Chapter 23: “The Kingmaker” (Please Follow and Read!)
The Sword’s Mystery No wounds marked where the vines had pierced. Without holding the sword, it felt like an illusion. Good or bad, Winger wasn’t sure. If it was a dropped weapon, players could use it. Plot items, though, often stayed unusable in inventories. Descriptions might hold cryptic clues. Like a “legendary magic” summoning a dark moon. It erased magic it touched, guided by Selunia. But this sword showed no quality, no details. Its name was just *. No story clues emerged. The fragmented vision offered no guesses. A hidden curse in fine print wouldn’t faze players. But touching it, Winger risked real suffering. She didn’t want to bring danger to the village. Storing it in her inventory seemed safe. Leaving empty-handed felt like a waste. An unexpected gain, at least. It suited her quiet life.
A Shifting World Since Aiden’s letter, life’s gears began turning. They wouldn’t stop. Winger felt pressed for time. These past days, she stole moments to explore. After four or five days, it was time to return. A graceful figure darted through the primeval forest. She raced toward the mountains’ edge. Half a month later, Aiden settled in the village. He stayed in a simple room. Each morning, he checked the treehouse. Disappointment mixed with guilt. Was his mother still angry? Years away showed his lack of care. He mounted his horse, calling his attendants. Veyi planned to escort him to the valley. Winger hadn’t been heard from since leaving. She’d left a brief note for the mine guards. Everyone trusted her strength. If she couldn’t handle it, Reila couldn’t either. Still, the silence worried them.
Aiden’s Departure Aiden had stayed, but found no way to mend the rift. He entered the rift once, emerging bloodied. Veyi thought Winger’s advice against recklessness held truth. Initially, Village Chief Rhine hosted Aiden. Later, he wandered, meeting villagers. Most of his time was spent waiting. Waiting didn’t always yield results. Veyi rode alongside him toward the village exit. The fields were tilled, off-season crops planted. They looked bare, unappealing. Aiden sighed, perhaps missing the harvest. Or regretting not seeing someone. “Stop here,” he said, gesturing to Veyi. “Come visit Barnes City sometime.” His mother taught him duty first. As Hosgard’s lord, he had reasons to leave. Veyi wanted to speak but held back. Words now carried a tinge of sadness. She stopped at the crossroads, watching them fade into the valley.
An Uneasy Return Winger hurried back but was delayed. She paused at the herb garden, then reached the treehouse. Nothing seemed different, yet something felt off. Her instincts sensed an unseen change. Someone had been here—not just a familiar face. Veyi or Reila wouldn’t leave this feeling. A shadow lingered in the air. Her subconscious noticed it. A strange sadness hit her. Had she missed something? She touched the railing, gazing at the dim world. The treehouse faced south, toward mountains. Village lights were hidden. Night cloaked the sky, stars spreading out. Cold air made her breath mist. It was so cold this autumn. Winger didn’t cook or plan anything. She leaned against the railing, blending into the night. Northern winds brushed past, tossing her hair. She tucked stray strands away.
A Moment of Solace The sky darkened beyond normal sight. Winger stood still, unmoving. Suddenly, the room glowed softly. Warm yellow light spread, tinting the night. Lampfruits swelled, releasing stored daylight. Winger smiled—it wasn’t so bad. She had her treehouse, her students, her long life. Loneliness was trivial, wasn’t it? She soaked in a relaxing bath. Carrying a lampfruit outside, she shut the windows. In loose pajamas, she sprawled on her bed. If nothing else, the bed was all hers. Sometimes, she was glad people could dream. Her consciousness sank, leaving only steady breathing. The dark room grew quiet. The same vision replayed in her dream. She knew it was a dream, recalling the illusion. She saw the figure again, and herself, bound by sword-vines. Determined, she focused on details.
A Vision of Fire The palace, murals, and torches blurred. Only the figure stood clear. At the vision’s end, time stretched slightly. The figure placed the sword in the altar. It removed its hood, revealing silver-white hair. The dream twisted, like a torn painting. Only silent darkness remained. Winger awoke to acrid smoke. Fire engulfed her surroundings. She didn’t know where she was. Her body felt heavy, the sword her support. Burned skin stung faintly. Collapsing buildings surrounded her. Heat was unbearable. Beams crackled, falling with charred pillars. Smoke rose in clouds. A faint tremor shook the ground. A sword’s light cleaved the fire. The blade’s energy tore the earth, stopping inches from her. A figure descended from the air. The “man” held a silver sword, his arm raw and bloody. His head was a writhing mass of thorns.
The Kingmaker’s Shadow A vile aura spread. Heavy breathing filled her mind. Instinct took over. As Winger raised her sword, she saw it. Below her vision, a boss’s health bar stretched. Its name, in wild script—“The Kingmaker.” Vick.