CHAPTER 175: A SIP OF WATER IS REFRESHING!

(If I want to stop the war that’s coming... if I want to change the fate of this world... I have to become strong. Strong enough to fight against everything—even the destiny the author wrote.)

The pond nearby reflected his figure, the heavy sword across his back, and for the first time, Kael felt that he no longer belonged to the story the author had written. He would write his own.

For a heartbeat, Kael wanted to refuse. But when he looked at the woman’s pale face, and then at the boy standing beside her, his small hands clenched tightly into fists as if he, too, wanted to be strong, Kael hesitated no longer.

He bowed his head slightly.

"...Thank you. Thank you very much."

The boy, already fighting sleep after staying up all night to watch over his mother, leaned against the doorway. His eyes drooped but his lips curved in a faint smile.

"Brother Kael... when I grow up, I’ll fight beside you."

Kael froze at the words, his chest tightening. He had never thought of himself as someone others could look up to, yet this child, fragile and barefoot, spoke of fighting by his side as if it were a promise carved into stone.

The boy’s mother chuckled weakly. Her gaze lingered on Kael, filled with a mixture of gratitude and hope.

"Do come after the exams," she said softly.

"This home... will always welcome you."

Kael swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded once, too solemn to find more words.

His hand unconsciously gripped the sword harder, as if sealing the silent vow between them.

On the third morning, mist hung low across the village fields.

The air smelled faintly of damp soil and burning firewood. At the edge of the village, Kael stood with the sword wrapped tightly in cloth, strapped across his back.

The weight of it pressed against him like a burden, yet he did not complain.

The woman stood in the doorway of her small house, leaning weakly against the wooden frame for support.

Despite her frailty, she managed to raise her hand in farewell, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles.

The boy, however, could not contain himself. He dashed forward barefoot across the dirt, his small figure moving with desperate energy.

Reaching Kael, he threw his arms around his waist, clinging tightly.

"Brother Kael! Come back, okay?"

Kael felt the boy’s warmth against him, fragile yet steady, like a spark of life refusing to die out.

Slowly, he placed his hand on the boy’s head, his fingers brushing against his messy hair.

His voice came out rougher than he intended, but it carried the weight of sincerity.

"...Live well."

The boy nodded fiercely, as if those two words alone were enough to give him strength.

Kael turned away then, his footsteps heavy on the dirt path that stretched back toward Arcadia Academy.

The cloth-wrapped sword shifted slightly against his back, reminding him of the choice he had made.

For the first time, Kael truly wondered (did mercy and love come with chains?)

The moment he let someone into his heart, (did I bind myself to their hopes and promises?)

And yet... despite the weight of that thought, he did not loosen his grip on the sword. He carried it, and with it, the silent vow he had taken in that quiet village.

Because even if chains came with mercy, Kael knew—he was not ready to let them go.

Kael trudged through the forest, each step heavier than the last.

The sword strapped across his back weighed him down like an anchor. At first, he had thought he could bear it without much trouble, but as the hours stretched on, it became clear that this was no ordinary weapon.

The steel seemed to drag at his shoulders, pressing against his bones and straining the muscles in his arms even though he wasn’t carrying it in his hands.

Every few steps, he found himself bending forward, as though the sword was trying to pull him into the dirt.

His boots sank slightly into the damp ground, and sweat trickled down his forehead.

The forest was quiet except for the rustle of leaves above and the occasional chirp of hidden insects.

Sunlight pierced through the gaps between branches, falling in scattered patches on the moss-covered floor.

Yet, none of this beauty eased Kael’s fatigue. His throat felt dry, his chest burned with every breath, and his legs wobbled from the weight pressing down on him.

Finally, he stopped when the faint sound of running water reached his ears. Forcing his aching body forward, Kael pushed through a cluster of ferns until he came upon a small pond.

Its surface shimmered under the sunlight, reflecting the swaying trees like a cracked mirror. The sight of clear water made his parched throat ache even more.

Dropping to his knees, Kael slid the sword from his back with a sharp exhale. The weapon hit the ground with a dull thud, shaking the earth slightly beneath him.

His shoulders immediately felt lighter, though the dull ache in his muscles remained.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, staring at the rippling water.

Then he leaned forward, cupping his hands, and brought the cool liquid to his lips. The first sip was bliss, washing away the dryness in his throat.

He drank again, this time greedily, until his stomach felt full and his body slightly refreshed.

Still, his mind wandered to the burden on the ground beside him. The sword. It wasn’t just heavy in weight—it was heavy in meaning.

It had belonged to someone else before him. A hero, maybe.

He sighed, splashing a handful of water on his face.

"When will I reach the terminal?" he muttered under his breath, his voice was rough from exhaustion.

"I’m tired of carrying this damn sword."

The words echoed faintly in the quiet forest. He knew there was still a long road ahead, but after a moment’s rest, Kael picked up the weapon once again, tightened the straps, and forced himself back onto his feet.