Sylas’ POV :

I gathered everyone together in the main hall of the inn, leaning against the worn-out wooden table as I looked at each of them. “We have to do something to cheer him up,” I said, trying to lift the mood. “He’s been holed up in that room ever since we got back.”

Elyndor leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Yeah, but what can we do? It’s not like we can fix his daggers. Those were special to him, right?”

Kael rubbed his chin, eyes flicking to the ceiling as if an idea might just fall from above. “Maybe... we can get him new ones?”

I tilted my head thoughtfully. “Would that really cheer him up, though? I mean, those daggers were more than just tools for him. They meant something.”

Kaldor, who had been silently watching the back-and-forth, finally spoke up, his deep voice breaking the lull. “We should still do something. But it needs to be more personal. Something that shows we’re in this together.”

Mira, sitting on the edge of her chair, perked up. “What if we cook him a big meal? Comfort food always helps me when I’m feeling down.”

Kael snorted, grinning. “Sure, but we’ve seen what happens when Elyndor tries to cook.”

Elyndor glared at him. “Hey, those weren’t that bad. Just... undercooked.”

I sighed, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “The meal’s a nice thought, but I don’t think food alone will fix this.”

Mira shrugged. “It was just an idea. Maybe we could get him something else—something special?”

Kael’s face lit up as if he’d struck gold. “Fireworks!”

Elyndor groaned. “That’s your solution to everything.”

“No, seriously,” Kael pressed, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We throw a surprise party, light some fireworks, make him forget all about those daggers. He’d love it!”

Mira chuckled softly. “I think Kael just wants an excuse to blow something up.”

“Maybe,” Kael said with a wink. “But it could work.”

I shook my head, though the thought of Kael trying to organize a fireworks show was almost amusing. “I’m not sure a party is what he needs right now. He’s upset because he feels like he failed. I don’t think blowing things up is going to fix that.”

Elyndor nodded in agreement. “He needs something that’ll help him move forward, not just distract him for a while.”

Sylas leaned forward, suddenly quiet. “What about something to remind him of why he’s fighting in the first place? Something... that could make him stronger.”

There was a pause, everyone glancing at each other, unsure.

Kael tapped his chin. “Stronger, huh? Like what—training? Or are you thinking... new weapons?”

“New weapons,” Kaldor echoed, as if the thought had been resting on his mind the whole time. “Something better.”

The idea clicked instantly. It felt right—getting Duke something not just to replace the daggers, but something that would help him become even stronger. A symbol that we believed in him.

“Yeah,” I said, my excitement growing. “New weapons.”

We all nodded, but just as we were about to move forward, I felt a nagging doubt creeping in. Something didn’t sit right.

“I think we should get him more than just new daggers,” I interrupted. “Duke uses the Twinblade Flow style... daggers won’t maximize his potential. He needs something that complements his abilities.”

Kael raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying we get him... what, swords?”

I nodded firmly. “Not just normal swords—something that will allow him to fully use his twin blade technique. Proper weapons that match his strength and style.”

Elyndor rubbed the back of his neck. “That sounds... expensive.”

“It is,” Kaldor said with a small smile. “But we can pool our money together.”

Mira’s eyes lit up. “I love it. Something that will really help him fight.”

“But,” Kael chimed in, “we better get something that suits him. He’s not going to want a greatsword.”

“Or a bow,” Elyndor added.

“Or a frying pan,” Kael teased, earning him a glare from Mira.

I laughed, feeling the tension ease. “We’ll find the right weapons.”

The shop was a marvel of craftsmanship, every detail tailored to impress and entice. Rows of weapons gleamed under the warm glow of enchanted lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The wooden shelves were polished smooth, lined with everything from short blades to massive, rune-carved battleaxes. Longbows with intricately carved grips hung neatly along one wall, while shields embossed with various crests leaned against the counters. The scent of treated leather and oiled steel filled the air, creating an atmosphere that spoke of tradition and artistry.

Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache, his apron stained with oil and soot—a shopkeeper who clearly took pride in his trade. He greeted us with a booming voice.

“Looking for something specific?” he asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

Kael immediately chimed in. “Something sharp. And maybe intimidating?”

The shopkeeper chuckled, nodding toward a rack displaying spiked and jagged blades. “You’ll want to browse over there. They’re designed for intimidation as much as practicality.”

Elyndor crossed his arms. “He’s not trying to scare people, Kael. He needs something efficient, balanced.”

The shopkeeper gestured toward a set of finely crafted longswords on the wall. “These here are made from froststeel. Lightweight, sharp, and imbued with a natural resistance to wear. Perfect for speed and precision.”

Kaldor picked one up, testing its weight. “Nice balance, but it’s too long for Duke’s fighting style.”

We moved through the shop, examining weapon after weapon. A curved saber caught my eye, but its ornate gold hilt screamed impractical. Elyndor considered a short sword with a sleek, matte finish, but its grip was too small for Duke’s hands.

“What about these?” Kaldor pointed to a pair of twin blades displayed prominently on a central stand. Their design was simple but elegant—steel polished to a mirror shine, hilts wrapped in dark leather, and crossguards shaped like wings.

The shopkeeper approached, his eyes lighting up. “Ah, a fine choice. These are shadowsteel blades—light, durable, and forged for dual wielding. But…” He hesitated. “They’re not cheap. Worth every coin, though.”

Mira’s brow furrowed as she glanced at the price tag. “We could pool what we have, but it’d be tight.”

Kael sighed, looking between the blades and the remaining coins in his pouch. “Is there anything similar that’s… less pricey?”

The shopkeeper scratched his chin, then led us to a different section. “These might be more within your range. Still good quality, though not as refined as the shadowsteel pair.”

The blades he showed us were simpler, less polished but sturdy and functional. After a few moments of discussion, we decided on a pair that felt right. They weren’t perfect, but they were the kind of weapons Duke could grow into—light enough for speed, durable enough to handle rigorous training.

“Twin blades it is,” Elyndor said with a nod.

As we handed over the money, the shopkeeper wrapped the swords carefully in a cloth sheath. “He’s lucky to have friends like you,” he said with a smile.

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Duke’s pov:

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the broken daggers in my hands. My fingers ran over the jagged edges where the blades had shattered, leaving nothing but useless pieces of metal. These weren’t just weapons.

They were the daggers my father had given me when I first swore to protect those I cared about. Back then, it felt like I was holding a piece of his legacy in my hands, a symbol of the strength I aspired to gain. Now, they were just reminders of my failure.

It wasn’t just the battle against the golems that weighed on me. It was everything—the pressure, the memories, the feeling that I was somehow still not good enough, even in this new life. My mind drifted to my past life, to the years I had spent trying to make something of myself.

Back then, I was nothing special. No matter how many jobs I took on, how hard I worked, I was always falling short. I juggled multiple jobs—waiter, construction worker, delivery driver, you name it. Every time, I ended up disappointing my bosses.

They'd complain that I was too slow, too clumsy, not skilled enough. I couldn’t seem to get anything right, no matter how hard I tried. It felt like I was always on the verge of collapsing under the weight of expectations, both from others and from myself. The debt, the endless cycle of trying and failing—it wore me down, made me question if I even had a future.

I remember working late into the night, the cold biting at my skin as I dragged myself from one job to the next, only to wake up the next day and do it all over again. I was stuck in a loop, a life with no purpose. I thought that maybe, just maybe, in this new life, I could break free from that. I thought I could be better.

But here I was, clutching broken daggers, feeling like I had failed again. How could I protect anyone like this?

A knock at the door broke through my thoughts. I didn’t move. I knew it was my friends, probably worried about me, but I couldn’t face them. Not like this. Not when I felt so powerless.

The door creaked open slowly, and I heard their footsteps. They entered the room quietly, like they didn’t want to disturb me. I didn’t look up, but I could hear them moving closer.

