NOVEL NEXT 127- The Eñeforte Aftermath [4]
Volume 03, Chapter 127
The Eñeforte Aftermath [4]
Inside a quiet tent on the outskirts of devastation, André and Uther face one another across a folding table. The lantern between them casts deep shadows across tired, drawn faces, each man burdened in his own way.
Clark sits on a wooden stool behind André, legs swinging, eyes flicking between the adults. Behind Uther stands Arthur, his posture formal, hands clasped behind his back, watching his father.
Uther studies André's haggard face, the hollowness in his eyes speaking of sleepless nights and heavy, unspoken grief.
"André," Uther begins, his tone gentle but firm, "I asked you here because I want to help you rebuild Eñeforte territory."
André stiffens, his jaw tightening in reflex. "I appreciate it, Uther, but as mayor—"
Uther raises a hand, halting him. "I know what you're going to say. I know you, André. You've always tried to bear every weight yourself, convinced it's your duty. But this—" his voice softens, "this is bigger than one man, or one family's legacy. Most of your town lies in ruins. The people need help, and sometimes leadership means knowing when to accept a hand, not just offer one."
André inhales and holds his breath. He has carried the Eñeforte debt for so long, it feels like part of his blood, an invisible shackle handed down by parents who had lost too much and spoken too little. He had sworn never to let the shame leave the family, never to let outsiders see them falter. Pride, perhaps folly, had kept him silent even before his friends.
Even Celine… He remembers her gentle insistence that they could ask for help, her faith that they could face the truth together. And yet, he kept the world at bay, determined to prove the Eñefortes could stand on their own.
He says nothing, his silence heavy with confession.
Uther watches him closely, his voice low. "Is this about the debt, André? The burden you inherited from your parents?"
André's eyes widen for a heartbeat, caught, exposed. But he says nothing. There is no need; Uther's words are the truth.
Uther presses on. "I heard rumors. The Eñeforte territory has lagged for years, your infrastructure always half-built, your projects underfunded, your people left waiting for a future that never comes. The contrast to the other Golden Fields regions is stark." He hesitates, then softens. "You don't have to do this alone."
André clenches his fists in his lap, his shoulders trembling as the reality, the loss, the failure, and the exhaustion close in.
"Why?" he finally asks, his voice raw. "Why would you help? The Lyons and Everhearts took most of what once belonged to my ancestors. My family's land, our legacy, was carved up and never restored. Why now, Uther?"
Uther's gaze holds his, unwavering. "Because of what my ancestors did. The Lyons gained territory, privilege, and wealth from the conquests, and none of it was ever given back. King Charlemagne stopped the worst, but the damage was done. I carry their legacy, their sins as well as their victories. I can't change the past, but I can try to repair what's left. I want to help, not out of pity, but out of responsibility. And… because I consider you a friend."
A pause follows. Then, more quietly, he adds, "And there's Arthur. He and Dominic are as close as brothers. Seeing Arthur care so much for Dominic… it makes me want to do right by both our families. For their future."
Arthur's eyes widen in surprise. The words, simple but honest, strike something deep. For all Uther's sternness, this is the first time he has heard his father acknowledge their friendship so openly, or admit to his regrets.
"Father…" Arthur murmurs, his voice breaking.
Uther turns back to André. "Will you accept my help, André? No strings. No conditions. Just… let us rebuild, together."
André's breath shudders in his chest. For so long, he has been the lone pillar holding up a crumbling house, and now, suddenly, he sees he is not alone. He swallows hard, struggling to keep the tears from falling, his voice trembling with gratitude and decades of bottled pain.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
"Uther… thank you." He lowers his gaze, hands shaking. The burden is still his, but now he feels it shift, shared at last.
"Forgive me if I… I need a moment." He breathes out, his voice thick.
Uther's lips curl in a soft, understanding smile. "Of course. We've all lost much. But it's time to start again. Let's discuss how we'll rebuild Eñeforte."
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Célestin drifts through the makeshift camp, numb, half-seeing the nurses and mages tending to survivors laid out on bloodstained blankets.
Everywhere he looks, he finds reminders of failure—men and women grieving, children shivering, and the pale, unmoving faces of the dead.
'All those bodies…' The thought settles like a stone in his stomach. He is at the center of events, yet powerless. 'This is my fault.'
It has always been him and Dominic against the world, but this time the world has struck first. Malignor is no longer content to wait in the shadows. He moves openly now, wielding La Peste Noire as a scythe to cut down the innocent. Célestin has lost count of the regressions, of the ways he and Dominic failed before, but never like this. Never with so much lost, so quickly.
He clenches his fists, his voice shaking as he whispers, "If only I were faster…"
For all the cycles, Malignor always hung back, a patient spider weaving his web, waiting for Célestin and Dominic to challenge him. And always, they lost, reset, and began again. But this time everything is different. Malignor is active, cunning, and unpredictable. Worst of all, the original Dominic is gone, and Clark has taken his place.
Célestin's emotions tangle in his chest—resentment at Dominic's departure, sorrow for Clark's loneliness, and guilt that refuses to let him go. The only comfort is that Clark read Dominic's web novel from Earth, learning enough that Célestin doesn't have to explain everything from scratch. Even so, the burden feels heavier than ever.
'But it's not enough, is it?' he thinks bitterly. 'Celine is dead, Eñeforte is ash, and Dominic—Clark—is dying. And Malignor… Malignor has barely begun.'
He stumbles behind a tree at the camp's edge, slumps down, and buries his face in his hands.
"I hate this…" The words slip out in a hiss of desperation. "We always lose. Always. And now he's pushing harder. What changed? Why now?"
The ache in his chest tightens. "Why did Malignor decide to interfere so directly? Is he bored? Does he think we're not worth his time anymore?" Tears sting his eyes, blurring the world. "This is the first time Eñeforte fell. In every other regression, it was Aurelior… but not here. Never here."
He remembers the first time Dominic told him why he wanted to be a Stargate Raider: to pay off family debts, to clear the debts of the Eñefortes, to hunt down La Peste Noire. Every timeline, they got close, but never close enough. Belard dead, the base always elusive. But now, in this timeline, destruction came for them instead.
Tears slip down his cheeks.
"Ah, damn… thinking about the past timelines always does this." He tries to laugh, but the sound is brittle. "You'd think countless lifetimes would make you numb, but no. It just makes everything messier."
His hands tighten in his hair. 'If only… if only I could go back again. Gain enough power, enough mana, to turn back time just one more time.'
"Célestin."
The voice breaks into his spiral. He glances up through blurred vision and finds Lumi, silent and strong, settling beside him at the roots of the tree. Her gaze is distant, but her presence is a balm.
"Lumi…" he manages, his voice as fragile as old glass, and wipes his tears.
She stares into the ruined horizon. "Eñeforte is in ruins. I'm… worried. I don't know if the Eñefortes can ever recover from this."
Célestin nods, swallowing back a fresh wave of pain. "Same here. I'm also worried… everything feels broken."
Lumi glances at him, her expression softer than usual.
"But it's something, isn't it? That Dominic… that he's still alive. It means we still have hope, right?" she says.
Célestin tries to answer, but the words catch. He nods again, barely trusting himself to speak.
"Yeah… it means hope," he says.
They sit in silence, the ruins of Eñeforte smoldering behind them, both gathering their strength to face whatever comes next.
"Célestin! Lumi!"
The call tears them from their quiet, shared grief. Célestin looks up, wiping his eyes just in time to see Arthur sprinting toward them, boots kicking up dust on the trampled earth.
"Arthur…" Célestin says weakly, not quite trusting his voice.
Arthur reaches them, a rare urgency burning in his eyes. "Father and Uncle André are looking for you, both of you!"
Célestin and Lumi exchange a confused glance.
"Why?" Lumi is the first to voice what both are thinking.
"They want your help, both of you, in the cooperation effort to restore Eñeforte. They said your perspectives and skills are needed," Arthur says, catching his breath.
Both Célestin and Lumi blink.
For a long moment, Célestin can only stare, the words swirling in his mind.
'Help in rebuilding…?' he thinks, heart pounding. 'Never, in all the regressions, never once did this happen! In every timeline before, Eñeforte was underdeveloped, and the burden fell on the Eñefortes, struggling against debts and despair, while the rest of Verdant Haven watched from a distance.'
Lumi's eyes widen, recognition and surprise mixing with something warmer. She is quiet for a moment, then smiles softly, perhaps for the first time since the destruction.
"Let's not keep them waiting."
Arthur grins. "Come on, we need you." He says.
He turns and starts back toward the camp's heart, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they follow.
Célestin rises, dusting himself off and sharing a look with Lumi. For the first time in what feels like centuries, he feels a faint spark of hope flutter in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, the cycle is finally breaking.
He follows Arthur, Lumi at his side, toward the future—one they might finally be able to change.