CHAPTER 166: CHAPTER 165: ENDINGS, AND BEGINNINGS

The entire village had gathered to see them off, the captains, the weary but smiling soldiers, and the villagers who had come to care for their unexpected elven guests. Even the children stood in line, wide-eyed, marveling at the elegant figures preparing to depart.

The wind was gentle that morning. Leaves rustled softly in the trees. A feeling hung in the air, bittersweet, suspended.

Then, without warning, a figure stepped forward.

Sylra.

Her silver hair shimmered beneath the sunlight, but it was her eyes that caught Lumberling’s attention first. Gone was the dull glaze that had haunted her gaze since the day he pulled her half-dead from Earl Cedric. Now, faint but steady, there was clarity.

He barely recognized the woman before him, no longer a husk, but a flicker of someone healing.

She stopped before him and bowed her head low.

"Thank you... for saving me."

The words were halting but true. Her voice was soft, like something unused to being spoken aloud, but it was the first time he’d heard her speak more than a whisper.

Lumberling blinked. He hadn’t expected her to speak.

"You’re welcome," he replied with quiet sincerity.

In truth, he owed her more than she could know. Without her, he might never have crossed paths with the elves. Without her... he wouldn’t have found them.

Sylra turned next to Jen, who stood flanked by Celine and baby Evelyn. She hesitated, then stepped forward and bowed again.

"Thank you too. For taking care of me."

Jen blinked fast. "You’re welcome, silly, after all you’re my friend" she said, and pulled her into a tight hug.

Celine joined in, her arms wrapping around both of them.

Evelyn, perched on her mother’s hip, reached out and grabbed a lock of Sylra’s silver hair with a happy squeal. Sylra blinked in surprise, then... smiled. It was faint. Barely there. But unmistakably real.

And just like that, the farewells began.

Vaenyra was the last to linger.

Her expression was steady, cool as ever, but her fingers twisted together, restrained.

"Be careful of the Churches," she reminded again, her emerald eyes meeting his. "Don’t clash with them until you’re stronger."

"I won’t," Lumberling promised. "I’ll remember."

For a moment, they stood in silence, a subtle current thrumming between them. The village fell away. Her scent, like wildflowers touched by magic, hung softly in the air."

Then she leaned forward, just enough for her silken blue hair to brush his collar, her breath warm against his ear.

"Make sure you’re stronger the next time we meet," she whispered, voice low and teasing. "After all, how could you ever hope to take me if you’re still weaker than I am?"

A half-smile curved her lips.

Lumberling smirked, his voice calm but sure.

"I will be," he said. "Next time, you’ll be the one chasing."

Her smile widened, and for a heartbeat, she looked like she might say more.

But then she turned and walked away, never looking back.

The elves began their departure, carrying their goods, flanked by their guards, walking into the trees where the hidden path northward awaited.

It had been seven months.

Seven months of shared meals, shared dangers, and uncertain futures. Now they left behind a stronger village, former brutes now students of arcane magic, and a man whose heart grew heavier with every step they took away from him.

The weight of unspoken promises lingered in the air.

Three women, making their way home. And behind them, a man who had given each of them something different, and received more in return than he ever expected.

As the elves vanished into the forest, silence lingered like morning mist. Then slowly, the village exhaled.

Beside him, Skitz tilted his head.

"Ohoho... Is that love I sensed there?" the goblin grinned, his voice a mischievous purr.

Lumberling exhaled and gave a crooked smile. "Maybe."

Then he straightened his shoulders and turned toward the village.

"It’s time to get to work."

Skitz fell into step beside him, unwrapping a piece of jerky with casual ease.

"You prepared?" Lumberling asked.

"Ready as always," Skitz replied.

Lumberling gave a short nod, then, for the first time in a long while, his eyes flicked open with purpose. He opened his hand, and with a thought, called forth the window he had ignored for months.

Name: Lumberling

Race: Human

Age: 26 years (3 months, 1 week)

Level: 10

Essence Point: (7,444 / 26,000)

Power: 4,992 (Skills: 3,632 | Level: 1,360)

Cultivation Realm: Unranked

Fragment of Divine Blessing: Qi Adaptation

(A trait bestowed upon beings from the Martial Realms, allowing them to thrive in foreign energy systems.)

Beginner Imperial Mindseal Meditation – Level 1 (448/1000)

Beginner Ironblood Tempering Scripture – Level 1 (361/1000)

Knight Stage: Quasi-Knight

Active Skills

Beginner Sprint Lv1 (939/1000)

Beginner Hammer Shock Lv1 (0/1000)

Beginner Thundering Lunge Lv.0 (1/1000))

Beginner Essence Weave Lv0 (845/1000)

(Derived from Essence Devour. Allows the user to bind the essence of a fallen enemy and channel it into another chosen vessel.)

Passive Skills

Essence Devour

Beginner Spearheart Doctrine Lv9 (896/1000)

Beginner Shadow Glide Lv5 (781/1000)

Beginner Flowing Edge Lv3 (637/1000)

Beginner Bowmanship Lv1 (753/1000)

Beginner Shield Bash Lv1 (479/1000)

Beginner Bonecrush Method Lv1 (0/1000)

Beginner Dual Wielding Axe Lv0 (756/1000)

Resistances

Beginner Poison Resistance Lv1 (383/1000)

Elements

Fire Element Lv.0 (1/1000)

Earth Element Lv.0 (1/1000)

His eyes lingered on the numbers, the growing web of skills, the dormant potential still waiting to be unlocked.

Based on what Thessalia told him, the signs were clear. He was nearing the threshold of the Concordant State, a state where body, Knight’s aura, and Mage’s mana aligned as one. If he kept this pace, half a year to a year would be all he needed.

After that?

He could begin forming his Mana Heart.

And then, finally... become a Mage-Knight.

The rare path. The fusion of two disciplines.

The gift he earned from the elves, and the standard he needed to reach if he ever hoped to walk beside them.

But it wasn’t for recognition.

It was preparation.

For the storms that would come.

For the enemies yet unnamed.

For the future he knew he had to carve with his own hands.

He closed the window, clenched his fist, and walked forward, the wind rising behind him.

End of Volume 2.