Gautam was gone.
The distortion in the sky slowly closed behind him, leaving no trace that he had ever been there.
For several seconds, no one moved.
The battlefield remained frozen in an unnatural silence.
Harun was still lying where he had fallen.
His body did not move.
His eyes remained closed.
No one could tell whether he was unconscious...
Or dead.
The dust settled around him while the faint wind carried the smell of destruction across the ruined battlefield.
Ten minutes passed.
Then another sound broke the silence.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Uneven.
An elderly man emerged from the distance, leaning slightly on a wooden staff as he made his way through the ruins.
The moment he saw the villagers standing far away from Harun, his expression changed.
He raised his voice.
"How selfish have you all become?"
Everyone turned toward him.
The old man continued, his voice filled with anger.
"The people of Bhouldera were never this selfish. Never this cowardly."
He pointed toward Harun.
"That boy risked his life for every single one of you! He fought for this village when almost everyone else had already given up!"
His voice grew louder.
"And you are still standing there instead of going to him?"
No one answered.
The old man's anger slowly faded into disappointment as he walked toward Harun.
He knelt beside him.
For a moment, he simply stared at the boy.
Then he carefully placed two fingers against Harun's wrist.
His expression immediately became serious.
A pulse.
Weak.
Irregular.
But still there.
"He's alive..."
The old man exhaled in relief.
"But his pulse is unstable."
He looked down at Harun.
"Don't worry, kid. I've already called for a healer."
He gently checked Harun's condition again.
"When you were fighting Anwar, I used Dravillian Communication to contact the nearest healer I could find. It took some time, but I managed to reach them."
His eyes softened.
"They should be here soon."
The old man then looked toward the bodies of Anwar and Khaizar.
His expression changed again.
He stared at Anwar for several seconds.
The man who had once been feared throughout the region.
Anwar.
The one who had been given the title—
[PSYCHO DEVIL].
Dead.
The old man slowly shook his head.
"Definitely..."
He looked back at Harun.
"There is something unusual about this boy."
His eyes narrowed.
"He adapted far too quickly."
His gaze returned to Anwar.
"Anwar was called the Psycho Devil for a reason. People far stronger than this boy were unable to survive against him."
He paused.
"And yet this child..."
The old man's expression became one of disbelief.
"He killed him."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
The old man looked toward the direction in which Gautam had disappeared.
"And the strangest part..."
His voice became quieter.
"Gautam left him alive."
Slowly, people began approaching.
At first, only a few.
Then dozens.
The villagers gathered around Harun, staring at the unconscious boy.
Some looked at him with admiration.
Others still carried resentment.
One man crossed his arms.
"Good. He got what he deserved."
Another immediately glared at him.
"What are you talking about?"
"He caused all of this."
"He fought for us!"
"He could have left!"
"He could have died!"
The arguments continued.
Different voices.
Different opinions.
But gradually, one thing became clear.
Most of them were no longer looking at Harun with hatred.
They were looking at him with something else.
Respect.
A woman slowly stepped forward.
Tears filled her eyes.
She looked at Harun's motionless body.
"He saved my son..."
Everyone became quiet.
The woman covered her mouth as tears began falling.
"My boy would not be alive if it weren't for him."
She lowered her head.
"I never even thanked him."
Another villager whispered,
"He saved my family too."
Someone else said,
"He fought those monsters when none of us could."
Another voice followed.
"He's our hero."
The words spread through the crowd.
Not everyone agreed.
But the majority had begun to see Harun differently.
Not as an outsider.
Not as another warrior sent to Bhouldera.
But as someone who had actually stood beside them.
Harun was carefully carried to Aqsa's house.
His companions were already there.
Mira.
Ishan.
Kunal.
Omair.
They stood in complete silence.
None of them knew what to say.
Their faces were pale.
Their eyes remained fixed on Harun.
They had seen what he had done.
They had seen him fight until his body could no longer continue.
