Chapter 6: - I am you.

Welkin heeded Harrison's words, his legs propelling him northward with a surge of adrenaline. The cold air bit at his skin, and his breath came out in rapid, visible puffs as he sprinted towards the border. His thoughts raced faster than his feet, tangled with fear, memories, and the urgency of his current predicament.

Why did this have to happen? Why now? He couldn't shake the image of Elric's apologetic face, the betrayal still stinging his heart. But it was Harrison's words that kept him going. Harrison, who had protected him, guided him, and cared for him these past three years.

Tears unknowingly fell from his eyes as he thought about Harrison, fear crept in his heart, he mocked himself for being weak.

Welkin wanted nothing more to go back and be with Harrison but he knows he will only be a burden to him.

Welkin's mind drifted to the day they had arrived at the village, cold and hungry, with no one to turn to. Harrison had found a way to secure a place for them, had ensured they had food and safety. He had taught Welkin how to survive in this harsh, snowy landscape. The memories flooded back, giving him strength. Harrison teaching him to fish in the frozen lakes, showing him how to identify edible plants, and sharing stories by the fire to keep their spirits up.

His thoughts then shifted to his father, the once proud Duke of Silverhelm. His father's kind eyes, his reassuring presence, and the way he had always believed in Welkin's potential. The pain of his loss was still fresh, and the unjust accusation of his murder was a wound that never healed. Welkin could almost hear his father's voice, urging him to be strong, to persevere.

And then, there was the clash of swords behind him. Welkin didn't dare look back, but the sounds were unmistakable. There were sharp clang of metal on metal. Harrison was fighting for his life, for Welkin's life.

As Welkin navigated through the thick forest, the snow crunching underfoot, he could hear Serah and her soldiers in pursuit. Their voices carried through the trees, getting closer with every passing second. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the urgency of his escape.

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High above the unfolding drama, Carl watched with growing concern. He and Kellian had been tasked by the elders to bring Welkin to them, intrigued by the boy's unique resonance with Anima despite lacking a mana core. But now, seeing him in such peril, Carl's sense of duty warred with his instinct to protect.

Carl's thoughts raced. We can't let him be captured. What if they kill him? The mission from the elders was clear, but the situation on the ground was more dire than they had anticipated.

Welkin was running through the forest, his breath visible in the cold air, with soldiers hot on his heels. Carl could feel the tension, the desperation in the boy's movements. He started to descend, his mind set on intervening.

But Kellian, sensing his partner's intention, grabbed his arm. "Carl, wait," he said, his voice calm but firm. "If we intervene now, others will notice us. It's better to wait. They're here to capture him, not kill him. We'll have our chance to take him once they start heading back."

Carl clenched his fists, frustration evident in his eyes. "But he's in danger, Kellian. We can't just stand by and watch."

Kellian's gaze was steady, his grip unyielding. "Think about the bigger picture. If we reveal ourselves now, we risk exposing everything. The elders gave us this task for a reason. We need to be patient."

Carl took a deep breath, trying to quell the surge of anxiety. Kellian was right. Rushing in would only complicate matters. He looked back at Welkin, at the sight of the boy's struggle. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "But we move as soon as they capture him."

Kellian nodded, his eyes never leaving the scene below. "Agreed. We will ensure he comes to no harm."

As Carl and Kellian continued their watch from above, Serah's sharp command echoed through the forest. "Draw your bows! Aim for his legs!"

Welkin, running with all the speed he could muster, heard the twang of bowstrings and the hiss of arrows slicing through the air. He dodged as best he could, but amidst the chaotic dance, his foot caught on the root of a tree hidden beneath the snow. He stumbled, his momentum carrying him forward until he hit his head on the jagged rocks below. Blood started to seep through his hair, staining the pristine snow.

Groggy and in pain, Welkin struggled to his feet. His vision blurred, but he pushed himself to keep moving. Each step was agony, his injured leg dragging, slowing him down. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and determination. I have to keep going. I can't let them catch me.

