As the sun climbed higher in the sky, passing the morning and making way for noon, Arthur was seen amidst the wreckage of his village, his gaze lingering on Finn. His expression was hollow, a mix of grief and emptiness etched on his face, as if he were still trying to process Finn's words.
Arthur's head tilted back, his gaze skyward, and for a moment, his eyes glimmered with a hint of resolve. His lips twitched, and a small, enigmatic smile crept onto his face. It was a smile that suggested he had come to terms with his fate.
As he refocused on Finn, his expression remained calm, almost serene. Finn, observing Arthur's smile, narrowed his eyes slightly, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Is he smiling?" Finn thought to himself, his expression unreadable.
Arthur's gaze fell upon his mother's corpse, and his smile became bittersweet. His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, a fierce determination burned within them. "Faith, you bastard," he whispered, his voice laced with defiance.
He screamed out loud, his gaze piercing the sky, his eyes intensifying with a bluish hue. "You think you've won? Right? YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?" he screamed, his voice echoing through the air.
As his scream faded, his voice dropped to a low, resolute tone. "No matter how many times you pull me down, I'll get up. No matter how many times… I have to."
His gaze drifted back to his mother's corpse, and his voice became a whisper. "Isn't that what you would have wanted for me, Mother…?" His smile was bittersweet as he looked at her. "You wouldn't want me to waste this chance… this time I have. This time I have to live… because you once…"
Finn's eyes widened slightly as he was taken aback by the defiance in Arthur's gaze. He was surprised by the boy's bravery, showing no fear despite facing his own mortality. Finn's expression froze for a moment, his thoughts racing.
He murmured to himself, his voice barely audible, "Hm… this kid…
A poignant flashback transported Arthur to a memory with his mother in a rustic stable. She was milking a cow, her movements gentle and practiced. Arthur wandered in, his eyes meeting hers, and said, "Hey, Mom, I'm here already."
His mother turned to him with a warm, proud smile. "Oh, Arthur, you're here! Why don't you pack up our stuff? Let's head back to the farm."
Arthur's expression clouded, and he grumbled, "Oh man, another boring day on the farm. Why can't we just have a normal life? I'm getting tired of this."
His mother's face softened further, her voice infused with a mix of realism and warmth. "Oh, Arthur, you have to accept our circumstances. We must make a living from what we have, as there's no alternative if we don't work."
Arthur's voice took on a petulant tone. "I mean, come on, that's the life of the poor. Yeah, I know we're poor, but can't we just have a normal life already? Getting money and riches wouldn't hurt, would it?"
His mother said, "Well, Arthur, this is the life we've found ourselves in. Sometimes it's what faith decides."
Arthur's voice rose, tinged with frustration. "Faith! Nobody cares about that jerk. Why must we face such hardship? With just one cow in our stable, how can we make a living? We're likely the poorest in the village. We can't keep living like this."
His mother attempted to calm him, but Arthur jerked his hand away, saying, "Damn it, I'm tired of this, Mom. I'm going out to play."
His mother held him back, her grip firm yet gentle. "Arthur, don't be like that. Your father ventured out seeking a better life for us as an adventurer, and he died. You don't have… You don't need to push yourself so hard. Life is to be enjoyed, even in its brief moments."
Arthur's anger erupted. "Screw that, Mom! Screw everything! I'd rather die than live like this!"
His mother swiftly covered his mouth, her voice filled with a mix of worry and wisdom. "Don't say that! You should cherish every moment of life. Not everyone is as fortunate as we are—we can eat, we have shelter. Many others don't have that opportunity."
---
Arthur's gaze returned to the present, and a warm smile spread across his face as he looked at his mother's remains. He took a deep breath, and Finn, observing this, raised an eyebrow.
Finn spoke, his voice measured and calm. "Being rhetorical is futile; only tangible outcomes demonstrate one's resolve."
Arthur's demeanor shifted, and he retorted, his tone somewhat sharper, "You shouldn't be lecturing me," he said with a cocky smirk. "You're the reason I'm in this situation."
Finn's expression remained impassive, his voice unruffled. "I beg your pardon? Like I said, it wasn't done intentionally."
Arthur continued, "Hmph. Still doesn't count. Because at the end of the day, I believe I am your responsibility now."
Finn's eyes narrowed, a hint of confusion etched on his face. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Finn's expression twitched slightly, his tongue brushing against his teeth as he processed Arthur's words. He was taken aback by the sudden shift in Arthur's demeanor.
Finn thought to himself, "One minute he's drowning in despair, the next he's a cocky brat… what a hassle."
---
Arthur scratched the back of his head, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips as he gazed at Finn, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey, do you mind telling me your name?" he asked, his tone casual yet laced with a hint of seriousness.
Finn took a deep, silent breath, his gaze drifting away from Arthur's inquisitive stare, as if lost in thought for a fleeting moment. He then turned back, his expression unreadable, and said, "I'm Finn. Finn Bowing."
