The days that followed the extraction of Mark's second soul from the Tower of Truth moved with a gentleness that felt almost foreign to Max.
The world outside remained soaked in conflict, and the war did not slow even for a breath.
Demons continued their assaults across the thousand regions, and human forces held the lines with everything they had.
Yet for Max, a peculiar calm settled around him, almost like the eye of a storm that refused to touch him. He knew this peace would never last, but he accepted it all the same. A few days of silence meant time to breathe. To think. To exist without a blade in his hand.
He spent most of these days with Alice and Lenavira at his side, enjoying the rare warmth of their company. They laughed together, spoke of small things that had nothing to do with war or calamities, and wandered through the Elven Kingdom at a relaxed pace.
