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墨書 Inktalez
In his pocket, the Heart of Agou emitted a streak of colorful light, while in the distance, the Magic Pattern Armor quietly lost its luster.
No one witnessed this scene.
The next morning, Garen crossed a shallow stream, the cool water flowing past his knees, providing a refreshing sensation. Of course, in the depths of Dead Man's Gorge, day and night were indistinguishable; however, for someone like Garen, just a glimpse of dusk was enough to determine that at least ten days lay ahead.
For instance, it should be around eight forty in the morning now.
After hours of walking, Garen moved at a leisurely pace, pausing briefly at various spots. During these moments, he witnessed many acts of slaughter and fratricide... The cold armor and broken weapons seemed destined to become dust, buried deep in history alongside the fallen warriors.
It was a peculiar feeling. After years on the battlefield, Garen had never viewed combat from this perspective—like an outsider who neither intervened nor ignored it. A question bubbled up within him.
Did these battles truly hold any meaning?
It wasn't that all wars were meaningless; for example, Garen fought for faith in Demacia and sought redemption upon arriving at the Godeyas Continent. Wherever there were people, there would be conflict—some for greater gains and others due to petty emotional disputes... Yet it couldn't be denied that most of these struggles were devoid of significance.
Because the pursuits within those battles would ultimately fade into nothingness with history.
Strangely enough, people seemed accustomed to this form of combat and regarded it as "the right choice." Thus, it was often said, "If something can be resolved with a sword, there's no need to use words."
Garen found this hard to comprehend.
As noon approached, Garen finally paused to rest for a moment. Although his physique was robust, it was still limited; after all, he couldn't regain his strength here. After half an hour, Garen resumed his journey.
Unbeknownst to him, dusk had arrived.
At that moment, a Blonde Woman blocked his path, flanked by several young men behind her.
"You are indeed alive..." Yasthia's eyes showed surprise, surprise, complexity, doubt... a variety of emotions. Behind her, Newbies were also stunned, with a layer of mist appearing in front of their eyes. Although they had seen Garen's portrait when they were in the imperial capital, the feeling was completely different when they saw it with their own eyes. Unlike Yasthia, the existence of Garen is just a scenery to her, but for these Novice, it is the real starting point of their lives. They have fantasized more than once that without Garen, they are now What will it be like. Working hard in a small town farming? Inherit the family business? Eating and drinking at Iron Fist Tavern? It is undeniable that Garen had a huge impact on them, and this man who taught them bravery, Fearless, Resilience, and justice actually appeared in front of them like he was resurrected from the dead at this moment. Garen thought of the cruel scenes he saw along the way and said after a moment of silence: "Maybe." Yasthia didn't notice the confusion in Garen's tone. She quickly regained her composure and said: "It's really great... ...Tifet They will be very happy to know! By the way, they seem to be here too Ahn'Qiraj..." Garen shook his head and said: "He is dead" Yasthia was stunned for a moment. She didn't expect that Tifet would actually die in this place, nor did she expect that Garen would say it so simply and so lightly. "What's wrong with you?" Yasthia thought of the various rumors related to Garen that she heard along the way. Garen touched his chin: "Do I look bad?" Just like Sharg yesterday, they all seemed to have decided that Garen is very desperate now. But in fact, there is no such thing. To be honest, Garen is just a little tired. "You..." Yasthia's eyes were a little confused. I don't know whether it was because it was difficult to answer the question or because he was disturbed by the news of Tifet's death. Although high-level knights in the empire often die in battle, and Yasthia has become accustomed to it over the years, Tifet has been her friend for many years, and this blow is destined to be huge. Before she could say anything else, Garen walked over and his voice came over. "Twenty-four miles east, his body is down the river."
Yasthia gazed at the figure disappearing into the distance, wanting to say something but finding herself at a loss for words. Suddenly, she felt that Garen had become quite unfamiliar.
According to Yasthia's plan, she had prepared a suitable position for Garen in the Holy Empire. Of course, Garen was not required to serve the Holy Empire, but he would still enjoy significant privileges. After all, the disaster in Blackstone Town had essentially stemmed from Yasthia herself. This gesture was both a way to repay her guilt and a sign of recognition and respect for Garen.
But now she suddenly felt that what Garen needed was not these things.
After walking over two hundred meters, she heard footsteps behind her. Garen turned around to see Dostodoro and the others catching up.
“Mentor, please come back with us!” The burly Layton hesitated for a moment, gripping the hem of his clothes as he spoke.
At the Knight Training Camp, although Layton had not been the first to pass the assessment, his status as class leader was extremely high, earning him the nickname "Iron-Blooded Commander." However, if this scene were witnessed by new students in the imperial capital, they would surely be taken aback. No one would expect that the usually resolute and cold Layton would show such a childlike side.
Not just Layton; the other Novices had also undergone significant changes. Even the chubby Lanya had shed his excess weight and looked formidable in silver armor. Not to mention Dostodoro and Rody, who had already become aspiring knights, their expressions carrying an air of sternness.
Yet when they stood before Garen, they seemed to transform into obedient children, ready to accept reprimands from an elder.
Garen looked at them and smiled. “I’m glad to see you all like this today. Congratulations on becoming who you wanted to be.”
“But everyone has different choices, don’t they?”
Layton shook his head. “Mentor, we need you.”
“Today, what you need is no longer a guide. No one can truly lead you anymore; what you need is greater brilliance.” Garen paused before continuing, “No one truly needs anyone else; no one is irreplaceable.”
Layton and the other Novices fell silent.
Dostodoro pressed his lips together. “That must be quite helpless.”
Garen looked at Dostodoro’s short black hair and nodded. “There will always be helplessness.”
After saying that, Garen turned and walked down the road, not looking back at the complex expressions of the Newbies. He waved his hand after walking a few dozen meters.
Garen no longer resolved the Newbies' problems as he once did, allowing all their helplessness and regrets to linger in their hearts. Because by now, they were able to bear these burdens.
You will eventually carry your regrets; the benefit is that your hearts will grow more mature and resolute, but the price is that you can never return to the past.
At that moment, just as Garen's figure was about to disappear,
"Thank you, Mentor!"
"Thank you for your guidance during those days!"
Rody's deep voice rang out as he held his helmet close to his chest, striking his left breast with his other hand in salute.
The Rookie Class lined up in perfect formation, offering the most standard farewell gesture, their sincere and passionate gazes fixed on the distance.
After wiping away the mist from their eyes, they turned in unison.
And they did not look back again.
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