Chapter 9: The Weight of a Letter
The echo of the two colliding forces faded, replaced by a silence so profound it seemed to drink all other sounds. The warm, gentle wind that had momentarily washed over the street was gone, and the biting cold of the autumn night rushed back in, more intense than before.
The gathered crowd stared, their breath held. They looked at the massive, fuming Borin, and then at the slender boy who stood his ground, his skin still coated in that faint, pearlescent film of white light. Then, the whispers began, hesitant at first, then growing in volume.
"What… what just happened?"
"I saw it. The adventurer swung with killing intent."
"I know… but it just… vanished. It became warm wind in this freezing cold."
"The punch that boy threw. It wasn't normal."
"Yes, it felt like it was carrying some kind of invisible energy…"
"Who is this boy?"
"The ability to move at the speed of sound," Borin's deep voice cut through the murmurs, silencing them instantly. He spoke with the calm, analytical tone of a veteran. "And then, the ability to project a sonic attack that can barely be seen." He slowly lifted his colossal axe, the red glow having faded, and rested the heavy flat of the blade on his shoulder. The size difference between them was stark, comical—a dwarf facing a giant. "Every instinct in my body tells me that power belongs to a White Tiger. But," he concluded, his voice dropping, "I don't care. As long as you insist on standing in my way tonight, I will not hesitate to kill you, boy."
"Did you know?" Fulan asked, his voice steady. "That Mira was in love with Valerius?"
Borin's muscles tensed, his body coiling for a charge. "There's no point in talking about the feelings of the dead. It's the feelings of the living that determine the path the world takes."
He lunged. His movement was a terrifying, ground-shaking run. "Isn't Valerius living, too?" Fulan shouted, bending his knees and leaping backwards. "How come his feelings don't get to determine the path?" As he sailed through the air, the colorless, compressed aura of sound gathered around his right fist once more.
"If his feelings were strong enough," Borin roared, closing the distance, "he'd be standing here himself instead of watching a minor do his work!"
"He'd be dead on your first swing if he did!" Fulan shot back, unleashing the sonic punch from mid-air. "You're just a dull, meddling fool who can't see his own place in this!"
A flicker of genuine annoyance crossed Borin's brow. He didn't stop, didn't slow. He simply swung his axe in a casual, contemptuous arc, and the massive blade cleaved Fulan's invisible sonic blast in two, dissipating it harmlessly. In the next instant, a crimson-red aura flashed around Borin, and like a red blur, he vanished from his spot and appeared directly in front of Fulan, who was still hanging in the air, his fist extended from a punch that had already failed.
Fulan's eyes widened in pure, unadulterated shock. He had no time to move, no time to block, no time to even think.
From behind the bench, Fayrouz's heart seized. She saw the red flash, and then, in the same fraction of a second, she saw something else—a streak of pale, buttery yellow that was almost too fast for her enhanced eyes to track. When she glanced at the bench, Valerius was gone.
Borin's counter-attack struck something with a sound like a thunderclap. The shockwave of the impact sent Fulan tumbling, and he crashed onto the cobblestones, his landing so hard that the stones cracked beneath him like a sheet of ice.
The crowd cried out, scrambling back from the sheer force of the blow. Borin landed lightly on his feet, the red aura fading. He looked at the figure who had just intercepted his attack, his expression one of sheer annoyance. "Tch," he growled. "Why did you interfere now, Valerius? I was about to teach him the difference between a top-class graduate and an applicant who hasn't even taken the test."
As the dust from the impact settled, a new element entered the scene. A few stray, white flakes began to drift down from the dark sky, as if the sky itself was hesitant to begin. The snow had started.
Valerius stood between Borin and Fulan, his blond hair and white-trimmed tunic fluttering. His ice-blue eyes were not cold or detached; they were blazing with a furious, disappointed fire. "Borin," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Did you really use MiKai on him? On a child? Have you truly become this blind?"
