Vold walked alongside Kagan, her eyes occasionally studying him in the moonlight. She attempted to probe deeper into his past, but Kagan remained resolutely closed off. The usual light-hearted demeanor he exhibited on the battlefield was gone, replaced by a reflective seriousness.

Trying a different approach, Vold asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”

Kagan’s response was immediate and pointed. “Yeah, why me?” His tone was flat, his expression unreadable. “I’m not an idiot. Aleksander, Aisha, Ryu, and Isabella – they’re all S-rank climbers. Their classes, their skills... it’s obvious why they’re here.”

He ignited a small 'Magic Missile' in his hand, the light casting shadows on his face. “I’m just an E-rank,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.

Vold chose not to answer Kagan’s question directly. Instead, she shared a tale from her past, a story that seemed to hold deep significance for her. “Long ago, my people were just like the Elves,” she began, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow.

“We were one of the royal families within the Elf kingdom.” Her expression turned grim. “But then, tragedy struck. The leader of our family sought power from the Demon King, and in doing so, poisoned the World Tree, setting into motion the events that have led us here.”

As she spoke, a palpable aura of anger and pain emanated from her. “Our skin changed, our magic was twisted, and we were ostracized, hunted... for sport,” she said, her voice hardening. “We became Dark Elves, separate from our kin, outcasts in a world we once called home.”

Kagan listened intently, sensing the immense burden of history and regret in her words. Vold’s story was more than a tale of her people; it was a reflection of her personal struggle, a fight for redemption in the face of inherited sins.

“When I was old enough, I forged my own path,” Vold continued, her voice steadier now. “I created a sword style – one of atonement. It’s not just about combat; it’s about facing our past, our mistakes, and striving to right them.”

She stopped and faced Kagan, her eyes piercing in the moonlight. “I see a similar path for you, Kagan. Not the same, but parallel. A journey of atonement, of coming to terms with your past and using it to shape a stronger future.”

Kagan was silent, processing her words. The parallels between their stories were not lost on him. His past, marred by addiction and struggle, was like a shadow he had been trying to outrun.

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“So, you think I can turn my mess of a life into some kind of... redemptive sword style?” Kagan asked, half-skeptical, half-curious.

“Not a sword style, perhaps,” Vold replied with a small smile. “But a way of being, a mindset. You’ve already started on that path, whether you realize it or not. Your journey in the Tower, your determination to climb despite everything – that’s your form of atonement.”

Soon enough they arrived at the base of the world tree. They had walked all night and rested during the day. Looks like it was time for Kagan to be nocturnal.

In the serene clearing near Yggdrasil, under the dappled light of the setting sun, Vold demonstrated her sword technique. As she moved, her form was a blend of grace and power, each stroke of her blade telling a story of repentance and strength. Vold, with her elegant dark elven features, her skin a deep shade of night, and her hair flowing like silk, was a figure of solemn beauty and profound skill.

"Remember my sword is one of atonement, I am not the one who cause the trouble for my family." she said never stopping her movements. "But I am the one who would atone for their sins."

Kagan watched, his eyes following each precise movement, but his mind was elsewhere, spiraling into the depths of his own past. Vold's talk of atonement through her sword art resonated with him, unearthing memories he had long buried. As Vold’s blade danced through the air, slicing through the peaceful ambiance of the clearing, Kagan’s thoughts drifted to the times he had wronged his family.

"Kagan how could you do this?" his mother asked through tears.

He could remember the exact look of utter disappointment in his parents' eyes when they discovered he had stolen the money they had saved for years, the lifeblood of their dreams and hopes. He recalled the crushing guilt when his actions led to them losing their jobs, their reputation tarnished by association. The downfall of his family – his own doing. His escape with their funds, a desperate act of a drug-addicted mind, had left a trail of destruction in its wake.

"Well I needed it more than you" he remembered thinking at that moment.

With each of Vold's fluid movements, Kagan felt the weight of his past actions more acutely. The tranquility of the setting – the lush greenery surrounding them, the gentle rustling of leaves, and the soft chirping of birds – contrasted sharply with the turmoil within him. The peacefulness of the forest seemed to mock the chaos he had caused in his own life and the lives of those he loved.

"Kagan don't you realize what you've done?" his twin sister said glaring at him. Their baby brother watching all of this happen.

The look of horror as his parents realized Kagan wasn't their son anymore. He was a monster.

Vold’s technique was more than just swordplay; it was a physical manifestation of her struggle and redemption. Her movements were precise, yet they carried a weight of sorrow and determination. Each strike, each parry, spoke of a journey to right the wrongs of the past.

Before he even had the chance to realize he was crying. The sobs came from his very being. He had made peace with what happened a long time ago. This wasnt even the worst of his life. But he still cried.

Under the setting sun, a boy was desperately crying for forgiveness.