Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Chpater 116 : The Song of Life

(Selene Valemont’s POV)

The mornings had all begun to blur together.

Thirteen days since the accident, and every sunrise felt the sa — pale, cold, hollow.

I still woke before dawn, still set the table, still pretended to smile when Riaz ca tugging at my dress or when Eria laughed from her cradle.

I told myself I was doing fine. That I was being strong for them.

But when I saw Elara out of the corner of my eye, sothing always stirred inside .

It started as a tremor in my chest, a faint spark of heat beneath my ribs.

Then the sound of her voice would reach , and that spark would ignite — wild, unthinking, blinding.

I never rembered what I shouted.

Sotis I didn’t even rember drawing mana to my hands.

Only Darius’s arms around , his voice cutting through the haze—

“Selene. Stop.”

And then the guilt, heavy and sharp, would settle all over again.

During the day I forced myself to move.

I tended to Eria’s crib, brushed Riaz’s hair, cooked what little the fields offered.

The house used to be warm. Now it was quiet — like it feared too.

Everywhere I looked, I saw pieces of Rooga.

The wooden sword leaning against the fence.

The half-finished carving on the windowsill.

The pond where he used to sit, still rippling as if waiting for him to return.

Sotis, when no one watched, I pressed my hand to the earth and whispered his na.

The soil would hum faintly in response, but not enough to answer.

Not enough to fill the silence he left behind.

It happened at dusk.

I was rocking Eria by the window, humming an old tune I could barely rember.

Riaz was chasing fireflies near the porch, his laughter echoing faintly across the fields.

Then — a sound.

Soft at first, like wind through leaves.

Then deeper, stronger.

The land was singing.

The trees began to rustle all at once, their branches glowing faintly with light.

The ground pulsed beneath my feet — a heartbeat.

The colors outside the window, which had been dull and gray for days, began to bloom again.

Gold in the sky.

Green in the leaves.

Life.

It rushed through the air, thick and warm, flooding every corner of the Valemont estate.

I froze. My breath caught.

I knew this feeling.

This warmth that brushed against the soul like sunlight through water.

It was him.

My heart slamd in my chest. The numbness that had clung to for weeks shattered in an instant, replaced by sothing wild, desperate, alive.

Riaz called out behind , confused by my sudden movent.

But I didn’t stop.

I ran.

Through the fields, past the trees, my feet tearing through the dirt.

The mana in the air grew thicker with every step.

The forest itself was breathing again — singing like a choir of roots and wind.

And I knew where it was leading .

The grove.

Maori’s tree.

I didn’t care that my lungs burned.

I didn’t care that Darius was shouting after .

All I could feel was the pull — the tug of a bond no distance or death could sever.

The mont I broke through the clearing, the sight took my breath away.

The great tree was glowing — radiant and alive, its leaves shimring with hues of gold and erald.

The roots trembled, pulsing with mana so strong it made the air vibrate.

And in the center of it all, I could feel him.

That heartbeat.

That warmth.

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That impossible, beautiful rhythm of life that only one person could carry.

Tears blurred my vision.

My voice ca out broken but full of hope.

“Rooga…”

I fell to my knees, hand pressed to the earth, feeling the song of the land echo through my bones.

The world was singing again — because he was.

(Rooga Valemont’s POV)

Warmth.

That was the first thing I felt.

Not the blinding heat of magic or the ache of pain, but simple, gentle warmth — sunlight filtering through leaves, soft earth beneath my palms.

The heartbeat of the forest pulsed in rhythm with my own.

For a mont, I couldn’t tell where I ended and where Maori’s roots began.

The scent of flowers, dew, and soil filled the air — alive, familiar.

I opened my eyes.

Light greeted — golden, bright, kind.

Above , the branches of the great tree stretched endlessly into the sky, shimring as though morning itself had been born anew.

And beneath that glow, I finally spoke, my voice quiet and rough:

“…It’s morning already.”

The tree humd in reply — a soft vibration running through the roots beneath my back.

“Welco back, my caretaker,” ca Maori’s voice, gentle and proud, echoing through the grove.

Her form shimred faintly before , radiant as sunlight through mist.

“You made your choice,” she said. “You found your reason.”

I sat up slowly, my body heavy but whole.

No pain, no dizziness — only a strange lightness, as if the air itself carried .

“Is it over?” I asked quietly.

She smiled. “No, little one. It has only begun.”

Her gaze softened. “The forest will no longer weep. You have returned its song.”

