Chapter 57: The Last Page: Thornfield's Epilogue (End of Part 1)
Hours had passed since the fateful event that had engulfed Thornfield village, and the relentless downpour showed no signs of stopping. Thunder rumbled in the distance every few minutes. Despite the unrelenting rain, the flames that had consumed the village continued to burn fiercely, sending large, dark plumes of smoke into the already somber clouds above.
Emerging from the very forest that had birthed the horde, two weary figures rode on horseback. Ethan and Sven had endured a tiresome and lengthy journey, and their arrival at last happened. Anticipating another day before the horde's impending onslaught, they were instead met with a disheartening scene. The once-thriving crops now lay in ruins, buildings smoldered and spewed smoke into the air, akin to a pot simmering a grim meal.
The scene that unfolded before them unleashed a torrent of emotions, their hearts racing uncontrollably, the palpable pain of panic coursing through them. In that heart-wrenching moment, realization swept over them like a suffocating wave. The catastrophe they had been forewarned of had struck their homes a day earlier than they had been led to believe. The weight of this truth bore down on them, a heavy burden of grief, guilt, and a profound sense of loss.
"No...!" Ethan's voice cracked with anguish as he turned to look at Sven. Sven stood there, his gaze locked onto the burning village, disbelief etched across his face, tears welling up in his eyes. The devastation before them was a nightmarish reality they couldn't escape, and the agony of their helplessness weighed heavily on their hearts.
"Ha! Go!" Ethan urged the horse, tapping it to spur it forward toward the village. However, to his bewilderment, the horse refused to heed his command. Instead, it resisted, attempting to move backward, as if sensing the ominous darkness that emanated from the burning village. Fearful of what lay within, the horse instinctively shied away from the ominous scene.
Deciding to continue on foot, they left the horse at the forest's entrance and began their solemn walk towards the village. With each step, their hearts grew heavier, and the horrors that awaited them became painfully evident. Piles of lifeless bodies littered their path—soldiers with their limbs brutally separated, their faces etched with the terror they had endured. Among the fallen were the grotesque creatures of darkness, the very beings the soldiers had valiantly attempted to fend off. The scene before them was a chilling tableau of death and despair that had visited Thornfield Village.
As they ventured deeper into the village, their senses were inundated with the haunting aftermath of the horde's onslaught. The once-charming streets now lay in ruins, buildings reduced to scorched skeletons. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of smoke and the sickening scent of blood.
Ethan and Sven moved cautiously, their eyes scanning the grisly landscape, their hearts weighed down by the incomprehensible horror. They stumbled upon the remnants of the shattered gate, a last-ditch effort to protect the villagers, now reduced to a futile testament of resistance.
Deeper into the village, their somber approach took them to the heart of Thornfield's once-vibrant plaza. There, in the midst of the devastation, they stumbled upon a sight that would forever etch sorrow into Sven's hearts.
Lord Van, a once-proud figure of the village, now lay lifeless on the ground, his body marred by wounds inflicted by the detestable creature. His clothes were tattered and stained with mud and blood, his expression frozen in an eternal mask of regret. Nearby, his wand, a symbol of his authority, lay discarded and broken.
"F-Father...?"
Sven, Lord Van's son, was struck with a profound sense of despair and sadness as he gazed upon his father's lifeless form. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his shoulders slumped in the crushing weight of grief. He dropped to his knees beside his fallen father, unable to hold back the sobs that wracked his body.
Ethan stood nearby, his own heart heavy with sorrow as he observed Sven's anguished reaction. In that heart-wrenching moment, he couldn't help but realize that if the strongest and most commanding figure of the village lay lifeless, the fate of the rest of the community seemed all too clear. The same chilling thought struck him regarding his own parents.
Despite his strong desire to console his grieving companion, Ethan knew that his own family was part of the village as well. With a heavy heart, he reluctantly left Sven to mourn alone and hurriedly made his way towards his own home.
