In a homy room, golden light was shining trough the open window, illuminating a bed on which a silhouette covered by a white sheet was eternally resting.

Three people were present to witness this scene, two of which were observing the silhouette by the bedside. The third was next to the closed door of the room, observing in silence and barely restraining his own emotions unworthy of being shown to the other resident of the room.

By the bedside was one boy around ten years old and a mature woman in her early thirties. The woman was breathtaking with curly brown hair, big brown eyes and some freckles on her little nose. The boy looked trained and healthy, with short black curls and blue eyes, it was evident that he would be a ladykiller in the future.

But right now, both of them were ugly. The woman's eyes were red and puffy and she could barely remain standing with the shuddering breath and the deluge of tears from her face. Her face was twisted in a grimace of cramped muscle, her hand clenching hard the yellow dress she was wearing.

"Mom? Wasn't dad the strongest?" A weak, absent voice echoed in the until now silent room from the boy who was abnormally pale and had a glassy look in his eyes, not really looking anywhere.

The voice brought back forcefully the woman from her own world and made her realise that she had something more important to do than to drown in her own feeling.

Immediatly, she kneeled to the eyes level of her son, put her hands on his shoulders and shook him a bit forcefully and spoke with conviction, hoping to make the boy stay alive. "Here, look in my eyes. Listen to me."

Not achieving the desired effect of waking him up and making him look at her in the eyes. She took off her hand from his shoulders and put them arround his face, gently aligning his gaze with her. Seeing a bit of light returning to his eyes, she spoke of her true beliefs with certainty, ignoring the tears still dropping from her chin and wetting het dress.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

"Your father was the strongest. And he will stay as such for eras to come! Imagine, just imagine an army of the thousand finest knight and the ten Paragons fighting together, a group of power never seen before in this world, just defeat your dad! And even then, he defeat them all to allow us to live freely. Your father is a hero and a great man."

Such words seem to work in bringing back his will to live, imagining the tall figure of his father in armour brandishing his gorgeous sword against thousand of men and supporting the world on his back alone made his young blood boil.

But after the despair, came the anger.

With hatred in his voice, he searched for a culprit. "Then, then, it's all the fault of the Goddess! If she hadn't brought those otherworlders here, nothing would have..." Before he could finish his words, he found his lips tied close by the delicate finger if his mother.

"Shhh... It's not the goddess fault, she just wished the best for everyone and for everyone to be happy. And she succeeded for a time didn't she? Before in my time, never would I have imagined that war could become harmless entertainment. Everyone make mistakes, even gods." Uttering these words calmly and tenderly, she hug her son who was now shaking.

"But... But..." his voice shuddering and having no remaining way to deal with his overwhelming, he could only face the reality that his dad, his best friend, and his pillar, had died.

A wail of grief resonated in the mansion.

The third figure in the room couldn't take it anymore and let out tears at the scene of mother and son embracing each other and burrying their faces in each other shoulder and crying hot tears over the corpse of a legend and a family man.

The young man around 16 years old was internally even more lost than both of the other people in this room. His mentor, his idol, and the person he considered his big brother had left him. What a squire he was, he couldn't even accompany his knight to battle. He was way too weak, but there was no reason to become stronger anymore, all the enemies were dead. The world was a shell of its former self, and he couldn't look the wife and the son of his mentor in the eyes anymore.

Walking toward the bed, he picked up the once shining and vibrant sword now dull leaning on the bed. Before anything, he would like to have a talk with the goddess.

Reaching for the door, he casted one last gaze across the heartwrenching scene and at the same time crossed eyes with the mature resident of the chamber. For a reason unknow even to himself, he nodded to her and left the room.