"Here is the Sword Art," Aelion said, placing the Art into Ash's trembling hands. His voice was calm, but the weight of his words was undeniable. "Take this and practice it every day. As of today, this place is yours. I'll be leaving."

Ash's eyes widened, his grip on the book tightening. "What do you mean you're leaving? It's not like you have to save the world or something!"

Aelion chuckled, though the sound was hollow and devoid of humour.

"No, Ray, I don't have to save the world. But by staying here with you, I risk bringing destruction to everything I hold dear—my family, my people, my Race. Your presence… it's a beacon. A light that will inevitably attract those who want to snuff it out, and they won't hesitate to destroy me and my Elf Race to get to you."

For a moment, the room was silent. The faint hum of mana in the air seemed louder than ever.

Ash bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. "I understand," he said finally, his voice barely audible.

Aelion's heart ached at those two words.

Ash remained standing with his head down.

"…."

"Can I ask you something...??"

"Of course," Aelion replied gently.

"If you wanted to, you could've used Phoenix Blood to heal the mana veins in your body," Ash said, his voice trembling but firm. "But you didn't. Why?"

Aelion's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. "Wait… how did you even know it was Phoenix Blood?"

"Answer me," Ash said, cutting him off. His tone carried a sharp edge, but it was undercut by the pain in his eyes.

Aelion sighed deeply, leaning back against the table as if the years had suddenly caught up with him. "You're too perceptive for your own good," he muttered.

"Yes, I could've used it. The Phoenix Blood would've healed my mana veins, maybe even made me stronger than I've ever been. But sometimes, Ray, survival comes at too great a cost."

Aelion replied, his voice strained with emotion. "Phoenix Blood might heal you, might make you stronger, but it would also drag me into a world where there is no peace. I just wanted to practice my sword, to live without worrying about battles, about bloodshed. It's not just about being strong. It's about how you choose to live your life."

"Remember, Ray, treat people the way they deserve to be treated. We can have peace between two groups that desire peace. If one group is insistent on war, how can you counter that with peace? War and peace are two sides of the same coin, and we must embrace both.

We should know what is appropriate when. So, when peaceful negotiations are possible, it is inappropriate to fight. But when all options to peace have been exhausted, it is inappropriate not to fight."

"Same applies in life. You can say I ran away because I didn't want to shed meaningless blood. If I had held on and fought, the war would still be going on, and many people would have died. The war started because of me in the first place. My friend, who created this place, also died, which is why I decided not to hold the sword again."

The silence between them grew heavy. Ash's heart ached as he looked at Aelion, realizing the depth of the sacrifice his master had made.

Aelion sighed deeply, the weariness in his eyes evident. "I've made my choices, Ray. I've found my peace in this small world. I want you to find yours, too."

Ash's throat tightened as he looked down at the sword art in his hands. "I understand."

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Aelion stood by the door, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a heavy mantle. His eyes lingered on Ray, who still held the sword art in his hands, as if it was the last piece of a puzzle that would never quite fit.

The silence between them grew thicker with every passing second, each one stretching the distance between master and disciple further than the last.

"Ray," Aelion spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper in the stillness, "I hope you understand. This isn't just about me leaving. It's about giving you the freedom you deserve. You have to walk your own path now. You don't need me to hold your hand anymore."

Ash remained silent, his head lowered, the weight of Aelion's words sinking deep into his heart. His gaze was fixed on the ground, unable—or unwilling—to meet his master's eyes.

The emotions that raged inside him were a tempest: confusion, sorrow, and anger. But he couldn't find the words to express them, not now.

Aelion took a slow step toward him, the heavy silence still lingering between them. He reached out, placing a hand gently on Ash's shoulder, the touch warm and firm. "I'll always be your master. Even if we never see each other again, I will always be here, in your heart. The key to this place will always be yours."

Still, Ash didn't respond. His grip on the sword art tightened slightly, his fingers trembling just a bit, but his face remained unreadable, his thoughts buried too deep to surface.

Aelion sighed, his expression a mix of regret and understanding. He knew Ray wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for the loneliness that came with this decision, the emptiness that would follow his departure.

But Aelion couldn't stay, If he stayed, he would drag his family and race into the very things he'd fought to avoid—a world of violence, of power struggles, of constant conflict.

"Goodbye, Ray," Aelion said quietly, his voice strained. "Take care of yourself."

With one last lingering glance, Aelion turned and walked toward the door, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. He didn't look back. He couldn't.

The door closed softly behind him, and in the sudden stillness, Ash was left alone.

The key to the place, the sword art, and the weight of his master's departure all weighed on him, but the silence in the room seemed even heavier.

Ash stood frozen, the world outside carrying on without him, but in this moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. The absence of Aelion was a presence all its own, suffocating in its emptiness.

The pain in his chest was like a raw wound, one that no amount of training or discipline could heal.

Aelion had left—to protect his family, his people—and all Ash could do was stand there, rooted in the space they had shared, feeling the emptiness of the room echo through his very soul.

Aelion had given him the tools to survive, to grow stronger. He had left him with a legacy, something Ash was supposed to carry forward.

But that didn't stop the ache that seemed to swallow him whole. It wasn't about the sword art or the knowledge—those things would stay with him, but they couldn't fill the hole in his heart.

Aelion had been a father, a mentor, a friend. And now he was gone. Gone like the fleeting moments of warmth that had once surrounded Ash, now replaced by the biting chill of abandonment.

The silence stretched on, unbearable. Ash didn't know how long he stood there, feeling the weight of his grief in the air around him.

All he wanted was for things to go back to how they were, to the days when his master's voice would guide him, when there was a clear path forward, when he wasn't left in the shadow of a legacy that now felt too heavy to carry.

Aelion's words, his departure, it all played over in his mind like an unending loop. He had understood, or so he thought. But now, with his master gone, Ash felt more lost than ever before.

Aelion had made his choice. And Ash had no choice but to face the silence left behind. But what hurt the most wasn't the loss of his master's teachings; it was the loss of the one person who had made him feel like he wasn't completely alone in this world.

And now, that emptiness was all he had left. The key to the place, the sword art, and the promise of a future that seemed so distant... none of it mattered. Because in his heart, all Ash could feel was the weight of goodbye.

Despite the heaviness weighing on his chest, Ash stood tall, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He clenched his fists, eyes briefly closing as the familiar ache of loss surged through him.

But just like in his previous life, he had learned how to push those feelings deep down, to bury them where no one could see. Emotions were a luxury he could no longer afford, especially in a world so different from the one he once knew.

Aelion was gone. His master, his guide, had left him behind, and Ash was alone once more. But even in the face of that crushing emptiness, Ash knew one thing: he couldn't afford to break down. Not here. Not now. The world didn't care about his pain.

He had done this before, in his past life, when he had to fight alone and carve his own path through a cruel, unforgiving world.

The key was distraction.

His emotions would only make him weak, so he had to push them aside and focus on something else.

His gaze shifted to the bookshelf, to the collection of books that lined the walls, each one filled with knowledge and answers.

He turned to the alchemy books that had always intrigued him. Their promise of power, of creation, of control—it was the perfect thing to focus on right now. With a determined look, he pulled one of the books off the shelf and sat down at the study table, opening the first page.

***