The Echo of Heroes

Echoes of Heroes in the Training Grounds

Earlier, when Arion had been fighting goblins in the mine and being defeated, his former team had been discovering what it meant to be survivors.

In the vast training grounds of the Adventurers' Guild, the air was thick with the sound of steel clashing and targets being hit.

Leo, the shadowy scout, stood alone at the end of the field. He was shooting arrows without stopping. He wasn't aiming for the center of the target; he was just firing. Every arrow that left his bow was accompanied by a painful sigh.

Thud!... Thud!... Thud!...

It wasn't training. It was self-flagellation. He was punishing himself for his weakness. He had been the scout, the eyes. But he hadn't seen the danger. He had collapsed, become a burden. He had survived only because his captain had sacrificed himself. That thought gnawed at him from the inside. His respect for Arion was no longer just admiration; it had turned into loyalty mixed with guilt. He had witnessed a genius sacrifice himself for him, and he didn't deserve it.

On the other side of the field, the scene was different and more violent.

Robert, the Iron Knight, was fighting. He wasn't fighting a person; he was fighting an ancient dwarf training machine, a massive device that launched steel arms at incredible speeds. Robert was blocking them with his shield, every collision producing a resounding clang, like the tolling of a cathedral bell.

Clang!... Boom!... Clang!...

He wasn't trying to win. He was trying to feel pain. He was pushing his body to its limits, taking blows he could have avoided, feeling his bones shudder. He had been given one final order: "Take them." He had succeeded in executing it, but he failed to protect his captain. He saw in Arion the perfect leader—silent but action-driven, one who trusted his soldiers even unto death. Now, Robert had to become the soldier who deserved that trust, even though it was too late.

As for Celine, she was in a completely different place.

She wasn't in the training grounds; she was in her private lab at the top of the guild tower. The room was dark, lit only by the cold glow of complex runic circles drawn on the floor and tables. She was surrounded by books, manuscripts, and a massive chalkboard covered in equations and speculations.

She wasn't training. She was... obsessed.

"It doesn't follow the laws of magical conservation... the energy emission was instantaneous and random... the calming effect on the griffin wasn't mental magic, but more like a biological reset of the instinct…"

She muttered to herself, her violet eyes glowing with frantic light. In her mind, Arion had gone from "fraud" to "cosmic anomaly." A phenomenon that couldn't be explained by known laws. She didn't feel sorrow for his death; she felt anger and frustration because she had lost the most valuable study sample in history.

"He was the key," she whispered, pounding her fist on the table. "A key to understanding an entirely new type of magic... and it's gone."

---

Later that evening, the three gathered at a table in the guild hall. They didn't speak much. The silence between them was more eloquent than any words. They were three survivors, bound by the memory of one man, each seeing that memory from a completely different perspective.

Leo saw a savior. Robert saw a leader. Celine saw a mystery.

Together, they looked at the distant mountains, which were beginning to fade into the darkness of the night. The mountains that had swallowed their leader.

"Do you think..." Leo started softly, "...he's watching us now?"

No one answered. But they all felt him. The echo of his presence. The weight of his legend, which had now become a burden for them to carry. They were heroes who survived, but they felt like orphans.

The night passed, and the time came that they hadn't expected, but had wished for: Arion's return!

Here's the full translation of your passage into English:

---

With Arion…

This was his true treasure. And he was ready to protect it, no matter the cost.

But the world had other plans — plans that had nothing to do with peace.

The quiet that filled the house didn't last long. Late that night, as Arion finally drifted to sleep in his chair by the hearth, he was jolted awake by a furious pounding at the front door. It wasn't a polite knock — it was frantic, as if it would break the wood apart.

Arion sprang to his feet, the danger instinct honed in the mine making his hand shoot automatically to his sword — which wasn't there. He cursed under his breath, stepping cautiously toward the door, heart pounding. Could the ghouls have tracked him here? Unlikely. Malakai? Also unlikely.

He opened the door slowly, ready for anything.

Or so he thought.

Standing before him was Robert, the Iron Knight, dressed in simple training clothes soaked with sweat. He was panting, his normally stoic face turned into a mask of silent shock, eyes wide.

