After a deafening scream tore through the silence, and after a sweeping torrent of tears, pain, and madness that engulfed his fragile soul and being, Theo felt his strength completely betray him, as if the very threads of life were tearing apart inside him.
His body was worn out, exhausted to its limits, his soul ripped to shreds, and his small mind could no longer bear the magnitude of the horror and loss he had witnessed, the magnitude of the destruction that had befallen his small world.
He felt a darkness creeping over his weary senses, a darkness heavier and thicker than the darkness he faced in the cursed cave, a darkness unrelated to mana, magic, or monsters, but rather the darkness of absolute exhaustion, and the profound despair that swallowed him completely.
He could no longer resist, he surrendered to the weight of the darkness that swallowed him, and his small, exhausted body fell onto the blood-stained ground next to his mother's lifeless body. He completely lost consciousness, sinking into a bottomless abyss without dreams, without consciousness, without pain... for a brief moment that seemed like pure bliss after all the hell he had endured.
When consciousness began to return to him very slowly, his first sensation was the absolute silence, a silence wrapping him from every side, a silence different from the eerie silence of the cave, it was a real, complete silence, as if the world had stopped turning.
He did not hear the distant screams of monsters that had echoed in his ears before he lost consciousness, he did not even hear the sound of his tired breaths or the beat of his weak heart. The silence was complete, absolute, as if he had returned to that quiet and boring void he had visited in the depths of the cave, where there was no time and no space.
He opened his eyes very slowly, feeling the weight of his eyelids and pain in every muscle of his body. Darkness surrounded him, but it was not complete darkness, there was a faint glimmer of light seeping into the room.
He saw the familiar ceiling of his room, the shape of the walls in the dim light that began to increase slowly, dawn had, for a brief moment, his soul felt a false peace, a moment of fleeting hope.
It was a dream. A terrifying nightmare that could not be real, but just a dream that would soon end. His mother was fine, Ryan was fine, the village was fine.
He tried to move, felt sharp pain in every part of his body, as if all his bones were broken. The bruises and wounds from his brutal battle with the monsters screamed, remembering what happened, remembering the fight, the escape. But the physical pain, despite its intensity, was something he could endure and was familiar with, compared to the pain of the soul that began to seep into him again.
Then, with the full return of his senses, the horrific smells returned. The strong smell of blood, the cold smell of death. Vision returned more clearly. It was not just the ceiling he saw now. There was... there she was, her body lying on the ground, motionless.
And beside her... Kyle's huge body lay motionless, his clothes torn and covered in blood and dirt, signs of a fierce battle clearly on him, as if he had fought a war alone. And Ryan. Still lying on the ground where he had fallen from his back, pale as death, suffering horrific, unimaginable injuries.
The harsh, brutal, absolute reality struck him with all its destructive force again, stronger than any punch he received from Kyle, stronger than any monster attack he faced.
It was not a dream, everything was real. His mother... died so brutally. Kyle... died after a desperate fight. Ryan... on the verge of death, between life and death. The village... completely destroyed, turned into ruins.
A new wave of deep pain and desperate grief swept through his soul, but this time it did not turn into screams and madness with the same intensity and chaos as the first time.
It was colder, more painful in its stillness and calm. A feeling of absolute despair, of undeniable or escapable truth, a truth no magic could change.
He slowly rose from the cold ground, feeling the weight of the entire universe falling on his small shoulders, feeling his soul had become thousands of times heavier, physical pain faded to be replaced by complete numbness, a result of the shock and despair that had drained all his remaining energy.
He looked at the bodies lying before him, symbols of everything he had lost. His mother who loved him, cared for him, and protected him all her life. Kyle who trained him with relentless toughness and prepared him for this cruel world, and who died trying to protect the home. Ryan, his companion, who shared all his adventures, and now he was struggling with death.
The first thing he had to do was Ryan. Ryan was still alive, barely breathing, but there was still a faint pulse, there was still a very slim chance to save him. He slowly crawled towards Ryan, ignoring the pain and the thick smell of blood that filled the place, ignoring the horrific sight.
He began to try to provide the first aid possible in these horrific and primitive conditions, he tore off part of his relatively clean clothes that were not stained with blood to make primitive bandages.
He cleaned the visible wounds as best he could with cold water he found in a small basin in the room, using a cloth, he tried to stop the bleeding from his missing arm using bandages and strong pressure on it.
He knew deep down that what he was doing was never enough, that Ryan needed powerful and advanced healing magic that he did not possess, he needed immediate help.
He gathered what remained of his mana, that dark energy that had been raging within him with anger a while ago, he focused it with great effort, and tried to direct it to Ryan's wounds using the basic and weak healing magic he had learned from Celia. The mana flowed slowly,
faintly, like a candle flame about to extinguish in a raging storm. He felt some heat emanating from Ryan's wounds, indicating that the magic was working even if very slightly, even at the slowest pace. But the wound was too horrific, far beyond his capabilities, and his healing magical power was too limited to be sufficient for this condition.
After doing his best to save Ryan, though he knew deep down that it might not be enough at all, he felt extreme exhaustion sweeping over his body and draining what remained of his strength again. But this time, he did not collapse unconscious. There was another, final duty he had to perform before he completely broke down. A final duty to those he had lost.
He had to bury them. His mother and Kyle. They could not be left like this, lying on the ground amidst the destruction. They deserved the dignity of death, the peace they deserved.
