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墨書 Inktalez
With the shattering of the Arcane Crystal, Dead Man's Gorge underwent a tremendous transformation. The disappearance of the barrier was certainly a good thing, but it also left many Harbingers without a target. Now, only two types of people remained here: those seeking to repair the Magic Pattern Armor, and those who came hoping for a chance due to the legend of the Stone Statue.
However, the latter group had dwindled over the past two months. Even those who had been tracking Garen chose to give up after seeing him sitting motionless in the wilderness.
Indeed, Garen had sat in that desolate place for a full two months. Initially, some speculated that he was waiting for some treasure to emerge, while others believed he was laying out a plan. But as two months passed, everyone abandoned these thoughts, for Lost Land typically opened for only three months, and there were only a few days left until its conclusion.
Perhaps only Garen himself knew that he was not waiting for anything; he was guarding hundreds of statues and, more importantly, keeping himself occupied.
It was a tormenting emotion, akin to striving relentlessly toward a goal despite facing numerous hardships along the way. You endure struggles and catch glimpses of hope, only to suddenly realize at the brink of completion that all your efforts have been in vain.
It held no meaning, like a small fish struggling against the current yet unable to change its fate of flowing into the sea.
This situation would break anyone, for the Cataclysm would eventually arrive, and everything would turn to ash. Perhaps only Garen could hold on and even attempt to seek redemption for himself.
But this was already his limit.
Guarding these statues was all that Garen could do as Unique, but if they could never be restored, then Garen would not be far from his own downfall.
With only a few days left before Dead Man's Gorge vanished completely, the Harbingers began to leave one by one.
Garen decided it was time to take a walk.
He hesitated for a moment but ultimately picked up Stormblade and wandered aimlessly along the edge of the wilderness. The wind howled through the mountains like whispers from lost souls.
As Garen crossed over the first hill, he spotted a familiar figure.
“Long time no see,” Garen said calmly.
There was no joy in their reunion nor any emotion; everything felt so natural. Sharg frowned and stared at him, sensing that this version of Garen felt very unfamiliar yet unable to pinpoint why.
“A rumor about you surfaced outside a few days ago. I saw your portrait and rushed over; I heard quite a bit on my way,” Sharg said quietly. “Though I’m not sure what you’ve been through, as your friend, I still hope you can pull yourself together.”
“Friend…” Garen felt a pang of emotion within him as he suddenly realized he had formed many bonds in Godeyas Continent.
“Yes, I have few friends—either they are dead or will die sooner or later. In truth, you are the only one.” Sharg sighed as if recalling their first encounter in Taroloro Mountain Range. This warrior, so tough that even Sharg struggled against him, somehow sparked within him an urge to forge a friendship.
The definition of a friend is simple. When cooperating, there is understanding; when playing, there is comfort, and that is enough. True friends, no matter how long they are apart, will never let their feelings fade. When they reunite, there will still be plenty to talk about. As for those who need emotional entanglements to maintain their relationships, they are unlikely to last.
"Alright, thank you." Garen nodded and continued walking forward.
Sharg was momentarily stunned, not expecting Garen to respond so succinctly, as if he were being dismissive. He looked at Garen's retreating figure with a complex expression and finally understood something: yes, Garen was still the same Garen, even stronger than before, but that gaze seemed to lack something…
It lacked a spark.
It was as if he himself believed he could no longer set the entire sky ablaze.
This filled Sharg with an unprecedented fear. He had never seen a warrior braver, more confident, or more resilient than Garen. But if even he had begun to resign himself to fate, how terrifying would that be?
Sharg chased after him, unwilling to accept it. "What have you been through?"
Looking at Sharg's angry yet panicked eyes, Garen remained silent for a long time before replying lightly, "Nothing."
With that, he continued on his way.
This time Sharg did not pursue him further; he too fell silent for a long while before calling out to that figure again, "Yasthia and the Newbies have also heard the news; they are on their way. Talina is close to death, and Edward can't leave right now, but they all asked me to convey their concern to you."
Unnoticed, the distant figure paused slightly.
"No matter what you have experienced or what you are facing, please never forget that we are always behind you. Many people love you deeply!"
It was unexpected for the solitary werewolf Sharg to say such an emotional thing. Yet somehow the "love" that came from his mouth felt natural rather than cloying.
In the early days of the new era, a scholar named Abyssal Peak once said: when you regard those who love you as your whole world, then the entire world loves you back. Please do not give up, no matter how indifferent the real world may be.
Garen's lips twitched slightly as he felt the biting cold wind against his face; in the end, he continued down the path.
…
The world is dark, cold, and ruthless. The people born into it are like a leaf in a vast ocean, drifting aimlessly with the surging waves, lost and unable to reach the shore or find their way home.
But humanity is unique; they stand on narrow decks braving the winds and waves, cutting through layer upon layer of hardships. When two people meet, the string within them that yearns for beauty is plucked, and thus they learn to love.
They illuminate this world not merely to seek warmth in each other's embrace but to walk hand in hand through this desolate land—no matter how dark or twisted it may be—creating beautiful memories together.
As more and more people gathered and reunited, an invisible web began to form. Perhaps within it lay sin and evil, but let us not forget that the source of this web is something called love.
Fortunately, Garen had never forgotten love.
Unfortunately, Garen's confusion stemmed from love.
He struggled desperately to change everything, unwilling to let all that he cherished be reduced to ashes in the Torrent of the Cataclysm. He exerted every ounce of strength to fight against it, but when he realized that everything would ultimately return to nothingness, a deep sense of confusion enveloped him.
From another perspective, if you had never possessed that toy, then when it was crushed, you would feel nothing.
But if that toy were in your hands, and you knew it was about to be trampled and destroyed while you remained powerless… that feeling was destined to be tormenting.
Unbeknownst to him, Garen had climbed yet another peak.
He turned back and saw only his own footprints along the way.
Just like when he first descended into Godeas.
Alone.
Never changed.
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