Chapter 140: Epilogue - Tales of Connections Formed (I)

First Encounter

The eastern region of the Winter Continent was renowned for its harshness, even by the standards of this frigid land. Its proximity to the Magic sea only exacerbated its unforgiving climate. Among these lands, the Duchy of Kanburk, ruled by Monarch Frost himself, stood as the foremost line of defense against magical beasts crossing from beyond the sea.

As a result, the duchy maintained an ever-watchful atmosphere. Particularly after the untimely death of their eldest son many years ago, the castle had been shrouded in grief for quite some time.

But such sorrow belonged to the past—seven long years ago now. Since then, through what could only be described as divine intervention, the Duke and his wife had conceived another child, banishing the shadows of despair that once loomed over the castle grounds.

“Mother! Mother!”

A seven-year-old boy bounded across a field blanketed in pristine white snow. His nose and cheeks were adorably flushed from the cold, yet his face remained clear and radiant. The middle-aged Madam who witnessed this sight smiled with a warmth as delicate as falling snowflakes as she embraced her son tenderly.

“Lokan, be careful—you nearly tripped again,” she chided gently.

“Heh-heh!” The boy giggled, burying his face in the folds of his mother’s skirt before dashing off once more with an innocent smile.

Soon, several maidservants gathered around him.

“Prince Lokan!”

“This way, Your Highness!”

The Madam watched peacefully as her son interacted playfully with the maidservants, almost like they were childhood friends.

Soft footsteps approached from behind.

Her gaze shifted towards the sound, revealing the Duke standing there, draped in brown fur pelts against the chill.

“You’re here?” she acknowledged softly.

“Are you not cold?”

“Not at all,” she replied with a radiant smile. Her eyes sparkled with clear vitality as they gazed upon their son playing joyously in the snow-covered garden.

The Duke stood silently beside his wife, sharing her contentment as he watched their child frolic amidst the wintry scene. Seven years ago, this second son had arrived like a miracle after the sudden loss of their firstborn. The couple had vowed to lavish all the love they couldn’t bestow upon their eldest onto this new life—a promise they kept faithfully.

Under their nurturing care, their second son flourished without any trace of bitterness or misguidance. By now, Lokan was both the pride and treasure of the Duke and his wife.

As the Duke continued to watch over him, Madam’s soft voice broke the silence. “I wonder if those children… are faring well.”

The Duke subtly shifted his gaze. His wife wasn’t looking at their son but rather towards some distant point in the horizon. The direction of her stare immediately revealed to him who “those children” were—the ones she so often gazed upon with longing.

Seven years ago, these lovely beings had bestowed a miracle upon them before departing… Recalling this moment brought a smile to the Duke’s lips as he responded gently:

“They’re doing well, I’m sure. They’re such intelligent children.”

“I hope so,” Madam echoed, mirroring his warm expression.

Louis, Khan, Kani—these faeries had left behind not only memories of sorrow for the grieving couple, but also a beacon of hope named Lokan. It was a bond they would never forget.

The Second Bonding.

On a towering cliffside, twenty men stood precariously on trembling legs, each burdened with large packs strapped across their shoulders.

“J-jesus Christ! This is insane!”

“Why are we even doing this?”

Though these individuals had undergone rigorous training for years, their mental fortitude crumbled before Wokmyeong’s infamous tradition—a legacy so daunting that it rendered all their hellish preparation meaningless.

“I-I think I’m gonna p-puke.”

“Don’t say stuff like that.”

“I… already feel slightly sick.”

As the twenty trainees shivered uncontrollably, a middle-aged man with an imposing physique stepped forward. His harsh features made him appear more akin to a drill sergeant than anything else as he bellowed at the green recruits:

“Quiet down, all of you!”

His voice boomed so loudly that snow cascaded from the trees like a avalanche. This spectacle served as a stark reminder of their arduous training thus far.

A middle-aged man observed this scene and spoke up:

“You’ve endured much hardship throughout your rigorous training.”

“Not at all!” came the resounding chorus from fifty trainees, sounding as one.

“No need for such modesty,” he continued. “As your instructor, how could I not be aware of the pain you’ve faced? You truly have worked tirelessly.”

