Crown of Thorns

39-40

CHAPTER 39

After the warrior left the tower, I heard the ringing of countless bells.

The vacancy left behind by the warrior had made me distressed, but I persisted in following him around. I know that it will be even more painful if all of this fails.

The witch's sense of time was still the same, but it always seemed to went by fast for others.

Evan's small height had grown to the point where he can now stand up to a world that ignores the truth. His shoulders, which used to be thin enough to be surrounded by the witch's arms, had become wide enough to give shelter to the suffering people. Much like the young man who remained in my memory, he grew up beautifully, and yet he changed so much that I almost mistook him for someone else.

The pale, pitifully thin face was now moderately tanned. His scars still remain, but it was not from terrible wounds inflicted by others; it was scars of glory, given from hard training. The white hair, which had a transparent glow whenever sunlight touched it, was cut off until it barely came under his ears.

His arms and legs, which had been accurately assimilated to twigs due to malnourishment, were hardened through training. But most of all, Evan's eyes glistened with sunshine. No longer containing death, they were filled with hope. I couldn't take my eyes off those jeweled eyes.

As he swung his sword, Evan felt his companions approaching. Gasping for breath, he halted his training. Sweat from his forehead rolled down and stayed at the tip of his chin. Evan hurriedly swept away his bangs, which were clinging to his forehead. His hair, dampened with sweat, obediently stuck to the side, revealing white eyebrows, similar to that of his hair.

One of the men who approached said.

"Don't push yourself, aren't you tired?"

"I still have a long way to go."

"But, Evan, you've already improved a lot."

Evan was no longer called a monster. Surrounded by helpless villagers poking at his wounds to distract themselves from their suffering, he was shining.

Evan's lips, slightly twisting at the man's words, soon formed a small smile. As if he were trying to hold back laughter. The way he smiled with his eyebrows slightly furrowed with the corners of his mouth drawn in a graceful line was not much different from the young warrior he had seen before, which sent a strange sense of relief through me.

Evan muttered in a quiet voice.

"Not yet... not enough."

Yes, unlike before, he has grown a lot, but he was still lacking. Although he now could control more light than before by absorbing knowledge learned from the witch, it was difficult to grow by himself.

However, there was more than one warrior who was bestowed to the world under god's will.

I looked at the world as the brave boy grew up. The cogwheels of fate that I joined with the warriors were already moving before I prompted them. One of them was Yohan, the Commander of the Knights, who took in Evan and helped him grow up like this.

"Evan is training so hard, but what are the rest of you doing?"

"Eek!"

"Le, Commander!"

When Yohan showed up with his arms folded, the trainees quickly returned to their places and began wielding their swords. Frowning, he mumbled, as if displeased with them.

"How will I even take these people along?"

Evan, who overheard his muttering, asked with glistening eyes.