novelraw Chapter 112 : The Way of Valemont or what is suppose to be
Chapter 112 : The Way of Valemont or what is suppose to be
(Elara Valemont’s POV)
The morning air was sharp — the kind that bit the skin just enough to keep the senses alive.
The boys were already gathered in the yard, waiting for Kain, but I stood at the fence, arms crossed, eyes on one person.
Rooga.
He was there, swinging like the others, his movements clean, rhythm steady.
Too steady.
Too careful.
There was no spark.
No heat.
No Valemont fire.
I stepped forward, my boots crunching against the dirt. “Rooga.”
He stopped mid-swing and turned, blinking at me. “Sister?”
“You’ve been training, haven’t you?”
He nodded, smiling faintly. “Every day.”
“Then show me.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Fight me.”
The boys froze.
Crome nearly dropped his sword. “Wait—what?”
Kain, who had just arrived, rubbed his temple. “Here we go again…”
Father, who’d been standing by the tree, turned toward us, voice calm but firm. “Elara.”
“Yes, Father?”
“She’s serious,” Kain muttered.
Darius sighed, lowering his sword. “Rooga,” he said slowly, “your sister isn’t like the boys you spar with. She’s a true Valemont—more than I ever was.”
Elara smiled faintly. “You flatter me, Father.”
Rooga hesitated, but his pride got the better of him. “Then I’ll try my best.”
We took our positions — ten steps apart.
Kain gave a half-hearted wave. “Alright, no blood, no crying. Begin.”
Rooga moved first, light on his feet, his stance surprisingly tight.
His swing came in clean from the right, but I parried easily.
“Not bad,” I said. “But you’re still holding back.”
“I’m not,” he said through clenched teeth.
I smiled. “Then I’ll push harder.”
My next strike came faster. He blocked again, barely.
I could feel his stance wobble. His arms trembled from the impact.
“Don’t look away!” I barked. “A Valemont’s blade doesn’t blink!”
He gritted his teeth and swung again. I deflected it effortlessly and countered, our wooden swords cracking together in a burst of dust.
The watching boys gasped as the pace quickened — my swings sharper, Rooga’s defenses desperate.
But still, he didn’t step back.
That stubbornness… that was Father’s blood, no doubt.
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“Good,” I said between breaths. “Now let’s see if you can survive this.”
I shifted my footing, lowering my stance.
The world narrowed — the rhythm of my breathing syncing with my heartbeat.
Then I swung upward from below, shouting, “This is the way of Valemont!”
The impact came with a crack of wood and a rush of air.
Father’s voice tore through the yard at the same instant.
“Elara! Stop!”
But it was too late.
Our blades met mid-swing — and Rooga’s wooden sword exploded into splinters.
My follow-through struck him clean across the ribs.
The sound — crack — echoed through the field.
Then came the dull thud of his body hitting the ground several meters away.
The entire yard went silent.
Even the birds stopped singing.
Dust hung in the air where he fell, unmoving.
I lowered my sword, breathing hard, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Father was already running, shouting something I couldn’t hear.
Kain’s face had gone pale. The boys stood frozen.
I blinked, trying to understand what had just happened.
“I—he should’ve blocked that…” I murmured.
Father reached Rooga first.
He didn’t move.
The blood drained from my face.
I forced a shaky smile, raising my sword. “Come on, Rooga. Stand up. You can’t end a duel like that.”
Silence.
“Rooga?”
Still nothing.
I tried to laugh, but the sound died halfway. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make me look bad in front of the boys.”
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t move.
And for the first time in years, my hands began to tremble.
Time broke apart after the sound of Rooga’s body hitting the ground.
I could barely hear Father’s voice anymore — it was all a blur of footsteps, shouting, and the ringing in my ears that wouldn’t stop.
And then, like the crack of thunder, Mother’s voice cut through it all.
“Rooga!”
She came running from the house, barefoot, hair undone, her face pale as moonlight.
Behind her was Lyra, cloak half-tied, eyes already wide with alarm.
“Mother, he’s—” I started, but I didn’t finish.
Without warning, the air around us crushed.
A wave of mana exploded outward from her.
Gravity itself bent.
Before I could even blink, I was thrown from my feet — the world spun, dirt and sky trading places as I hit the ground several meters away.
Father flew back too, rolling to his knees, his sword skidding across the dirt.
The pressure in the air was suffocating — heavy, angry, wild.
“Selene!” Father shouted, his voice strained.
But she didn’t hear him.
She was already kneeling beside Rooga, cradling him in her arms.
Her hands shook as she touched his face, brushed away the blood from his lips.
“No… no no no no no…”
Each word was smaller than the last.
“Please, please don’t leave me,” she whispered, over and over, her voice cracking like glass. “Not you too.”
I tried to move closer. My body screamed in protest, but I had to—
The ground shifted again.
Her mana flared.
Before I could take another step, gravity slammed me into the dirt.
The world went black at the edges.
“Stay away from my child!”
Her voice was a roar — nothing like the gentle tone I’d known my whole life.
Her eyes burned with bloodshot rage, glowing faintly red beneath her tears.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Father’s voice cut through the weight again.
“Selene! Elara’s your daughter too!”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes full of pain and fury.
“And you, Darius—why didn’t you stop this?!” she screamed. “Why did you let her swing at him?!”
He didn’t answer.
Neither of us could.
Her voice broke. “You both… you both let this happen.”
The world stood still except for her sobs.
Lyra knelt beside her, calm but urgent, her voice low. “Selene. Listen to me.”
She reached for the satchel at her side, pulling out a glass vial that glowed faintly blue.
She poured the liquid across Rooga’s chest, and it hissed against the wound, steam rising as the potion sank into the torn flesh.
The scent of iron and herbs filled the air.
“His pulse is still there,” Lyra said quickly. “He’s not gone.”
Selene looked up, her eyes wild. “Then do something!”
Lyra’s expression stayed steady. “We will. But not here. He needs divine mana—Maori can help.”
“Maori?” Father said quietly.
Lyra nodded, already pressing a hand over the wound to slow the bleeding. “She’s the only one who can. Her roots can mend what potions can’t.”
Selene clutched Rooga tighter, tears streaking down her face.
“Then we go now,” she said.
No one argued.
As Lyra and Father lifted Rooga carefully from Selene’s arms, I stayed where I was, still pinned to the earth by fear more than magic.
I watched as they carried him toward the forest — his small body limp, blood soaking through his shirt.
And Mother, still trembling, followed behind them, whispering his name with every step.
I didn’t move until they disappeared among the trees.
My chest ached. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
For the first time, I wished I hadn’t been born a Valemont.