novelraw Chapter 117 : The Quiet Morning Walk
Chapter 117 : The Quiet Morning Walk
(Rooga Valemont’s POV)
The morning breeze carried the scent of ripened grain and the hum of mana flowing through the soil.
I walked along the path behind the estate, hands folded behind my back the same way Father always did when thinking.
Three years had passed since that day.
The memories had softened, but they hadn’t disappeared.
Every corner of Valemont still whispered of what we almost lost — yet now the whispers carried warmth instead of grief.
The house had grown, the fields stretched wider, and laughter came easier to everyone who lived here.
The pain had turned into something living — something that reminded us to keep moving forward.
The forest ahead glowed faintly as I approached.
The great tree — Maori’s tree — had changed the most.
She had grown enormous, her roots curling outward like the veins of the world.
Her trunk alone could swallow a house now, and her branches brushed the clouds.
I stopped beneath her shade, tilting my head back. “You’ve gotten big, haven’t you?”
The leaves shimmered in the light, a thousand shades of green and gold. Even without a voice, I could feel her — calm, steady, watching.
Maori rarely manifested her form anymore.
She said her strength was better spent keeping the land alive, her essence woven into every leaf and drop of dew.
Still, I could sense her when I passed under her canopy — like she was quietly smiling down at me.
“She’s the size of Mother now,” I murmured, chuckling softly. “If she ever took form again, she’d probably scold me for not visiting enough.”
The branches rustled gently, and I smiled. “See? I knew you were listening.”
A faint metallic sound drew my attention — the clack of wood on wood, the rhythm of swings echoing across the yard.
When I turned, I saw him — Riaz.
My little brother, barely five, his face scrunched in concentration as he swung a wooden sword almost half his size.
Kain stood nearby, arms crossed, shouting directions in that booming voice of his.
“Keep your footing! Don’t just swing your arms, boy—swing your whole self!”
Riaz gritted his teeth, reset his stance, and swung again.
His motion wasn’t perfect, but it had power.
The sound cracked through the air like a real blade cutting wind.
Father watched from a distance, pride barely hidden behind his calm expression.
I smiled. “So he’s started for real now.”
Riaz stumbled after one heavy swing, scraping his hand against the wooden post he was practicing on.
He hissed softly, shaking his fingers — a small cut.
I almost stepped forward, but then I froze.
The wound closed right before my eyes.
The skin knitted itself back together in seconds, not even a scar left behind.
The faint glow of mana rippled across his palm before fading.
My breath caught.
The Valemont blessing.
The same regeneration that Father carried — the same gift Elara inherited.
The same one I didn’t.
Riaz blinked at his hand, then shrugged and swung again, oblivious.
I smiled faintly. “So you got it too, huh?”
My voice was quiet, not jealous, just… wistful.
That blessing belonged to the line of warriors — to those born to fight.
And maybe that was fine.
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Maybe my path was meant to be something different.
I kept walking, circling the edge of the field.
The workers waved as I passed, their faces bright and untroubled.
Even the crops seemed to sway in rhythm with the morning wind — as if the land itself was breathing happily again.
From afar, I saw Mother sitting under the porch, Eria in her lap, humming softly while watching Riaz swing.
For the first time in years, her eyes looked alive again — no more hollow light, no more trembling fear.
Father stepped beside her, their hands brushing for a brief moment before she smiled at him.
I didn’t need Maori’s whispers to understand what that meant.
Everything that had once been broken… was beginning to heal.
As I turned back toward the great tree, the wind shifted again — a soft rustle that felt almost like words.
“You’ve done well, my caretaker.”
I looked up, smiling faintly. “You’re the one who did most of it.”
“No,” her voice came like a sigh through the leaves. “You learned to live. That is more than enough.”
I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of earth and sunlight.
The morning was still young, but for the first time, it felt like a new morning — the kind that promised a world still growing, still forgiving.
The clang of wood on wood carried across the field long before I reached it.
