The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the path as Elijah made his way back from the weapon shop. Musagi—his soul weapon—rested on his back, its presence like a silent promise.
But something troubled him.
"This blade is not for casual display. Draw it only when necessary. Musagi… chooses blood wisely."
Hevon's warning echoed in his ears.
"Why would he say that?" Elijah murmured under his breath.
Just as he turned the bend near the village outskirts, a sharp noise split the calm—a shout, followed by a stifled sob.
Elijah's feet froze for a second. Then, with swift, silent steps, he moved toward the source. In a narrow, dusty lane tucked between the alley of two old storage barns, he saw them—three boys bullying two younger teens.
One of the thugs grabbed the girl's wrist, yanking her forward. Another was laughing cruelly, taunting the boy beside her.
Elijah's eyes darkened.
He remained in the shadows, remembering Alaric's words:
"Elijah, when someone is being bullied—don't just rush in like a hero. Instead, inspire them. Motivate them to become a sword that cuts through despair and a shield that guards their truth. Help them to awaken. That is how you save someone."
The moment the bully pulled harder at the girl's hair, Elijah stepped forward, grabbed the boy by his collar, and hurled him into the dirt.
Everyone turned. The two victims stared at him—eyes wide with disbelief.
Elijah stood silently.
His eyes met theirs.
The boy had short golden hair, his crystalline emerald-green eyes filled with fear and quiet shame. He wore a plain white shirt and black pants, his small frame trembling. The girl beside him had soft yellow hair, tied neatly in a low bun, her blue eyes shining with restrained tears.
The thugs scrambled to their feet, rage replacing fear.
"Why did you attack me?!" the leader barked, blood trickling from his lip.
Elijah didn't reply. He calmly stepped forward and punched him again, sending him crashing into a crate. The fight broke loose. Two more came at Elijah, but within moments, he moved with clinical precision—parrying a punch, twisting a wrist, striking the pressure point. They crumpled, defeated.
The third tried to flee. Elijah didn't stop him.
Two of the thugs lay groaning. But Elijah wasn't finished.
He turned to the boy and girl.
Then did something no one expected.
He handed them—simple wooden rods.
The girl and boy looked confused.
"W-What are you doing?" the golden-haired boy asked, shocked.
"My job is complete. I leave the rest of my work to you," Elijah said quietly, handing the boy a stick.
The boy looked down, unsure. The girl was trembling.
Elijah turned and began to walk away.
The bullies looked surprised, then slowly stepped back, eyes filled with a newfound respect.
They nodded once, muttered something under their breath, and made their way out of the lane.
But as the two bullies stepped forward again, trying to get to the boy and girl—
Elijah shouted, his voice thunderous and sharp:
"YOU HAVE A WEAPON IN YOUR HANDS—WHY DO YOU TREMBLE?!"
The two flinched.
Elijah turned back, eyes blazing.
"If you cower in fear your whole life, you'll gain nothing but pain. The world won't save you. They'll watch. They'll pity. Maybe even pretend to help. But no one will fight for you."
"So fight for yourself. Become an undying sword that never bends. Become an unbreakable shield that never falls."
"Do you want to suffer forever? Or do you want to protect what matters and chase something greater—to rise and meet the stars?"
His voice rang out across the lane.
The bullies paused. So did the victims.
Then something shifted.
The girl took a shaky breath. Her eyes sharpened.
THWACK!
She struck the thug on the side of his head, sending him reeling.
The second lunged—but the boy moved this time. He shoved him back, tackled him, and rained fists down with tears in his eyes.
"Enough! I'm done being afraid!"
The defeated bully coughed.
"W-What? You think you're a hero now?"
The boy stood over him, panting.
"I don't know what I am yet… but he showed me who I could be."
"He punched the boy with all his strength, knocking him unconscious. Then, he turned to Elijah."
"Thank you."
The girl walked beside him and bowed slightly.
"Thank you for saving us…"
Elijah shook his head.
"I didn't save you. You saved yourselves. I just helped you remember the strength that was already inside."
"My name is Elijah Everhart. Nice to meet you."
The boy stepped forward, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I'm Ayn leynard," he said with a soft, nervous smile.
The girl followed.
"Anna Valentine. Thank you, again."
They began walking back together, the adrenaline fading into warm laughter. They exchanged stories—where they lived, what they did.
"You live in Brihan Village?!" Ayn asked.
"Yes," Elijah nodded. "Came here a year ago. I live far from the center, so I keep a low profile."
Anna tilted her head, curious.
"No family? No friends?"
Elijah looked ahead quietly, then extended his hand.
"No family. No friends. I live alone. But I'd like to change that. Would you… be my friends?"
Ayn blinked. Anna smiled.
They both shook his hand at once.
"Of course."
And so, as the trio returned to the village, the stars began to peek through the indigo sky—and for the first time in a long while, Elijah felt something stir in his heart: Connection.