Goodbye (2)

He hadn't expected them to be here, but it made sense. Phaenora had taken it upon herself to train them, knowing that if they were to survive in this world, they needed strength. And Shimmer, ever the stubborn one, had thrown herself into training with the same reckless determination that made Vastarael both proud and worried at the same time.

"There you go! See? You're doing it!"

Phaenora's voice rang through the arena, her excitement laced with the usual teasing lilt she always had when coaching someone. She was a harsh teacher, but not without warmth.

Shimmer stood several feet away from her, her grip tightening on the short sword in her hands. The air around her crackled with red energy, faint ripples of shockwaves distorting the space around her blade. She had been training to combine impact-based force with swordplay, something that took a ridiculous amount of precision and control.

And she was improving.

Vastarael's gaze softened as he watched her, her auburn hair tied back, sweat dripping down her forehead, but her crimson eyes were burning with focus. She lunged forward, twisting her body mid-air, her sword coming down in a diagonal slash. The moment the blade struck the training dummy, a burst of concussive force erupted from the impact, sending dust and splintered wood flying.

The dummy, reinforced with layers of metal, creaked as it absorbed the shock. A visible dent had formed where Shimmer's strike had landed.

Phaenora whistled, flipping her glaive over her palm with effortless grace.

"Not bad, kid. But if you're gonna rely on shockwaves, you better make sure your stance is solid first."

Shimmer, still catching her breath, huffed. "I had a solid stance!"

Phaenora smirked, "Sure, sure. Until you get hit. You think enemies are just gonna sit there and let you charge up your little fancy strikes?"

She gestured with her glaive, pointing it at Shimmer's feet.

"You're putting too much weight on your back leg. When you release force like that, your center of gravity shifts and you lose control. Next time, balance your weight. It'll make your movements faster and your strikes cleaner."

Shimmer gritted her teeth, clearly not liking the critique, but she didn't argue. She simply nodded, gripping her sword tighter, her muscles twitching as she prepared for another attempt.

Meanwhile, just a few feet away, Runner sat cross-legged on the ground, watching them. Her breathing was still ragged from trying to keep up earlier. Unlike Shimmer, Runner's body wasn't as physically strong, and her stamina was always the first thing to give out. She wiped the sweat off her brow, her eyes watching the two with admiration and frustration.

Vastarael's heart ached for her. She wanted to fight, wanted to stand beside her sister. But her body couldn't keep up. Even so, she never gave up.

He smiled.

They would be fine. Even if he wasn't there to watch over them, they would be fine.

For a long moment, he simply stood there. He memorized this moment. The sound of Shimmer's blade cutting through the air. The sharp clash of Phaenora's glaive meeting steel. Runner's quiet, determined gaze as she watched them.

This was what he was leaving behind. He wasn't sure if he would ever see them again.

Vastarael exhaled softly and whispered.

"Goodbye."

The word was barely more than a breath, like a whisper in the wind.

And yet, Phaenora froze.

Her stance faltered for just a split second, her eyes narrowing as she whipped her head around, scanning the arena.

Shimmer, startled by her sudden movement, blinked.

"Uh… Phae?"

Runner sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

Phaenora didn't answer right away. Her brows furrowed, her grip tightening around her glaive. She swore she had just heard something. And yet, when she looked around, there was nothing.

Just the empty arena, the faint hum of residual energy from their training and the soft rustling of the wind through the open archways.

Had she imagined it?

"…Did you guys hear something just now?" She finally asked.

Shimmer and Runner exchanged glances before shaking their heads.

"Nope."

Phaenora frowned. "Huh…"

Maybe she was just tired. Maybe... she was overthinking things. She exhaled, shaking her head before turning back to Shimmer.

"Alright, let's go again. And this time, if I see you leaning back on that leg, I'm knocking you on your ass."

Shimmer groaned, rolling her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Stance. Balance. Whatever."

And just like that, the moment passed and resumed their training.

Unaware that just seconds ago, the man who had protected them, raised them, and loved them like family had been standing there, saying his final goodbye.

And now, he was gone.

°°°°°°°

The Business Hub Floors of the Spire were alive with the steady hum of prosperity, from the 3rd to the 27th floor.

Vastarael walked through the wide streets, weaving between bustling market stalls and buildings, his hands in his pockets, his presence unseen to the hundreds of people moving around him.

He had never intended to linger here. His farewell had already been spoken. But now, walking through the thriving heart of his people's hard work, he couldn't help but slow his pace, taking everything in.

It was nothing like before.

Eight months ago, this place had been empty halls with nothing but darkness. Now? The entire system was flourishing. Even though it looked like it was underground because it was inside a Spire, the lighting made it like a bustling business district at night.

