"Ah…uff…"

Tristessa sighed, finally feeling the vanishing of that devastating agony concentrated on her vital core. In her spirit, twisted around the dark structure of Discord, saving herself from total destruction. It was as if she had jumped at the last minute before falling into the timeless void, her insides contracting in fear and relieving themselves after the passing danger.

"Ugh! Cough!" Resting her bloody hands on the uneven pieces of wood that remained of the stagecoach's back wall, Tristessa coughed and spat out her own blood, the product of her [Divinity of Accursed Existence] spiraling out of control. "Fuck…"

Looking up, now that calm reigned, everything she saw was a disaster. That stretch of the Meridion Highway stained with blood, corpses, and entrails. The smell of Death loomed powerfully, creating a noxious atmosphere that sought to trigger her gag reflex, especially in that spot on the road where the last assassin had been reduced to the barest trace of existence.

"Fuck!"

The thought that it had only been a matter of seconds between living or dying still made her hair stand on end. She was certain she was going to die, either under the revenant's hand, or from her soul shattering like a windowpane upon absolute, below zero cold.

"Fuck... Fuck! FUCK!" she shrieked, the blood covering her face dissolving as sweat trickled down the sides of her temples and tears that had just begun to flow from her eyes.

Her hands, stained with her victim's blood, trembled against the broken wall, digging into splinters that hurt no more than her own conscience.

"Lady…"

That voice startled the shocked Tristessa, jolting her out of her nervous breakdown. Turning her head to the side, she saw that Auron had lowered his arms. His hands had dropped the revolvers, now weighing a ton, as did the rest of his exhausted and poisoned body.

The wound had stopped bleeding. A solid layer, coagulated and foamed, expelling a foul smell...

"Auron!"

Tristessa caught him just in time before he fell to the floor and helped him sit down on the seat that remained intact, although its padded upholstery was covered in blood and splinters. He was breathing with great difficulty, and from the way he had slumped against the seat, it seemed his limbs were no longer responding. His head wanted to surrender to gravity, his eyes to close and sleep…

"No, no, no, Auron! Stay awake!" she begged him, wanting to place her hands on his cheeks, covered with that handkerchief soaked with sweat and blood, to wake him up. That simple action was enough for him, in extreme pain, to raise his arms and intercept her hands.

"I'm fine, lady. Don't worry…" he assured her. His grip was weak, squeezing her hands and transmitting to her the loss of body heat that was taking over him. Evidence of the lie he had just told. "Please, don't… don't look underneath… You'll regret it if you do."

Tristessa was about to shout at him that at that moment she didn't give a damn about what was hidden under his handkerchief, but a phenomenon she hadn't seen since previous loops appeared to interrupt her. Many of the gallons of spilled blood were summoned toward Severus in the form of threads that flew directly into his mouth. Amid all that blood, the blood that covered Tristessa and Auron, leaving them immaculate. Though, unable to do much to give them the vitality and energy that the entire horrific near-death experience had robbed them of.

"My apologies… There's really nothing I can do about that. Too much blood… It's too much," Severus wailed as he finished absorbing all that crimson liquid, his hair shining and slowly returning to normal.

With the division between the main body of the coach and the driver's seat gone, the blood elf leaped to join his two companions. He stumbled and was forced to rely on Tristessa's arm for support. He hadn't fully recovered, the extreme exhaustion on his face evident from the almost total lack of magical energy in his body.

"Auron…" Just seeing his extreme pallor, blood coming nonstop from his orifices and reddened eyeballs, Severus knew there was no turning back.

"Do something! Use your thaumaturgy, please!" Tristessa begged, but the elf shook his head in defeat. "Why not?! If you wish, you can achieve the impossible! You told me that thaumaturgy is capable of anything!"

"Enough, Tristessa…" Auron admonished her, punctuating his words with a cough accompanied by blood that had no other way but to trickle down to the base of her neck. "His dream is to kill the Shadow Queen with his bare hands, not save my life. He already knows I'm dead…"

"NO! Don't say that, Auron! N-no…no…!"

She didn't even bother fighting the urge to cry anymore. She gripped the gunslinger's hands, whose attention was focused on the silent, crestfallen elf.

"There isn't a mercenary in…in all Nekrom that you hire and…and won't end up dying," the gunslinger reprimanded him, letting out a laugh that cost him a terrible whooping cough, his lungs burning and fighting a losing battle. "You must've…saved quite a lot of…SJs."

"…"

"Not going to say shit, huh? Well… Stop wasting your time, and…go, check the vilecross. You need to keep going. For your friends."

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"…"

Knowing that he was not going to receive any reply from the now silent elf, Auron looked at the sobbing girl, whose attitude pissed him off.

"You're not exactly the one I was waiting for…to hold my hands in my final hour, lady. But I… cough… I hope you're not so stupid…as to believe that…this is your fault."

That attempt at consolation was the final straw. The whitest lie made Tristessa explode with rage.

"YES IT IS! IT IS! THOSE ASSASSINS WANTED TO KILL ME BECAUSE I'M A [STRANGER]!" she screamed, her voice thick with a forbidden truth spreading through the corridors of trees, echoing in all directions. "AREN'T STRANGERS ENEMIES OF THE EMPIRE?! I'M A STRANGER, THAT'S WHY THEY WANTED TO KILL ME, AND THAT'S WHY THEY KILLED YOU, YOU IDIOT!"