The rustling of leaves shifted suddenly — and then ca the sound of footsteps.

Fast. Desperate. Familiar.

“Rooga!”

Mother’s voice — breaking, trembling, alive.

I turned just as she burst into the clearing, her hair wild, eyes wide with disbelief.

Behind her ca Father, his steps slower but his breath uneven, as if he’d been running for miles.

Mother stumbled to her knees before , hands shaking as she reached out, afraid to touch , as though I might vanish again.

“Rooga… my Rooga…”

I smiled weakly. “Mother… it’s morning already.”

For a mont, she just stared — and then the tears ca.

She pulled into her arms, clutching so tightly I could barely breathe.

“I thought—” her voice cracked, “I thought I lost you.”

I rested my head against her shoulder. “You didn’t. I just… took a longer nap.”

Father exhaled — half laugh, half sob — and knelt beside us, his large hand ruffling my hair.

“Only you could nearly die and make jokes about it,” he murmured.

All around us, the forest shimred with light.

The roots pulsed with mana, the leaves glowed brighter, and the gentle hum of life filled every corner of the grove.

Even Maori’s form flickered with quiet satisfaction, her voice soft as the wind.

“Breathe well, my caretaker. The world awaits your next step.”

The light of her form faded into the branches above, leaving only the sound of birds and the whisper of wind through green.

Mother still held , her tears soaking into my shirt.

Father stood behind us, looking up at the sky where the first true dawn of Valemont had broken.

For the first ti in what felt like forever, the air slled of life again.

And the song of the forest — our forest — sang of a new beginning.

(Darius Valemont’s POV)

The light in the grove lingered even after the goddess’s voice faded, a soft glow that wrapped the air in peace.

For the first ti in many nights, the weight in my chest eased.

Rooga was sitting upright in Selene’s arms, blinking at the morning sun like it was sothing he’d never seen before.

His smile—small, quiet, alive—was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed.

I stood a few steps away, not trusting my own voice.

My hands, the sa ones that had built this house and swung through a hundred wars, trembled.

When I finally found my voice, it ca out low and rough.

“Thank you, Maori.”

The wind stirred at my words. The leaves of her great tree rustled softly, glowing for a heartbeat as though in answer.

That was enough. She had heard.

Lyra stood beside , arms folded, her eyes misted though she would never admit it.

Kain exhaled deeply, leaning on his sword. “Well,” he muttered, “guess the brat decided not to die after all.”

lissa elbowed him in the ribs. “Show so respect, Kain.”

He grunted. “That was respect.”

Even Acker smiled faintly from where he stood near the roots. “Can’t rember the last ti the forest sang like this.”

I nodded silently. “Because it never has.”

Selene held Rooga like she’d never let go again.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, her hair tangled, her eyes red—but for once, they were alive.

She whispered his na again and again as if afraid the sound of it might vanish.

Every whisper carried relief, and love, and guilt all tangled together.

Rooga reached up and brushed her face with small fingers. “I’m sorry I scared you, Mother.”

Her sob turned into a laugh that shook her shoulders. “Don’t you ever say sorry for living, my son.”

Behind them, the forest’s light dimd to a softer hue, gold fading into green as the song slowly subsided.

Lyra glanced toward . “You should go to them.”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

She frowned but said nothing.

The truth was, I couldn’t move.

Watching them—Selene clinging to the son she thought she’d lost, Rooga looking at her like she was his whole world—was enough to undo .

Thirteen days ago, this family was a single breath away from shattering.

If the goddess hadn’t intervened, if Rooga hadn’t fought to return… there wouldn’t have been anything left to save.

My gaze drifted upward, following the last shimr of Maori’s light as it vanished through the branches.

“We owe you more than I can ever repay,” I whispered.

For a mont, the wind carried a faint sound—like a woman’s gentle laughter carried through leaves.

Selene finally looked up, eting my eyes. She smiled—a weak, trembling thing, but real.

That smile was enough to remind why we had fought so hard to build this ho.

“Co here,” she said softly.

I did. I knelt beside her and rested a hand on Rooga’s shoulder. His pulse was steady, strong.

“Welco back,” I said.

He grinned. “Morning already, Father.”

I laughed, quiet and tired. “Yes, morning already.”

The sun broke through the canopy above, washing the grove in gold.

For the first ti in a long while, I believed it was more than light.

It was forgiveness.

It was a promise.

And as the warmth touched us all, I closed my eyes and murmured one last prayer of gratitude—to Maori, to the forest, and to the son who had found the strength to rise again.