"L–Lord?" The word slipped from his mouth like a strangled gasp. "You… you're alive? Really?"

Before Arion could answer, two more figures appeared behind Robert.

Leo, whose face looked pale and exhausted, stared at him for a moment. Tears welled in his eyes but didn't fall like a flood. He stepped forward, and when he was sure it wasn't a mirage, he bowed his head and whispered hoarsely, "You're here… I knew you'd come back."

But Celine's reaction was the strangest of all.

She didn't cry, and she didn't look relieved. Instead, her violet eyes glowed with a feverish light — the gleam of a scholar who had just found a riddle that could change the world. She stepped forward, brushing past Robert and Leo, and stood directly in front of Arion.

"Impossible…" she murmured, examining him from head to toe like a living specimen. "Vital signs stable. No sign of high-level magical regeneration. Cellular structure stable… but the aura is completely silent! How did you return from that existential pressure without any soul damage? I need a blood sample. Now."

She raised her hand, her fingertips glowing with an icy chill, about to pierce his arm with a shard of frost.

---

The Chaos of Explanations

"Stop!" Robert roared, snapping back to his senses and grabbing her arm to stop her. "Celine! He's not a lab experiment!"

She shot him a hard look. "Idiot! Don't you see? This goes beyond a hero or a leader! This is a flaw in the laws of nature! Understanding what happened to him could change everything we know about magic and survival!"

Amid this chaos — a giant knight holding back an obsessed mage, a scout standing frozen in disbelief, and Arion in the middle still trying to figure out how they found him — Arion felt a heavy headache forming.

He was exhausted, disoriented, and all he wanted was to go back to his warm chair.

He looked at them all, then let out a long sigh — the sigh of a man who had seen enough madness for one lifetime. Then he said in a quiet, cold voice:

"Some battles… aren't fought with swords."

A heavy silence fell.

The three exchanged glances.

Leo took a deep breath, wiped his eyes on his sleeve, then stood straighter, as if regaining some of his balance. Inside, he heard it as yet another lesson in composure.

Robert loosened his grip on Celine's arm, sensing a hidden tactic in Arion's words he didn't fully grasp but still respected.

Celine narrowed her eyes at him and whispered to herself, "So… he doesn't really fight. He rewrites the outcome… fascinating."

They looked at Arion with a new reverence, as if he'd told them all they needed to know.

"My lord," Robert said, bowing deeply with all his weight. "Forgive us for disturbing your rest. We were… worried."

"We've been waiting for this moment," Leo added softly, this time with no tears — just eyes shining with a new vow.

Arion said nothing. His silence was enough for all of them.

---

The Weight of Heroes

"How did you find me?" Arion finally asked — the only question that mattered to him now.

"Healer Lina notified the guild," Celine replied, her tone back to scientific clarity. "When the news reached Valerius, he sent us immediately to confirm it."

Arion sighed. Just logical chatter, no trickery or magic. He felt a small, fleeting disappointment.

"Rest, my lord," Robert said with certainty. "You're back. And we're here. We'll guard this place ourselves tonight."

At last, the three of them left, leaving Arion standing by the door, feeling the sudden cold settle in his chest.

He closed the door and leaned his back against it.

He was back. But he understood the truth: his return hadn't freed him from the legend — it had bound him to it even tighter.

He was no longer just a hero. He had become a miracle.

And the burdens of miracles… were heavier than the burdens of heroes.

He walked to his bedroom, passed by his chair, and stood before the window, staring at Arcadia's cold moon.

He drew the "Star-Dust Blade" from his storage. Moonlight reflected on its silver-blue edge, making it look alive in his hand.

He muttered to himself, voice dripping with irony: "Some battles aren't fought with swords…"

He tightened his grip on the hilt, feeling the weight of the metal he had forged with his own hands.

"No — all battles are settled by the sword. Or at least… they end with one."

He understood now that he couldn't run from his legend. Not even erase it. But maybe… he could become worthy of it.

That was the true challenge. He no longer fought just to survive or to protect his family.

Now, he fought to bridge the gap between the "Arion" he knew… and the "Lord Arion" the world saw.

And this sword… was his first step.