And now...
He wasn't even conscious enough to hear them.
A villager standing near the doorway finally spoke.
His voice trembled.
"I still don't understand."
Everyone looked at him.
"How can someone do this?"
He stared at Harun.
"How can someone risk everything for people he barely knows?"
He swallowed.
"This boy could have ignored us."
He looked around the room.
"He could have walked away, just like everyone else."
Silence.
"For years, people have been sent here to help us."
His expression darkened.
"And every single time, they saw Gautam and his generals..."
He clenched his fists.
"...and gave up."
His voice became quieter.
"They left us behind."
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
"We got used to it."
The room remained silent.
"We stopped expecting anyone to save us."
He looked at Harun again.
"Then this boy came."
His eyes became wet.
"Seventeen... maybe eighteen years old."
He shook his head slowly.
"He's barely old enough to understand what he's gotten himself into."
Yet he still came.
He still stood.
He still fought.
The man's voice broke.
"And for us..."
He looked toward the bodies of Anwar and Khaizar.
"He made enemies that could have destroyed him."
A woman standing nearby suddenly began crying.
She looked at Harun with trembling eyes.
"He's the same age as my son..."
She covered her face.
"He's just a child."
Nobody responded.
Because, for once, they had no argument.
An elderly man finally spoke.
"We haven't used Dravillian Communication properly in years."
Everyone looked at him.
He continued,
"But today..."
His gaze fell upon Harun.
"We will."
His voice was firm.
"We have to save this boy."
He looked around the room.
"His name is Harun."
He clenched his fist.
"We never even spoke to him properly."
His expression filled with regret.
"And yet he risked his life for us."
He took a deep breath.
"He has to survive."
Someone immediately nodded.
"Call a healer."
"We already have."
Everyone turned.
The old man who had found Harun earlier stood near the corner of the room.
He calmly folded his arms.
"I contacted the nearest healer while Harun was still fighting."
He glanced toward the window.
"They should arrive at any moment."
A familiar voice suddenly came from the crowd.
"...Zefer?"
The old man froze.
An elderly woman stared at him.
Her eyes widened.
"Zefer?"
Everyone slowly turned.
The old man standing in the corner looked toward her.
The room went completely silent.
One person stepped backward.
Another stared in disbelief.
Then the whispers began.
"Zefer..."
"Is that really him?"
"Impossible..."
"Zefer came back?"
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Panic spread through the room.
The elderly woman stared at him as though she were looking at someone who belonged to the past.
"Zefer... when did you come back?"
Zefer gave her a calm smile.
"Recently."
The woman stepped toward him.
"Recently?"
Her voice trembled with anger and emotion.
"Where have you been all these years?"
Zefer said nothing.
She continued.
"Do you have any idea how many times we needed you?"
Her voice cracked.
"You disappeared when Bhouldera needed you the most."
The room remained completely silent.
Zefer lowered his gaze for a moment.
"I'll tell you everything."
Then he looked at her again.
"But later."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Nice to meet you again, Ruhi."
He paused.
"I'm glad you still remember me."
Ruhi opened her mouth to respond.
But Zefer suddenly turned toward the entrance.
His expression changed.
His eyes narrowed.
"Wait."
Everyone looked at him.
Zefer listened.
Footsteps.
Faint at first.
Then closer.
His expression became serious.
"They're here."
Ruhi looked toward the door.
"Who?"
Zefer answered without taking his eyes away from the entrance.
"The healers."
The doors opened.
A cold breeze swept through the room.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Everyone turned.
A figure stepped inside.
Blue shoes.
A faint icy aura flowed around them, spreading across the floor like frost.
Behind them came another person.
Green shoes.
A gentle healing aura surrounded their body, glowing softly in the darkness.
Everyone fell silent.
Zefer watched them arrive.
And for the first time since returning to Bhouldera—
he smiled.
The healers had arrived.