CHAPTER 43: NEW VALOR

The wind was cold across the plains. Kyrian walked the path alone, the wind tossing his hair and his red clothes.

It carried with it the murmurs of travelers and merchants he had encountered along the way.

Kyrian walked in silence. His eyes, sharper than ever, observed the lands he knew, yet found them strange. It had been years since he had passed through here, and now, upon returning, he found unrecognizable changes.

He came across different villages not far from the capital, the movement in the streets far greater than before. Rumors repeated themselves.

"The country of Valor no longer exists."

Along the way, he heard contradictory stories, each trying to explain what had happened. Some said the territory had been equally divided among neighboring nations in a strange alliance.

Others claimed that a plague had struck the capital ten years ago, killing every inhabitant within days. And because of that, they would not set foot in that city for fear of it happening again.

Kyrian, however, knew the truth. He was the only one who had seen it with his own eyes. The only survivor. He had witnessed the genocide, the blood, and the screams. The fall of everything. He knew that no plague had taken the city.

When the capital finally appeared in his sight, something stirred inside him. Perhaps he had expected ruins, dust, and silence. Yet, he found something different.

The walls seemed even taller, and the streets extended out of the city and appeared to be expanding outward. Trade seemed three times as large. The gates were crowded with merchant carriages.

The marks of destruction had been erased, replaced by a city that pulsed as if nothing had ever happened.

The bodies had been buried. The memories of what had happened were buried along with them.

Kyrian entered the city without much difficulty after paying the price, which now cost twice as much. He walked among the crowd.

Observing everything with new interest. Absorbing every detail. Until a voice made him stop abruptly.

"Royal Order!"

Kyrian heard it clearly. He turned, facing a boy his age who was chatting animatedly with other young people at the entrance of an alley.

Kyrian appeared near them like a shadow. When one of them tried to complain, he noticed Kyrian’s gaze and instantly fell silent, swallowing hard.

The boy who had been speaking took a step back upon seeing the crimson eyes, different and unusual, staring at him with intensity.

"What did you say?" Kyrian asked in a low tone, yet it carried arrogance and authority.

The boy swallowed hard and answered with fear.

"I-I said... the Royal Order is recruiting..."

Kyrian narrowed his eyes.

"Where?"

After receiving the instructions, he walked through the streets, lost in thought.

"A new Royal Order has arisen?"

The old one had been destroyed, along with all of its members. But if something new had appeared under that name, he needed to see it for himself.

He then arrived in front of an imposing building. Marked with the same emblem as the old Royal Order. It inevitably brought him nostalgia.

Guards watched over the entrance. In the courtyard, young people trained under supervision.

Kyrian entered the courtyard after a brief conversation with the guards. And then the unexpected happened.

Among the men observing the recruits, there was one he would recognize anywhere. The thick beard, broad and muscular shoulders, and the spear taller than his tall frame always in hand. It was Rurik.

Kyrian froze, not expecting to find so easily the one he had been seeking.

At that moment, time seemed to stop for an instant.

It only returned when a loud thud sounded.

Rurik’s spear suddenly dropped to the ground with force, startling everyone. But Rurik didn’t care. His eyes widened, incredulous at what he saw.

Rurik walked with long strides, then ran, as if fearing the young man before him might disappear at any moment.

"BRAT..." his voice came out loud but choked.

"I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU WERE ALIVE!"

Rurik reached Kyrian, lifting him off the ground in a crushing embrace. Kyrian thought of resisting but gave in, a smile escaping his lips involuntarily.

Kyrian felt something comforting in being in front of Rurik again. His true teacher.

"I’ve returned... it’s good to see you well, Rurik."

Rurik’s usual laughter then erupted, echoing loudly across the courtyard, drawing even more attention.

"HAHA! I knew it, brat! I knew you wouldn’t die so easily. You wouldn’t be my student if you were that weak."

"You’ve really grown. HAHAHA! That little princess voice of yours has finally turned into that of a real man. That’s good." Rurik continued speaking with laughter, patting Kyrian on the back.

