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Chapter 10 - Chapter 10 : Ash Walker

What is he!?

Ash walking as a man!?

An Ash Walker?

These were the first thoughts that flooded my head.

I was blank. Empty.

My body ached, my ribs throbbed, my arm felt like dead weight—but my mind… my mind was screaming. Because what I was seeing didn't fit in any story, any teaching, any old man's tale.

It was as if fire had worn skin.

As if silence had chosen to walk.

He wasn't standing straight—his spine curled slightly forward, as if the weight of centuries had pressed him into a shape that time wouldn't let go.

That shape—it looked unnatural. But not broken.

No.

Held.

Like he was meant to stand that way.

His beard was long and gray, his hair like coiled ropes hanging to his chest—twisted and decorated with tiny bones, black feathers, and beads that shimmered with no light.

He looked old—half a century, at least.

But then I saw his eyes.

And the years collapsed.

There was no age in those eyes.

Only stillness.

Terrifying, endless stillness.

He wasn't even looking at me—he was looking at Liam. Straight ahead. Unmoving.

Liam's stance loosened just slightly, and I saw something I never thought I'd see on him: hesitation.

"Who are you?" Liam called out.

His voice was calm, clear—but it was strained at the edges, like a string pulled too tight.

Still... silence.

The man didn't answer.

Didn't move.

Didn't blink.

And then—

A hand came to my side.

I flinched—ready to swing, until I saw the face.

"Easy," Terren muttered, half-breathless. He crouched beside me, blood still smeared across his forehead. "It's just me."

He helped me up—his arm under mine. My legs barely worked, but I forced myself to stand. We both leaned against a broken tree trunk, watching.

"What is that man!?" Terren whispered beside me. "And how come that beast just disintegrated!?"

I couldn't answer.

There were no answers.

This wasn't something out of any adventurer's tale.

It was... something else.

A man—barefoot, unarmored, unarmed—walking through the jungle like it meant nothing to him. No protection. No fear.

Just the hum of silence following wherever he went.

Nobody would believe me. Not my parents. Not the Guild.

Hell, I wouldn't believe myself either if I hadn't seen it—right there, with my own eyes.

But he was real.

He moved slowly toward the beast's still-smoking corpse.

And with every step, the silence slowly unraveled.

The man reached the drake.

Kneeling beside it, he placed a hand on its twisted mouth—gently, as if it hadn't just tried to devour us alive.

He muttered something.

I couldn't hear it.

But I saw his eyes—

And they held compassion.

Then—

With a slow exhale, the beast's massive body collapsed inward.

Like a breath released after holding it for centuries.

It didn't burn.

It didn't rot.

It simply… returned.

Into the soil. Into the roots. Into the jungle.

Gone.

Just a pile of ash.

It felt like witnessing a myth.

Like seeing one of the Founding Fathers right in front of me.

A voice inside me stirred—something deeper than thought.

Like a whisper not of mind, but soul.

"He is the one we were looking for."

And just like that… I knew.

My eyes widened.

My lips trembled.

My knees shook as if I had found an ocean while looking for a droplet.

Then—

A voice. Familiar. From just beyond the cart.

"Are you the man… who lives in the cremation ground!?"

Miya.

Her tone was sharp, but shaken—like she was afraid the answer would be yes.

The man didn't even glance at her.

He kept his eyes fixed on the earth where the drake had disappeared.

Another voice followed—low, steady.

"Can you really bind souls?"

Liam.

No answer.

Still.

Then—

The man stepped forward.

Into the ash.

And stood there. Silent.

He knelt.

Scooped the ash into his palms.

And began rubbing it onto his chest.

His arms.

His face.

Slowly. With reverence.

Like a ritual.

Like a rite.

We watched—frozen.

Not from fear.

From something else.

From awe. From disbelief. From the sense that we were witnessing something we were not meant to see.

Then Miya's voice cracked through it all—raw, pained, desperate.

"ANSWER ME, OLD MAN!

CAN YOU HEAL SOMEONE!?"

The sound tore through the stillness.

I looked at her—her face was red, streaked with sweat and dirt.

She was crying.

But not for herself.

She was about to lose someone.

Someone she loved.

And this man—this Ash Walker—might be her only hope.

Terren and I moved forward, toward Liam.

He stood dead-center of the path, the old bull cart behind him, swaying slightly from the chaos of moments ago.

To the left of the cart—we emerged, battered and stunned.

To the right—Miya stood, fists clenched, eyes wide with pain.

The jungle closed in on both sides.

And at the far end—

The man stood in the ashes.

Still rubbing them into his skin.

Silent.

Like a tombstone that had never learned to speak.

We reached Liam's side.

And then,

The Ash Walker turned slowly.

And for the first time—

He looked at Miya.

And he finally spoke—

"Why should I?"

Everything collapsed.

All the hopes, urges, expectations… crumbled under the weight of a single word.

Why.

It's funny…

Why is such a strange word.

