The plains stretched endlessly before Riku, barren and uncaring, mirroring the emptiness that gnawed at his chest. Each step felt like dragging a stone tied to his soul. His legs moved, but his heart lagged behind, weighed down by the oppressive memory of the Shadow Monarch. That being had reduced his ambitions to ash in a single, agonizing instant. His victories, his training, everything he had ever achieved now felt like a cruel joke—a hollow echo in the vastness of his failure.

His body ached, but the pain was nothing compared to the torment inside. The memory of the Shadow Monarch’s gaze—cold, pitiless, and vast—was seared into his mind. It hadn’t even seen him as a threat. No, he was less than that. Less than a speck of dust in a storm. He was nothing.

“How could I have been so blind?” he whispered to no one, his voice trembling with frustration. The wind answered him with silence, carrying only the sound of his boots scuffing against dry earth.

The city of Vastor loomed on the horizon after days of walking. Its towering spires jutted into the sky, an architectural marvel that seemed to mock his insignificance. As he approached, the air grew thicker with the sounds of civilization. The clatter of carts, the murmur of voices, and the occasional burst of laughter reached his ears, but it only deepened the pit in his stomach. These people lived their lives with purpose, while he stumbled forward with none.

Entering the gates, Riku felt swallowed by the sheer enormity of the city. Vastor was alive with movement and energy, a stark contrast to the stillness he carried within. The streets were lined with merchants hawking exotic goods, warriors boasting of their conquests, and mages discussing the intricacies of spells he could barely comprehend. Everyone here seemed to belong. Everyone but him.

Riku’s gaze lingered on a group of mages demonstrating their abilities in the square. Flames roared to life, twisting and bending into shapes that danced in the air before dissipating into sparks. The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers a reminder of how far he had fallen. Once, he might have stood among them, proud and confident. Now, he felt like a ghost wandering among the living.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. The pain grounded him, even if only for a moment. He had come here for a reason, and he couldn’t let the weight of his despair stop him. The library. That was where he needed to go. It was said to hold ancient knowledge, secrets that could unlock power beyond imagination. Perhaps within those walls, he could find the answers he so desperately sought.

The grand library of Vastor was an imposing structure, its massive stone façade adorned with intricate carvings of scholars and warriors. As he stood before the towering doors, doubt crept in. What if the knowledge he sought wasn’t enough? What if he couldn’t use it? The thought twisted in his gut, but he pushed it aside, forcing himself to step inside.

The air inside the library was cool and still, heavy with the scent of parchment and aged leather. Shelves stretched endlessly, filled with books that seemed to whisper promises of wisdom and power. Riku wandered through the aisles, his fingers brushing against the spines of ancient tomes. But the weight of his failure pressed harder with every step. The knowledge here felt unattainable, as if it were reserved for those more worthy than him.

He paused in front of a display case, its glass protecting a single, ancient manuscript. The text was indecipherable, written in a language long forgotten, but its presence was intimidating. Riku’s reflection stared back at him from the glass—tired, hollow, and utterly lost. He turned away, unable to face the image any longer.

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“What do I even do here?” he muttered under his breath, the words swallowed by the vast silence.

“You look lost,” a voice said, sharp and clear.

Riku spun around to see a woman standing at the end of the aisle. She was tall, with dark hair that framed a face marked by both wisdom and strength. Her robes were those of a scholar, but the way she carried herself spoke of someone who had faced battles of her own.

“I’m not lost,” Riku replied automatically, though the words felt hollow. His voice lacked conviction, much like his resolve.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing. “You don’t look like someone searching for knowledge. You look like someone running from something.”

Riku bristled at her words, though he couldn’t deny their truth. He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I’m not running. I came here to learn how to be stronger.”

“Strength isn’t just about power,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about knowing who you are and what you’re fighting for.”

Her words struck a chord deep within him, stirring memories he had buried. He had started this journey to protect those he cared about, to stand against the darkness. But somewhere along the way, he had lost sight of that. Now, all he could see was his own inadequacy.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The woman studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “Then maybe you need to stop looking for strength outside yourself. Maybe you need to remember why you started this journey in the first place.”

Riku’s hands trembled at his sides. He wanted to argue, to push back against her words, but he couldn’t. They rang too true. The void inside him wasn’t something that could be filled with knowledge or power alone. It was a wound that needed healing, a part of himself he needed to confront.

The woman turned to leave, her steps soft against the stone floor. But before she disappeared around the corner, she glanced back. “You’re not the first to feel lost, and you won’t be the last. But don’t let this be the end of your story.”

Her words lingered long after she was gone. Riku stood there, the oppressive silence of the library pressing down on him once more. But this time, it felt different. There was a faint glimmer of something amidst the darkness—a spark, small and fragile, but present nonetheless.

He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting toward the shelves around him. The path ahead was still unclear, and the weight of his failure was still heavy. But perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way forward. And maybe, within these walls, he could begin to find it.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “No? Then what are you doing here, staring at books like they’ve personally wronged you?”

Her words stung, but they also cut through the haze of his despair. He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I came here to get stronger. To learn how to fight… things like the Shadow Monarch.”

Her expression softened slightly, though the intensity in her eyes remained. “Strength isn’t just about power, you know. It’s about resilience. About understanding what drives you.”

Riku looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t even know what drives me anymore,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I did, but now… I don’t know.”

The woman stepped closer, her tone gentle but firm. “Then maybe it’s time to stop running from what you feel. Pain has a way of teaching us things we’d rather not learn. But it’s still a teacher.”

Her words lingered in the air as she turned and walked away, leaving Riku alone once more. He stared at the book in front of him, the weight of her advice settling heavily on his shoulders. For the first time in days, he allowed himself to feel the full extent of his despair—the hopelessness, the fear, the anger. It was overwhelming, but it was also real.

And maybe, just maybe, facing it was the first step toward finding the strength he so desperately sought.