Chapitre 9: A Game Amidst the Chaos
The brothers made their way through the winding streets, the morning sun barely breaking through the thick gray clouds overhead. They'd just finished their first task for Rourke, and while they'd survived it, the weight of what they had to do still pressed on them. Adélard's brow furrowed as they walked. He was lost in thought, already planning their next steps. The marketplace wasn't far, and they had a chance to gather some supplies and, hopefully, some information.
But Leon wasn't thinking about plans. His eyes were fixed on a small park across the road, where a group of boys roughly his age were kicking around an old, scuffed leather football. Shouts of laughter and joy rang out as they passed the ball to one another, weaving between makeshift goalposts of stacked stones and dust kicking up under their shoes. For just a moment, Leon forgot about their troubles. He could almost feel the ball at his feet again, hear the thud of it against his boot, the exhilaration of the game.
"Adélard," he said softly, tugging on his brother's sleeve.
"We can't stop," Adélard muttered, barely glancing at him. "We've got to get to the marketplace. If it gets too late—"
"Just for a few minutes?" Leon pleaded, his eyes wide. "Please? Just to watch?"
Adélard sighed, turning to follow Leon's gaze. He saw the boys kicking the ball, the look of fierce concentration mingled with pure delight as they chased it across the park. He shook his head, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—something Leon hadn't seen in a while. Longing.
"We don't have time for this," Adélard insisted, but his voice was softer now.
Leon didn't back down. "Come on, brother. It's been so long. You used to play with others all the time, remember? You could show me some of those moves you taught me. It's just a few minutes. We won't be late."
Adélard hesitated. He glanced at the marketplace in the distance, then back at Leon's eager face. With a reluctant sigh, he relented. "Fine. Just a few minutes."
Leon's face lit up with a grin, and he grabbed Adélard's hand, practically dragging him toward the park. As they approached, one of the boys spotted them and kicked the ball in their direction. It rolled to a stop right in front of Adélard's feet. He stared down at it, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Hey! Wanna play?" called one of the boys, grinning widely.
Leon looked up at his brother expectantly. "You can show them, Adélard. Show them how good you are!"
Adélard shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "We really don't have time for this, Leon. I'm rusty."
"Please, brother?" Leon begged, stepping back. "Just one game. For me?"
Adélard glanced around. There was no harm in it, really. A few minutes wouldn't hurt. With a resigned shrug, he stepped forward, rolling the ball under his foot.
"All right," he said quietly, meeting the boys' curious stares. "Just one game."
The match started almost immediately. Adélard found himself on one side, with Leon and a few of the smaller boys. The other team was made up of the older kids, a bit taller and faster. As soon as the ball was kicked into play, the game became a whirlwind of movement and energy. The boys darted back and forth, shouting directions, calling for passes, feet flying as they jockeyed for possession.
But it didn't take long for everyone to notice that Adélard was different.
His movements were quick and precise, each touch of the ball calculated, each pass executed with a deftness that seemed almost unnatural. He dribbled around opponents with an ease that left them stumbling, weaving through the chaos like a dancer on the pitch. Even after all this time, the skill that had once made him a local legend was still there, just beneath the surface.
Leon watched, wide-eyed, as his brother flicked the ball effortlessly over one boy's head, catching it on his knee before passing it to Leon with a grin. "Go for it!" Adélard called, and Leon took off, the thrill of the game surging through him. He ran, dribbling clumsily but determinedly, until he was face-to-face with one of the bigger kids.
Before he could lose the ball, Adélard was there, sweeping in like a whirlwind. He stole the ball back, spinning on his heel and driving toward the goal. The others tried to stop him, but Adélard was unstoppable. He dodged past one, two, three players, moving faster and faster, his focus narrowed to just him, the ball, and the net in front of him.
He was a blur of motion, a force of nature, separated from the world around him. The worries of the marketplace, the threat of Rourke, the fear of what lay ahead—it all melted away. In that moment, there was only the game.
With a final burst of speed, Adélard shot past the last defender and kicked the ball. It sailed through the air, curving slightly, and then—
The ball slammed into the makeshift goal with a satisfying thud, knocking over the stones that marked its edges.
The park erupted in cheers. Even the boys on the opposing team couldn't help but shout in amazement, their faces lit up with grins. "Did you see that?" one of them cried, eyes wide. "Who is this guy?"
Leon beamed, his heart swelling with pride. "That's my brother," he said fiercely. "I told you he was good."
But Adélard seemed lost in his own world. He stood there, breathing hard, staring at the ball as it rolled slowly back to him. For a moment, he looked almost… peaceful. Like the boy he used to be, before everything went wrong.
The spell broke as one of the older boys jogged up, clapping Adélard on the shoulder. "You've got to play with us more often," the boy laughed. "You're incredible!"
Adélard blinked, the smile fading slightly as reality rushed back in. He glanced down at Leon, then at the sun dipping lower in the sky. "We have to go," he said quietly, stepping back.
"Aww, just one more game?" one of the boys pleaded, bouncing on his toes.
But Adélard shook his head firmly. "We're late already. Come on, Leon."
Leon hesitated, wanting to stay, to see his brother play more. But he knew better than to push. With a small nod, he fell in step beside Adélard as they left the park, the boys' shouts fading behind them.
"Brother," Leon murmured as they walked. "You were… amazing. Why don't you play anymore with others?"
Adélard didn't answer right away. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, his expression shadowed. "Because life isn't a game, Leon. It never was."
Leon bit his lip, glancing back over his shoulder at the park. The boys were still there, laughing and playing. For a moment, it seemed like such a simple thing. But he knew, deep down, that for his brother, it would never be that simple again.
With a heavy heart, Leon looked back at Adélard. "But maybe… maybe it can be sometimes?"
Adélard sighed softly, ruffling Leon's hair as they made their way toward the marketplace. "Maybe. But not today."
And with that, the game was over, and reality set in once more. But for those brief, fleeting moments, Leon had seen a glimpse of the brother he remembered. The brother who could take on the world with just a ball at his feet. And he hoped—no, he knew—that someday, that brother would be back for good.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone