After walking for a while, a faint outline of a house appeared in his view, the setting sun sinking slowly behind it. The warm light that once symbolized his blade's dawn now mirrored his fall. The house was his destination, his home. It stood on the outskirts of the city of Velmore, where only farmers and the poor lived. He could have lived in the heart of the city if he wished, but the noise and bustle never suited him.
The house was built from sturdy timber and stone, surrounded by high walls that offered both privacy and silence. In the back of the house lay a training ground made of stone tiles, It wasn't grand, but it was peaceful – just as John preferred it.
He stopped before the door and raised his hand to knock on the door, but it froze midair. He couldn't bring himself to knock the door. For a long time, he just stood there like a statue.
At last, he let out a slow breath and finally knocked the door.
"Coming."
A woman's voice came from inside, gentle and familiar.
"Is that you, dear?"
The door opened a moment later.
A woman who appeared to be in her late twenties came into view.
Her expression soft at first, but after seeing John's condition, turned into shock.
"John…" she cried.
Her eyes widened as she saw his whole body wrapped in bandages, blood staining his leg, and the broken sword hanging weakly by his side. For a moment she couldn't move.
John tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His body swayed, exhaustion finally overtaking him. The sword slipped from his grasp, hitting the floor with a dull sound as his knee gave way.
"John.."
She cried, rushing forward to catch him before he fell.
This is the first time she had seen him in such a terrible condition, he had been injured before – during monster hunt and when capturing criminals – but never like this.
After coming to her senses, she steadied herself and moved quickly to support John, guiding him into the house and placing him onto the bed.
His breathing was heavy, uneven. Sweat clung to his forehead, and the bandages around his body were soaked with blood.
Her hands trembled as she reached for a clean cloth and a bowl of water from the nearby table. She carefully began wiping the dirt and blood from his face with a damp cloth, her movements were slow and trembling.
"Just hold on…. please," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
John stirred faintly, his breathing uneven. His fingers twitched against the blanket, and his eyes opened halfway, clouded and unfocused.
"Lisa…" he muttered weakly, his voice hoarse and distant.
Lisa leaned closer, her heart tightening at the sound of his voice.
"I'm here," she said softly, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.
He blinked a few times, as if trying to remember where he was. Pain flickered across his entire body as he tried to move. Seeing this, Lisa quickly placed her hand on his chest.
"Don't," she whispered. "You need to rest."
For a moment, John said nothing. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, then to the faint glow of lantern nearby. The memory of the duel, the memory of the Cart's cold words and the overwhelming power he faced, replayed in his mind like an echo that refused to fade.
His lips parted. "The dojo…" he said, but his voice broke before he could finish.
Lisa's hand tightened on his chest. "Don't think about that now," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay calm. "You're home. That's all that matters, don't worry about anything else."
After hearing Lisa's calming words, his consciousness faded away once more.
The tension in his face eased, and his breathing grew steady, though weak. Lisa watched him in silence, her eyes glistening in the dim light.