Arthur's smile broadened, his eyes lighting up with amusement. "Your name is… unique indeed." He chuckled slightly, his laughter low and throaty, as he shook his head in mock bewilderment.
Finn's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in slight annoyance. "Isn't it? What's wrong with my name?" he asked, his tone measured yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness.
Arthur hurriedly raised his palms, his face still alight with mirth. "No, no, it's not like that! It's… it's… uh…" He tried to compose himself, his words tumbling out in a rush, .
Finn inclined his head, his gaze piercing as he stared at Arthur. A brief sigh escaped his lips, his voice cold and detached. "Enough of this."
Arthur nodded, his smirk unwavering. "Yes, sir." His eyes drifted to his mother's corpse, and he knelt beside her again, his movements economical. He cradled her face, rotating her head to meet his gaze, the broken spear still pierced through the back of her neck—a gruesome testament to her fate. Flies danced around her face until Arthur's gentle wave of his hand sent them scattering.
His gaze locked onto her bloody face, her eyes closed in eternal slumber. A warm smile played on his lips, though his eyes trembled with suppressed emotion. He stepped back, his eyes lingering on his mother's remains.
Finn stood unmoving, his expression inscrutable.
As Arthur stood up, his smile was warm but weighed down by emotion. "Hey, Finn, you know I'm your responsibility now, right?" he said, his voice tinged with determination.
Finn let out a low, grumbling noise. "Not your responsibility," he said quickly, almost reflexively.
Arthur ignored his protest, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "You don't mind if I go with you on your little travels, do you?"
Finn's expression was a mask of cold calculation, but beneath it, a flicker of surprise danced. "Hm. Saying that with your life essence depleting fast—sixteen months is all that is left of the time you have… why do you choose to travel with me?" he asked, his voice measured.
Finn sighed, his words laced with a hint of warning. "The world isn't a playground for you. You should have chosen an easy path to life while it lasted."
Arthur smirked, his eyes flashing with defiance. "That's boring. I want a life featured by my decisions, Big Bro Finn. That's choosing to enjoy life on my terms. I've always wanted to be an adventurer, someone who tours the world."
Finn's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by Arthur's words as he thought to himself, "Bro… what in the—" as He finally said out loud to Arthur, "Until death… you wish to be an adventurer?"
Arthur's smile widened, his eyes still trembling with emotion. "Yeah, that's my dream."
Finn's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing as he said to Arthur, "Dreams are just illusions, a way to console yourself into thinking reality will bend to your whims. They'll only hold you back. Skills, actions, and grit—that's what makes things happen. Dreaming is just going to get you nowhere."
Arthur's gaze remained unflinching, locked on Finn's, though the words sent a shiver down his spine. His breath caught, his eyes closing briefly as his smile persisted, unwavering. He lowered his gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "No. Dreaming is believing."
Finn: "Wha…?"
Arthur's face lit up with a cheerful smile as he said, "Dreaming is what shapes us, believe it or not, Big Bro Finn. If dreaming was useless, life wouldn't have granted us that ability, would it?" His eyes sparkled with conviction, a stark contrast to Finn's stoic demeanor.
Finn turned his back on Arthur, his gaze falling upon the lifeless villagers. The stench of blood and buzzing flies filled the air. He tapped a finger on his nose, swiping away the pungent smell. With his eyes briefly closed, he said, "Suit yourself. It's a waste of time convincing someone who's as dumb-headed as you are." He turned to face Arthur, his expression unimpressed.
As Finn walked toward Arthur and closed the distance between them, his gaze momentarily shifted to Arthur's mother's lifeless body on the ground before returning to Arthur's face. "You and her share a resemblance," he stated, his voice neutral.
Arthur's smirk faltered, revealing a glimpse of underlying pain. "I suppose that's the only similarity between us," he replied, his chuckle laced with a hint of pain.
Finn's expression remained impassive. "Your assessment is accurate. Judging by the way you speak of her, it's apparent you don't possess her wisdom, given your impulsive nature."
Arthur's eyes narrowed, a blend of embarrassment and irritation crossing his face. "Hey, ease up on the insults, would you? You don't have to be so cold."
Finn walked past Arthur, ignoring his protest, and stopped momentarily, his gaze drawn to a building ahead. The structure was stained with blood, and the bodies of villagers lay scattered around it. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene: the building's roof was green, and a man's body was slumped in the window, his head languishing, his face pressed against the wall. The man's hair was all grey, simply meaning he was elderly.
Arthur followed Finn's gaze to the building, then turned to Finn, his eyes flicking to the scene before saying, "What…?"
Finn's gaze lingered on the building as he asked Arthur, "Is there a particular reason why this roof is painted green?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed with a hint of curiosity. "Ah, yeah. Only the chief's roof is painted green in our village."
Finn nodded thoughtfully. "I see. That explains why the other villagers' roofs are a mix of colors."
Arthur's expression turned inquiring. "Why are you so interested in this building, anyway? Did it strike you as… suspicious?"
