The morning was quiet.
Too quiet.
Liebe stood before what remained of his village.
The wind carried the ashes slowly, as if trying to erase everything that had happened.
But he remembered.
Every scream.
Every flame.
He clenched his fists.
“…I won’t forget.”
Before him lay the knight.
Liebe didn’t know his name.
Didn’t know who he had been in life.
But he knew one thing — this man had fought until the very end.
For others.
Liebe knelt down.
The ground was hard and cold.
He dug with his bare hands, ignoring the pain.
His fingers quickly became covered in dirt and blood.
But he kept going.
Until it was enough.
He carefully laid the body to rest.
“…Thank you.”
Quietly.
Almost a whisper.
He placed the broken sword beside the grave — as a mark.
As a memory.
As a promise.
Liebe stood up.
And in that moment— he no longer felt like a child.
He took a step back.
Looked one last time.
And turned away.
The road ahead was empty.
Unknown.
Terrifying.
But he had already chosen.
The first step was тяжелым.
The second—easier.
And then— he simply walked.
Without looking back.
Toward Moniyan.
Toward his future.
And deep within him— the light grew just a little stronger.