The world beyond the temple was colder than Guhan expected.
A thick mist rolled over the ancient trees, their branches clawing at the fading moonlight. With each step, the gravel path beneath his boots crunched like breaking bones. The temple's glow was long gone behind him, replaced by an eerie silence only the wild could offer.
He didn't stop walking.
No destination.
No map.
Just... away.
---
[Flashback: A World of War]
He remembered battlefields soaked in blood.
Screams of men he'd fought beside—cut down by blades, fire, or worse.
His hands... healing the dying. Then swinging a sword the next moment.
Always moving. Always killing. Always leading.
The world beyond the temple was colder than Guhan expected.
A thick mist rolled over the ancient trees, their branches clawing at the fading moonlight. With each step, the gravel path beneath his boots crunched like breaking bones. The temple's glow was long gone behind him, replaced by an eerie silence only the wild could offer.
He didn't stop walking.
No destination.
No map.
Just... away.
---
[Flashback: A World of War]
He remembered battlefields soaked in blood.
Screams of men he'd fought beside—cut down by blades, fire, or worse.
His hands... healing the dying. Then swinging a sword the next moment.
Always moving. Always killing. Always leading.
Guhan had once been called "The Weapon Saint" in his old world. Not because he was holy... but because he mastered every tool of death to perfection. His family—warriors for generations—had perished in a five-year war that broke empires.
He had lived. Alone. With a body stronger than most, and a power no one truly understood.
Healing. And something else.
---
[Back to Present: A Small Fire in the Woods]
Guhan sat near a fire he'd built from scratch. A silent ritual of survival.
He laid down his spear beside him—one he had summoned from memory, a replica of a fallen comrade's weapon.
He touched his palm. A warm, faint glow pulsed. His healing power. Still working.
But he knew what made him truly dangerous… was the secret no one could ever know.
> When he healed someone… he experienced their memories.
Felt their pain. Saw their training. And then... he could do what they did.
He didn't know why this happened.
He never told anyone—not even Kevin or Mereoleona.
And now... they were heroes. Champions of prophecy.
And he was a shadow on the road.
---
[Sudden Sound – A Child's Cry]
Snap!
Guhan rose instantly, weapon in hand.
Another snap.
He moved quietly through the forest, every sense alert. The air smelled like wet leaves and fear.
Then he saw it.
A young boy, no older than seven, caught in a net trap, crying.
"Help! Somebody! They'll come back—!"
Guhan moved fast.
In one clean cut, the net fell. The boy dropped to the ground, sobbing.
"Who did this to you?" Guhan asked, kneeling down.
Before the child could answer—growls echoed from the trees.
Three bandits stepped out, eyes wide with shock.
"Oi! That ain't your business, traveler."
Guhan stood between the boy and the bandits, silently.
They drew swords.
He didn't.
He didn't need to.
---
[Short Battle Scene]
First bandit rushed in. Guhan sidestepped. Elbow. Crack.
Second slashed. Guhan caught the blade with bare hands. Disarmed. Strike to the chest. Collapse.
Third froze.
Guhan's eyes glowed faint red.
"You can walk away," he said.
The bandit ran.
---
[Aftermath]
The boy looked up at him, eyes filled with awe.
"You're... you're like a hero…"
Guhan smiled faintly and ruffled the boy's hair.
"No. Just someone passing through."
---
[Final Lines of the Chapter]
As dawn rose in the east, Guhan walked toward a small village he saw in the distance. Fields, smoke from chimneys, simple lives.
Maybe, for now… that was enough.
He didn't want thrones. Or temples.
He just wanted quiet.
But fate had already chosen its pawn.
And the shadows of Azmora… were already watching.
---