“We thank you deeply!”

“But!”

”…”

“You are well aware that we still face our final trial. Only by overcoming this last hurdle will you earn the title of true warriors of Karlos!”

With eyes gleaming with intensity, the burly man gestured towards one side of the field.

“Instructor, step forward.”

“Step forward!”

In response to the command, a man in his early thirties emerged, shouldering an instructor’s bag as large as those carried by the trainees.

“Prepare yourselves!” The instructor’s voice boomed once more.

From one side came an eerie sound:

Drud-dud-dud-dud.

With this ponderous noise, a catapult materialized before their eyes. Without hesitation, the instructor positioned himself atop it.

And then…

“By the sword of Karlos!”

Fwung!

Accompanied by that bizarre cry, the instructor was launched from the catapult with terrifying force.

The trainees, who had only ever heard tales from their seniors about this infamous rite of passage, now bore witness to it firsthand. Their eyes widened in horror at what they were seeing unfold.

H-him?!

I-is he insane?!

Black… We’re actually supposed to do that?

Though the trainees vehemently denied it, reality remained unchanged. In the distance, the instructor had completed his demonstration by safely deploying his parachute and landing on the ground.

Upon witnessing this, the drill sergeant spoke up:

“You need only remember two things: First, you’ll hear a whoosh as you fly through the air; second, there will be a loud thud when you hit the ground! How easy is that?”

The trainees thought to themselves:

We’re tempted right now to rush over and bite off that drill sergeant’s tongue—just like those three hundred cadets did with Louis in the past.

Seeing their trembling forms, the drill sergeant smirked cruelly.

“Alright then, let’s begin. Trainee number one!”

“T-T-Traintee nummber one!”

“Move forward!”

“F-forward… I-I’m just feeling a bit…” The trainee stammered. “C-can we do this a little later?”

“You fool!” Instructor Karlos barked.

”…Huh?!”

“A true warrior must be prepared to fight at any moment! A Karlosian sword never rests! Do you intend to abandon battle merely because of stomachache?”

“Gah! N-no sir!” The trainee gritted his teeth at the instructor’s harsh rebuke and braced himself on the sling.

And then…

Wham!

The first trainee was forcefully hurled into the air.

“Kyaaahhhhhh!” he screamed as he flew through the sky. At the last possible second, he managed to deploy his parachute and land with a thud.

Seeing one trainee successfully reach the ground gave courage to the rest. They began to muster up their own resolve for what lay ahead.

“Next!”

With each instructor’s command, another trainee was hurled from the sling. And so began the free fall for all twenty cadets.

“Aargh!”

“Kyaaah!”

“Gaaaah!”

A cacophony of bizarre screams echoed off the cliffside. This moment marked the further solidification of Wokmyeong’s infamy as the “Wall of Lamentations.”

As each trainee completed their descent, the middle-aged instructor stood atop the precipice, gazing down below. Once a brutal lieutenant in the notorious Blood Axe Bandits, he had since transformed into a refined man of middle age. His eyes now fell upon an enormous tree that had taken root at the foot of the cliff—a living testament to the promise left by Karlos, the great warrior who had passed through these lands long ago.

In reverence, his gaze lingered on this Promise Tree. A deep faith stirred within him, spilling forth from his lips as a declaration of belief:

“Honor be unto Karlos!”

The Third Bond of Destiny

In the grand castle of the Trougan family—

Jacob, the current head of the house, looked up at the sudden opening of a door.

“My lord!” The woman rushed in, clearly agitated.

Jacob sighed upon hearing his nursemaid’s urgent plea—the only reason she would ever come seeking him out this way.

”…Has Mac disappeared again?”

“T-that is correct, my lord.”

“Haaah… I see. Very well, I’ll go look for him.”

“I’m s-so sorry, sir.”

“It’s no matter,” Jacob replied softly.

As he watched the nursemaid bow deeply before retreating from the room, Jacob rose from his seat with a resigned expression on his face.

“That rascal Mac…” He muttered under his breath as he strode purposefully towards the exit.