Saying that secret out loud was gratifying, liberating, even in such a grim and depressing context. A secret that stopped being such after Stormcrow had revealed it before being atomized by a shower of blood propelled at speeds greater than that of a bullet.

Severus and Auron had heard that truth from the assassin's mouth, and it was only now that they could reflect on it. Tristessa didn't know what was going through the elf's mind as he turned his back on them both and stepped out of the carriage, apparently to obey the gunslinger's advice.

"Milla... I'm here, cutie. Don't worry, you're strong," they heard Severus say to the demon, patting it on its massive back while it drooled nonstop over the ground, crestfallen. A pained growl, and then vilecross stood up, aiming towards the chains of the diligence. "Wait! Wait, I say! So stubborn…"

"So... You confirm it... That you're not from this world, huh?"

Worried, Tristessa was forced to look away from Severus and the now walking demon, to focus back on Auron. He hadn't cared much about those shouts, or the blood elf's distant attitude. Sighing and coughing, for some reason he seemed much sadder now that he confirmed the veracity of the revenant's departing statement.

"Damn... Such bad luck I have."

"I know. Crossing paths with me usually gets people killed," she blurted out, sitting next to him. "I learned that since I arrived in Nekrom."

She wanted to let him know that she was going be with him until the very end, even if he hated her for being the main cause of his demise.

What she hadn't expected was for Auron to laugh at her.

"W-what are you laughing at?"

"You're a fool, lady." The gunslinger took a deep breath, exhaled, and with all the strength he'd accumulated, gave the girl a gaze full of determination. "I'm unfortunate not to have met you sooner."

Making Tristessa stunned and speechless cost him years of life he no longer possessed. He slumped back against the seat, forcing Tristessa to let go of his hands to search for something inside his jacket that contained absolutely nothing... Or at least that's what Tristessa thought, as he pulled out a gold pocket watch with chains of the same material, which the girl couldn't help but associate with a bad omen.

With trembling fingers, he lifted the lid of the clockwork device and looked at something that wasn't the time. Something that filled his eyes with something more than poisoned blood.

"S-sorry...Melinda. I'm too tired... I guess I won't be there…for your concert," he whispered, submerging into his own and private world. "I'm going to fall asleep, again. Another broken promise from this fool, I know… I know…"

Holding that item in his hands, Auron stared at the photograph of a woman while humming a tune. Next to him, Tristessa saw herself and would continue to see herself as the main cause of the disaster, no matter how that man absolved her of responsibility for his imminent death.

"..."

Outside of the stagecoach, Severus was looking at the two of them somewhat strangely. The hornless demon passed by, panting and growling, but the elf didn't flinch. Tristessa couldn't guess what emotions were making him act so distant, but she had a suspicion as to why.

"Severus..."

The blood elf quickly looked away, somewhat downcast, and then went straight to the driver's seat.

"Come on, Milla. If you want to take us to our destination that bad, I'm not one to deny you."

The Vilecross gripped the chains and let out a bestial roar to gather momentum and start the coach moving again. Being practically destroyed, the wind was unbearable against their faces, cold and sharp.

Nothing worse than what they had just suffered.

In a short time, they left the entire scene of the massacre behind. The bodies of the dead wraiths, their mounts, evidence of a failed attempt on that girl from another world.

How had they discovered her? Tristessa didn't know, although she believed it was only a matter of time before someone discovered the truth, just not so soon.

Surviving had come at a high price. Beside her, Auron remained lost in his memories, without breaking eye contact with the photograph of that woman on his pocket watch, his static hat casting a shadow over his face.

A silent lament from a man toward the woman he loved and would never see again.

Tristessa wanted to take his hand, to let him know he wasn't alone at that moment... But she didn't dare, too respectful of his privacy. Maybe he really did want company and to feel the human warmth between his fingers in his final moments, maybe not... She would never know.

It wasn't until at least an hour later that Tristessa noticed that Auron's chest had stopped swelling.

"Auron...?" she sobbed his name, with a lingering hope that her call would be answered, she shook his shoulder a little, but no matter how many times she did it, the only response she was going to get was silence. "A-Auron…"

He wasn't moving even a millimeter on his own, and with every sudden movement of the stagecoach as it passed over uneven ground, his pocket watch threatened to drop from his hands. Tristessa kept his watch from falling and, without looking at the photograph out of respect, she closed the lid and hung it around his neck. It was very cold, and from that short distance, she could not only smell blood and the noxious poison that had begun to eat away at him from within, but she could also see his brown eyes half-open, his pupils dilated.

"Forgive me…" she whispered. "I-It should have been me…the one to receive all that venom."

With a trembling hand, she shut his eyes off and released a heavy sigh. Then she sat back against the chair, her head bowed, and shedding fresh tears that fell mostly over her shoes.

Between sobs, she could feel the influence of her [Divinity of Accursed Existence]. A vile temptation aimed at her, to use its power now that Auron Casimir was dead.

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