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“Hey, Duke,” Sylas said softly, her voice gentle. “We’ve been worried about you.”

I stayed silent, still staring at the broken daggers.

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Mira added, her tone equally soft.

I felt guilty for making them worry. "I’m sorry," I muttered. "I’ll be fine. I just... I’ll figure something out. I’ll get a new weapon on my own."

Sylas smiled, stepping closer. “You don’t have to figure everything out on your own, you know.”

Before I could respond, I heard Kaldor moving behind me. I looked up just in time to see him pull something from behind his back. Two swords, carefully sheathed, were laid on the bed in front of me.

“What...?” I blinked, staring at them in shock. My heart skipped a beat. “You... bought these?”

“Yeah,” Kael said with a grin. “We all pitched in.”

I reached out, my fingers hovering over the hilts. The weight of the moment sank in, heavy and unexpected. I couldn’t believe they had done this for me. My throat tightened, and I struggled to find the right words.

One sword, around 70 centimeters long, its blade sleek and sharp, slightly curved for precise, fast strikes. The blade was forged from a gleaming silver steel, with a faint shimmer running along its edge, giving it a refined yet deadly appearance.

The hilt was wrapped in a tightly bound black leather grip, designed for comfort and control, even during the swiftest movements. The guard was elegantly simple, a crescent shape crafted from the same silver steel as the blade, providing just enough protection without sacrificing speed. The pommel was engraved with the symbol of a rising sun, a subtle nod to my fighting style

The second sword was a saber, around 50 centimeters long, perfectly suited for close-quarters combat. Its blade was straighter and lighter, ideal for fast, fluid motions. The grip was similarly wrapped in black leather, but the texture was slightly rougher, allowing for a firmer hold when delivering rapid, powerful slashes.

The guard of the saber was small and almost curved inward, designed to deflect attacks while allowing quick retaliation. The pommel of this blade was different from the first; it was a circular disc engraved with a whirlwind.

“These are...” I swallowed, emotion flooding my chest. “These are incredible.”

I couldn’t help it—I questioned them, my voice shaky. “Why would you do this for me? I... I don’t deserve this.”

“Duke,” Elyndor said, his voice serious, “we’re a team. You’re not in this alone.”

Sylas stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not just our leader because you’re strong. You’re our leader because you believe in protecting us. You’ve always put us first. Now it’s time we do the same for you.”

I couldn’t speak. The weight of their words hit me hard, and I realized something I hadn’t before. I had been carrying the burden of responsibility alone, thinking that I had to be the one to protect them, the one to be strong. But strength didn’t come from being the best or doing everything by myself. It came from the unity we shared, from standing together, supporting each other.

Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them. I didn’t care. I stood up and hugged them, each and every one of them.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you all.”

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After I received the twin blades and started getting used to their weight and feel, we decided to stay in Brightmoor for a few more months before heading back to our hometowns. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it made sense. Brightmoor had everything we needed: steady work, experienced adventurers willing to share tips, and enough opportunities to grow stronger as a team. We all agreed we weren’t ready to go back just yet—not until we felt confident we could handle whatever came next.

The time here would give us a chance to hone our skills and prepare for the journey home. And maybe, in the process, we’d learn a bit more about ourselves and what it meant to truly protect the people we cared about.

A few more months had passed since I received those swords, and in that time, a lot had changed. We had grown—literally and as adventurers. I was now nine, like Sylas, Mira, and Kael. Kaldor had just turned ten, and Elyndor, the eldest, was twelve.

We did plan on celebrating Kaldor’s second important birthday. But he overheard it and said that the beastkin actually doesn’t have the pratice of celebrating birthday.

And the only celebration is when one individual turned 15, that is when a beastkin received the honor title in the hometown.

Keep this in mind, I told to myself to celebrate it when he turned 15, of course if we still stay together in the nest 5 years

In those pass months, we had taken on more quests, gained experience, and earned quite a reputation in the city. Most of the city dwellers recognized us whenever we walked through the streets, some even calling us by name. We were no longer the lost, broken kids who had been kidnapped. We had become something more—a team, a family.

