Chương 98: A Warrior Without a Clear Purpose Is Nothing but a Vagrant with a Weapon

Lloyd had heard this question more than once in his life, but he had never answered it to anyone.

From the screens of various TV channels, where they interviewed famous Players, sitting in expensive chairs with smug, gleaming faces, casually toying not even with trophies but with genuine relics, retrieved from the most dangerous dungeons; from random passersby on the square, tossing the question out almost in passing, without really expecting a serious answer; from neighbors who loved to wag their tongues over a mug of beer on long summer evenings, sitting on the porch and watching the sunset; and even from his own father — this question had followed him everywhere, sounding again and again in different forms, but every time Lloyd had simply let it pass by in silence, never finding for himself that single, honest answer worth saying out loud.

But without letting his dark thoughts, swirling up out of some depth of memory, show on his face, Lloyd only smiled softly and scratched the back of his neck, trying to make the gesture look natural, carefree, as if the question hadn't touched him at all, as if it weren't turning something over inside him that he had no wish to think about right now. — Honestly, no. But who am I not to try?

Crossing his arms over his chest, he smiled even wider, though inside everything was clenched tight with tension, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap right out of his chest onto the flattened flowery grass at his feet. — As they say, you'll never know if you don't try. Isn't that right? Hector looked at him for several long seconds with undisguised surprise, his brows slowly climbing upward, his lips parting as if he were about to object, but at the last moment he thought better of it.

A silence hung between them for a moment, thick, almost tangible, broken only by the quiet rustle of the broad palm leaves and the flicker of tiny glowing insects circling somewhere above the flowers in brief, bright flashes. But then came his familiar, loud laugh — the very one that, over the course of the whole evening, had become an almost soothing, familiar sound to Lloyd, weaving itself into the rustle of the leaves like an inseparable part of this strange meadow, frozen outside of time.

— Wonderful, simply wonderful. What an incredible reason to keep you moving forward. I hope that in the hardest moment, you'll remember it. Do everything you can to save her. Suddenly his tone grew quieter, more serious, as though something in the air had shifted imperceptibly, as though the very atmosphere of the place had grown heavier by a few degrees, and the light of the false sky above them dimmed slightly, sinking the meadow into somewhat murkier, thicker shadows. — That reason really is important, but...

Lloyd swallowed the lump rising in his throat, his whole body tensing in anticipation of what would come next, his fingers, hidden beneath his crossed arms, involuntarily digging into his own forearms, leaving pale crescents on the skin. — While it does play an important role, it isn't the one that comes first for you. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Lloyd's jaw dropped, his brows shooting up so sharply that deep, bewildered furrows immediately formed on his forehead, and something inside his chest turned cold, as if he'd been splashed with ice water right in the middle of this warm, flower-scented evening. — What?! But that's the truth, that really is the most important thing for me...

Hector didn't let him finish — he cut in with a calm, level voice, though for some reason that calmness felt more frightening than an outright shout, as if beneath its evenness lay some unshakable, heavy certainty, built up over years of similar conversations with dozens of young men who had once sat in this very spot. — I understand, I'm just as surprised by this as you are. Something drives you far more strongly than saving your own mother. Of course, you don't have to believe me, but it's the truth.

"What nonsense is he spouting," raced through Lloyd's mind — a burning, angry feeling rising up from his chest straight to his throat, tightening it until it became hard to breathe, as if invisible fingers had slowly closed around his neck.

These words stirred in Lloyd nothing but a wave of indignation and anger; to him it sounded like outright mockery of his dream, of the most intimate thing he had just spoken aloud for the first time in a long while, having laid bare before this strange old man something he'd hidden even from himself for years, buried deep beneath a layer of familiar excuses. — What the hell are you talking about, old man? I told you everything as it is, and now you're...

A short, nervous laugh escaped Lloyd's lips, and a rather sinister, crooked smile appeared on his face, nothing like the friendly one from before, as though it were a mask behind which he was trying to hide the rising panic spreading through him like a dark, sticky stain. — You never intended to let me through from the very start, did you? Do I really look that pathetic to you?

Hector let out a slow, heavy sigh, as though after a long, exhausting day, his massive shoulders sinking even lower, so that his entire giant frame suddenly seemed to Lloyd tired, almost broken beneath the weight of some invisible burden carried for decades. — Well, that's a fairly common reaction. You don't have to believe me, but it doesn't change the facts.

He looked intently straight into Lloyd's eyes, his gaze seeming to reach somewhere deeper, straight into the soul itself, sending an unpleasant shiver down the young man's spine and stealing his breath for a moment, as though the air around them had suddenly thickened, grown dense, almost as viscous as that dark liquor they had drunk not long ago. — A warrior without a clear purpose is nothing but a vagrant with a weapon.

The words came out quiet, almost matter-of-fact, but each one seemed to fall like a separate stone to the very bottom of Lloyd's soul, leaving behind a hollow, unsettling echo that spread outward in rings, like a boulder thrown into still water. The old man's gaze suddenly softened, as if something like regret flickered in it, something like genuine, unfeigned sympathy, hidden deep beneath that stern, weathered, scar-marked exterior. — That's exactly why I can't let you go any further. I'm... I'm truly sorry.

The seriousness returned to his face once more, driving out the last traces of that recent softness, restoring his former, stony imperviousness. In that moment, Lloyd's face reflected nothing but despair — deep, heavy, as if the ground beneath his feet had suddenly given way, and the blooming meadow around him had lost all its color at once, fading into a blurred, colorless smear at the edge of his vision.

"No. No, this can't be happening," pounded in his head, desperate, frantic, over and over, as he stared at the old man, refusing to believe what he'd just heard, feeling a cold, clammy fear slowly rising up from somewhere deep in his stomach, wrapping around him entirely, down to the very tips of his fingers. — Lloyd, you've failed the third stage. Your exam is over.