Free Web NovelChapter 106: Chapter 106: The Weight of the Shield (Part 2)
Chapter 106: The Weight of the Shield (Part 2)
Bram stepped through the doorway of the Stonehelm Ovens. The little bell chimed loudly in the quiet shop.
His mother dropped her broom. Her tired eyes instantly lit up with absolute unconditional love.
"Oh Bram! You are back!" she cried out happily.
She ran out from behind the counter and threw her arms around his waist. Bram froze for a split second. He remembered the terrifying physical density of his new Titan body.
He was incredibly careful. He slowly wrapped his massive arms around her shoulders and returned the hug with absolute gentleness.
A heavy curtain pushed open near the backroom. Mr. Stonehelm stepped out wiping his floury hands on a towel. He saw his giant son and a bright smile broke across his face.
"What is this?" Mr. Stonehelm joked warmly.
"No hug for the old man?"
He walked over and joined the embrace. For a long moment, Bram just stood there in the quiet bakery. He closed his eyes.
The smell of fresh yeast and roasted sugar completely washed away the lingering phantom scent of blood and rust. He was home.
His parents finally pulled away. Mrs. Stonehelm looked up at his face. Her motherly instincts immediately flared.
"Are you okay, my sweet boy?" she asked softly. She reached up and gently touched his cheek.
"You look so incredibly exhausted. Your eyes look heavy."
Bram offered a soft cryptic smile. He would never tell them about the Cultists. He would never tell them about the scalpel.
"I am fine, Mom," Bram answered gently.
"The training at the Academy has just been very difficult lately. I missed you both. I just wanted to see you."
Mrs. Stonehelm smiled warmly and patted his arm.
"Let me go to the back and pack you some fresh sweet-breads to take back to the Villa."
She hurried into the kitchen. Mr. Stonehelm watched his wife leave. Then he looked back at his son. The baker’s eyes were sharp. He could see the heavy invisible burden crushing his boy’s shoulders.
"Come sit down," Mr. Stonehelm pointed to a wooden chair. He handed Bram a glass of cold water. "Tell me what is really weighing on your mind."
Bram sat down carefully. The wooden chair creaked loudly under his immense Titan weight. He took a sip of the water. He stared at his reflection in the glass.
"Dad," Bram started quietly.
"How do you deal with the fear of death? How do you carry the duty and the honor without breaking? How did Grandfather do it when he fought the monsters on the walls?"
Mr. Stonehelm pulled up a chair and sat across from his son. He folded his large hands on the table.
"Well," his father sighed deeply.
"Both your grandfather and your grandmother knew that defending the walls meant fighting death all the time. It was never an easy job. But that feeling of fear? The terror of death? You cannot just get rid of them, Bram."
Bram looked up in surprise. "You cannot?"
"No," Mr. Stonehelm said firmly.
"You have to carry them with you all the time. That is exactly what makes you stronger. It is not a joke to fight the monsters for the whole of humanity. It is a terrifying responsibility. But we are humans. Even before the era of magic, we were physically weak. But our ancestors never gave up."
The baker pointed to his own head.
"They had their brains. They thought and found ways to survive as the supreme species. We ruled this planet for thousands of years. But humanity was lost because of our own greed and our own needless ambition. Now we are forced to hide inside these Bastions."
Bram listened quietly. A small genuine smirk slowly appeared on his face.
"You used to tell me that exact same story when I was a kid, Dad," Bram said softly. "I remember it all."
"Yes," Mr. Stonehelm smiled proudly.
"And I know you will tell it to your own children someday. But by then, humanity will have gained back the lost lands. I believe in you, Bram. Your mother believes in you. You need to believe in yourself as well. Life is not meant to be withered away in worries, son. Live!"
Bram took a deep breath. The chaotic storm in his mind finally settled. His father was right. He had to carry the fear and use it to build a better future.
"Thank you, Dad," Bram nodded. He stood up. His resolve was completely restored.
He took the wrapped pastries from his mother, hugged them both one last time, and stepped back out into the cool evening air. He had a war to win.
Inside the bakery, Mrs. Stonehelm watched the door close. The warm smile on her face instantly vanished. She turned and buried her face into her husband’s chest. She began to cry softly.
"Every time I see him, I always wish he would just stay here forever," she sobbed.
"I do not want to lose him. Did you see his eyes? He looked like he was almost on his deathbed. It felt like he just woke up from the dead."
Mr. Stonehelm wrapped his arms tightly around his trembling wife.
"I do not even want to think about what he is doing out there," she cried.
"Whenever I see him leave, it feels like I am sending him to his death!"
"It is fine, dear," Mr. Stonehelm whispered. He rested his chin on her head. His own voice trembled slightly.
"He will be fine. We just need to believe in him."
---
High above the civilian sector, inside the dark war room of the Apex Villa, Draven stood in absolute silence.
The room was illuminated only by the cold blue light of his System map projecting in the air. frёewebηovel.cѳm
Draven watched a small golden dot representing Bram leave the cafe with Natalie, travel to the bakery, and then finally begin its journey back to the Academy.
"He must have needed that talk."
Draven swiped his hand across the projection. The map zoomed out to show the entirety of Bastion Seven.
Dozens of tiny red dots were scattered across the grid. They represented the hidden Cultists of the Eternal Eclipse. freewebnσvel.cøm
As Draven watched, one of the red dots in the merchant district suddenly blinked and completely vanished. A few seconds later, another red dot in the guard barracks disappeared. Then another. And another.
The purge was in full effect. Sirius and the Hennessey assassins were moving through the shadows like absolute ghosts.
Draven stared at the disappearing dots with pitch-black eyes. In his past life on Earth, he had seen this exact kind of brutal efficiency. He had fought in endless wars.
He had watched his own comrades and friends die like flies on muddy battlefields. He knew exactly how fragile and futile the weight of human life truly was.
It was incredibly easy to be scared of the dark. It was easy to run. But Draven knew the fundamental truth of survival.
’Only those who took that fear and forged it into a weapon ever survived the battlefield.’
Draven closed the map. The room plunged into total darkness.
Strike Team Zero was finally ready for the Midterm Exams.