But his strength was waning. As he ran, the edges of his vision darkened, and the world around him began to spin. His thoughts drifted to his father, to Harrison, to the peaceful moments they'd shared in the village. He fought to stay conscious, but his body betrayed him. Finally, he collapsed onto the cold, unyielding ground, the snow cushioning his fall as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Serah and her soldiers reached him moments later. She looked down at the boy, noting the blood and the desperate effort he'd made to escape. For a fleeting moment, a pang of remorse struck her, but she quickly suppressed it. Her duty was clear.

"Pick him up," she ordered. The soldiers carefully lifted Welkin, noting his pitiful state. They moved swiftly, carrying him back toward the village where the sounds of the earlier battle had quieted. The clash between Merek and Harrison had ended, and the forest now stood in an eerie silence, the only sound the crunch of snow underfoot.

Above, Carl's fists clenched as he watched the scene unfold. "They're taking him," he said, his voice tight with frustration.

Kellian placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent reminder to stay patient. "We'll get our chance," he said softly. "For now, we wait."

As Serah and her men carried the unconscious Welkin back to the village, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on everyone involved. The next steps would determine not just the boy's fate, but the balance of power in a world where magic and duty collided.

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Suddenly, Welkin opened his eyes to the sound of people talking. He found himself standing at a familiar place: it was the gala organized by his father for his 10th birthday anniversary. In the world of Grofal, birthdays were celebrated not every year like on Earth, but once every five years. He still remembered how nervous he was; this was his first official gala that he participated in, and it was also his first time meeting with the other dukes and their families. It was quite a nerve-racking experience.

While remembering these memories, he realized that no one could see him. Just like the previous time, he could only watch the scene play out. He scanned the hall and quickly found himself—his younger, 10-year-old self. Beside him was his father. Looking at his father, Welkin's emotions started to rile up, tears started to go down his cheeks. Harrison was standing behind his father, just like always. He hadn't aged a bit.

As he was thinking this, young Welkin started walking towards him. He stopped right in front of him and said, "Are you alright, mister? Why are you crying?"

His sudden question brought Welkin out of his stupor. He can see me! Another train of thoughts started, and young Welkin spoke once more, "Why aren't you answering? You know, today is my birthday. You can't just cry at someone's birthday."

Welkin stopped his thoughts from wandering and looked down at him. I don't know what's happening he thought, but answered, "It's nothing. I just miss someone."

Looking at him curiously, young Welkin asked, "Is it your family? Aren't they here?"

Welkin answered, "No, he's very far away."

Young Welkin looked a bit sad but then cheered up and said, "No problem. I have a way to make mister happy. Why don't you tell me what you want to do in the future? I want to become strong, strong enough to protect everyone, just like heroes in the stories father told me. What about you?"

As he listened to those words, his heart ached, knowing he wasn't able to protect anyone. But with a smile, he said, "I want to protect the one dearest to me, too."

Young Welkin looked at him with a smile that quickly vanished. His green eyes started glowing as he spoke in a stern voice. "But you failed. You weren't able to protect anyone, neither our father nor yourself. And now, you will lose even Harrison."

He swiped his hands, and the surroundings stopped. No one moved, and an image appeared in front of Welkin. He saw Harrison covered in wounds, laying on the ground, and Merek, equally wounded but less severely, standing at the side, breathing heavily. Merek was saying something in his direction, but it wasn't directed at him. It was at Serah, who emerged, and then the image disappeared.

The young Welkin, or whoever it was, said again, "You will lose someone again and keep losing them unless you do something. You said you wanted to protect them, but you did nothing. You are weak."

His words caused pain in Welkin's heart. "Who are you? What do you know?"

The figure of young Welkin laughed and said, "Who I am doesn't matter at this point. Do you want to protect Harrison or not?"

Welkin wanted to press him to answer but stopped when he thought of Harrison. "I want to protect him, but as you said, what can I do? I am weak."

"Yes, you are weak, but there is still something you can do."

Welkin asked, "What?"

"Lend it to me. Lend me your body. Let me have control and don't resist. I will save him."

Flabbergasted, Welkin said, "What? Why?"

"Let me have control, and I will save him," he repeated.

Welkin asked, "But why? How can I trust you?"

At which young Welkin laughed and said, "Because I am you."

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