Frilian: The Adventure of the Hero

Seeing Shutark's excited expression, Shane was truly speechless.

"Young man, don't be in such a hurry. You are still your master's only disciple."

"Who's the young man? You don't seem that much older than me."

"..."

Shutark looked at Shane with a hint of wariness in his eyes. The thought that his master might take on a new disciple because of his running away from home made him feel very threatened. Moreover, this Shane in front of him was so handsome and polite in every way...

Master, you wouldn't really abandon me, would you...?

Looking at Shutark's expression, Shane found it amusing.

Teenagers in their teens just love to say one thing and mean another, and pretend to be deep.

"Don't worry, your master will always only have you as his obedient disciple. Otherwise, why would he ask me to bring you your favorite dessert from so far away?"

Upon hearing Shane's words, Shutark glanced at the dessert, somewhat skeptical.

"Master...is he really not angry anymore?"

"At least, he never said he was angry with you. On the contrary, Mr. Aize always had a loving smile whenever he talked about you. He loved to tell stories about how you used to sneak snacks and not eat properly when you were little."

"...I'm eating properly now and I'm not eating snacks anymore."

"He said your favorite thing is this giant strawberry ice cream, and he insisted that I find a way to bring it to you." With that, he stuffed the dessert into Shutark's hand.

Shutark paused, holding an ice cream in one hand and a spoon in the other, his expression gradually softening.

He raised his hand, spun it around, scooped up a full spoonful, and put it in his mouth. The cool sensation flowed down his throat, calming him somewhat and making him less wary of Xia En's tone.

"It sounds like you're really close to Master..."

Xia En smiled. "Of course, he asked me to take good care of you from now on."

"I've already told you, I'm a coward, I can't take risks."

Hearing Shutark's repeated self-denial, Shane stopped, opened his eyes wide, and carefully examined Shutark.

Feeling Shane's gaze, Shutark became somewhat restrained, suddenly experiencing a strange feeling that he had been seen through.

"You are not a coward."

Xia En's voice was not loud, but it was firm.

This simple sentence successfully made Shutark stop eating his ice cream. The cream melted on the spoon in his hand and dripped down the back of his hand.

"What do you know...?"

"You have nightmares every night, and you always wake up crying." Shane interrupted Shutark's attempt to belittle him further, and continued, "Mr. Aize said you never talk about your past. You don't want to face monsters, you don't want to fight anymore, probably because you don't want to relive that day when you were powerless."

"Shutark, you're running away."

pat.

A large piece of strawberry ice cream melted and fell to the ground.

The pure white cream instantly became covered with grit and dust, losing its previous pristine and soft appearance.

Looking at the ice cream on the ground, Shane's voice suddenly became deep and magnetic, "Shutark, true courage is not about being fearless, but about stepping forward even when your legs are weak with fear."

"Just as he did, Mr. Aize believes that sooner or later, you will be able to do it too."

Shutark held the spoon, completely stunned, his previous arrogance gone.

Xia En wasn't in a hurry.

Whether talk therapy is effective or not, we'll have to digest it a bit to know.

Thinking this, he stood up, patted Shutark on the shoulder, and left with a smile.

After walking quite a distance, Xia En turned back and glanced at the figure sitting on the rock. The person was still standing there, motionless.

He stroked his chin, somewhat sighing. Are soldiers' mental resilience really that low?

The duration of the [Charm] attribute is surprisingly long...

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Shutark sat there, pondering Shane's words.

It turns out that Master wasn't angry with me after all. That's wonderful.

It turns out that my master knew all along what I had been through, and he had been keeping a close eye on me, but he just didn't say anything. What a stubborn old man.

So... I was a very important disciple in his eyes.

He looked at the strawberry ice cream in his hand, which had completely melted and was no longer edible, and suddenly laughed.

All those misunderstandings from the past have now been cleared up.

As he pondered this, Shutark felt a surge of excitement. He took a deep breath, picked up the battle axe beside him, and turned to walk towards a large canyon behind him.

boom--

Master, even though I ran away from home, I still practiced diligently every day.

boom--

The ground shook violently, and the canyon expanded by more than 100 meters again.

Clang—

The battle axe seemed to have struck something hard.

Shutark stopped, walked closer, and took a look. It was a dark, round, unidentified object, about the size of a soup pot.

"What is this...? Is it ore? Or is it an egg of something?"

He curiously reached out and touched it.

In an instant, the black unidentified object exploded, releasing a faint black mist.

Shutark instinctively closed his eyes and covered his mouth and nose. After a while, the black mist slowly dissipated, and he slowly opened his squinted eyes.

I was stunned at first glance.

Before him was no longer the canyon he had carved out with his battle axe during practice, but a village he knew all too well.

He returned to his hometown—the village of warriors.

"Shutark, focus."

The voice of her brother, Schultz, came from beside her ear.

He turned his head stiffly, and his brother, dressed in a pure white robe, stood beside him. The people of the Warrior Village took pride in white robes, for that spotless white was a symbol of power.

Just as he was lost in thought, his brother squatted down and took his hand. "Your posture is wrong. You need to use your wrist. Shutark, don't think about anything else. Focus on the goal in front of you."

As he moved, his white robe gradually became stained and blurred by the mud and water on the ground.

Shutark stared at the stains on his white robe, his vision blurring.

"Brother, it's been a long time."

"Um?"

"No, it's nothing." Shutark raised his small hand and wiped away the tears from the corner of his eyes.

After saying that, following the posture taught by his older brother, he meticulously gripped the wooden sword in his hand, aimed at the wooden stake in front of him, and chopped at it accurately.

boom--

The wooden stake was split in two.

clap clap.

His brother was clapping for him, his eyes full of admiration.

Shutark was thrilled; the results of his years of hard training were finally going to be shown to his brother.

"Brother, can I become a warrior like you someday?"

His brother patted his head and smiled, saying, "Shutark will definitely become a stronger warrior than me in the future."