But now, it was time.

I gathered everyone in the room of the guild, the weight of the decision heavy in my chest. I could feel the tension in the air as they all sat around me, waiting for me to speak.

“We’ve come a long way,” I began, my voice steady but solemn. “When we formed this party, our goal wasn’t just to survive—it was to make sure everyone could return home safely. That was always the plan.”

They nodded, already sensing where this was going.

“We’ve gathered enough money now. Enough to travel and get home,” I continued. “It’s time to leave the city and go back to our villages.”

There was a long silence. No one spoke, but I could feel their sadness. This city had become more than just a place to rest—it was filled with memories. I looked at each of them, waiting for someone to say something.

Mira was the first to speak, her voice soft but filled with nostalgia. “Remember when we first took that quest to catch the thief? We were so bad at it… I tripped over every rooftop trying to chase that guy.” She smiled at the memory, and we all laughed, even though it had been a disaster at the time.

Kael grinned. “Yeah, and then there was that time we had to escort the merchant through the forest. He was so paranoid about getting attacked, but the only thing we ran into was a wild rabbit. That guy almost fainted when it hopped toward him.”

Kaldor chuckled, his deep voice rumbling. “And don’t forget the food stall we always visit after every mission. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything better than those roasted meats.”

Sylas added, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “We spent so many nights just sitting by the river outside the city, looking at the stars and planning our future. We talked about what we’d do when we got home.”

The room fell silent again as everyone reminisced about their time here. The city had given us more than just adventures—it had given us a sense of belonging, a place where we had grown together.

“I’ll miss this place,” Sylas admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We all will,” I said, nodding in agreement.

But as I turned to Elyndor, I noticed his expression was different—detached, almost distant. He wasn’t reminiscing like the rest of us. Instead, he seemed lost in thought.

“You okay, Elyndor?” I asked, sensing something was off.

He looked up at me, then at the rest of the group. “I... won’t be going with you,” he said, his voice calm, but the words hit like a hammer.

“What?” Sylas blurted, her eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean you’re not coming with us?”

Elyndor sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. My village needs me. There are things happening there, things that I need to take care of. I can’t abandon them.”

“Then we’ll go with you!” Kael said, almost jumping out of his seat. “We’re a team, Elyndor. You don’t have to do this alone.”

But Elyndor shook his head. “No. This is something I have to do by myself. I’ve already decided.”

The room erupted into chaos. Kaldor’s face hardened as he leaned forward, his voice low but filled with frustration. “You think we’re just going to let you walk away like that? After everything we’ve been through?”

Sylas stood up, her hands clenched into fists. “You don’t get to make that decision alone, Elyndor! We’re a team! We’ve always been a team.”

But Elyndor stayed calm, his face a mask of resolve. “I know you care, but this isn’t your fight. It’s mine. My village is my responsibility, and I can’t drag you all into it.”

“You’re not dragging us into anything!” I shouted, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “We want to help you!”

“I don’t want your help,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not asking for it.” The argument went on fo up his mind.

As the room simmered with tension, Kael stepped forward, his usual quiet demeanor replaced with uncharacteristic urgency. “Elyndor, you’re making a mistake,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You’ve always been there for us—how can you expect us to stand by while you go off on your own? You’re our friend, our family.”

His fists clenched at his sides, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “What if something happens to you? What if you need us and we’re not there?”

Elyndor’s gaze softened, but he didn’t waver. “Kael, I appreciate what you’re saying, but this isn’t about trust. It’s about responsibility. My village raised me, gave me everything I have. I can’t just turn my back on them.”

Mira, who had been silent until now, took a step closer, her expression a mix of hurt and determination. “Do you think we don’t understand responsibility? We’ve all got people we care about, Elyndor, people we want to protect. But that’s why we’re stronger together. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

Her words struck a chord in the room, a quiet truth that lingered in the heavy silence. Even Sylas, still brimming with anger, nodded in agreement. But Elyndor shook his head once more, his resolve unshaken.