Finn's gaze intensified. "Remember when I told you I used my power to preview what happened here a week ago?"
Arthur folded his arms, still looking puzzled. "Yeah, I remember."
Finn continued, "Before the attack, some horsemen gathered at this building. This was the start of the slaughter. It seems they were after something from the chief… something that wasn't given." Finn concluded as his gaze flickered to the grey-haired man's lifeless body in the window.
Arthur's eyes widened. "Wait, huh?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he thought to himself, "Wait, he saw all that… I mean, I did trust him before, though his claims were hard to swallow. But seeing him back that up proves it… he's telling the truth. He actually saw what happened here a week ago. He actually has time manipulation… yet he isn't even an elf. What is he…?"
---
AUTHOR'S POV
Alright, I know your question: elves, right? Don't panic. As the story proceeds—maybe not in this chapter—there will be a buildup to that theory. But for now, just enjoy the rest of the chapter.
---
BACK TO THE STORY
Finn's gaze flicked to Arthur from the side of his shoulder while his entire body faced the chief's hut, his eyes narrowing slightly as he asked, "So, do you by any chance know what they came here for?"
Arthur's expression remained thoughtful, his thumb grazing the edge of his lips as he pondered the question. "Mm, as a matter of fact, I do," he said, his voice low and calculated, his gaze drifting upward as if recalling something.
Finn's eyes narrowed slightly at Arthur's words, his expression unreadable. "Alright, let's hear it," he said, his voice measured.
Arthur took a breath, his thumb still resting on his lips. "I think I might have heard them mention something about a Jade Turtle… they claim the chief has it. The chief, on the other hand, denied it. I wonder why he would deny such a thing… after knowing what would befall the village."
Finn's expression turned thoughtful, his gaze drifting to the chief's body slumped in the window. "Don't jump to conclusions, blockhead. There might be a case where he is telling the truth," he murmured, his tone implying there was more to it.
His eyes flashed with disapproval, barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface. "No excuse," he said, his voice low and intense. "Whatever reason he decided to sacrifice the entire village and himself for this Jade whatever… like, who the hell would do such a thing? Sacrifice the entire village to protect a single object?"
He took a footstep forward, stopping close to the building's door, his gaze fixed on the structure ahead. Without turning to face Arthur, he said, "Stop jumping to conclusions, you idiot. We don't know the full story yet. This could be something of great power…"
Pausing, he seemed to reconsider his words. "Mmh… Jade Turtle… I think I might have come across that name before in a book."
Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, really? You've come across it before in a book?" he asked, his tone intrigued.
Finn turned to face Arthur, his expression serious. "Yeah, I have," he said. "The Jade Turtle… it's some kind of key. Though its purpose wasn't entirely explained in the book, but I just know its purpose is to summon an ancient ruin… created by Najenda—one of the Six Grand Masters and originator of the Trait of Nature (aka Grand Master of Nature)."
Arthur's expression turned thoughtful while still carrying eyes bursting with amusement at the mention of the Grand Masters. "What? The Six… has ties to the Jade Turtle?"
Finn's expression turned knowing, confirming his suspicion with a nod. Arthur's eyes lit up, and he said, "Wha… really? But wait, you just know?"
Arthur spoke hurriedly, clearly suspicious of Finn's claims.
Finn's gaze dropped to the ground momentarily, his eyes narrowing. He then raised his eyes to meet Arthur's, his stare intense. "Well, I just know, that's all," he said. "Somehow, I do."
Arthur's expression turned curious, his eyebrows rising. "You just know?" he repeated, seeking clarification.
Finn's expression turned stern, his voice firm. "Yes, and please quit asking me worthless questions, Arthur."
Arthur's lips compressed into a firm line. "Hey... ," he replied tersely.
Meanwhile, Finn stepped purposefully inside the building, disregarding Arthur's words. He pushed open the door and entered. As he walked toward the center, the wooden floor creaked beneath his feet, the sound echoing through the space.
Upon reaching the middle, Finn closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Arthur followed, observing Finn's stance in the middle of the room. The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of old books and blood. Arthur's gaze then fell upon the old man's lifeless body, battered and bloodied, lying near the window. A swarm of flies clustered around him, drawn to the gruesome sight. Arthur's expression was somber. He whispered to himself, "Old man Yao… what were you thinking? Was sacrificing everyone worth it?" His voice was tinged with a mix of sadness and contemplation.
Meanwhile, Finn stood motionless in the room's center, eyes shut, as a soft blue aura began to emanate from him. The gentle hum filled the space, and the room brightened subtly. Fully immersed, he focused inward, seeking a connection.
In his mind, he spoke quietly: "The Jade Turtle… a key to the ruin of sealed weapons of thousands of vanquished souls of demons and devils,Forged by the infinite Reiki of Najenda herself… one inherited by me, who seeks none of it. Tch…" His thoughts echoed with rejection and uncertainty.
"Still, it's part of who I am now… what a… hassle."
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