Chapter 15: Rebirth II

Chapter 15: Rebirth II Some time later, Fenric stirred. The faint light of morning filtered through the tall arched windows, casting silver streaks across the floor. The pain was gone—at least the constant, clawing agony he had lived with with for months since he have arrived in the body. In its place was a dull ache, like the soreness after surviving a long, brutal battle. And in a way, he had. Slowly, he sat up. His breath caught slightly—not from pain, but from anticipation. He looked down and saw that at some point during the night, the armor had receded entirely. The gem on his bow tie had dulled, its magic spent. The enchanted suit—his crutch, his burden, his salvation—was gone. And so was everything else. He was naked, the armor having melded back into ether, leaving him bare. But strangely, he didn't care. For once, the cold against his skin wasn't unbearable—it felt real, alive. Fenric sat still for a long moment, just breathing. Then, he shifted his legs. No chains held him. No metallic exoskeleton guided his motions. He braced himself against the edge of the bed, took a shaky breath, and pushed. His feet touched the floor. He wobbled, muscles unsure, knees trembling from disuse... but he stood. No armor. No wheelchair. No support. Just him. A laugh—hoarse and disbelieving—escaped his throat as he took a step. Then another. His balance was poor, his coordination clumsy, but he was walking. On his own. Tears welled up in his eyes, unbidden. Not from sadness. Not even joy. But from the sheer unfamiliarity of this freedom. He reached out, touching the wall for balance as he moved toward the nearby table, every step slow and uncertain—but his own. The Moon Flame had done more than cleanse him. It had given him back something he deliberately wanted. His body. His future. And for the first time since he'd been cursed, Fenric felt something he hadn't sicne he woke up as Fenric. Whole. Fenric moved around a bit more, testing his limbs with slow, cautious steps. He murmured to himself, voice filled with quiet awe, "My body fell sluggish. It's like I've been idle for years—and now my muscles are remembering how to move my body again." He smiled faintly, though the expression was tired. He still needed rest, still needed to rebuild—but he could already feel it: the potential, the strength returning. He walked over and picked up the bow tie lying nearby. The moment he slipped it back on, there was a faint shimmer of silver light. Not the full armor—just a subtle glow, like a soft reassurance. A passive enchantment now, not a crutch. Then came the rest—he reached for his royal robes, draping them carefully over himself. The fabric felt strange against bare skin, as if he were dressing someone else's body. Without the armor's constant support, every motion felt unfamiliar, raw—but also real. "Let's go back," Fenric mumbled quietly as he stepped out of the hidden sanctuary—Mavis's secluded dimension of silence and healing. The world shifted around him as he exited through the door, emerging into the quiet, book-filled interior of the Royal library. He closed the concealed doorway behind him with a soft click, locking the hidden realm away once more. To his surprise, Roman was already waiting for him. "Your Highness," Roman said with a bow. "I've brought what you requested." He held out a small silver ring, etched with delicate runes. Fenric took it with a nod of thanks and peekd inside it, finding everything he need, he nodded. Turning back to Roman, Fenric said, "Find Elaine and Myria." Roman bowed again and turned to leave. Fenric moved to the nearby chair and sat down slowly, letting his body adjust to the strain of walking. Then he looked down at his hand—where the ring should have been. But there was no ring anymore. Instead, only a mark remained—a tattoo-like imprint burned into the skin of his finger. The Fairy Ring, once a physical object, had melted into his flesh, becoming one with him. It shimmered faintly, almost alive. Fenric wasn't surprised. He had expected this. Instead of panicking, he closed his eyes and focused on the mark. The moment he did, something shifted. He felt himself pulled away—his senses warping, stretching. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a vast, starlit sky. A weightless void, full of distant constellations and swirling light. Fenric looked around, unsure. Where am I? he thought. A voice rang out softly behind him. "You're here..." It was a whisper, yet it filled the space like thunder. He turned sharply, eyes narrowing. Hovering in a wide shaft of ethereal moonlight was a figure robed in white, adorned with flowing golden sigils. Behind him loomed a vast, coiled dragon—translucent, majestic, watching with ancient, knowing eyes. "You are...?" Fenric asked, rising to his feet. The figure nodded solemnly. "I am Duserdis Xedius—the 21st Dragon King. My soul now rests within the ring you wear. But it is no ordinary ring—it is a vessel of kings, forged from the bones of the last Fairy King and the essence of my own soul." Fenric's heart pounded in his chest. "And you've been... waiting for someone to wear it?" "Yes," Duserdis said, his voice calm, tinged with sorrow. "The ring was forged by me and the Fairy King to carry our legacy forward... and to protect our people. But traitors betrayed us from within, and the very ring we created was used against our own kin." He raised an arm and gestured outward. The dragon behind him let out a low growl, then slowly faded—its essence retreating into his form. "The Fairy King sacrificed himself to protect his race. He killed the one who betryed us, The Eleven King before he fell... leaving only me behind." Fenric stared at the glowing mark on his hand, silent for a long moment. "This ring..." he murmured. "Why is it still alive if the Fairy King is dead?" Duserdis looked at him, eyes glowing with light and weight. "Because its purpose remains. It was never merely to carry us—it was to preserve us. To protect our kind. To awaken again when the time came."