Kyrian, now, didn’t even move or feel pain. Even with Rurik hitting with full force, Kyrian realized Rurik was testing him.

Kyrian’s head now rested on Rurik’s shoulder, no longer needing to lift it to see his face.

’Time really passes, huh? But it’s really good to see that Rurik hasn’t changed,’ Kyrian thought with a smile.

Then the two spent the day talking.

Rurik recounted how he had arrived in the capital after the destruction. He had come to congratulate Kyrian on winning the tournament, which he had assumed would be a certainty.

But all he found were bodies and more bodies. Rurik said he searched for him throughout the city, turning it upside down, but did not find him. However, he found the bodies of Elyria, Harken, and the others from the Royal Order buried in a garden.

And because of that, he did not lose hope. Elyria, his sister, had sent him a letter saying Kyrian was already part of the Order. Because of this, Rurik knew it had been his student who buried them, and he hoped to see him again one day.

That was what made him stay in the capital. Somehow, Rurik managed to rebuild what had been lost. He gathered survivors. Took possession of the Royal Order’s technique. And with his courage and leadership, he achieved what no one had thought possible.

He united the two enemy alliances in cooperation. Transforming Valor into a country for everyone. A neutral country, where trade was the greatest among the fifteen countries. Now, it was the capital of commerce.

It was a country without flags.

Rurik was now the leader of the new Royal Order. His determination had been enough to gather men and raise hope for many once again.

Kyrian listened in silence. Admiring the man who had once guided him with the spear. He noticed the fatigue in his eyes, but also a renewed firmness.

He saw that Rurik had found something greater, a purpose.

When night fell, Rurik took him to a simple house, yet in the noble district of the capital. Then he introduced a woman of gentle demeanor and a small four-year-old boy.

The boy peeked at Kyrian from behind Rurik’s legs. He was curious but shy.

Kyrian smiled, recognizing the child’s gaze, recalling himself at that age. When he had begun carrying a spear.

He bent down and, in a calm voice, greeted the child, who stared fixedly into his eyes.

"You are lucky, boy."

Then, he turned to Rurik and his wife.

"Congratulations!"

Kyrian was genuinely happy for Rurik. A thought came to his mind.

1Harken, Elyria... you can rest peacefully. Rurik has finally found his happiness.’

Then, Kyrian took out some wine to drink with Rurik in the courtyard of his house. They would stay up late tonight.

They did not speak of what had truly happened in the capital years ago. There was no need. Kyrian would not bring it up, and Rurik preferred not to ask. It was enough for him to see Kyrian alive.

The two talked until Kyrian fell silent, staring at the horizon with a strange expression.

Rurik looked at him from the side, his cheek flushed from the drink.

"Spit it out, brat! Say what you want to say," Rurik said, patting Kyrian on the back.

"I’m no longer a child," Kyrian replied, drinking another glass of wine.

"Tsk! That brat. To me, you’ll always be a brat, no matter how much time passes, boy. Deal with it," Rurik said disdainfully.

"Tsk..." Kyrian muttered.

"..."

"You’re going to leave, aren’t you? When?" Rurik asked suddenly.

Kyrian looked to the side, surprised.

"What’s that expression? I know you well, brat."

"Yes... and probably this time, I won’t return so soon. I’ll leave tomorrow," Kyrian said softly.

It had already been decided. Now that he was sure Rurik would live well, he was ready to depart.

The conversation continued flowing simply and pleasantly. Until Rurik fell asleep. Kyrian did the same, sleeping in the courtyard.

Before the sun rose, he awoke.

Rurik was still snoring loudly beside him.

Kyrian smiled. He took a piece of paper from the spatial ring and wrote something. Then he decided to leave. But not before leaving a pile of gold coins that were in the ring, along with other things he thought would be useful to Rurik.

He did not wake Rurik, merely left silently. As he walked away, he looked toward the mountains on the horizon.

’Now it’s my turn to try.’

’If there really is a way out of this place... my eyes will find it.’

Kyrian then departed, determined to finally enter the world to which he truly believed he belonged.