Trials Of Life

Chapter 16: Realities of The World

Yumiko shook her head, her chest tightening as the weight of the loss pressed down on her. She tried to turn away from Lukas, not wanting him to see her like this—to witness her shatter. But the grief was too much. Tears spilled over, hot and bitter, streaming down her face as the sorrow gripped her heart.

Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the ground, knees sinking into the cold, damp earth. Her hands flew to her face as her sobs grew louder, each cry a desperate release of the anguish that tore at her soul. The world blurred around her, reduced to the sound of her own ragged breathing and the weight of the devastation.

Behind her, Lukas sat next to the boy motionless, his blue eyes tracing the scene in silence. He could feel the tension in his own chest, a cold and empty feeling. He knelt by the boy’s body, gently resting the child’s head back down into the wet mud.

He ran a hand over the boy’s frail shoulder, then slowly rolled him to the side, careful not to disturb the lifeless form more than necessary. A deep gash ran the length of the boy's spine, dark and jagged. He gently rolled the boy back.

"A man with messy hair, huh?" Lukas muttered, remembering the boy’s final words. Lukas clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. Anger surged through him, raw and vicious, but just as quickly it ebbed, replaced by a hollowness he’d come to know too well.

He stood up, the small vial of healing potion glinting in his hand. The boy had held onto it so tightly, his last act of love, a wish to save or help his sister. Lukas stared at the vial for a moment, the liquid inside shimmering under the flickering light of the slow burning town around him.

Why had the boy been separated from her? The question gnawed at Lukas’s thoughts. Questions he would never get answered. His grip tightened around the vial, the glass pressing hard into his palm until his knuckles whitened.

Lukas glanced toward Yumiko. She was kneeling in the mud, her back to him, her slender frame shaking as her sobs filled the air. She looked so small and fragile in that moment, like a child herself. Lukas couldn’t stay—there was no room for grief now, no time for comfort. The harsh reality of their world didn’t allow for it.

Silently, he turned away. His boots crunched against the dirt as he walked off, leaving Yumiko behind to weep in the ruins of the town.

Yumiko looked up from the ground, her voice raw and trembling. "What now? Where are you going now?" she called out, her tear-streaked face lit by the flickering light of the nearby fires. The rain continued to fall, mingling with the dirt and ash around them, but it did nothing to quell the burning grief inside her. "Are you not disturbed by this? What more is out there for you to see?" Her voice cracked, the weight of her words pulling them down, thick with emotion.

Lukas paused, glancing back over his shoulder as the cold rain hit his face, dripping from his blonde hair. His expression remained hard, unreadable, as if the sorrow and devastation surrounding them barely registered. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he just didn’t know how to anymore. Comforting people, offering solace in moments like this—it felt foreign, distant, like a skill he had long forgotten.

He turned slightly, letting his gaze settle on her for a heartbeat. Should he explain it to her? Tell her how most emotions no longer held sway over him? How grief, sadness, even fear had dulled, leaving behind only anger—a constant, simmering rage that clouded everything else. Events like this didn’t break him anymore; they only ignited that familiar fury deep inside, snuffing out all other senses.

"Don’t follow me anymore," he said, his voice low and final. Without waiting for a response, he turned and began walking away, his boots crunching against the wet ground.

Yumiko’s eyes widened, desperation filling her chest. "That ethereal voice I told you about," she called out, her voice shaky but louder now, trying to make him stop. "It came to me again!" Lukas halted in his tracks, though he didn’t turn around. She swallowed, her breath catching between sobs. "Watch for the man with messy hair—the same one the young one had described!" she warned, her words rushing out, urgent. "It told me that you will die if you go to him!"

Lukas’s grip tightened around the healing vial in his hand, the glass cold and slick against his skin. He let the rain continue pelting him as he stared out into the rain-soaked ruins of the town. He could feel the rage building inside him again, like a storm ready to break. "If you think I’ll hide from a coward who kills children," he said, his voice steely and calm, "then you’re mistaken."

He started walking again, every step heavier than the last. "If I run into him, I’ll kill him. But right now, I have more pressing matters." His voice was devoid of emotion, his focus unshakable as he continued down the desolate street.

"Stop! Please, listen to me!" Yumiko’s voice rang out, echoing off the crumbling buildings. It was a cry filled with anguish, desperation, and something else—something deeper, like fear for what lay ahead. Lukas didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The path he walked was one forged in blood and vengeance.

