There was silence.
Aron stood still — it was Norm's Valley.
He took slow, steady steps, walking forward. The dream began to shift. Now, he was standing on a hill.
The sun was shining brightly, its golden light washing over the land like a blessing. It warmed the soul gently. The wind howled through the air, making Aron's hair dance wildly.
Then, he saw something — a man standing tall with a blade in hand. Before him, a stranger knelt, twin blades resting at his side. It was clear — the standing man had won the battle.
Aron's eyes widened.
That blade — it was the same one from his dream. The dark glow radiating from it was immense… unnatural.
He didn't move. He just stood there, unable to make sense of what he was witnessing.
---
Norm: "You want to kill me…", he said softly, staring into the sun.
He turned his face toward the warrior.
"Fine. But before you do… I want to make a pact."
Lyoth: "A pact?" he scoffed. "What trick are you playing now?"
Norm: "No tricks. Just a request. You must not shatter or enter the world again until the flames of hope rise once more… after my death."
Lyoth: "Why? You can kill me right now. Just end it."
Norm: "I could. But I too must die one day… and your revenge would never be fulfilled. I know I've killed your daughter. I carry that guilt. Many want to kill me…"
He lowered his gaze and dropped to one knee.
Sorrow filled his voice.
He thought about his past — about all the killing, about the peaceful life he never lived. He had chosen revenge… but was it worth it?
---
The dream shifted again.
Norm was now kneeling among corpses — those he had slain. His eyes were distant. His right hand trembled as he looked at it. It looked… older, as if time itself was draining him.
Norm: "Why did I become this…? Was this really the only way?", he whispered.
Then, suddenly, he came back to his senses.
Aron, still dreaming, watched from afar — confused, shaken.
What was Norm talking about?
What was this "flame of hope"?
And what was this pact?
Lyoth stood now. The roles had reversed. Norm was on his knees. Lyoth towered above him.
Lyoth: "A pact? I'll follow it gladly… until the flames of hope burn once more. And when they do… I'll return. And I'll destroy everything you created."
Norm gave a faint smile. For the first time in a long time, he felt… alive.
Norm: "May the blade find its true successor..."
Lyoth struck.
The black blade slashed through Norm — and he collapsed.
Dead.
---
The boy saw the end. Horrific… yet beautiful.
A knight on his knees. Lifeless.
The sun pierced through dark clouds over the hill — a final farewell.
---
Aron awoke.
He gasped — "Ahh!"
His head was bandaged. So was his hand. His shoulder throbbed with pain.
He was inside a wooden house.
Aron: "Where… am I?"
Old Man: "You're in my house."
Aron tried to move, but pain shot through his body. His shoulder was fractured. He winced.
Aron: "Who are you…?"
Old Man: "I'm Bart. And you… you must be Aron."
Aron: "How do you know me?"
Bart: "I just know. I once lived in Norm's Valley… but I left and built this home far from it."
Aron: "Why did you save me?"
Bart: "I was picking fruit when I heard something. I rushed over and found you—barely alive. Head bleeding. Arms bruised. Shoulder broken. You'll need at least three months to heal."
Aron: "I have to go…"
He tried to stand — but fell immediately.
Bart: "Don't push yourself, kid. You're in no condition. Just rest. At least wait a day."
Aron: "A terrible war is coming… and I'm the one who started it."
Bart: "You… started it?"
Aron: "The blade chose me."
Bart's eyes widened.
Bart: "Wait… are you Aron Norm? Son of Agarth?"
Aron: "I am. And I feel… worthless."
Bart: "If you're really Aron Norm, then don't speak of worthlessness. The blade chose you. In 2000 years, it has never chosen anyone. You're not just lucky — you're honored."
Bart sat beside him, his tone soft.
Bart: "Let me tell you a story. Two thousand years ago, a boy was born — just like you. Betrayed by everyone, abandoned by the world. One day, he chose a path no one dared to walk. He fought armies, slaughtered tyrants, not for power — but for peace. For freedom. But the blade twisted him… made him a monster. Still, he endured. He corrected his path. Founded Norm's Valley. Then… he vanished. Some say he died to protect his people. His grave? Still unknown. But his blade — it lies buried somewhere close."
Aron: "I found it. But the cave was destroyed. I don't know how to get it now."
Bart: "You found it? Hah… you really are full of surprises. If you found the location, then now all that's left is to move those boulders… or find another way inside."
Aron: "You're right. I'm not strong enough yet…"
As he said this, he thought of his mother…
---
Agarth rode through heavy rain, lightning splitting the sky. The storm howled. His army marched behind him.
It would take at least a day to reach the Kingdom of Thoms.
Agarth: "Be safe, Yade… my friend."
---
End Of Chapter 11