chapter 15.1

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the land. Alcard sat atop a large stone at the edge of a winding dirt path, his gaze fixed on the distant village, now reduced to a faint silhouette against the western horizon. The warm breeze brushed against his skin, yet his mind remained ensnared in an endless maze of unanswered questions.

The village looked different now—no longer silent and shrouded in mystery like when he and Arwen first arrived. Homes that had once stood abandoned and lifeless were now filled with movement. The sound of daily life drifted faintly from afar, people going about their routines as if nothing had ever been amiss. The eerie stillness that had once suffocated this place had vanished without a trace.

Alcard narrowed his eyes, scanning the settlement as if searching for a crack in reality. "What the hell happened?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible against the wind's whisper.

His thoughts circled back to that moment—when Reinhard's fingertips touched his forehead. In an instant, everything had changed. The deserted village, the strange, unsettling aura that had loomed over it, all of it had shifted in the blink of an eye. It wasn't an illusion; he was certain of that. He had been somewhere else—somewhere beyond human comprehension—and then, in a mere breath, he had been pulled back.

"Jotun…" he whispered, finally grasping the weight of the word. If Reinhard truly was one of them, then manipulating reality itself was likely nothing more than a minor feat for him. The thought sent a chill down his spine, even in the warmth of the setting sun.

Alcard inhaled deeply, trying to force logic onto something that defied all reason. "If he really was a Jotun, then changing what I saw was probably just the beginning," he mused. But even as he tried to accept that as fact, his mind was plagued by lingering doubts.

Why did Arwen have to meet Reinhard?

What was the true meaning behind the dreams that had led her here?

Why was he, Alcard, the one chosen to accompany her?

How did any of this connect to the world he thought he understood?

These questions churned in his thoughts like a storm crashing against a rocky shore. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling in frustration. He had faced countless battles, endured exile, survived the horrors beyond The Wall—yet none of it had ever left him feeling as displaced as he did now. It was as if he had been thrust into a game where he did not know the rules, nor even the objective.

One thing had become increasingly clear: this was far bigger than him. Whatever had transpired here, it was beyond the scope of mere men, beyond kingdoms and wars. There were forces at play that even rulers and conquerors remained oblivious to.

If this was the will of the gods—if this was the fate that had been set before him—then he had no choice but to walk the path that had been laid out. And yet, even as he forced himself to accept that, the uncertainty gnawed at him, like the thick fog that cloaked a battlefield before the clash of steel.

Finally, Alcard rose to his feet, pushing aside the thoughts that swirled in his mind. He reached for the reins of his black horse, which had been patiently waiting by his side. Running a hand along its neck, he took a moment to steady himself, then checked the saddle and supplies one last time.

With the practiced ease of a warrior who had spent his life on the road, he mounted his horse and tightened his grip on the reins. His gaze drifted once more toward the distant village, the place where everything had changed.

"The only thing I know for certain now," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "is that I have to return to The Wall. But when the time comes… I'll find the answers I need."

With a light pull on the reins, his horse began to move forward, its hooves kicking up small clouds of dust as it carried him away from the village and the secrets it held. Yet even as he rode on, his thoughts remained rooted in the place where he had first realized that the world was far vaster—and far more mysterious—than he had ever dared to believe.

One thing was certain—his journey was far from over. If anything, it had only just begun.

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