His steps were fueled by a mixture of dread and hope, his mind racing with thoughts of what he might find behind his family's door. The scenes of devastation he had witnessed throughout the village only heightened his anxiety, and the uncertainty of their fate gnawed at him with each passing second.
As he rushed towards his home, Ethan clung to a fragile thread of hope. Thoughts swirled in his mind, and he whispered to himself, "Surely... Surely they hid themselves until they got rescued, right?" He desperately clung to the possibility that his family had found a way to survive the onslaught by seeking refuge and were waiting to be found and rescued. It was the thought that kept him moving forward, despite the overwhelming fear that gnawed at his heart.
Ethan's fragile hope crumbled the moment he approached the inn's entrance. There, in the gruesome scene before him, his worst fears were realized. A mound of lifeless monsters bodies, sprawled at the threshold. And amidst the grotesque scene, his father lay lifeless on his stomach, right besides the pile of corpse.
"..."
Words eluded him, his voice trapped in a suffocating silence. He approached his father's lifeless body with a trembling hand, unable to muster any words, only the fervent hope that perhaps his father had been rendered unconscious.
Badum...
Badum...
As he lifted his father's body, that frail hope crumbled. His eyes fell upon the gory wound on his father's neck, the lifeless gaze in his eyes, and the haunting void of nothingness that stared back at him. In that excruciating moment, the finality of his father's fate washed over him, and the crushing weight of grief bore down on Ethan like a relentless storm.
"Mother! at least you...please!"
With utmost care and gentleness, Ethan gently laid his father's lifeless body on the ground, his heart heavy with sorrow. His attention shifted towards the gruesome pile of creature corpses that concealed the inn's entrance. In that moment, Ethan realized the depth of his father's sacrifice, the desperate attempt to shield their refuge from the relentless horde.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he whispered to himself, "Mother must be inside. She had to be hiding." Clinging to the flicker of hope that his mother might have found safety within the inn, Ethan mustered the strength to approach the entrance and slowly pushed the debris aside. He carefully began to open the door. As the door creaked open a third of the way, he was met with an unexpected sight.
There, on the other side of the threshold, laid his mother, revealing the lifeless form on the other side. Blood flowed from her chest, forming a macabre stream that trickled down the steps. Her vacant gaze fixated on the door, as if in her final moments, she had found solace in the sight of the entrance that symbolized safety and home.
Ethan's knelt beside her, his voice catching in his throat. He cradled her lifeless form, his trembling hands caressing her cold cheek. In the deafening silence of the destroyed village, the enormity of the loss enveloped him, leaving him with a profound sense of emptiness and a heart heavy with grief.
Ethan's eyes darted back and forth between the lifeless forms of his parents, his mind unable to fully grasp the profound loss he had endured. Back and forth, his gaze shifted until he could no longer bear the weight of his grief. His eyes fixated on the somber, rain-filled clouds overhead.
As the agony of loss overwhelmed him, his vision blurred, and he felt himself slipping away from consciousness. Unable to bear the pain that threatened to shatter his heart, his brain struggled to slow the pounding of his heart, attempting to shield him from the overwhelming despair. In that moment, the world faded into darkness, and Ethan's consciousness drifted into an abyss of numbing emptiness.
As Ethan's consciousness slipped, an extraordinary phenomenon unfolded. His body, perhaps in a primal instinct for self-preservation, began to tap into his dormant well of mana. It was as if his very being sought a final, desperate struggle for survival, even though there was no immediate threat.
Unbeknownst to him, Ethan's powers surged beyond his normal capacity. His latent abilities tapped into the wellspring of his Primordial Vigor, a well of mana and lifeforce that lay untapped within him. The wind around him intensified, becoming a tempestuous gale, and the rumble of thunder grew more frenetic. The rain, now guided by Ethan's unconscious command, danced and swirled in chaotic patterns under the influence of the heavy wind.
Ethan's unconscious form had become a conduit for an extraordinary display of elemental power, a manifestation of his inner turmoil and grief that resonated with the very forces of nature around him.