Shops lined both sides of the roads, each one showcasing a specialty of its own. A tailor shop displayed shimmering silk robes woven with magic-resistant threads. A potion stall had bottles filled with glowing liquids that pulsed like captured moonlight. A forge had freshly crafted weapons and armor, each one imbued with a faint aura of Enchantment Runes.

Even the street vendors had found their place in this system. A young man was selling enchanted wristbands that adjusted to the wearer's size, while another was offering candied fruits infused with restorative properties. Vastarael walked past a bakery where a fresh loaf of bread was floating in mid-air, turning golden under a controlled Flame Rune.

"Best bread in the Spire! Infused with warmth that lasts a whole week!" Fhe baker called out, tossing a sample to a customer.

Vastarael smiled. This was what he had built.

A thriving, self-sustaining system where people could work for their own merit. Where wealth wasn't concentrated in the hands of the powerful, but instead earned through skill, effort, and innovation. Meritocracy at its finest.

It was better than what Anqerise had. Better than even his father's political system. Well, it did work because Anqerise was the home of hundreds of millions of people and this place was barely half a million...

The Richinaria Palace had taught him the value of hierarchy, of stability through order. But here? Order was maintained not by bloodline, but by capability. If you had the skills, the knowledge, the drive, you could rise.

And they had risen.

The people here had adapted to the system, found ways to work with it, push its limits, and create something greater.

It made him proud.

He continued walking, leaving the Business Hub behind as he entered the Residential District.

°°°°°

The air outside the Spire was different. The scent of freshly baked bread and morning dew mixed with the faintest traces of wildflowers. The Residential District had once been nothing but frozen wooden medieval homes weakened by centuries of frozen conditions and winds.

And now?

Now it was a thriving community.

Homes were built with reinforced stone and enchanted wood, their rooftops lined with glowing blue runes that absorbed sunlight during the day and released a soft, warm light at night. Gardens flourished between the houses, small patches of farmland growing vegetables, herbs, and flowers. Children ran through the streets, their laughter echoing between the buildings.

This was what stability looked like.

And then, he saw her.

Siranna.

She stood at the center of the street, surrounded by people who greeted her as if she were royalty. And to them, she was. She had been a leader, a warrior and a survivor. One of the few who had made it out of the Island of Peony alive.

She was wearing a loose, elegant robe of deep green and gold, but it did nothing to hide her very obvious pregnant belly.

She was struggling.

Vastarael had to stifle a laugh as he watched her waddle forward, her hands resting on her lower back as she glared at the people fussing over her.

"I can walk just fine," she muttered, but the two women beside her weren't listening. Her two twin daughters, Rienne and Taryenne, were laughing behind her. They were offering her everything from a seat to a drink to a floating chair that would carry her instead of making her walk.

Her two daughters trailed behind her, giggling to themselves as they watched their mother suffer through the unwanted attention.

Vastarael smirked.

The last time he had seen her like this, she had been drenched in blood. Her husband's blood as she ran, leaving him behind because she didn't have much of a choice.

He had died in front of Vastarael. On the Island of Peony.

'Too bad he won't be here to see the birth of his child.'

Vastarael's smile faded. His laughter died in his throat.

He turned away before the weight of it could settle too deeply.

°°°°°°

A teleportation circle flared beneath his feet and in a blink, the Halo Islands stretched before him.

The twin crescent islands encircled a central landmass, their shores glowing softly in the morning light. Vastarael stood on the cliffs, looking down at the fields below.

Agriculture.

He had seen plenty of farmlands in his life. The vineyards of Anqerise. The golden gardens of the Richinaria Dynasty.

But nothing compared to this.

The crops here were otherworldly.

Massive stalks of corn-like plants, their husks a deep violet, shimmered under the sunlight. Fruits the size of a man's head hung from trees with silver leaves, their skins shifting colors like liquid opals. A row of flowers with petals as large as shields swayed gently, their golden pollen drifting through the air like fireflies.

The Summer Tribe had done well.

"Look at these," he murmured to himself.

They had taken a land barely fit for farming and turned it into one of the most efficient food sources in the entire region.

And the people were singing.

The farmers worked with smiles on their faces, moving in sync with one another. Some carried baskets overflowing with freshly harvested produce. Others tended to the irrigation systems that glowed with a faint blue hue, enchanted to distribute water evenly.

It was a stark contrast to the past.

This land had once been a frozen graveyard. The Spire's trials had left it abandoned and lifeless. But now, the soil had been reclaimed, enriched and renewed.

They had done this. His people.

And he…

He was leaving it behind.

He let out a slow breath, pushing his hands into his pockets. He had built something here. Something that would last. Even if he never returned, he had made sure of that.

"Good," he whispered to himself. "That's how it should be."

And with that, he vanished once more to one final place where it all began.