Chương 111: Chapter 111 - Monotone Despair
Sonder couldn't shake the feeling that something had fundamentally changed in Inure after his duel with Vell.
The once fierce and determined warrior, fiery and resolved, now seemed to drift through their training sessions like a wisp of smoke—present yet ephemeral.
He was more passive and retreated into himself as if a melancholic wave had hit him.
Inure's silence became a constant companion to their training, a heavy blanket that settled over them both. He kept his thoughts guarded, as though they were fragile treasures he was unwilling to share.
Usually he was so strict and gave so many comments that Sonder would appreciate that he didn't anymore, but now that it had been like this for a while, she didn't like it.
Gone was the banter, the passionate critiques of her techniques, and spirited discussions of swordsmanship.
Instead, he would stand beside her, sword in hand, but his eyes seemed distant—clouded with contemplation and perhaps a hint of sadness.
He moved through the motions of practice, executing strikes and parries with mechanical precision, yet there was a stark absence of the fire that once ignited his movements. It was disheartening for her to witness.
Concerned about this transformation of spirits, Sonder searched for answers.
One day, she approached Vell, hoping that he could shed some light on it.
However, when she asked him about the duel and its aftermath, Vell's response was disappointingly vague.
"I didn't harm him," he stated matter-of-factly, as though the matter was settled. "He should be still as good as new. If he has trouble with his emotions, then I can't help it."
His tone was indifferent, almost dismissive.
As the weeks rolled by, time seemed to stretch infinitely before them, filled with the quiet hum of routine. Sonder continued her training diligently, pushing herself to improve despite the growing distance between her and her teacher.
Every now and again, she visited Languor.
She hoped he might have something to say, either about life or her condition, but his responses were often unchanging and, like Vell's, frustratingly vague.
"It takes time," he would say, as if that simple phrase would satiate her curiosity and worry.
"How much time?" She pressed one day, her patience wearing thin.
"A lot of it," was his only reply.
-
Inure sat alone on a weathered stone far from the city, its rough surface pressing uncomfortably against his back.
His sword, once a trusted companion and an extension of his duties, lay beside him, untouched and unpolished, its blade dulled by neglect.
It gleamed faintly in the fading sunlight; now it seemed nothing more than a relic of a past life.
It had been weeks since the duel with the Dread Mage, and the weight of the encounter clung to Inure like a shroud. He had shattered his light, like fragile glass.
The humiliation of being bested so effortlessly and overwhelmingly gnawed at him.
He felt small and insignificant, a pawn on a vast chessboard ruled by those who towered above him. Beneath the boots of the powerful—be it his own king, whose unwavering authority was unattainable for someone like him, or the Dread Mage, whose very name sent shivers down the spine of even the strongest of the world, and now he knew why.
He felt adrift, a ship without anchor in a turbulent sea, tossed about by the winds of fate and circumstance.
It twisted and coiled, wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing until he could hardly breathe.
Inure felt like a ghost haunting the echoes of his former self—once a proud warrior whose spirit blazed with fiery ambition, now reduced to a mere shadow of that man. He remembered the days when he had fought for honor, for glory, and for the love of his homeland.
He had spent his life training, honing his skills, and preparing to face any foe that dared cross his path. Yet, in the face of true power, he had crumbled, unable to stand.
Inure's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow across the landscape.
What was his mark on the world? Simply nothing. There would be no sunrise for the half-elf Inure.
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