On the cracked ground, Fulan sat up, his body still shimmering with the faint white light. He didn't know what had happened. He only knew that one moment he was about to be obliterated, and the next, Valerius was standing in front of him, having taken the blow. He let out a long, ragged breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The moment the air escaped his lungs, the white aura around him vanished, winking out of existence.
Fayrouz, watching intently, filed the new piece of data away. It happened again. The Minma in his body returned to colorless. Is it my imagination, or is he holding his breath to use his power?
"Mira's death made me want to kill my best friend," Borin said, his voice flat and dead. "So yes, Valerius. I have lost my sight. And I will kill anyone who stands in the way of that."
"If my death is what it takes to quench that fire, you fool," Valerius replied, his own anger palpable, "then do it. I won't fight back. Because you know exactly what will happen if I do. This peaceful village... it won't survive a real duel between us."
The snow was beginning to fall faster now, a steady, heavy curtain that was already beginning to dust the rooftops and the shoulders of the crowd. Fulan placed a hand on his knee and tried to push himself up, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot up from his ankle, and he collapsed back with a grunt. His ankle was twisted, badly sprained from the landing. He looked at Borin, then at Valerius, a cold dread washing over him as he realized what would have happened if that MiKai attack had connected with him directly.
He looked at Valerius, his voice quiet but firm. "Your decision… is completely wrong."
Fayrouz saw him struggle. She moved from behind the bench, her boots crunching on the thin, new layer of snow, and walked to his side. "I don't know anything about Mira," Fulan continued, as Fayrouz reached him. "But I doubt she would ever forgive you, in this life or the next, for letting yourself be hurt by Borin."
"You're right about that," Borin said, his voice heavy. "But I am not talking about her feelings. I am talking about mine."
Fayrouz looped Fulan's arm over her shoulder and helped him to his one good foot. He leaned on her, and despite the pain, he managed a small, bitter laugh. "Then that explains why she loved him instead of you," Fulan said, his words sharp as a razor. "Even if Valerius never existed, I doubt you're the one her heart would have chosen."
Borin's grip on his axe tightened, his knuckles white. "I never interfered," he snarled, his eyes flashing. "I never even confessed my feelings. I knew how she felt. I had one request. One purpose. To protect her. That's why I followed. For that alone. So why? Why did she die the one time I was gone? Why didn't you protect her, you bastard?!"
The wind howled, whipping the snow into a horizontal frenzy. The crowd was shivering, their dread now mixed with the bitter cold.
After a long silence, Valerius spoke, his voice filled with an unbearable weariness. "You never even gave me time to explain. The moment you heard she was dead, you... you just exploded. Mira… she left a letter for you. It's been in my pocket this whole time. I was going to let you read it… after you had struck me down."
Borin's enraged expression faltered, replaced by a deep, aching confusion. "Why? Why choose death over fighting me?"
Valerius looked up at the sky, letting the thick, wet snowflakes melt on his face. "Isn't it obvious?" he whispered, his voice breaking for the first time. "Because I'm ashamed. I'm so ashamed I broke my promise to my best friend."
That was the blow Fulan's punch could never have been. It shattered Borin's rage completely. His eyes trembled. His massive, muscular arm went limp, his grip on the axe loosening.
Valerius took a slow step towards him, reaching into his tunic. He pulled out a simple, folded piece of parchment. "I haven't read it," Valerius said, holding it out. "That was the least I could do."
With a trembling hand, Borin reached out and took the letter. He stared at it for a moment, as if it were a venomous snake. Then, slowly, he unfolded the paper. His other hand, the one holding the axe, fell to his side.
He began to read.
A heavy, metallic clang echoed with shocking finality through the snowy street as the colossal battle axe slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the cobblestones. The crowd, Fayrouz, Fulan, and even Valerius, all watched in stunned silence as the giant's shoulders began to heave.
And as he read the first few lines of the letter, Borin, the grieving, rage-filled warrior, threw his head back and began to sob.
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