“I know you mean well,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost regretful. “But this is something I need to do for myself. It’s not about not trusting you—it’s about standing up for what I believe in. For the people who need me most right now.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I stood up, feeling defeated. I looked at Elyndor, the boy who had fought by my side for so long, the boy I had come to see as a brother.

“If this is what your what felt like forever—voices raised, words thrown, emotions running high. But no matter how much we argued, Elyndor didn’t budge. He had made really want...” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “then I won’t stop you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as the others slowly nodded in agreement, though their faces were filled with sorrow. Sylas looked like she was on the verge of tears, and even Kaldor, usually so stoic, looked like he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

The next morning, we gathered at the city’s front gate, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The air was cold, and an uneasy tension hung between us. Elyndor stood with his bag packed, ready to leave.

“This is it,” Elyndor said quietly, looking at each of us with a steady gaze.

We all stood there, the weight of the moment pressing down on us. It was hard to find the right words, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Then, breaking the tension, Kael stepped forward, his usual stoicism softened by the moment. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Elyndor in a tight hug. “Take care of yourself,” he said, his voice muffled against Elyndor’s shoulder.

Elyndor stiffened slightly before chuckling. “Easy, Kael. Didn’t think you’d be the clingy one.”

Kael smirked, pulling back but keeping a hand on Elyndor’s shoulder. “Just don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m sticking to handshakes.”

Sylas stepped up next, her hands on her hips and a mischievous grin on her face. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily, you know. We’ll probably bump into you when you least expect it—like when you’re doing something embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” Elyndor raised a brow, crossing his arms. “Like when you tripped and fell into the river last week?”

Sylas gasped, her cheeks flushing. “You promised never to bring that up!”

Kaldor, who had been standing quietly until now, let out a low chuckle. “Consider it payback, Sylas. You do love teasing everyone else.”

When it was Mira’s turn, she hesitated before stepping closer, her expression softer than usual. “Don’t forget to write, okay?” she said, giving Elyndor a warm hug. Then she pulled back, her voice turning sly. “And if you don’t, I’ll make Sylas track you down.”

Elyndor smiled faintly. “I’ll write. Can’t risk Sylas chasing me across the continent.”

Finally, I stepped forward, looking Elyndor in the eyes. “Stay safe,” I said, keeping my tone firm. But then a grin tugged at my lips. “And if you lose to some bandits or a stray chicken, I’ll never let you hear the end of it.”

“Stray chicken, huh?” Elyndor laughed, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One by one, we all embraced him, even Kaldor, who gave Elyndor a firm pat on the back, murmuring something about watching his blind spots.

As Elyndor stepped back, his expression grew more serious, though there was still a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “You guys take care of each other, alright? Don’t get into too much trouble without me.”

Sylas snorted. “Trouble? Us? Never.”

Elyndor smiled, the first genuine one I’d seen from him in days. “Yeah, sure.”

He turned and started walking west, his footsteps steady but deliberate. We watched him go, the distance between us growing with every step. He didn’t look back.

As the silence settled again, Sylas crossed her arms and sighed. “Well, that’s that. Guess we’ll just have to keep ourselves alive without him.”

Mira nodded, her voice gentle. “He’ll be okay.”

Kaldor rumbled in agreement, though his gaze lingered in the direction Elyndor had gone. “We all will.”

Slowly, we turned south, toward Redmount and the next leg of our journey. The air felt heavier, as if something vital had been left behind.

As we walked, Sylas glanced at me with a sly smile. “So, Duke, you think you’ll cry when he writes his first letter? Or save the tears for his heroic return?”

I rolled my eyes, shaking off the lump in my throat with a grin. “You mean the tears of relief when we see he hasn’t been eaten by chickens?”

Sylas burst out laughing, and for a moment, the tension eased, replaced by the warmth of shared memories. Even as the road ahead stretched endlessly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the end of something.

And yet, it was also the beginning of something else.