed like glass, reflecting the heavens in perfect stillness.
By the lake's edge stood Wilfred. His robe fluttered gently as if the wind itself bowed to him. His gaze lingered on the mirrored surface, lost in thoughts that reached far beyond the present. The ripples moved slowly around his boots, faint arcs of light tracing each motion.
A few paces away, Leofric watched in silence. He wondered what kind of mind could stand so calmly in a world like this—a world that seemed to exist between dream and eternity.
He sighed softly, crossing his arms. How am I supposed to train that little girl to fight? he thought, narrowing his eyes. The very idea of a knight training a child who laughed more than she listened seemed absurd.
Behind him, the smell of food drifted through the air. Edith was finishing breakfast with an unusually bright smile on her face. She looked alive again—hands busy, sleeves rolled up, humming softly. It had been a long time since she looked so content.
"Come on, Olivia. Eat first before your training starts!" she said, dragging the girl gently toward the table.
Olivia protested between giggles, "But I'm not even hungry yet!"
"Yes, you are," Edith replied firmly, tugging her down to sit.
Leofric shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. Then his gaze returned to Wilfred, who remained motionless by the water.
He approached quietly, boots pressing softly against the mossy ground until he stood beside him. For a while, neither spoke. The only sound was the faint ripple of the lake, the soft hum of unseen life.
Finally, Leofric broke the silence.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.
Wilfred chuckled lightly. "If you were in my shoes," he said, eyes still on the horizon, "how would you have saved humanity?"
Leofric blinked, caught off guard. "That's a strange question."
"It's an important one," Wilfred replied. His voice carried a weight that stirred the air.
Leofric looked down, his reflection staring back from the mirrored lake. "If I'm being honest… it would've been overwhelming. A burden no man should bear."
Wilfred's expression softened. "That doesn't answer my question."
Leofric tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If you'd let me finish…"
"Go on then."
"If I were you, I'd have done the same," Leofric said. "Maybe even less. Balancing humanity is no small feat. You've done what few could. You should be proud."
Wilfred's smile faded slightly, his gaze deepening. "And yet… every time I think of it, it feels like I've failed somehow."
Leofric shrugged, folding his arms again. "Then you haven't done enough."
That drew Wilfred's eyes sharply toward him. "How so?"
"When a man doubts his own deeds," Leofric said, meeting his gaze, "it means there's still something left undone. The world may say you've done enough—but you won't believe it until you do."
For a brief moment, the immortal lord stared at him in silence. Then, he chuckled—softly, genuinely. "You got me there."
He turned toward the lake again. "It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is what lies ahead."
Leofric nodded. "That's true. Anyway, breakfast is ready."
He turned to leave, but when he reached the hut, his steps froze. Wilfred was already there, seated at the table.
"What the hell—how did you get here?" Leofric exclaimed, eyes wide.
Wilfred raised a brow, lips curving into a faint smirk. "Have you forgotten where you are? This is my domain."
Leofric sighed and dropped into a seat beside Edith, muttering, "I'll never get used to this."
The hut's interior was simple but elegant. The walls were made of white stone that shimmered faintly like moonlight. A round wooden table stood at the center, polished smooth. Upon it were bowls of steaming soup, golden bread, and fruits that seemed to glow faintly with ethereal light. Everything radiated quiet peace.
Edith served each bowl with her usual care, while Olivia sat swinging her legs beneath the table, sneaking pieces of fruit into her mouth before anyone noticed.
"So," Leofric said as he picked up his spoon, "did Lucifer have a domain like this when you fought him?"
Wilfred paused mid-bite, his expression darkening. The room seemed to dim slightly.
"He didn't," he answered, his tone low. "That was part of the reason for our war. He envied what I had—peace, creation, and balance. He sought to build his own domain, but his heart was corrupted by desire."
Leofric frowned. "Then what did he do?"
"For centuries, he searched for a way to forge one," Wilfred said. "And he found it—the Crown of Life. More precisely, the Dark Crystal within it. If he had claimed it, he would've created a domain of chaos… a mirror of mine."
Leofric exhaled, shaking his head. "That's madness."
"Madness," Wilfred said, "is only ambition without restraint."
No one spoke for a while after that. The air felt heavier, though not unpleasant. They finished their meal quietly, and soon after, it was time for training.
Outside, the light danced softly across the lake, scattering into fragments as the wind stirred. Leofric and Wilfred stood opposite each other on a field of soft grass. Edith and Olivia sat nearby, watching.
Leofric drew his sword, the blade gleaming under the soft glow. "Is this necessary?" he asked, unsure if this was truly training or just a test.
"Yes," Wilfred replied, smiling faintly. "Think of it as sharpening both skill and spirit. You'll gain something from this, I promise."
Leofric's grip tightened. "And what is it you want to figure out?"
Wilfred's gaze sharpened. "You'll see soon enough."
With a quiet whisper, light flared in his hand, and a long sword appeared—its blade forged from pure celestial energy. The edge shimmered faintly, pulsing with life, the hilt wrapped in silver threads that moved as if alive. It wasn't a weapon born of steel, but of will.
They circled each other. Then, like wind over water, they clashed.
Leofric lunged first, quick and precise, his strikes cutting through the air. Wilfred parried each blow with effortless grace, his movements fluid, controlled. The sound of steel meeting divine energy echoed across the open field.
Leofric's breath grew heavier as the exchange quickened. He could feel Wilfred's mastery—not in brute strength, but in precision. Every movement was intentional, every counter designed to teach.
"Focus your footing," Wilfred said calmly, blocking another strike.
"I am focusing!" Leofric grunted, pushing forward.
Wilfred smiled faintly. "Then your blade is lying to me."
The fight continued. Leofric swung hard, but Wilfred sidestepped easily, his counter a mere flick that sent Leofric stumbling. The knight rolled, regained balance, and charged again.
Their blades met once more, sparks of light scattering like stars. The tempo slowed, and soon, Leofric found himself on the ground—panting, battered, sword still in hand but spirit humbled.
Wilfred stepped back, his sword fading into nothing. "That's enough for now."
He clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward Edith and Olivia. Edith's face was pale, her hands clasped tightly against her chest.
Olivia, on the other hand, looked amused—almost delighted.
Wilfred arched a brow. "And what did you learn from this spar?"
Olivia tilted her head, then pouted slightly. "Uncle Leofric lacked clarity."
Leofric blinked, staring at her as if she had just insulted his ancestors.
"I—what?" he sputtered. "I lacked clarity?"
He sat up, brushing the dirt off his armor, confusion furrowing his brow. "How?"
Olivia only smiled innocently, humming to herself.
Wilfred chuckled quietly, watching the knight's bewilderment. "It seems even the smallest eyes can see what we often miss."