Chapter 13 — The Weight of Ages

The Bloodecho's new form loomed over the field like a living omen.
Six blades orbited its grotesque body—spines of metal and shadow surrounding a core of ancient fury. Its presence distorted the very air, and the rage emanating from it was not just of combat, but of entire eons devoured.

Grumak felt it in his chest.

The weight.
The legacy. As if all the failures of the past burned into his skin.

When the enemy advanced, it was like an eclipse in motion.
Blades sliced the air at four angles at once.

Grumak reacted on pure instinct. The ancient gauntlet glowed, activating the Vein Ward shield.

— SHAA!

The impact resounded like thunder.
Two blades ricocheted. The third shattered the defense.

The gash opened deep in his left shoulder. Warm blood flowed.
Before he could breathe, a flaming arrow was fired. Grumak tried to roll. Too late.

Explosion.

His body flew into a rock, the dull impact reverberating in the valley.

— GRUMAK! — Malias shouted, rising from his throne.

The warrior spat blood. He tried to get up with one knee on the ground.

— He... broke my shield... even though it was reinforced...

In desperation, he channeled a gust of wind, pushing the enemy back.
His right fist burst into flames and struck Echo's chest.

Nothing.

The monster didn't even flinch.

"He absorbed fire, wind, and ice!" Tibrok shouted.

Grumak understood.
Strength was not enough. He was fighting something he learned, adapted, and overcame. Like a living shadow of the cycle itself.

The Echo responded brutally.
Two blades struck Grumak—back and side. He fell, gasping. The world spun. Every attempt to react was thwarted. Every step punished.

— He... learns... — he murmured, staggering.

The specter whirled and threw all six blades.
Grumak shouted,

— TELEPORT!

It vanished in a flash of ice.
The blades struck the ground violently, leaving smoking craters.

Grumak appeared in the air, fists surrounded by stone and fire.

— DUO-IMPACT CRATER!

It came down like lightning.
The ground shook. Dust rose to the heavens.

Tibrok vibrated.

- AND NOW!

But when the dust settled… the Echo was still standing.

Wounded. But firm.
And smiling.

—You fight well, Grumak…, but the brighter the light… the greater the shadow it casts.

Then he was there in a flash.
He punched Grumak in the stomach with lethal precision.

The warrior flew away, rolling on the ground, his energy collapsing.
Malias clutched the Maeliri to his chest. He felt something shatter—inside.

Grumak, lying down, looked up at the sky.

Shiro. Aelyn. The forest.
Hope.

He closed his eyes.
And everything disappeared.

Darkness.

No sound. No pain.
Just emptiness.

Grumak floated within himself.
Powerless. Small. Like a whisper forgotten by the world.

So — a memory.

Shiro, small, cried with a broken twig in his hands.

— I tried, Dad…, but I can't!

Grumak knelt before him.

— Son… when everything seems to go wrong… we breathe. We hold on. We take one more step.

— What if it still hurts?

— Then we'll hold on a little longer. Because sometimes... that's all the world needs.

And then she came.

Aelyn.

The presence was light. Warmth. Welcoming silence.

She approached like a living memory.

— Grumak… he will still need you.

He touched his chest.
And the glove shone.

Gold and blue.
Strength and memory. Love and promise.

— This is not the time to fall.

Grumak opened his eyes.

The field returned. The pain returned.

But something in him had changed.

The ancient gauntlet rebuilt itself.
Golden runes pulsed. Elemental crystals orbited it like planets around a new sun.

He stood up. Slowly. Steadily.

Echo took a step back.

Malias fell to his knees.

— He… is changing…

Tibrok muttered:

— The Second Evolution…

Grumak was different.
His armor pulsed with the five elements. On his chest, the symbol of a wolf and a flame burned with light.

— I fell… I bled… but I get up. For me. For her. For my son.

He slammed his fists together.
The elemental ring around him spun, vibrating in five colors.

Echo threw three blades.

Grumak stepped forward.

— RUPTURE OF THE ELEMENTS!

A punch to the ground.

The wave expanded.
Earth split. The shadow screamed.

The Echo was thrown backwards.

Grumak staggered, but did not give way.

The field was now a field of ruins.

The clear sky revealed the moon—a silent witness.

They stared at each other.
And collided again.

Fist against blade.
Light against shadow. Present against past.

Grumak's first blow tore through the blockade.
Blades screeched. The Echo recoiled, armor cracking.

Another punch.
Earth. Fire. Ice.

A flaming hook in the flank.
Echo's roar was almost human.

He retaliated with all his blades spinning like living scythes.
Grumak defended with micro energy shields.
Still, he was wounded. Shoulder. Thigh. Real pain.