The wind, once a tempestuous gale, now coalesced into an enormous tornado of unprecedented scale. It spiraled and twisted around him, taking shape with an almost sentient force. The tornado of destruction roared and raged, a maelstrom of raw power that defied the laws of nature. Its might was unparalleled, capable of laying waste to anything in its path. Within the heart of this swirling tempest, Ethan's unconscious self unwittingly commanded forces far beyond his comprehension, a testament of his inner turmoil.
Its form stretched high into the heavens, a colossal vortex of destruction that reached upward, as if attempting to touch the tumultuous skies. Within its core, the tornado hungrily devoured the ominous clouds and the brooding thunder that lay trapped within. As it absorbed these elements, the tornado's colors shifted, darkening in hue as its twisting force intensified, with crackling energy from the unrestrained thunder illuminating its inner depths.
A captivating ballet of debris and rain began to take shape, swirling within its chaotic embrace. Trees, rubble, buildings, and even lifeless corpses were ensnared by its relentless grasp, sent spiraling into the swirling tempest, becoming mere playthings in the tumultuous dance of Ethan's turmoiled fury.
Amidst the chaos, Sven emerged from the periphery, confusion etched across his face as he wiped away his tears. He couldn't comprehend the inexplicable tempest that had formed around Ethan, but he instinctively knew that Ethan was at its center.
"Ethan! Stop it! Your destroying what's left of the village! Stop it already!"
Desperation filled Sven's eyes as he tried to rouse Ethan from his unconscious state, shaking him with urgency. "Ethan! Wake up!" he pleaded, his voice lost amidst the deafening roar of the tempest. But Ethan remained unresponsive, lost in the depths of his own turmoil.
With great difficulty, Sven fought his way closer to Ethan's unconscious form, the winds of the tornado battering him relentlessly. In a final, desperate attempt to bring Ethan back, he began to shock him, trying to force him to fully succumb to his unconscious state, hoping that in doing so, the devastating tempest would cease its destructive fury.
Coursing through his unconscious mind, Ethan's thoughts were consumed by profound regret and sorrow.
'Mother... Father... ' echoes of his parents traversing his own psyche.
'I'm sorry for leaving you to fend for yourselves. 'he continued, each word heavy with the weight of his grief and guilt, even as his unconscious mind remained ensnared.
"Ethan! Stop!"
The colossal tornado began to subside, its destructive force waning. The winds calmed, the thunder grew quieter, and the rain slowed to a gentle drizzle.
With a final, haunting echo of its former fury, the tornado gradually dissipated into the heavens, leaving behind a scene of surreal calm in its wake.
"Ethan!"
"Etha.."
His consciousness fully slipping away, surrendering to the darkness that enveloped him. The tempest that had raged both within and around him had taken its toll, leaving him in a state of profound and dreamless slumber.
"Eth.."
"..."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
FirstBite
FirstBite Dear Readers,
I want to take a moment to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you who has embarked on this journey with me, reading my story up to this point. As we reach the end of part 1, I find myself both humbled and overwhelmed by your support.
Writing this story has been fun, and your encouragement has meant the world to me. Your comments and the time you've invested in my characters and their adventures have fueled my creativity and motivated me to push the story further then what i had originally planned.
However, as we come to this crossroads, I must be honest with you all. I am currently uncertain about the future of this particular story. While I cherish the world and characters I've created, I also feel a strong urge to explore new realms of imagination and storytelling. I believe that taking a break from this story will allow me to grow as a new writer and return with fresh perspectives and ideas.
Please know that this decision does not diminish the value of the time you've spent reading and supporting me. Your dedication has been an incredible source of help, and I hope that you'll join me on new adventures as I venture into other project during that break.
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it and would like to see it continue, I'd be grateful for a review or rating. Your feedback means the world to me and helps others discover the story.
Edit: Feel free to check out my new project "My Necromancer's Class Can Only Support One Summon", first chapter out!
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone