Chapter 10: Dreams and Dawn
Twenty minutes had passed since the confrontation between Fulan and the bearded adventurer. The villagers, disappointed by the lack of a full-blown duel, had dispersed to their homes, muttering about wasted time. They had expected a fierce battle between seasoned adventurers, but Fulan''s intervention had turned the spectacle into something far less dramatic.
The bearded man remained kneeling on the ground, his axe still embedded in the dirt. His head was bowed, his shoulders heavy with unspoken regret. The blond swordsman approached him slowly, extending a hand to help him up. "There''s no point in staying here," he said softly, his voice carrying the warmth of a friendship that had endured years of trials.
The bearded man looked up, his eyes meeting the swordsman''s. The familiar smile on his friend''s face—a smile he hadn''t seen in years—stirred something deep within him. He took the offered hand, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I didn''t know... I never knew..."
The swordsman''s smile didn''t waver. "I know. I should have been honest with you from the beginning..."
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Meanwhile, 150 meters away, Fulan and Fayrouz sat in a merchant''s cart, its wooden frame creaking as it rolled along the dirt road toward the Kingdom of Saita. The cart was laden with goods, and the merchant, a portly man with brown hair, guided the horses with practiced ease. The journey was quiet, the only sounds the rhythmic clatter of wheels and the steady clip-clop of hooves.
Fulan sat with his hands wrapped in Fayrouz''s glowing blue bandages, the pain in his burned palms a constant reminder of his reckless actions. Fayrouz, seated across from him, gazed up at the star-filled sky, her expression unreadable. After a long silence, she spoke, her voice calm but tinged with criticism. "Your way of helping them was... harsh. When I saw you fighting, I thought you had a good plan. But all you did was say what the blond swordsman couldn''t bring himself to say all these years."
Fulan remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the stars above. "The truth, even if it''s bitter, is better than a sweet lie," he said finally. "If he had been honest about his feelings from the start, maybe that girl wouldn''t have died."
Fayrouz sighed, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. "Well, I don''t really care about all that. What matters to me is staying healthy and reaching the academy on time. We''ll arrive at the Kingdom of Saita in about an hour, but it''ll take another six hours to reach the academy. You should get some sleep. That''s what I''m going to do."
Fulan didn''t respond immediately. He doubted he could sleep in his current state, but as the minutes passed, the exhaustion from the day''s events caught up with him. Within three minutes, his eyes closed, and his breathing deepened as he drifted into an uneasy slumber.
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Time passed quickly as Fulan and Fayrouz slept, the cart rolling steadily toward its destination. When they finally arrived at the gates of the Kingdom of Saita, the merchant gently knocked on the side of the cart to wake them. "We''re here," he announced.
Fulan stirred, his dreams still lingering in his mind. They had been vivid and chaotic, fragments of memories and fears intertwining in a surreal tapestry. In his dream, a voice had echoed, cold and commanding: *"Their lives depend on you. If you fail to complete the mission within these three years, don''t blame me for what I''ll do to your clan."*
Another voice, softer but filled with desperation, had pleaded: *"Don''t listen to him, Fulan! I''d rather die than see you become a killer for our sake!"*
And then the first voice had returned, dripping with malice: *"Really? Are you speaking for yourself or for the entire clan? Because their eyes tell me they''d gladly see him turn into a murderer if it means saving themselves. So, Fulan? Are you going or not..."*
The dream had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, and a deep, unshakable sense of responsibility. Fulan had no time to process it before the merchant''s voice pulled him back to reality.
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As Fulan and Fayrouz stepped out of the cart, the first rays of dawn bathed their faces in golden light. They had arrived in the capital of the Kingdom of Saita, a city that seemed to glow with life even in the early hours of the morning. The gates towered over them, their stone walls rising more than 12 meters high, a testament to the kingdom''s strength and grandeur. Two knights in black armor stood guard, their presence commanding respect. These were no ordinary guards; they were graduates of Ragandarok Academy, the lowest rank of knights but still formidable in their own right.
The merchant exchanged a few words with the knights, who inspected his goods before allowing him to pass. As the cart rolled through the gates, Fulan and Fayrouz took in the sights of the capital. The streets were lined with glowing orbs of light, powered not by electricity but by Menma-infused crystals housed in glass spheres. The houses, though modest in height, were beautifully crafted, their walls a blend of brown and white, adorned with flowers that added a touch of elegance to the cityscape. The roads were paved with gray stone, smooth and clean, a stark contrast to the dirt paths of the villages.
Despite the early hour, the streets were alive with activity. People moved about with purpose, their faces reflecting the safety and prosperity of the kingdom. It was a city where even the night felt secure, a place where dreams and ambitions could flourish.
Fulan and Fayrouz exchanged a glance, the weight of their journey settling over them. They had reached the capital, but their destination—Ragandarok Academy—was still hours away. As the sun continued to rise, casting its warm light over the city, Fulan couldn''t shake the feeling that his dreams were more than just fragments of his subconscious. They were a reminder of the mission he had yet to complete, a mission that would define not only his future but the fate of those he cared about.
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