But he didn't back down.

"You won't win…" he growled, blood pouring from his mouth.
"Because I'm not fighting alone."

He dug his fist into the ground, and energetic roots began to emerge from the earth. They were like the ancient defenses of the Silent Valley, reminders of the living forest that had once protected his people. They wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso. They pulsed with the same life he felt. Now Grumak was part of the forest .

And then… it was the end.

They both fired at the same time.

Fists against blades.
Light against darkness.

So fast that the eyes could barely follow.

The sound of the impacts rang out like thunder compressed within a crystal bell. Sparks streaked across the sky of shooting stars out of orbit. Time seemed out of control—stretched and contracted in a rhythm only the two of them understood.

Tibrok knelt and watched, his paws trembling.
Malias clung to Maeliri. The Tuntor remained completely silent, his golden eyes fixed. Witness and judge.

And then… the gap appeared.

Grumak saw.

One of the wraith's blades failed. Cracked. Slow. It was a mistake—the first.

Without hesitation, he concentrated all his remaining energy into his right fist. Every fragment of the ancient shield's essence, every drop of power, compressed into a single strike.

— "May this wall also be my spear!"

With a scream that tore from his chest, he threw the blow straight at the center of Velgran's armor. Not just anywhere—but at the core. The creature's dark heart.

— JUDGMENT OF THE LIGHT!

The impact was like a second sunrise. The ground shook, and a cross-shaped explosion of pure energy erupted at the point of the punch. Bloodecho was thrown backward, the six blades shattering in the air like black glass. His body began to unravel, disintegrating into his own soul.

He still tried to roar. But it was weak. A hollow sound. Without strength.

And then, finally... it fell apart.

Only silence remained.

Grumak fell to his knees, arms hanging loose, breathing heavily. He was bleeding. He was exhausted.

The energy in the valley calmed, as if the world itself exhaled relief.

The sky cleared. The clouds retreated. The trees, which had previously wept dry leaves, began to bloom, one by one, as if reborn.

And from the throne, the Tuntor rose.

— Balance restored. Light and life are reborn.

The field fell silent.

The darkness had finally crumbled.
The Bloodecho had been defeated by Grumak's sheer strength.

And for the first time in ages… the valley breathed.

Tuntor did not disappear.

The lights that swirled around him pulsed in a solemn rhythm, as if the forest awaited his sentence.

He stood up—for the first time in millennia.

.
And his voice… Clear as the moon. Firm as stone:

—The scales have tipped. The light has been chosen. The bearer of the ancient spark has triumphed.

Malias and Tibrok said nothing.
Grumak collapsed facedown. He couldn't even lift his hand. Malias ran over, pale, and knelt beside him.

" Grumak! " He pulled him by the shoulders; his head fell limp. "No… stay with me!"

Tibrok arrived breathless:

— He breathes…, but he’s disappearing!

That was when the Maeliri pulsed—a bright orange, warm glow that made the air vibrate. Malias felt the call within his soul :
“Now.”

Without hesitation, he sank his fangs into the shell. The golden flesh exploded in his mouth, sweet, alive, pulsating. He grabbed the warrior's face, forced his lips open, and deposited the first portion , mouth to mouth.

Nothing.

—Come… breathe… — Tears mixed with the flowing nectar.

He bit again, larger pieces, and transferred them with another desperate kiss. Grumak's throat wouldn't respond.

Third time. Fourth. The fruit disappeared beneath her teeth. Each time the flavor touched her tongue, but light trickled into his mouth. Finally, a spasm. Grumak swallowed reflexively. Streaks of brightness ran down his neck.

Malias didn't stop—the fruit practically remade with each bite, as if the Vale wanted to give it infinite energy. Fifth transfer. Sixth. Until the Maeliri shattered into pure light and merged completely with the warrior.

Shimmering veins snaked beneath his skin, weaving over wounds, welding bones, igniting muscles. The ancient glove pulsed blue-gold. Life blossomed again.

Grumak took a sharp breath:

— …Shiro…?

"I'm not him, you blockhead," Malias laughed tearfully, resting her forehead against his. "But he'll hug you when we get to Farir."

The Tuntor then raised his arms. A soft light descended upon Grumak, enveloping him like a cloak of blessing.

—You will carry with you Tuntor's blessing. A fragment of rebirth.
—Wherever you go, the forest will recognize you as its guardian.

And with a final golden glow, the Tuntor spoke for the last time:

— Return. This cycle is over. But the light… must continue to walk.

The throne of roots crumbled like leaves in the wind.
The sky brightened. The stars shone as if they were dancing.

And Grumak… was standing.

He was still leaning on Malias and Tibrok, his steps heavy but firm—like those of someone who had just returned from the brink of death.

The valley, now at peace, seemed to breathe with them.
The clear sky let in the soft light of late dawn, tinging everything golden.

That was when Tibrok stopped suddenly, turning around with a snap in his eyes, as if something important had jumped out of his memory.

" The old mission! " he exclaimed, astonished. " The... the Moon Gems! Those absurd gems Balbito asked for!
" "That's why we came here!"

Malias arched an eyebrow, exhausted, but her sarcasm still intact.

—After all this… do you still remember the mission?
—And here I was thinking I was going to die without delivering that damned favor.

Grumak coughed, the sound hoarse but light.
A half-smile appeared on his face.

—I promised I'd pay for the night at the inn. I'm not going back on that.

They laughed together. Not a full-blown laugh… but that restrained, relieved laugh. The kind of laugh that only comes after surviving the impossible.

But then…

The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate faintly.
A warm, familiar energy coursed through the ground, as if the valley itself heard them. At the very spot where the Bloodecho had been defeated, small, glowing stalks began to sprout. Slowly, like living roots, they rose and opened like orange crystal flowers.

And in the center of each one… rested a small crystal.

" The jewels…! " Tibrok whispered, his eyes wide. " They… they formed! Just like in the legend! After the confrontation… after the light wins!"

Malias approached cautiously. The crystals glowed with a pure, almost sacred aura. They were small, but perfectly cut—shaped by the energy of the valley, as if they were a part of it.

— “The mission”… was just a metaphor for choosing the new guardian , huh? — he commented, with a half laugh.

Grumak knelt before one of the flowers.
Carefully, he touched it.

The crystal gently released itself and landed in his hand.
In the palm of his glove, it glowed even brighter.

Tibrok took a special bag from his backpack—made of enchanted leather and runic stitching.

— Here! The bag the guild helper gave you!
— It was made to store these things without losing energy!

One by one, Grumak harvested the crystals.
Five jewels in total, each pulsing like a tiny heart of living light.

Malias crossed her arms, looking at him with a tired but proud smile.

— And to think we came to collect moon rocks…
— And we almost died saving the forest.

Tibrok laughed, a little nervously.

— Yeah… that’s how a crazy old man’s mission is.

Grumak closed the bag tightly and strapped it to his waist.

—Mission accomplished. Now all that's left is to deliver this to Balbito… and charge him for a month of free hosting.

The eastern sky was already tinged with the soft hues of dawn.
After a well-deserved rest under the first light of the new cycle, Grumak, Malias, and Tibrok set off back to the Warrior Rabbit village—carrying the Jewels and a reverent silence all around.

As they advanced through the restored forest, the branches seemed to open up of their own accord. The leaves bent slightly. The breeze gently pushed them. And then… they began to emerge.

Of all sizes and shapes.

Creatures that had previously been asleep, hidden, or exiled… now walked, flew, watched from the treetops with attentive eyes and calm steps—as if they recognized the new guardian .

“I… I’ve never seen so many…” Malias whispered in delight, as a group of silver-coated deer appeared between the trees.

“ They’re back… ” Tibrok said, his voice breaking. “They were waiting… all of them…”

Grumak walked in silence, his eyes roaming over every living thing with profound respect.

Then, in the middle of the trail, three distinct creatures approached, steady and with conscious eyes:

— A raven with greenish feathers , which landed in front of them, dropped a stone with sparkling veins and took flight.

— A golden-furred wolf emerged from the shadows, placed a small, blue gem before Grumak… and disappeared like smoke.

—And a crimson-eyed owl , which flew silently, dropped a triangular crystal shrouded in mist upon him… and it landed briefly on his shoulder before dissolving into the breeze.

Tibrok's mouth dropped open.

—These are… Ancient Spirit Stones … Grumak, this is a gift from the guardians of the valley themselves! This is… this is something sacred !

Grumak gathered the stones with extreme care.
As he touched them, his glove glowed faintly. He felt a gentle pulse—as if each one carried life. A will of its own. A waiting.

Malias just watched, a slight smile on the corner of his lips.

—It seems the forest floor has recognized its new defender.

Grumak put the stones away reverently.
Then he turned to Tibrok.

— Do you remember what you asked me… before helping with this mission?

Tibrok scratched his head, a little awkwardly.

— I… I asked for help. To find something.

Grumak nodded firmly.

—So, after we deliver this to the old man at the inn… we’ll take care of this.

Tibrok smiled, his eyes moist.

— Thanks, Grumak… really.

And so, under the growing light of day, the three went on their way.
No longer as simple adventurers…But as those who have been marked by the forest .

Guarded by the light.
And recognized by the natural world.