Chapter 30 – Aric
The trail wound down from the forest into a stretch of rocky hills. From the ridge, Aric spotted smoke rising in the distance. He slowed his steps, narrowing his eyes.
Daren followed his gaze, expression unreadable. "A village. Looks like trouble."
Aric tightened his grip on the walking staff his father had fashioned for him. "Should we help?"
Daren shook his head. "Not yet. Watch first. Observation teaches more than interference."
Reluctantly, Aric crouched low as they approached the ridge. Below, a small farming settlement sprawled near the river, its wooden fences broken and houses smoldering. Armed men clashed in the streets—villagers with crude weapons against raiders clad in scavenged armor.
Shouts filled the air, mingled with the clang of steel and cries of the wounded. Aric's chest tightened. He wanted to leap down, to throw the flames he had just learned to summon. But his father's hand rested firmly on his shoulder.
"Look closely," Daren said. "See how they move. See how they win—and how they lose."
Aric forced himself to watch. The villagers fought fiercely but without order. Each man and woman fought alone, swinging wildly. The raiders, though fewer, pressed with tighter formation. Their leader barked commands, and his men moved with purpose.
Strategy. Coordination. That was the difference.
Aric leaned forward, analyzing. "The villagers have more fighters, but they're scattered. If they focused on breaking the leader, the raiders would crumble."
Daren's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Good. You're beginning to see the patterns."
One villager—a young woman with a spear—lunged at the raider leader, only to be struck down with a brutal slash. The sight made Aric's fists clench.
He whispered, "If I had gone down there—"
"You would've been killed," Daren cut in firmly. "Not because you're weak, but because you don't yet understand. Power without strategy is wasted."
The words stung, but Aric knew his father was right.
Down below, the villagers finally broke, scattering as their homes burned. The raiders laughed, gathering spoils.
Aric's jaw tightened. "We're just going to let this happen?"
Daren's eyes stayed on the battlefield, calm and hard. "Today, yes. Tomorrow, no. You must learn when to strike, and when to endure. This is their lesson as much as yours."
Aric turned his gaze back to the smoldering village. Every scream, every cry of loss seared itself into his memory.
He understood now: the world wasn't only shaped by gods or dragons. Mortals bled for scraps of land and pride, while the system siphoned their strength in silence.
If he wanted to protect them, he would need more than fire and steam. He would need vision.
Daren finally rose, adjusting his cloak. "Come. We'll move before the raiders climb this way. But remember what you saw. Every wasted life is a mistake of strategy. Do not repeat it."
Aric followed, but his mind stayed on the broken village below. He had watched. He had learned.
And one day, he swore, he would act.