Yumiko’s gaze dropped to the lifeless boy once more. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, the tears renewing their relentless flow. Her shoulders trembled, and a fresh wave of grief crashed over her. She had seen death before. In her three years of adventuring, she had fought creatures and faced danger, but never had she witnessed anything as barbaric, as senseless as this. The killings here weren’t for survival or defense—they were cruel and merciless.

It was as if the world she knew was unraveling, and her life—her beliefs—were being torn apart faster than she could understand.

Her hands shook as she brought them together in prayer for the child. The rain continued to fall, soft and steady, but her whispered words rose through the air like a fragile plea. "Goddess, guide him," she murmured, her voice breaking, "let him have eternal peace."

Yumiko lifted her tear-streaked face, staring at the muddy street ahead as Lukas continued walking without a backward glance. For a long moment, she just sat there, watching his distant figure, her heart heavy. With one last, sorrowful look at the boy’s lifeless body, she pushed herself up from the wet ground, her legs trembling as she rose.

As she tried catching up to Lukas, something kept tugging at her thoughts—some of the bodies she had passed earlier. There were no visible wounds, no signs of a struggle. They hadn’t been killed by swords or arrows, yet there they lay, lifeless in the street. What could have taken them down without leaving a mark? The thought sent a chill through her, but she shook it off for now, forcing herself to focus on catching up to Lukas.

Her steps splashed through the thick mud, the rain-soaked ground sucking at her boots. Lukas didn’t turn, but she could sense the shift in his posture, the tension in his broad shoulders as he heard her approach. His blue eyes flicked sideways, a cold glare meeting her as she drew up beside him.

“You want me to leave, don’t you?" Yumiko’s voice was soft but steady as she wiped the tears from her face, her breath still ragged from crying. "But I was told to help you. I’m not going to let you walk into danger and fight that—"

"I’m not looking for that man," Lukas interrupted, his voice flat and emotionless. He kept moving down the street, his pace steady, unyielding. Yumiko struggled to match his stride as she walked beside him, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension.

"Not yet," he added after a moment, glancing down at the small vial he still held in his hand. "I’m here to find his sister." His fingers clasped around the glass, the rain glistening on its surface. The boy’s dying words echoed in Lukas’s mind—the final plea of a child to save the one person he loved.

Yumiko stared at him, surprised. She had always seen Lukas as a hardened man, driven by fury and vengeance, quick to anger and slow to trust. Yet, here he was, honoring the wish of a boy he had barely known. She had underestimated him—there was more to Lukas than the rage she had always assumed defined him.

Before she could speak, Lukas stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on the ruined house at the end of the street. “But,” he said, his voice low, “I don’t think we’ll find what you’re hoping for.” His tone was grim, laced with something close to resignation. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as they scanned the wreckage before them.

Yumiko followed his gaze. The house the boy had spoken of was barely standing, half of it reduced to smoldering ruins. The roof had partially collapsed, leaving a jagged hole where smoke still curled into the sky. Blackened timbers jutted out like broken bones, and the walls that remained were cracked and crumbling, ready to fall at any moment.

The entrance was blocked by a pile of rubble, the door buried beneath heaps of charred debris. Large wooden crates had been hastily stacked outside, as if someone had tried to barricade the place.

Yumiko’s heart pounded in her chest as she surveyed the wreckage of the destroyed home. The devastation was overwhelming, stirring an unease deep within her that she couldn’t quite shake. Her breath quickened, coming in shallow gasps, but she forced herself to steady it. She knew they were about to step into something grim, and the last thing she wanted was to seem vulnerable in Lukas’s eyes. She clenched her fists, steeling herself. She wanted to appear strong—capable, like the warrior she was supposed to be—not the fragile, uncertain person she often feared she was.

A massive wooden beam, charred and precarious, jutted out from the rubble, forming an unstable makeshift bridge into the remains of the house. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and decay, an overpowering mix of burnt wood and rotting flesh that clung to her throat and made her stomach churn.

“C’mon!” Yumiko shouted, her voice filled with a desperate excitement as she dashed forward, ignoring the danger. “She could still be inside—he said she was hidden!” Her heart surged with a fleeting hope. She had to believe that the boy’s sister was alive, hidden away, waiting to be found.

Pulling her sleeve over her mouth and nose to shield herself from the noxious fumes, Yumiko pressed ahead. Her footsteps were swift but cautious as she navigated around the jagged debris, keeping a safe distance from the more unstable sections. The shadows inside the ruined building seemed to swallow her whole as she slipped further in.

Behind her, Lukas approached the house with a slower, more deliberate pace. His blue eyes flicked to the fallen beam before him, and for a moment, he paused, sizing up the damaged structure. He knew it could collapse under his weight, but he had no choice. Silently, he placed one boot onto the beam, feeling it creak beneath him.

Lukas disappeared into the darkness of the house, his tall frame blending into the shadows. Yumiko had stopped just inside the entrance, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior.

Her heart faltered when she took in the full extent of the damage. The inside was worse than she had imagined. Lukas’s face was set in a grim expression as he surveyed what had once been a modest home. Now, it was nothing but ruin. The remnants of its former life lay scattered in heaps of charred debris. What had once been furniture—chairs, a table, perhaps even a child’s bed—was now nothing more than twisted, blackened wood, broken and burned beyond recognition.

Ash hung thick in the air, coating everything in a dull gray that seemed to drain the room of any color, any warmth it might have once had. It was as if the fire had stolen not just the life from this place, but its very soul. The quiet eeriness of it all only made the devastation more amplified.

Lukas moved carefully, navigating through the small pile of rubble that dominated the center of the room, rain falling gently from above. Each step sent a dull crunch through the air as his boots ground the debris underfoot. His eyes scanned the room, calculating, as he approached a charred wardrobe. Its once sturdy doors hung loosely on their hinges, scorched and blackened by the intense flames. He pulled them open with a slow creak, revealing nothing more than tattered scraps of fabric, their edges curled and burned. The smell of smoke still clung to the air, thick and oppressive, mingling with the acrid scent of burning wood and singed cloth, a stench that seemed to settle deep in his lungs.

In the far corner of the room, what remained of a bed stood in smoldering ruin. The mattress had been nearly consumed by the fire, reduced to little more than a twisted, charred skeleton of springs and ash. Lukas moved closer for a look. As he stepped forward, his boot caught on something protruding next to a burnt rug, sending him stumbling slightly. He quickly regained his balance, but the momentary misstep had uncovered something far more unsettling.

Yumiko’s eyes followed his path, her breath catching as she spotted it—a body, burned and motionless, lying on the floor just beyond the ruined bed. Her heart skipped a beat, a wave of cold dread washing over her. For a moment, she froze, unable to look away from the ghastly sight. The smell of death mingled with the already suffocating odors of the room, filling her with a nauseating sense of helplessness.

Lukas's eyes fell on the charred body, and he exhaled, shaking his head with a grim, resigned expression. "That’s not the sister," he said, his voice carrying sorrow. He knelt down, inspecting the corpse more closely. “Too old to be her. And…” he added, his eyes catching on the dull glint of metal on the finger, “she’s wearing a wedding ring.”

“Then their mother?” Yumiko whispered, her voice trembling as she forced herself to look away. A lump rose in her throat, the sting of tears threatening to spill, but she fought them back. Her hands trembled, but she tightened them into fists, trying to steady herself. I have to stay strong, she reminded herself.

She called out into the silence, desperation lacing her voice. “Little girl! We’re from the guild! Let us know where you are so we can help!” Her words echoed through the ruined house, the only response the faint crackling of embers and the groaning of weakened beams.

Lukas, absorbed in his search, remained silent. His expression hardened as he continued to sift through the wreckage with a cold expression. The ruined mattress yielded nothing, and he shifted his attention to a large trunk partially hidden beneath the bed. With a grunt, he heaved it out, casting it aside. The heavy wooden box fell to the floor with a resounding thud, the noise reverberating through the lifeless room.

Lukas's gaze shifted to the spot where the trunk had fallen—right next to the burnt body and the scorched rug. His brow furrowed as he knelt beside the corpse. Without hesitation, he carefully lifted the body, his hands brushing against the blackened flesh. The sickening smell of burnt skin filled the air, and the charred remains stuck to his fingers as he moved the corpse aside.

“Do you really have to do that?” Yumiko asked, her voice strained as she winced, watching Lukas handle the disfigured body. The sight was gruesome, and she couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in her stomach.

He ignored her, his focus unwavering. With the corpse out of the way, Lukas reached down and slid the scorched mat aside, revealing something beneath the ash-stained floor. A small knot hole in one of the floorboards, its edges barely visible beneath the charred remnants, caught his eye.

With deliberate care, Lukas pried up the floorboard from the knot hole. The section of the floor lifted with a creaking protest, revealing a hidden crawlspace beneath. Lukas tossed the heavy flooring to the side. Yumiko’s heart skipped a beat as she peered into the dark recess. At the bottom of the cramped cubby hole lay a small girl with curly hair, her tiny form curled up and seemingly untouched by the chaos above.

A surge of relief swept over Yumiko, and she nearly cried out in joy, but had to calm herself to avoid startling the girl. She watched as Lukas, his expression focused as he positioned himself to grab the child. He carefully extended his arm into the crawlspace, his movements slow and gentle to avoid causing any harm.

“Be careful!” Yumiko urged, her voice tense with concern as she leaned closer. She gently adjusted the girl’s position, ensuring her head was cradled safely as Lukas lifted her from the shadows.

As Lukas pulled the girl from the dark nook, her frail body hung limply in his arms. Her small frame seemed almost weightless. Lukas gently lowered her onto the charred floor. He shook his head slightly. The girl lay there, her once-curly hair now soot-streaked. Her face was deathly pale as she laid on the floor.

Yumiko knelt beside the small girl, her heart pounding with dread. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, her voice trembling with fear. Lukas, his face hard as stone, remained silent, unable to find the right words to describe the situation. The silence stretched between them.

Desperation surged within Yumiko as she slowly started to realize the situation. She sprang to her feet, her hands trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. “No!” she cried out, her voice breaking. “You’re not going to tell me that she’s not okay! Don’t you dare say a word! Don’t tell me she’s gone when she doesn’t have a scratch on her!” Her plea was urgent, almost frantic.

Lukas remained silent, his gaze fixed on the girl, his expression unreadable. Yumiko’s body began to shake uncontrollably as she continued to implore him. “Please. Please tell me she’s okay. She has to be okay… Right?” Her voice trailed off into a whisper, heavy with despair.

Yumiko’s thoughts spiraled in frantic circles as she paced back and forth, searching for a glimmer of hope in the midst of despair. Her mind raced through every possibility, desperately trying to hold onto something, anything. Then, a sudden spark of realization lit up her eyes, cutting through the haze of panic. Even as tears streamed down her face, a flicker of determination surfaced.

“The potion!” she cried, her voice trembling with frantic urgency. “Use the potion he gave you!” Her gaze darted to Lukas, her hope now resting on the vial the boy had given them. It has to work—it has to save her!

Without waiting for a response, Yumiko snatched the vial from Lukas’s waistband. She clutched it tightly in her trembling hand, her breath hitching as she raised it, her voice catching in her throat. “We can save her with this,” she whispered, her words filled with desperate hope—until she stopped.

Her voice trailed off, and her body froze as she stared at the potion in her hand.

She lifted the vial toward the dim, smoky light filtering through the shattered windows. The liquid inside was a deep, dark red—its hue dull, lifeless, devoid of the usual shimmer that healing potions carried. It was wrong. And in that still moment, Lukas’s earlier warning about poisoned potions slammed into her thoughts with crushing clarity. The image of him slapping a similar vial from her hands earlier flashed in her mind. This was no cure. This, too, was poison.

Her heart sank like a stone in her chest.

The trembling in her hands grew as she lowered the vial, staring down at the small, motionless body of the girl lying before her. The child was so still, her face peaceful, as if merely sleeping. But there would be no waking her. A profound sense of helplessness crashed over Yumiko like a wave, pulling her under. She had no more strength to fight it.

With a sob, she let the vial slip from her fingers, the glass clinking softly against the floor as it rolled away. Tears blurred her vision as she covered her face with her hands, her body convulsing with grief. The harsh truth settled in, suffocating her—there was nothing they could do. The girl had passed long ago.

Lukas knelt beside the lifeless girl, his expression grave as he gently placed her tiny hands together on her chest, trying to offer a semblance of peace. “She suffocated from the fire,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with sorrow. “The smoke must have overwhelmed her, rendering her unconscious as her oxygen ran out. Her body seems intact, but…” His voice faltered as he struggled to find the words. “She’s no longer here.”

Standing up, Lukas turned his attention back to Yumiko, who was still sobbing as he spoke, “And that potion the boy had,” Lukas continued, his tone carrying a mix of bitterness and regret, “It wouldn’t have helped her anyways…” He walked to the vial and scooped it off the ground, placing it back in his pouch.

Lukas's mind drifted back to the bodies scattered outside, the sight of them haunting his thoughts. He recalled the ferry worker in Headwich mentioning that Torrwr had been buying and selling potions at suspiciously low prices. Now it all made sense. These must have been the very potions the worker had spoken of. The pieces began to fall into place. It was too much of a coincidence—a town filled with corpses, half of which showed no signs of battle. In order to weaken the town, someone sold them fake potions.

Yumiko collapsed to the ground, her sobs wracking her body as she buried her face in her hands. “There’s no way… There’s just none…” Her voice cracked with the weight of despair, struggling to reconcile the harsh reality before her.

Lukas averted his gaze, his own expression stoic and full of sorrow. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more that could have been done.” He spoke softly.

Yumiko pounded the burnt floor with her fist, her anguish spilling over. “There is no way the gods would allow such things! Never!” Her words were a mixture of defiance and grief, an attempt to make sense of the senseless.

Lukas’s gaze fell to the charred remains of what had once been the girl’s mother, her scorched form a brutal reminder of the horrors they had uncovered. He clenched his fists, his voice low but laced with bitterness. "The gods don’t take people from this world—we do. The worst atrocities are always committed by humans. These lootings, these fires, the chaos around us, it's all our doing. These poisoned potions... they weren’t crafted by divine hands. They were made by us." His words trailed off, his eyes briefly meeting Yumiko’s through the veil of her tears.

Yumiko’s sobs continued, each one a fragile attempt to regain her composure, though the grief was too overwhelming to contain. Lukas shifted uneasily, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders. He wasn’t used to these emotions—grief, loss, sorrow—they all seemed foreign to him, or massively dulled down. He took a step toward the gaping hole in the wall, pausing only for a moment to glance back at Yumiko.

"This is the reality of our world," he said quietly, his voice still flat. "Our trial is to live—to survive. Life is neither fair nor forgiving. Remember that." Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving her to her grief.

Yumiko could only nod weakly in response, her tears still flowing freely as she wiped them from her face with trembling hands. Kneeling beside the lifeless bodies, she pressed her palms together and began to murmur a prayer. Her voice trembled, barely a whisper, yet filled with raw emotion. She prayed not only for the poor family whose lives had been senselessly taken but for all the lives lost in this senseless nightmare. Her sorrow was deep, her tears an endless stream as she mourned the tragedy before her.

Outside, the cool rain struck Lukas’s face, bringing with it a welcome relief from the oppressive stench of burnt wood and charred flesh. The fresh scent of rain mingled with the lingering devastation of the ruined town, but for a brief moment, it cleared his mind. He took a deep breath, savoring the crisp air. Just as he allowed himself a moment of respite, a sudden crash shattered the silence—a bottle breaking in the distance, coming from down the road.

Lukas moved to the middle of the street, his eyes scanning the area. There, among the debris, were shards of a broken bottle that hadn't been there moments before. Curiosity piqued, he began pacing down the road, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.

Reaching the scattered glass, he bent down, picking up a half-broken bottle. He examined it closely; part of the label was torn away, but the remnants were enough for him to recognize it as some kind of whiskey.

To his left, Lukas heard someone rummaging around inside one of the buildings. Glancing over, he saw a tavern with its doors kicked in. One of the windows was shattered, perhaps where the bottle had been thrown from. The building bore the scars of the fires that had ravaged the area, but it stood mostly intact.

Slowly, Lukas began to move toward the tavern, his footsteps quiet. He hugged the wall of the entrance, peering inside. The sound of laughter and humming reached his ears.

He carefully scanned the interior and spotted a balding, drunken man teetering on a stool at the bar counter. The man's mirth was evident as he chuckled to himself, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. Before him lay a small pile of empty bottles, a testament to his inebriation. The sight of the man, lost in his own drunken world, contrasted starkly with the somber reality outside. Lukas tightly clutched the broken whisky bottle in his hand as he gritted his teeth.