Cold wind rustled over his skin. Azriel's eyelids pried themselves open, vision swimming; he blinked a few stubborn times until the blur resolved into a wooden ceiling. Several candles burned around him, their wax breathing a soft vanilla scent through the room.

'…Was that a dream?'

He turned his head—everything weighed a ton, as if stone had settled in his neck and shoulders—and let out a slow, rough breath.

'What happened…'

He forced his thoughts to line up.

'Right.'

After he'd driven Mirius to flee, the Grandmaster had handed him and Ranni two health potions. Azriel had downed one and helped Ranni drink the other. Then, while the Grandmaster worked, Azriel kept the remote stable with his ice affinity—just long enough for the Grandmaster to remove every bomb and evacuate the villagers. When the Grandmaster returned and told Azriel that—

'I fell unconscious, huh.'

In the end, he hadn't been able to hold on.

Azriel frowned.

'Where am I?'

He looked around. A small room, walls and floor both wood. He lay on a hard, unforgiving bed. Everything had the simple, utilitarian feel of a cabin.

'A cabin?'

His vision trembled.

Badump! Badump! Badump! Badump! Badump! Badump! Badump! Badump!

His heart thundered. He shot upright—too fast. His palms drove into the frame and the bed split with a crack, slats snapping as he forced himself to his feet.

Instinct took over. Void Eater and Atropos' Elegy bloomed into his hands, and his chest heaved, breath burning in and out.

Footsteps approached the door. Azriel's muscles went tight, ready to strike—

The door swung open. Before he could move, he froze at the sight of the figure in the doorway.

"Your Highness! You're awake!"

"Instructor?"

Ranni stood there, worry pinching her features. Her eyes flicked from his face to the weapons in his grip.

"Your Highness, please calm down—before you accidentally burn this cabin down."

He hesitated, then narrowed his eyes.

"Not until you explain where we are." His voice came out colder than he'd meant it, and Ranni's face tightened.

"…We're in a cabin a little way from the village," she said evenly. "It belongs to Marquis Rossweth."

Azriel accepted that with a curt nod and dismissed his weapons. Pain spiked through him at once, a sharp, full-body surge that made his jaw clamp and his features pinch.

Ranni stepped forward on instinct and reached for his shoulder. Azriel slapped her hand away before he could stop himself.

"…"

They both froze. Silence stretched. Ranni drew a breath, gathered herself, and spoke in a steady voice.

"You were unconscious for an entire day while your wounds knitted. They're healing much faster than a health potion alone should allow. My guess is you have a regenerative skill, and with the potion's help it sealed the worst of it—but you're not fully recovered. And because you burned through your mana—down to nearly zero in your soul veins—using any now will feel like fire until your reserves refill."

Worry edged her words despite the clinical cadence.

Azriel gave a single, spare nod. Another patch of quiet. He glanced down. Someone had dressed him in simple trousers; his chest was bare, wrapped tight with clean white bandages.

Glancing at his arm—the bandage over his mark was still in place.

"May I ask you a question?" Ranni said.

He looked back at her, expression unreadable. She took that as permission.

"The little girl—Lia. She's the important one in this village, isn't she?"

From what she'd overheard between Corven and Azriel—and from her own instincts—she had already reached the conclusion. Azriel inclined his head once. Ranni's eyes widened, the shock quick, real. Before she could say more, Azriel cut in.

"Where is the Marquis?"

"…I don't know. He said he would be out until you woke."

Azriel exhaled, a quiet, weary sound.

"I see."

After a moment, Azriel started walking. As he passed Ranni, he said without slowing,

"Get the kid and the cadets. Be ready to leave this village as soon as I'm done speaking with the Marquis."

"Wait—hold on."

Before he could react, Ranni caught his wrist. He turned back with a dark look, brows drawn, while she grit her teeth.

"I still have questions," she said.

"And what do you mean by take the kid? You want me to kidnap her? Do you know she has an older brother? She's been waiting for him to return for months, yet you want me to tear her away from the place where she still clings to the hope of his return!?"

Azriel glanced down at the hand jutting from the brand-new robe she wore, fingers tight around his wrist.

"…Instructor, let go of my hand," he said, voice level.

"Not until you take a moment to answer me."

Where her fingers pressed into his skin, irritation prickled—like an itch he could only cure by peeling the feeling off. He scoffed, narrowing his eyes.

"Questions? Please. Ask your dire questions, Instructor."

Ranni's gaze sharpened.

"For starters, you lied about who we were facing—until the very last second."

"I knew you'd call it too risky if I told you we were going after the Monarch Slayer," Azriel countered. Her expression darkened.

"Then how about this: you insisted there be no innocent casualties this time."

"I meant it."

"Then why did you nearly gamble the lives of everyone in this village?"

Azriel's frown deepened.

"You're really asking me that after I did it to save your life?"

"Don't use that as an excuse," she snapped.

"The fact that you had those bombs planted before you realized we wouldn't win means you were always planning to use them."

"So what if I was?"

"So what if you were? You were prepared to murder dozens—for what?"

"Not for what," he said flatly. "I was prepared to erase this village if that's what it took to destroy the source shielding that immortal High Commander—the one my sister has been hunting."