By the time I arrived, the sun had just begun climbing over the treeline, painting the world gold.
Kain was already there, of course—arms crossed, voice booming like thunder.
“Faster! You swing like you’re asking the sword for permission!”
The boys—Crome, Arel, Lume, and the others—moved in rhythm, their swords slicing the air with loud cracks.
Each swing was heavy, deliberate. Their forms had improved so much that even Kain’s grumbling carried a hint of pride.
And right among them was Riaz.
My little brother, his hair tied back with a loose ribbon, his face scrunched in determination, sweat already dripping down his chin.
“Riaz, watch your footwork!” Kain barked.
“Yes, sir!” he shouted back, adjusting his stance immediately.
The other boys groaned, half impressed, half exhausted.
“Why is he still standing?” one whispered.
“Because he’s crazy,” another muttered.
But their teasing carried admiration.
Riaz was younger than all of them—barely five—but he never missed a morning.
Even Crome, who could outlast grown men now, gave him a nod of respect.
Seeing him like that made something warm stir in my chest.
I leaned against the fence, smiling. “Guess I’m not the only one who got Kain’s nightmares for training anymore.”
Kain glanced over, grinning beneath his gray stubble. “You’re late, boy. Grab a sword. Let’s see if you’ve forgotten how to breathe.”
I picked up one of the training blades and stepped into the circle.
The boys moved back, giving me space—they’d all seen me practice before, but lately, my swings had changed.
Even Kain noticed. “Alright, Rooga. Show them what you’ve been hiding.”
I took a breath, letting mana flow—not from one core, but from all three.
My body felt light, my mind clear.
When I moved, the world seemed to flow with me.
Whoosh.
The blade cut through the air soundlessly.
Again.
Again.
Each swing sharper, faster, smoother—the edge gliding as if guided by the wind itself.
The ground rippled faintly with each step.
My sword art—once clumsy and rigid—had evolved into something fluid.
Kain’s grin widened. “Ha! You’ve been holding out on me.”
The boys gawked, their jaws dropping.
Even Riaz froze mid-swing, eyes wide in awe.
“I can do that too!” Riaz shouted suddenly.
Before Kain could stop him, he mimicked my stance—knees bent, sword raised, breath sharp.
He swung.
The ground tilted beneath his feet, his arms overextended, and a second later—
Thud.
He face-planted straight into the dirt.
For a second, there was silence. Then laughter erupted from the boys.
Even Kain let out a snort.
I walked over and crouched beside him, holding out a hand. “Nice try, little brother.”
Riaz grumbled something I couldn’t understand, his cheeks red, but he took my hand anyway.
His small fingers gripped mine tightly as I pulled him to his feet.
When he looked up at me, something new flickered in his eyes—
not envy, not frustration… but admiration.
The kind that said I want to be like you.
Kain walked over, rubbing the back of his neck. “Easy, lad. Don’t go breaking the ground before you’re old enough to stand steady on it.”
Riaz pouted. “But I almost had it!”
Kain chuckled and patted his head. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But what your brother does takes more than muscle. It takes years of control, breath, and… well, being a little insane.”
The boys laughed again, and Kain ruffled my hair next. “And you—don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re still too young to swing like that. But I suppose geniuses never listen, do they?”
I laughed softly. “Guess it runs in the family.”
“Ha!” Kain barked. “You’re lucky I like you both too much to knock sense into you.”
The sun climbed higher, washing the field in gold.
The boys returned to their drills, their swings sharper, their voices louder, their spirits higher.
Riaz went back too, this time moving slower, more deliberate, copying my earlier steps.
He stumbled often, but each time he stood faster.
Kain caught my eye, his grin softening.
“They all train harder when you’re around, you know.”
I smiled. “Maybe they’re just scared you’ll make them run laps again.”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I think it’s more than that.”
As the morning wind swept across the field, carrying laughter and the sound of wooden swords through the air, I looked at Riaz once more.
My little brother.
My first rival.
And maybe, someday… the next Valemont blade to carry our name.