Chapter 86: A Quiet Morning. (1)
It was already daytime.
The light began to impose itself slowly, extending from the horizon in a golden strip that little by little gained height. The sun peeked out cautiously, and its first rays fell on the remains of Conrad’s fort, clearly revealing what the night had left behind.
The walls, once firm, showed deep cracks. Some sections had given way completely, leaving piles of stone scattered on the ground. The towers presented irregular edges, as if they had been forcibly torn off, and in various areas the terrain was marked by furrows and fractures that revealed the combat’s intensity.
One of the walls was completely destroyed. In fact, that could no longer be considered a fort, but ruins.
The place still retained a dense air.
There were no chaotic elements dancing in the place, but traces. Dark marks on the stone, scattered fragments, remains that spoke without need for words. The ice on the other hand had already melted, though it was understandable given the time that had passed. The sunlight traveled over each of those details, stripping the scene of any shadow and crudely showing the fort’s state.
Lloyd was outside, standing, observing in silence.
His appearance didn’t go unnoticed.
He had barely slept. It showed in the slight heaviness of his eyelids, in the way his gaze took an instant longer than usual to focus. His movements were precise, but there was certain slowness in them, a lack of energy he didn’t bother to hide.
The tiredness was there.
Accumulated.
His shoulders remained firm, though in his posture the wear of a sleepless night was perceived. Even the simple act of remaining standing seemed to demand more from him than normal.
Still...
It had been worth it.
Lloyd directed his gaze toward the sword.
Zana e Madhe.
The name settled with its own weight. It wasn’t a simple tool nor an improvised experiment. He had crossed a clear threshold in creating it. A legendary artifact, forged from elements that, separately, were already exceptional.
Now they were united. Fused through the vestiges of a past hero’s ability.
The boy let out a faint sigh, more from release than exhaustion.
There was something of satisfaction in it.
Not exaggerated, nor expressed in obvious gestures, but present. A calm certainty of having achieved something few could replicate.
However, not everything had gone as the system expected.
Lloyd frowned slightly remembering it.
The evaluation had been clear.
Mission: failed.
The reason was obvious. He hadn’t absorbed Belial. He hadn’t followed the path the system had laid out as "correct." Instead, he had taken another direction, one that didn’t fit within established parameters.
That was... irritating to him.
Not for having failed the mission itself, but for the rigidity it implied. As if only one valid way to do things existed, ignoring any alternative not contemplated beforehand.
He clicked his tongue softly.
Still, he didn’t give it too much importance.
The reward he would have obtained for completing the mission didn’t compare to what he had now.
Not even close.
He had created something real.
Something that didn’t depend on the system, nor on its conditions, nor on its limitations.
Zana e Madhe was proof of that.
And that...
That had much more value.
Though there was a price Lloyd hadn’t expected. "Cooldown."
When Lloyd checked his system he could observe how the mark’s power had been revealed.
But also something he didn’t expect to observe: "CD 3 months."
The boy could no longer use [Oxymoron] for 3 months, something that worried him.
More than anything the idea that each time he used it, the time to wait to use it again would be 3 months again.
Though there was still the possibility the waiting time was so long only because that feat he had performed with [Oxymoron] was considered too "heavy."
But with simpler uses the ability’s cooldown would be less.
The young man hoped so.
Then, a sound was heard.
A faint crunch, dry, caused by weight resting on stone remains scattered on the ground. Lloyd turned his head in that direction, taking his eyes off the fort.
Instinctively he had made the sword disappear, which had rejoined his body, in symbiosis.
Then, among the damaged walls and rubble, a silhouette advanced with firm step.
Sebastian.
As he approached, his presence defined itself clearly. He was a tall man, of erect build despite the age shown by his white hair and well-kept gray beard.
His eyes, of a deep purple tone, remained attentive, scanning the surroundings with discretion.
He dressed as befitted his position, without carelessness, and each of his movements transmitted control. His posture didn’t yield at any moment, straight, sustained with a discipline that didn’t seem to have weakened with years.
When he was close enough, he stopped.
His expression, serious in appearance, softened the gesture with a slight curve in his lips. It wasn’t cold. There was in it a contained kindness, measured, proper of someone accustomed to maintaining forms in any situation.
"Good morning young master Lloyd," he greeted with a slight nod of his head. "I see you’re already awake. Did you have trouble falling asleep tonight... or have you simply come out to contemplate the dawn?"
Lloyd observed him an instant before responding.
"Let’s say a bit of both."
He added nothing more. His voice came out effortlessly, though somewhat lower than usual. The tiredness was still present, settled in his body.
Sebastian nodded softly, as if the answer fit what he already expected.
His gaze descended briefly toward the place’s state, scanning the damaged walls, the combat’s remains, and then returned to the boy.
"In that case," he continued, "do you wish me to take care of breakfast? Lucia is still not in condition to do so."
Lloyd nodded.
The gesture was automatic, accompanied by a memory that crossed his mind without warning. The previous day. The moment when Alice, still under Belial’s influence, had hit the maid.
A single movement.
Fast.
Too clean.
The scene had had something absurd in its execution, almost out of place, as if the difference between both had been exaggerated on purpose. The result, however, had nothing light about it.
Lloyd pushed that thought aside.
"Do it," he responded, without extending himself.
Sebastian bowed his head again, accepting the instruction without adding any comment. His attitude didn’t change. No surprise, no judgment. Only compliance.
The silence held a brief instant.
Lloyd looked at the fort again.
The sunlight already reached much of the ruins, clearly outlining each crack, each collapsed section. There wasn’t much left to observe there.
It was enough.
"It’s time to gather the beast-men," he then said, with a firmer tone.
Without raising his voice unnecessarily.
"It’s time to finish off that bastard Bernard Sargas."
The words hung in the air, clear, without unnecessary emphasis.
Sebastian didn’t respond immediately, but his posture remained intact, as if he had already accepted what was coming even before hearing it.
The day was just beginning.
