thief of fate-Chapter 72: Keep monitoring

The resting courtyard stretched out as a temporary haven, where the remaining adrenaline in their veins turned into conversations, laughter, and sometimes heavy sighs.

The compressed ground under the crowd’s feet bore the marks of short but fierce battles. On scattered benches, or leaning against the stone walls, the survivors of the first stage began to gather.

In one corner, four youths sat catching their breath, with a boy of messy hair and a chaotic smile at their center. He raised a cup of water in his hand and shouted:

"By the gods! I didn’t think I’d make it out of that hell alive!"

The others laughed.

"You barely fought!" one of them mocked, lightly hitting his shoulder.

"I fought smart, not hard," the boy retorted arrogantly, before leaning back and looking up at the sky. "But... seriously, did you see that boy with the gray eyes?! He moved like a hurricane!"

"You mean Zenith?" another asked.

He nodded violently. "Yes! He was... he was different. I could feel it even from afar."

On the other side, near an old fountain from which water flowed quietly, Irkalos stood, almost motionless.

His eyes followed the crowds with a suspicious precision.

He had learned not to stare too long... humans didn’t like being stared at. They saw it as a threat.

Thus, he was content to observe them from the corner of his eye, his head tilted as if merely a tired man after battle.

A girl with braided hair and wide eyes, holding her wounds wrapped in makeshift bandages, approached him. She looked at him for a moment, then gave a half-smile.

"Hello... are you hungry, sir?"

Irkalos contemplated her expression, then remembered that humans responded to greetings with greetings.

He nodded slowly and said in a rough tone, as if the words came out with unfamiliar hesitation:

"No, thank you, little one."

The girl’s smile widened, then she returned to her companions, leaving him to sink into thought.

"So this is it... a word for a word. A smile for peace."

Something strange began to stir inside him, something akin to understanding.

Near the trees, another group gathered, their discussion more heated.

A tall youth with gleaming eyes spoke excitedly:

"Did you see that girl? The one who took down so many?! She moved the wind as if performing a dance!"

His dark-haired friend replied sarcastically:

"And you almost flew with her while gawking like a beast."

Everyone laughed, while the young man blushed angrily.

"I mean her power! Her power was strange, unlike any usual combat style!"

Another person shook his head, looking wiser:

"This stage really did gather the best talents. I didn’t expect this many exceptional ones... which makes me wonder..."

He stopped, and the others looked at him tensely.

"How many will we lose in the next stage?"

A moment of silence fell, as if something heavy hovered over them.

Even from where he stood, Irkalos caught that sentence.

"Lose them..."

He repeated the word in his mind.

"For humans, loss is expected... accepted... painful, but natural."

He felt a faint ripple in his chest. It wasn’t pain, but a kind of sorrow... or something like it.

For a moment, he lifted his gaze to the sky and felt a strange chill behind his ribs.

On the opposite side, near the stone stairs leading to the upper courtyard, a different kind of discussion took place.

A burly young man crouched, cleaning his sword with a cloth, while speaking to his companion:

"There were two who fought together with amazing harmony... I couldn’t even approach them."

The girl said as she tightened the bandage on her hand:

"Yes... the brothers. Their skills were suspiciously complementary. As if they trained just for this day."

"Or as if they thought with one mind," the young man added.

A moment of silence passed, then the girl muttered:

"I think I’m happy I succeeded... even if I wasn’t the best."

The young man looked at her intently, then smiled warmly:

"Survival itself is an achievement. The best aren’t always the ones who endure; sometimes it’s just those who refuse to fall."

The girl frowned slightly, as if unconvinced, but didn’t argue.

Irkalos slowly approached another group, where three young men were arguing heatedly.

"Did you see that strike?" one of them shouted. "It shattered the ground beneath his feet!"

"Not normal. That level should only appear among the top elites."

"I think..." said the third, calmer one, "we’re starting to see what the world really looks like.

Our strength, which we thought was great... is just a facade."

The first one smiled bitterly.

"Well... welcome to reality."

They laughed a little, a heavy, ironic laughter.

Irkalos stood near them, as if just listening, but one of them noticed him.

"What about you?" he asked with a tired smile. "Did you see something that amazed you today?"

Irkalos paused. Words rushed to his mouth, but which should he say?

He chose honesty, or at least the closest thing he had learned to it.

"I saw... people who refuse to be defeated. Even when they hurt."

