Night had completely engulfed The Wall by the time Alcard finally arrived at the central headquarter. The wind howled, carrying the scent of metal, damp earth, and the fading embers of dying campfires. After a long, exhausting journey, his body protested for rest. Yet, it wasn't just physical fatigue that burdened his steps—it was the storm raging in his mind, refusing to settle.
As he dismounted, the sentries only spared him a brief glance before returning to their duties. Without a word, Alcard handed his horse's reins to a young outcast, who accepted them with silent respect. He could feel the curious gazes of several others lingering on him from the shadows. Alcard was known for returning from missions with success, but this time, there was something different in his aura—an unfamiliar uncertainty.
With steady but heavy steps, he made his way through the long corridor toward Oldman's chamber. Along the way, he sensed the silent stares of his comrades, their unspoken questions hanging in the air. Yet, he ignored them. There was something far more pressing to deal with.
Pushing open the wooden door, he found Oldman seated behind a massive desk cluttered with scrolls, old maps, and mission reports. The dim lantern light cast shadows across his wrinkled face, accentuating the weariness in his sharp eyes. He didn't speak at first, merely studying Alcard as if searching for answers in his expression.
Then, in his deep, commanding voice, he asked, "How did the mission go? Is it done?"
Alcard remained standing before him, his stance firm but his gaze unreadable. Yet, there was something different about his eyes—something that words could not easily describe.
"No," he finally admitted, his voice carrying a weight that even Oldman hadn't expected. "This mission… was a failure."
For the first time in a long while, Oldman's brows lifted slightly. He was not easily shaken, yet Alcard had never returned empty-handed before. "What happened?" His tone was lower now, more serious.
Alcard took a deep breath before speaking, choosing his words carefully. "Arwen… she was taken by someone. Not a human. A Jotun."
Silence. A silence so heavy that even the flickering lantern seemed to dim under its weight.
Oldman, the man who had seen countless battles and betrayals, who had lived long enough to understand the cruel workings of this world, was momentarily stunned. "A Jotun?" he echoed, as if needing to confirm what he had just heard.
"Yes," Alcard nodded. "I know how it sounds, but I saw it with my own eyes. He pulled me out of… another realm. And there's something else—something even more important."
His fists clenched at his sides before he uttered the words that had changed his entire perception of this mission. "Arwen is not just a noblewoman. She is a Life-Seer."
The moment those words left his lips, Oldman's face shifted—not with shock, but with understanding.
A long breath escaped him as he rubbed his grizzled beard, his expression darkening with realization. His eyes, deep with knowledge, flickered with something between acceptance and resignation.
Then, after a long pause, he muttered, "Now it all makes sense."
Alcard's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?" His tone was sharper now, demanding answers that had long been kept from him.
Oldman met his gaze, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of history. "Life-Seers are not ordinary people, Alcard. They are more than mere prophets or guides. They are the compasses of this world, entities chosen by forces far greater than humanity itself."
He exhaled, leaning back in his chair, before adding, "If a Jotun appeared for her, it means only one thing—Arwen plays a role in something much greater than we can comprehend. Something tied to the balance of this world."
Alcard's grip tightened, frustration seeping into his tone. "So what does that make me? A pawn? A disposable tool to ensure she reached her destination?"
Oldman studied him for a moment, then spoke with the patience of a man who had seen too many warriors lose themselves in their own anger. "Maybe." He didn't sugarcoat it. "Or maybe she was just following her instincts, unaware of what truly awaited her. Sometimes, even a Life-Seer does not fully understand the path they walk."
His hands clasped together as he continued, his voice quieter now. "But if you feel used, Alcard, remember this—perhaps your role was greater than you realize. Maybe it wasn't just about escorting her to her fate. Maybe it was about ensuring that she arrived there safely, at the moment the world needed her most."
Alcard clenched his jaw. He didn't like it. He despised the feeling of being a piece in someone else's game. But what if Oldman was right?
What if everything he had done, every battle he had fought alongside Arwen, was not just for her—but for the fate of the world itself?
For a long moment, he said nothing. The weight of this knowledge settled in his chest, pressing against wounds that had never truly healed. Then, finally, he spoke—his voice low but laced with determination.
"So what do I do now?"
Oldman offered a small, knowing smile—one that carried the weariness of a man who had seen countless soldiers ask the same question. "Return to your duty, Alcard. Guard The Wall. That is our purpose—the only thing we can do to keep this world from falling apart."
Alcard nodded slowly. Though his mind still wrestled with lingering doubts, he knew one thing for certain—The Wall was real. His mission there was real. And for now, that was all he had.
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, his steps heavier than when he had entered. The weight of everything he had learned clung to him like an unseen force, but his resolve remained intact.
As he stepped out into the cold night air, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the bitter wind of reality. He had returned to the only place he had left, but the world outside had already changed.
And deep down, he knew that sooner or later… that change would come knocking on his door again.
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