CHAPTER 57: REFLECTION AND BONDS

Sitting on simple benches made from tree trunks, Aziz, Agnes, and Liora watched the fireplace flames in silence. The crackle of the fire was the only sound, breaking the monotony of the night that slowly settled in.

The air was slightly cool, carrying the aroma of burning wood and the occasional rustle of leaves swaying in the wind. The bluish light of the flames cast wavering shadows on the ground and on each of their faces, creating an almost hypnotic scene.

Each of them was lost in their own thoughts, as if the fire were a window to inner worlds the others could not see.

Aziz, his silver eyes reflecting the flames, felt the weight of longing tighten in his chest. The image of his family came to his mind with painful clarity.

’I wonder what they’re doing now? Are they thinking of me too? Do they miss me the way I miss them?’

The question echoed in his mind, bringing a mix of warmth and melancholy.

While he was lost in these memories, Liora and Agnes — seated close to him — noticed a subtle change in his expression. It wasn’t pure sadness, but something that blended longing and affection, as if he had remembered something precious.

"What are you thinking about, Aziz?" Liora asked, her voice firm but without coldness, breaking the silence that had settled.

He blinked, slowly returning to reality. He lifted his gaze from the flames and met Liora’s eyes.

"Family. I’m thinking about what they might be doing right now," he answered simply, before returning his gaze to the fire.

"I see... you’re very attached to them, aren’t you?" Liora pressed, with a touch of curiosity in her voice.

"Yes. They are everything to me. Each one of them."

A subtle smile formed on Aziz’s lips as he spoke of the people he loved, a smile that needed no explanation.

"I imagine... and do you think you’re everything to them as well?"

The question made him reflect more than he expected. Liora’s words drew him back to memories, from the very first moments in this new life to the most recent days. He recalled the intense training with his mother and Isis, and the most intimate and passionate moments they had shared not long ago.

He also remembered how he met Sofia, Sylvia, Stella, and Zia — each dinner, each trivial conversation that, to him, held immense value.

The innocent yet intense kisses he shared with Sofia and Zia, the small disputes born of jealousy that only deepened their connection. Even with Stella and Sylvia, who appeared more reserved, Aziz could feel the affection hidden behind each discreet gesture. He knew he had already carved a place in their hearts, even if they wouldn’t admit it easily.

Still, he was aware he needed to cultivate these bonds further, strengthen them until they were unbreakable. He would never allow any of them to drift away — not ever.

When he returned to the present, he noticed Liora and Agnes watching him closely, as if trying to unravel the thoughts in his mind.

He nodded with a faint, confident smile.

"Yes, I’m everything to them too... and I will be even more."

His voice was calm, but there was an undeniable weight of possessiveness. Liora and Agnes exchanged quick glances, recognizing the tone but choosing not to probe deeper. In the end, they knew that protecting what you love is natural.

"It must be nice to have a family that loves you like that..." Agnes murmured, her eyes lowered slightly, as if searching for distant memories.

Aziz looked at her, sensing a touch of melancholy in the shy adventurer.

"And your family? Were you close to them?" he asked carefully.

She averted her gaze to the fire, remaining silent for a moment that felt longer than it was. Aziz was already starting to regret bringing up a sensitive subject when Agnes spoke, without changing her tone:

"My family... is dead."

There was no visible sadness, only a forced neutrality, as if she deliberately hid deep emotions beneath a carefully crafted mask.

Aziz felt a weight drop onto him. *’Damn, I should have stayed quiet.’

"I... I’m sorry. I didn’t know."

"No need to apologize. It’s in the past. And it’s getting late... I think I’ll sleep now."

She waved her hand casually, ending the subject, and stood up.

Aziz remained seated, still surprised by the coldness of the answer. Before entering the tent, Agnes gave him her usual shy smile — a brief gesture, but enough to soften the atmosphere a little.

He then looked at Liora, seeking some confirmation that everything was truly fine.

"Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. I’ll go with her. Better we rest early for tomorrow."

With that, Liora also went inside the tent, leaving Aziz alone before the magical fire.

He scratched his head, unsure of what to do at that moment.

[Hehehe... looks like my stallion ruined the mood now, hahaha.]

’Tsk... you stayed silent all day just to speak now?’

[Actually, yes. And what can you do about it? It’s your fault.]