In one breath, it gives you reason—

The strength to defy limits, to chase the impossible, to break free of your own mind.

And in the next… it binds you tighter than chains.

Takes away your liberty, your voice, your meaning—

Reduces you to a bird locked in a cage, staring through the bars at a sky it can never touch.

The bird wants to fly.

It was born to fly.

But the owner leans in and whispers—

"Why?"

Why would you leave? Why wander the wild world for nothing more than scattered crumbs and windburnt feathers?

The bird is fed in the cage.

It doesn't starve.

So… isn't that enough?

Isn't that life?

Just live.

And die.

Like everyone else.

Because in the end, everything that breathes… will perish.

Even SegeFord.

***

His eyes were still—unyielding.

They held a strange aura... cold, yet burning.

So intense that I couldn't look into them for more than a second.

One glance was enough to feel my soul recoil.

Thud.

A sound beside me.

I turned—

It was Miya.

She had fallen to her knees.

"I beg of you... Please... Please... save him... You're our only hope..."

Her voice cracked.

Grief. Anger. And something even deeper—like the weight of an entire world crashing through her.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, splashing onto the earth, catching the sun like broken glass.

Her posture said it all.

She would give anything for SegeFord to live.

Even herself.

My heart clenched.

Beside me, Terren slowly lowered himself to the ground—kneeling without a word.

I looked further—

Liam...

Was already down.

His forehead pressed into the dirt, hands trembling, whole body curled in submission.

He wasn't a warrior in that moment.

He was a brother, begging.

I couldn't stop myself.

I dropped to my knees too.

Because I also wanted SegeFord to live.

Because I couldn't imagine this journey without him.

Because something in me believed—if anyone could save him, it was this man.

I lowered my head—

And then—

Footsteps.

Not coming toward us—

Leaving.

I jerked my head up.

The old man was walking away.

Back turned.

Silent.

Like none of this mattered.

And then—

A blur. A flash of steel.

A sword—

To the old man's throat.

Dust swirled around his feet.

The sun carved Liam's silhouette like a statue of fury.

He stood tall.

Blade shimmering.

Face smeared with sweat and earth.

He had intervened.

And he wasn't bluffing.

Liam would kill for SegeFord.

He'd kill anyone.

So what was an old man with a crooked spine and no gear?

No armor. Not even a cloak to hide behind.

To Liam—

He was just one more obstacle.

"Listen, old man," Liam growled, voice sharp as his blade,

"I don't give a fuck who you are... or what you are...

So you can take that 'why' of yours and shove it up your ass.

You move one more step—

and I split you in half."

I felt it.

Even from meters away—

His fury.

His desperation.

His love for SegeFord.

But the old man didn't flinch.

Didn't even blink.

"Everyone's supposed to die one day, child," he said calmly,

"Your friend is just getting that luxury early."

There was no cruelty in his voice.

No mockery.

Just... emptiness.

A hollow truth.

"You—" Liam's voice cracked with rage,

"A life is at the take... Someone is dying.

If you have the power—

If you can save him—

Why won't you!?

Do you have no humanity in you!?"

"You talk about life as if you care about it," the old man said, his lips curling into a quiet, bitter smirk.

"You speak as if you know what a life's worth is..."

His tone shifted—like steel scraping bone.

"Is life only sacred when it belongs to you?

Is your friend's life worth more because he's human—while that beast's wasn't, just because it crawled on four legs?

What about the souls of this jungle you've crushed beneath your boots?

The creatures you hunted for glory?

The people—yes, people—you've killed in cold blood.

What about the burning head in that cart?"

His eyes glinted now—haunted.

"Are they all worthless... just because they weren't yours to care about?"

A silence dropped like lead.

The forest fell quiet again—no wind, no birdsong, no insects.

Only breath.

Only shame.

Liam's sword wavered.

For the first time—it shook.

Then—

He dropped.

Right there.

Back to his knees.

At the old man's feet again.

But this time... he was broken.

Tears flowed freely.

He wasn't holding them back anymore.

His grief came raw and full of tremors.

His words spilled like water breaking a dam.

"I understand... I really do...

But please... please, save him...

He's all I have left."

He clutched at the man's feet.

Not as a warrior.

Not as a soldier.

As a child begging a god.

The old man stood still.

Looking down at Liam like one might look at a dying tree.

And then—

"You must know, child..." he said softly,

"Nothing comes for free."

His voice had changed.

Less cold now.

Still distant—but carrying the weight of truth.

"There is a price to everything..."

"I'll give you all my money!" Liam blurted, desperate.

"Everything I've gathered till now! Every single—"

The old man raised a hand.

"Money is ash, boy. Just paper and rot."

Liam looked up, confused. Broken.

The rest of us could barely breathe.

"Then what!?" he shouted, trembling. "What do you want!?"

The old man looked past Liam. Past us all.

His gaze stretched far into the trees, into some distant place only he could see.

He spoke again—voice deep, almost ancient:

"You want your brother to live...

But are you willing to pay the price?

A life for a life"

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