True to its reputation as the abode of a renowned druidic lineage, spirits abounded throughout the Trougan estate. However, along Jacob’s chosen path, both human presence and spiritual energy gradually thinned out—a phenomenon easily explained by one simple fact:

Jacob was heading towards the domain of the being revered as king within this Trougan mansion—a place where two distinct worlds collided.

Crunch.

His footsteps echoed in the artificial forest he had traversed along a secluded path. Upon reaching his destination, Jacob found what he’d been searching for: Mac.

Keeek!

The child was now five years old—a precious heir to the illustrious Trougan family, born with hands that were highly valued among them.

Aha, just as I suspected…

Forest and child—an idyllic scene at first glance, but appearances can be deceiving. Between these two elements loomed a nabi—the size of a house—serving as an unexpected obstacle.

Keeek!

The young boy wriggled playfully atop the massive Nabi’s back. Though the creature could easily devour him with a single gulp if it so desired, it remained motionless, its face exuding sheer annoyance.

Seeing this, Jacob let out a thunderous roar:

“Mac!”

Hearing his name called, the child poked his head out from between Nabi’s white fur. Jacob strode over and scooped him up effortlessly. Despite Mac’s whines of protest, Jacob paid them no mind as he cradled the boy against his side.

Nabi watched with a sense of relief, as if finally rid of an irritating burden. This Nabi had accompanied Jacob all the way from Cash Tower Mountain. As the spiritual leader revered by the Trougan clan—so much so that they dubbed him their king—not even Louis himself would dare encroach upon Nabi’s territory without good reason. The only exceptions were Louis and his young son.

Where does this brat get his fearlessness from? Louis might have recognized it as a case of like father, like son, but neither Jacob nor anyone else was aware of such a connection.

Twitch!

Under Jacob’s unwavering gaze, Nabi swiped her front legs irritably, signaling for them both to hurry along—a clear indication that he found his stare bothersome.

Jacob watched this exchange with a warm smile playing on his lips.

Just as stubborn as always.

Nabi was indeed a finicky yet kind-hearted spirit. Though sometimes irritating, he always played along with Mac’s antics. With a grin, Jacob tossed her a white stone about the size of a fist.

“Good work out there.”

The moment Nabi saw the white pebble hurtling towards her, his eyes sparkled. he opened her mouth wide to catch it between his teeth.

“This one should be quite potent,” Jacob mused aloud.

What he had thrown at Nabi wasn’t just any ordinary rock—it was an attribute stone imbued with the lightning attribute. He hadn’t forgotten Louis’s entrustment when leaving Nabi in his care. Moreover, these very stones were Nabi’s favorite treat.

“Krrrk?”

Seeing the longing look in Nabi’s eyes, as if asking for more, Jacob chuckled softly.

“Haha, next time I’ll bring even more,” Jacob promised with a chuckle.

Nabi nodded enthusiastically.

Just then, Jacob scrutinized Nabi’s figure and asked, his gaze slightly concerned, “By the way…haven’t you been gaining weight lately?”

Whimper!

“You should keep an eye on your diet too. If you get too fat, He might not recognize you when he returns.”

Roar of displeasure from Nabi.

Nabi waved her front paws dismissively at Jacob’s nagging—a clear sign that she was telling him to stop talking nonsense and leave already.

Jacob grinned widely as he turned to go. “Ha ha, see ya later!”

“See ya again!” echoed Mac, waving both arms vigorously from where he sat nestled against Jacob’s side.

As they watched their departing figures fade into the distance, Nabi gazed up at the sky, reminiscing about memories long past.

Even now, Nabi vividly recalled her owner’s parting words:

Jacob’s earlier comment about him gaining weight still irked him deeply.

Sniff…

he flinched slightly and glanced down at his front paws.

Grrr?

They did seem a bit plump… After much deliberation, Nabi shook off her concerns. he convinced herself that he wasn’t fat but merely fluffy with fur.

Kroo!

And even if he had gained some flesh, so what? he could always start losing it tomorrow!

With this thought, Nabi gently tucked his head between her front paws.

Soon, the rhythmic sound of snoring echoed steadily through the forest—a testament to Nabi’s peaceful slumber amidst nature’s embrace.