Chapter 389 Randor Ironbeard [2]

Chapter 389 Randor Ironbeard [2]

Randor's talent was undeniable.

His home, though modest and designed for a single occupant, held an expansive area dedicated to smithing. Despite this, no weapons were in sight. Instead, the room was adorned with beautifully crafted shelves displaying statues and other intricate souvenirs, each bearing Randor's signature. If the world knew these pieces were his, they would fetch a fortune.

"My room."

Despite his evident dislike for me, Randor was willing to speak privately.

"Amael," Celeste grasped my arm, her gaze stern and filled with unspoken warnings. That look, strangely familiar, held a depth that resonated with me.

"Don't worry," I reassured her, stepping into the room.

Celeste sat quietly on the sofa as Randor and I entered his private space. Once the door closed, I took a seat opposite him, the tension between us palpable.

Randor sat across from me, his expression hardened by years of regret and sorrow. "Sara... she was like a little sister to me," he began, his voice strained. "I only wished for her happiness. She was happy with that brat Herve."

"She was," I acknowledged. "But you could have done more to protect her. Even though Manuel Hylkren sought the Prophetess's power, he also wanted you, the greatest smith of Ante-Eden. She refused everyone who wanted to see you, letting you hide as long as you needed. But one day, a bastard couldn't stay still and killed her. I don't think I'm wrong in saying you are partially responsible for her death."

Randor's silence was thick and heavy, the weight of my accusation settling over him.

"You are right," he admitted finally, his voice a whisper. "I am partially responsible for Sara's death." But he quickly added, "But you're wrong in some points, brat."

"What points?" I asked a bit curious.

"Celeste shouldn't know anything about this but... Dereck Zestella."

"Celeste's grandfather? What about him?" I asked.

"He plotted against his own family. He should be held accountable for Sara's death," Randor said through gritted teeth.

"Brat, people kill for my weapons. That's why I stopped," Randor interrupted my thoughts.

"It didn't change much, as people would still kill to get you back," I replied.

"Indeed. Are you one of them?" He asked, staring intently.

I sighed, leaning back in my seat, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. "I just want a weapon to fight against those who will, without a doubt, try to harm my loved ones. I will never harm innocents. Yes, I have taken lives, but never the lives of the innocent. I believe you are already aware of the impending war?"

Randor nodded solemnly.

"I don't know when I will have to fight, but I need a weapon I can trust, something reliable. It's tragic what happened to your people in Edenis Raphiel, and believe me, I harbor no love for those responsible either. But is that a reason to halt everything? Your weapons, as much as they are instruments of death, also save lives—innocent lives," I implored.

"You speak well, boy. But how can I trust that you will use it for noble purposes?" Randor asked, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

"It would be easy to claim I want to save the world by kicking some asses, but I know that wouldn't be enough to convince you," I laughed lightly.

Randor's laughter echoed through the room. "This world is doomed from what I've seen in my life. Even with my weapons, you won't be able to change that, boy."

"It will be doomed, yes, if we do nothing but stand by and watch it fall apart," I retorted, standing up. "I won't force you to make me a weapon, but I swear I won't let this world be destroyed. Not for the sake of everyone, but for the sake of my loved ones. For them alone, I will fight to keep this world from crumbling."

"..."

"You are right, I am selfish. But my selfishness will save billions. They will all be grateful in the end. Where will you stand at that time, Randor? Will you continue to hide in your cave?" I asked earnestly, without a hint of mockery.

Randor tapped his fingers on the armrest, his gaze piercing into mine.

Then he asked, "Is little Celes among your loved ones?"

Closed ones you mean?

"Yes, she is," I replied.

Randor closed his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. Now, what will your answer be?