Crownless Reincarnation: New World? Nah I'd win-Chapter 148: Last Letter.

[Later That Day – Velyrian’s Office]

’Oh, god.’

As Akamir walked towards the door of his office, he couldn’t help but feel pained.

The one office that he used to visit was nothing like before.

Akamir pushed open the scorched wooden door, stepping into what remained of Velyrian’s office.

The scent of burnt parchment and melted metal still lingered in the air.

The once disorderly room was now a shell of itself, with shelves charred to ash, papers reduced to dust.

The only thing untouched was the glowing staff that stood upright in the center of the room.

Its light was dim but steady, casting a soft red hue across the rubble.

Embedded in its center now was a faintly pulsing shard—part of a Ven Core.

’What the hell happened here!?’

Akamir couldn’t help but wonder as he looked around the place.

He was gone for just one day and things took such a drastic turn.

Nayomi floated beside him, eyes all around the place.

"There is something wrong with the place," she whispered. "It’s like space is working differently here."

Akamir didn’t reply as his gaze fell on a girl.

Milo sat quietly on the far side, her back against what remained of a broken cabinet.

Her knees were pulled up, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

Her eyes were swollen and red, evidence of the tears that had already dried on her cheeks.

She held a folded letter in her hands, worn at the edges, as if she had read it more than once already.

She didn’t say a word as Akamir approached.

Without looking at him, she held the letter out.

Akamir took it gently and unfolded it.

The paper was stained in some spots, the ink slightly smudged, but the handwriting was unmistakably Velyrian.

Akamir looked at Milo, who refused to say anything, before he looked back at the letter.

---

"Akamir,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already done what I knew would happen."

Akamir remained silent as he slowly sat down on the floor.

"I’m sorry for what I did, and I know this is sudden. Maybe it seems cowardly... no, it is cowardly.

.....But I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to try... to free myself from its influence."

---

Akamir sighed as he rubbed his temples. ’So, it was Ven Core.’

Akamir always had a bad feeling about that thing.

From the start, he didn’t like how it could think on its own.

He tried to stop Velyrian but... it was already too late.

---

"The Ven Core isn’t something that should exist in this world.

But it’s also the only thing that can save my master.

There are things I’ve hidden... people I’ve let down... and many sins I carry.

But even now, I still have something selfish to ask of you."

---

He folded the paper back as he closed his eyes.

He was half sure what he was about to read... he wouldn’t like it one bit.

’Why am I dragged into all this?’

He sighed before unfolding the letter.

---

"Please help my daughter...

...Please help my master.

My daughter is not just someone important to me—she is the Empress of the Elven Dominion.

She may not trust you, or anyone, but she will need help, and she deserves more than a broken kingdom left behind.

The staff must hold the Ven Core now.

If I am right, then it must be stable as well.

Deliver it to my master. He will know what to do with it.

And... he will want to hear what happened.

I don’t expect forgiveness. But I hope... maybe in another life, I’ll earn some.

—Velyrian."

---

Akamir read the letter twice before folding it carefully and slipping it into his coat.

Then, without a word, he stared down at the ground.

It was shocking enough to know who his daughter was, but Akamir didn’t care about that for now.

His shoulder still ached faintly from the fight. His eyes moved to the staff.

It stood there silently, glowing with the soft, pulsing light of the fragment inside it.

Stable, just as Velyrian said.

Power still hummed beneath its core, but no longer chaotic.

Milo hadn’t moved.

Her hands rested limply in her lap now.

She stared at nothing in particular, her expression empty.

"He didn’t even say goodbye to me," she murmured after a long silence. "Not even a line."

Akamir didn’t respond.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make it better.

"I hated the way he worked too much," she added, her voice cracking. "Always locking himself in here. Always pushing us away. But I still thought he’d make it out."

Her eyes shifted slowly toward the staff.

"I guess this was the only way he knew how to protect people," she said. "Throwing himself into the fire."

Akamir still didn’t say a word.

Milo finally looked at him. "What did he ask you?"

"To look after his daughter," Akamir said softly. "And to deliver the staff to his master."

Milo chuckled, her voice bitter. "So, he trusted you more than me."

Akamir didn’t say anything. She was right, though.

As Velyrian’s assistant, it was her job to fulfil his last wish.

But...

’I am doing the heavy work.’

"He asked me to live my life," Milo whispered after a while. "He just wanted me..."

Tears began to trickle down her face once again.

Milo began crying once again as Akamir stood up.

He moved and stood in front of the staff.

Akamir reached out and gently placed a hand on the side of the staff.

It was warm to the touch, steady.

Velyrian had managed to do what others failed to—stabilize what even his master couldn’t.

...But the cost was clear.

Milo wiped her eyes and gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Doesn’t change much now."

She sat in silence for a long while and Akamir stared at the staff.

Eventually, he pulled the staff from where it had been anchored, feeling its weight shift in his hand.

It responded to touch, its glow faintly pulsing brighter for a second.

He looked down at it, then at the ruin around him.

"I’ll deliver it to his master," he said, voice firm. "And I’ll meet his daughter."

Milo didn’t answer.

But she stood up too and quietly walked toward the broken doorway.

Akamir followed her out, the staff in his hand and the letter close to his chest.

But...

He didn’t notice one thing.

The Ven Core was responding to his touch, like it was waiting for it.

...For him to arrive.

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