A moment of silence fell, then the young man who asked him smiled and patted Irkalos on the shoulder.

"Good answer."

His companions also laughed, this time in a friendly way, and Irkalos felt something strange growing inside him...

Late into the evening, the courtyard was lit by dim lamps.

Some began to head toward their temporary lodgings, others remained gathered around small fires.

Irkalos sat near a small flame with five others; he didn’t know their names, but they accepted him without question.

"You know..." said one of them, exhaling smoke from his pipe, "sometimes, you don’t need to be the strongest...

You just need to be the smartest, or the fastest, or simply... the luckiest."

A girl sitting nearby chuckled.

"Or bold enough to avoid fighting altogether."

Everyone laughed, and Irkalos laughed with them, a short, dry laugh, but he felt it creep deep inside him.

In his mind, he recorded everything:

Raising an eyebrow means sarcasm.

A slap on the back means friendship.

Sharing food means acceptance.

He was learning.

Slowly, but he was learning.

Inside him, when everyone finally left and he was left alone near the fire, Irkalos whispered:

"So that’s what you are..."

He scooped a small handful of dirt in his hand, letting it slowly slip through his fingers.

"You fight, you hurt, you laugh, then you rise again."

He lifted his gaze toward the dark sky and murmured, as if swearing:

"I will learn... everything."

The fire continued dancing alone in the heart of the courtyard.

A light breeze carried the scent of wet grass and a faint whistling through the distant trees.

Irkalos sat there, staring at the flickering flames.

Every thought, every observation his mind had recorded, spun in his head like a flock of aimless birds.

A faint, pale smile appeared on his face; this night was the first time he felt something... resembling belonging.

But the peace didn’t last.

From the shadows, Axel made his way, his steps eerily quiet.

He made almost no sound as he approached, as if his very presence wasn’t real.

He stood near the fire without asking for permission, his eyes following Irkalos with an indifferent gaze.

A moment of silence passed, then Axel finally spoke, his voice low but carrying the impact of a blade:

"You observed them, didn’t you?"

Irkalos slowly raised his head, studying the visitor’s features before answering:

"Yes... I understood them."

Axel raised an eyebrow slightly, as if the word amused or irritated him.

"Understood them?" he repeated with a faint sneer, then sat across from him, the fire barrier between them, its flames reflecting strange flashes on his handsome, harsh face.

"Alright..." Axel muttered, resting his chin on his hand, "let’s see what you understood."

Irkalos hesitated for a moment, then said, with deep seriousness: 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"Humans... they hurt, but they don’t give up easily.

They fight, even knowing they might lose.

They respect courage, reward strength, and cherish companionship...

They laugh together to hide their fear."

He fell silent, waiting for Axel’s response.

But Axel didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, he picked up a small stick nearby, fiddling with it in the fire.

Another heavy moment of silence passed before he said, in a voice so calm it sent chills:

"All of that... is superficial."

Irkalos’ expression froze.

Axel leaned forward slightly, his stick drawing small circles in the dirt:

"What you saw tonight is just a thin crust of what they truly are."

He raised his gaze toward Irkalos, his eyes gleaming with something between pity and contempt.

"Humans don’t just respect courage... they sometimes fear it.

They don’t always reward strength... sometimes they hate it if it’s not in their favor.

The companionship you see?... can turn into betrayal, in the blink of an eye."

Irkalos’ hand clenched involuntarily.

He felt as if something inside him burned, not from the fire in front of him, but from a harsh truth poured over him—something strangely resembling his own kind.

Axel smiled a half-sad smile and said quietly:

"Humans are complicated, Irkalos.

They can be heroes and traitors at the same moment.

They can love sincerely, then destroy those they love out of fear, greed, or anger."

He threw the stick into the fire, sparking a small flare.

"Learn to read their eyes, not their tongues.

Learn to hear their silence more than their words."

He stood up slowly, dusted himself off as if finished with a lesson he didn’t want to prolong.

"What you saw tonight," he said as he walked away with slow steps, "is only the beginning... Do not build your trust upon them, and do not plant your hatred within them. Watch, learn, then decide who you will become."

He paused for a second, turned his head back, and smiled broadly this time, though it carried no warmth:

"And do not forget... in the end, even you may become more human than you ever imagined."

Then, he vanished, leaving behind a fire moaning in the wind, and Irkalos sitting amidst the stillness...

Conflicted between what he had seen, and what he had yet to see.