It was a daunting task, far beyond the strength of a boy his age, especially in his physical and psychological state, but he was driven by something stronger than physical fatigue, something born from the womb of pain, a desire to honor their memory, to give them an ending befitting them.
He slowly walked out of the room, dragging his legs with difficulty, through the destroyed main room that bore the marks of the brutal fighting, towards the small garden behind the house. The garden was strangely quiet compared to the chaos and screams in the destroyed village, it looked like a false patch of peace amidst the hell.
He began digging two graves in the garden, using a small, worn-out shovel he found in the old toolshed, the ground was hard, and every blow with the shovel required great effort beyond his strength, causing sharp pain in his blood-stained hands.
He dug slowly, diligently, in absolute silence broken only by the sound of the shovel digging into the soil and the sound of his ragged breaths like painful sighs.
Thoughts raced in his mind, happy memories of his mother, memories of Kyle's harsh training, pain, anger, despair... but he focused only on the work, on every blow of the shovel, on every handful of dirt he moved. This was his duty now, his only duty.
After long hours that seemed like endless days, hours of strenuous physical and psychological effort, he finished digging the two graves. He was completely exhausted, barely able to stand, his hands full of blisters and blood, his body aching all over, and his soul bleeding unseen pain. But he did not stop.
He returned to the room very slowly. He carried his mother's body in his trembling arms, it was painfully light, too light for a body that was full of life and tenderness just a while ago.
He took her out to the garden, and gently placed her in the first grave he had dug for her with his own hands. He looked at her one last time, her face still bearing her reassuring smile, which doubled Theo's pain.
Then he returned to carry Kyle's huge body, Kyle's body was much larger, huge and heavy, requiring immense effort for him to move, he exerted all his remaining strength, and slowly and with great difficulty dragged Kyle's body outside, to the garden.
He placed him in the second grave next to his mother, to rest side by side forever, he looked at Kyle's face, his face was harsh even in death, but traces of extreme fatigue and exhaustion could be seen on it, traces of the last battle.
He began to cover the graves with the dirt he had moved, filling them very slowly, as if burying a part of his soul, a part of his past, with every shovelful of dirt he threw over them, it was a painful process, every sound of dirt falling on the bodies was like a nail hammered into his grief-stricken heart.
When he finished covering the graves completely, he stood before them, they were two small mounds of dirt in the middle of the garden that had just been a place of play, life, and laughter. He felt a huge void inside him, a void that could never be filled.
He searched for two relatively flat and large stones to make headstones for the graves, he found them in the corner of the garden, covered with weeds. He carried them with difficulty to the graves, carried one of them, and used a small knife that was in his pocket, and began to carve their names slowly and very carefully, despite his trembling hand and his heart that was about to stop. The carving was difficult, but he was determined to accomplish it.
On the first headstone, he carved simple words, but they carried all the appreciation, respect, and gratitude for his great teacher "The Toughest Trainer Kyle". He remembered everything he had taught him, everything he had given him of strength and knowledge, even sacrificing his life in the end for him.
On the second headstone, he carved words from the depths of his torn heart, words carrying all the love, tenderness, and gratitude for the dearest person in his life "The Most Tender and Loving Mother Elena" he remembered everything about her, all her sacrifices for him, all the moments of love and warmth she had given him without anything in return, her last smile, her gentle face.
He placed the headstones at the head of the graves. Then he stood before them.
Theo stood before the graves of his mother and trainer, completely silent, not moving an inch, as if he were a statue carved from pain and sorrow, his eyes fixed on the dirt covering them.
The world around him faded, fading into a mere blurred background, he no longer heard anything of the sounds of the destroyed village, he no longer saw anything but the two graves before him, he no longer felt anything but the deep pain in his heart, and the enormous void they had left behind.
Time had completely lost its meaning for him, he no longer knew how much time had passed while he stood there in the demolished garden, an hour? a day? a week? a month? a year? He did not know, and he did not care.
All he knew was the pain in his chest, and the weight of the loss that almost crushed him. He was completely focused on the graves, as if he was trying through staring at them to retrieve a part of them, to retrieve the happy memories he had lived with them, to retrieve the life that was brutally lost.
He stood there like a statue, in the middle of a destroyed garden in a destroyed village, bearing the weight of the dark world on his small shoulders, a world that seemed to conspire against him.
This event, his loss of the two dearest people in his life so brutally, was an irreversible turning point in his short life, he was no longer the naive boy who entered the cave looking for answers. He was no longer the boy who feared the dark. Something inside him had changed forever, something darker, tougher, and more determined.
And amidst this absolute silence, this absolute focus on the graves, which lasted for hours or perhaps days, Celia appeared.
She appeared beside him suddenly, as if she had emerged from the thin air itself, making no sound, he did not hear her footsteps, he did not feel her presence or her approach until she stood right beside him, in a silence similar to his. She had the same calm features he knew, the same clear blue eyes that held deep wisdom, but this time, her eyes looked first at the two new graves before them, then moved to look at Theo standing before them in absolute silence, covered in dirt, blood, and signs of fatigue and sorrow.
Celia's gaze held deep pain, obvious and undeniable sorrow, and boundless compassion for this small boy standing before the graves of his mother and trainer in this destroyed and tragic place, she knew what he had lost in this catastrophe, she knew the extent of the pain he was suffering in his silence.
Celia stood in complete silence next to Theo, looking at the graves, then at him, with a look of deep compassion and sorrow, letting the silence envelop them, a silence that spoke of the magnitude of the loss that brought them together in this destroyed place.