’You should be supporting me, not throwing what I already know in my face.’

[Alright, alright, hehe... But what I really want to know is: how do you feel after truly fighting for the first time and staining your hands with blood?]

Aziz fell silent for a few moments, reflecting.

"If you mean guilt... no. I don’t feel any. That trash deserved to die. In fact, I feel even more determined to get stronger. The weaker side in this world only knows sadness and disaster."

The thought brought his mind back to the scene with the bandits. *What if, at that moment, he, Liora, and Agnes had been the weaker ones?*

He didn’t need to think long to know what would have happened.

And what if it had been his family facing stronger enemies?

The mere thought ignited a rage that burned more against himself than any foe. Because, in the end, if he wasn’t strong enough, the blame would be his.

Understanding his feelings and thoughts, the system spoke.

[I see. But trust your family more. They’re not helpless women who need constant protection.]

He took a deep breath. It was true. His mother wasn’t the type to sit and wait for help.

’You’re right. They’re not fragile. They won’t accept being treated like defenseless princesses.’

[Exactly. Treating them that way could even hurt them.]

*’Understood. But still, I’ll be the strongest. I’ll always be ahead of them.’*

[Alright. Now go to sleep. You have a road ahead of you tomorrow.]

Aziz stood up and entered the tent.

What he didn’t know was that, from the moment they parted ways with him, his family had already made the decision not to be left behind — especially Sofia and Zia, his young lovers.

Entering the tent, Aziz was met by a dense, almost tangible silence.

The faint rustle of the fabric, stirred by a gentle breeze slipping through the magical opening, was the only sound besides his own breathing. The interior was wrapped in a cozy dimness, lit only by faint magical lights along the edges — just enough not to disturb anyone’s sleep.

He assumed Liora and Agnes were already asleep... or on the verge of it.

He moved quietly down the narrow hallway separating the compartments, his steps muffled by the soft carpet conjured by the tent’s magic.

When he reached the space meant to be his, he stopped for a moment.

On the large bed, occupying the right side, lay Liora and Agnes, turned toward each other, faces relaxed. Without the armor they usually wore, their slender, athletic figures were more apparent, shaped by the softness of the covers. The gentle light highlighted the delicate slope of their shoulders, the subtle shine of their loose hair, and the slow rhythm of their breathing — deep in sleep, or at least convincingly pretending.

Aziz observed them for a moment. There was no desire in his gaze, only respectful admiration... and perhaps a quiet gratitude for sharing this journey.

"Have a good night," he whispered softly, his voice carrying genuine sincerity, before turning and heading to the next compartment.

As soon as he moved away, the silence was broken by the almost imperceptible opening of two pairs of eyelids.

Liora and Agnes exchanged brief, knowing glances — like two allies who, without words, reached the same conclusion: he wasn’t like the filth they had so often encountered on roads and in taverns. He wasn’t the kind to take advantage of someone’s vulnerability.

Not that they couldn’t defend themselves — far from it — but if he had been that kind of man, it would have been a deep disappointment.

Aziz, already lying in his own bed, had no idea that in that moment he had earned a significant point with both of them. And he probably never would. To him, the thought of doing anything to them simply never existed. It was unthinkable.

With his body relaxing but his mind still racing, he let his thoughts drift — about the need to grow stronger, about the path he had to walk, about the tomorrow that crept closer with unseen steps. The thin line between wakefulness and sleep blurred until, slowly, slumber claimed him.

That was when something unusual happened.

From the floor, clinging to his feet, his shadow began to move on its own, as if it had awakened with the night. The dark outline rose, detaching from him, taking on a more solid form... a tall feminine silhouette, with proportions uncannily familiar.

If Aziz had been awake and turned his head in that moment, he would have recognized her instantly. The curve of the shoulders, the proud posture, even the shape of the hair traced in that lightless specter — it was the exact figure of his mother.

The shadow stood still for a few seconds, as if observing him in silence. Then, the faint curve suggesting its lips lifted into an almost imperceptible smile, carrying something between affection and amusement.

It didn’t move closer, but remained there, an unmoving sentinel guarding him from anything that might approach. The darkness was no threat to her — she *was* the darkness.

Aziz could not know.

But the system, which seemed never to sleep, watched it all from afar, its "voice" tinged with amusement.

[What a protective and possessive woman... haha...]