Trail's eyes met the sword as the cloth slowly began to slide away from it. The moment the blade was revealed, he frowned slightly.
"It's… a rusty blade?" he muttered under his breath.
The weapon looked nothing like what he had imagined. In the old stories, the blade that defeated the darkness was always described as magnificent, glowing with divine power. But the sword in front of him looked ordinary—almost neglected.
Rust clung to its edges, spreading across the metal like scars of time.
Many questions began to rush through Trail's mind.
Is this really the sword that defeated the darkness?
Aside from its rustiness, the design of the sword itself was strange. The shape of the blade was unlike anything he had seen before. The hilt had patterns carved into it, ancient and unfamiliar.
It didn't resemble the weapons used by the kingdom's knights.
In fact, it felt as if it was the only sword in existence made like this.
Trail slowly extended his hand toward it, curiosity taking control of him.
Just as his fingers were about to touch the blade—
"Wait! Don't touch it! Your hand will burn," Wood suddenly warned.
Trail stopped instantly and looked at him.
"I tried it too when I first saw it," Wood continued, his voice quieter now. "It took me almost a month for my hand to heal."
Trail slowly pulled his hand back.
His eyes remained fixed on the sword.
"So there is no Aron here," Trail finally said, breaking the silence. "But his belongings are still here."
He turned slightly toward Wood.
"I'm certain something must have happened to him."
Wood didn't respond immediately.
Inside his mind, a different thought was forming.
If people learn what Aron really did… it will only bring trouble.
After a moment, Wood spoke.
"Well… arguably we could say he feared something and ran away."
Trail muttered quietly.
"Fear?"
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"What could he possibly be afraid of that made him run away like that?"
Wood sighed deeply.
"If I had known the answer to that," he said slowly, "I would have helped him instead of standing here doing nothing."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"But remember one thing… a man's darkest day is sometimes when a miracle shines the brightest."
Trail raised an eyebrow.
"What exactly do you mean by that poetic line?" he asked while looking at him.
Wood chuckled lightly.
"Oh man… you don't understand old sayings," he replied.
"It simply means that even when everything looks like you're about to lose… a miracle can appear and turn the outcome around."
Trail fell silent again.
His gaze returned to the rusted blade.
For a moment, the room felt strangely heavy.
Finally, Trail turned around and walked outside without another word.
As he stepped out of the house, he saw Luxorious standing near the horses with both arms folded across his chest.
Luxorious glanced at him briefly.
Trail said nothing.
He simply walked past him and mounted his horse.
Disappointment weighed heavily inside him.
He had traveled all this way hoping to meet Aron… yet the person he was searching for was nowhere to be found.
Frustration mixed with a quiet sadness.
The horses began moving slowly, their hooves pressing against the dirt road as they left the village behind.
Wood and Master stood outside the house, watching them ride away.
After some time, the riders disappeared into the distance.
Wood crossed his arms and looked at the empty road.
"At the beginning… and even now," he muttered.
"Why is everyone so obsessed with Aron?
After all… no one even knows his true identity."
The land fell silent after his words.
Meanwhile, the cart carrying Aron finally entered the castle grounds.
The sound of people filled the air.
It was a marketplace, busy and loud.
Yet Aron showed no reaction to the crowd around him.
No anger.
No fear.
Only exhaustion.
Keiss spoke quietly to one of the soldiers beside him.
The soldier immediately ran toward the castle entrance.
A few minutes later, he returned and gave them a signal.
They were allowed to bring the prisoner inside.
The soldiers tightened the chains around Aron's wrists and began leading him forward.
People along the streets stopped what they were doing to stare.
Seeing Aron chained and surrounded by soldiers, many assumed he must have committed some terrible crime.
"Move quickly," one soldier ordered.
They soon reached the castle gates.
The guards standing there stopped them and looked toward Keiss.
"Unchain him," Keiss said calmly.
"I will take him to the king myself."
The guards obeyed without hesitation.
The chains were removed from Aron's wrists.
For the first time since his capture, he raised his head and looked at the castle.
The structure was massive.
Tall towers stretched into the sky.
Flags of the kingdom waved proudly from the walls.
Statues of legendary knights and past kings stood along the entrance halls.
For a brief moment, Aron was reminded of his own castle.
"Walk with me," Keiss said.
The two began moving forward slowly.
Step by step, they walked through the enormous hallways of the castle.
Aron noticed enchanted objects placed around the hall.
Magical lights floated in the air.
Armor sets decorated the walls.
Servants and guards paused to stare at him as he passed.
Whispers spread quietly among them.
Soon, they stopped in front of a massive golden door.
Keiss pushed the door open.
The heavy doors creaked loudly as they slowly revealed the throne room.
Aron's eyes slightly widened as he looked inside.
At the far end of the hall sat the throne of the king.
Beside it were two smaller thrones.
Likely meant for the prince and princess.
Keiss stepped forward and Aron followed behind him.
King Amrock sat silently upon his throne, staring down at Keiss.
His daughter Fletcher and his son Duke were also present.
Their eyes immediately turned toward Aron.
Keiss bowed respectfully.
Aron remained standing.
A quiet wave of shock passed through the room.
It was a strict tradition that everyone—even outsiders—must bow before the king.
Whispers began spreading through the hall.
"Did he just… refuse to bow?"
"Does he have a death wish?"
Duke studied Aron carefully.
He was slightly shorter than Aron, with black hair and a normal physique.
Fletcher, however, was different.
She had long black hair, sharp black eyes, and a bold presence.
But as she looked at Aron, something in her expression changed.
He looked injured.
Weak.
Yet strangely calm.
King Amrock finally spoke.
"Who is this man… and why have you brought him here?"
Keiss responded immediately.
"He defeated several soldiers, Your Majesty."
"He even broke the nose of one of them."
Amrock leaned back slightly.
"I see."
His gaze shifted toward Aron.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
The room grew tense.
Aron looked down at the ground beneath his feet.
Frustration filled his chest.
Not toward people.
But toward life itself.
A life like his never seemed meant to end peacefully.
"Your soldiers started it," Aron said calmly.
"I was walking peacefully. They caused the trouble."
Amrock remained silent for a moment.
A mere man defeated my soldiers? he thought.
Then a greedy idea slowly formed in his mind.
Elite guards surrounded the throne room from every direction.
Fletcher continued observing Aron carefully.
Something about him felt different.
He didn't look like a criminal.
He looked… tired.
Finally, King Amrock spoke again.
"Very well."
"I forgive you."
Shock spread across the room.
But the king wasn't finished.
Greed had already taken hold in his mind.
"If," he continued slowly,
"You bow before me…"
"And kiss my ring."
His eyes locked onto Aron.
The entire hall fell silent.