"…So you were ready to kill everyone regardless of whether we won or not?"

"That is correct."

"And the little girl—the source is her, isn't it?"

"That is also correct."

"…Then helping the orphanage was always going to be a waste in the end." Her face pinched into something quiet and pained.

"You really were prepared to kill everyone."

"I thought that was obvious," he said.

"It would have happened—if you hadn't interfered, if you hadn't messed up."

Her confusion showed.

"Interfered how? How did I 'mess up'?"

Azriel blinked, looking genuinely taken aback.

"You're telling me stepping between me and Corven when I was about to finish him wasn't intentional? Or that, even before that, you failed to wound him enough for me to take him down?"

Real anger flared in Ranni's eyes.

"How can you be so unfair? I stepped in to save your life. Your body would have been cleaved in two if I hadn't. And unlike you—who had Cadet Nol arrive and shoulder half your burden—I faced all those soul echoes alone, and I killed the Monarch-ranked echo. I'm strong, but I'm not on the same level as one of the first humans to become a Master."

Azriel scoffed.

"I never asked you to save me. My body's tougher than the average expert's. It would've been a deep cut, nothing more. I would have forced him back and taken his head—if you hadn't jumped between us."

"You still would have died if I hadn't. It's nearly a miracle you're alive. I expected a little gratitude instead of you trying to bite my head off for it."

He gave a half-hearted shrug.

"I'm stating facts. You couldn't have known whether I'd die. What I do know is that, because of what happened, the time we have to complete this scenario just shrank. Corven won't sit quietly and swallow what we did. He may not be royal, but he spent years fighting beside them—beside the former Dusk King."

Azriel turned away, voice flat again.

"So instead of asking me more questions, let's do the simple thing: get out of this village, and take down either the Revolutionary Army or the royal family."

Finally, she let go of his wrist.

Azriel took it as agreement and started to walk away.

"Was what you said true," she asked, stopping him cold, "about being experimented on by Neo Genesis—or was that just a way to manipulate me?"

He didn't turn around.

"Why would you think I lied about that?"

"You've shown me I can't trust you," Ranni said. "You're prepared to let anyone die as long as you get what you want. He even has leverage on you, and you didn't seem to care—told him to reveal it whenever he wants—so it must not be important. But I can't even trust that to be true."

"Yet I saved you," Azriel said, her gaze fixed on his bare back.

"…That's why I want to ask you one thing."

He said nothing. The candles breathed their thin warmth into the room; he felt none of it, only the faint vanilla from their wax.

"Did you really do all of this for your sister?"

"…"

"Freya warned me that FreeWings is extremely dangerous. Most people should flee on sight rather than face them. From what I can tell, they're no better than a fanatic cult worshipping a mythical creature—the phoenix. But they're not just crazy, are they? And calling them dangerous is obviously right. First it was Neo Genesis—you knowing so much about them, I can accept because you were their victim and wanted revenge. But FreeWings? You clearly have deep, specific knowledge about them too. And not just them—you seem to carry a whole ledger of monsters and men, like it's your specialty. I need to know: how, and why? Is it for your sister? Or are you truly someone who cares about others even though you'll sacrifice the few for the many? Do you feel guilty when you have to? What is the reason you don't care if someone punches a hole through you—could even kill you in seconds?"

Azriel still didn't turn. Ranni pressed her lips together.

"Why are you asking me so many questions?" he said.

"I—"

"Is it because you can't decide how to treat me from now on?"

"…"

Azriel finally turned, face blank.

"And yet I've shown you that you can't trust me. I was prepared to let you die. I was prepared to let everyone die."

"But you didn't," she answered.

"You just said it yourself—you saved me. You chose not to kill anyone."

"Why do you keep reaching?" he said quietly. "I would have let anyone die if that's what it took to take the phoenix tear from him—you, the little girl, this entire village. I've already made my choices. I've shown you what I'll do when it comes down to it. Unlike you—who seems incapable of choosing at all. You want to know if you can trust me? Whether I'm your ally? You already know those answers. I won't choose for you, Instructor."

He went on.

"You're popular, you know. The Maiden of the Gentle Rain. A celebrated hero—a third void generation—now an instructor at the Hero Academy. Someone who might restore the school to its former glory. Anyone can see how much she cares for her students. She'll train them into great heroes like her; her commitment to nurturing and protecting them would make any parent proud—for choosing their children above everything."

"What are you—"

"But you and I both know it's a lie." His eyes didn't waver.

"You didn't choose to protect your students because you wanted to. You convinced yourself to protect them only—committed to them—acted the kind, exemplary instructor because it's easier. Easier than making the hard choices."

Ranni's eyes widened.

"A mask you wear," Azriel said, "to force yourself to choose your students, no matter what. A mask to hide the indecision of a weak-minded, insecure girl."

"Stop—"

"You're known as a hero with an excellent completion rate. But dig deeper and you'll notice most of those missions weren't human-related. And your last mission—six years ago, before you became an instructor—was one of the rare ones that wasn't about void creatures at all. A mission you failed. It was sealed by the government and buried by the four great clans."

"Don't! I said—"

"What was it again? Ah. It's coming back to me." He spoke without softening.

"Two kidnapped children. Both seven. A boy and a girl. You hunted for them, chased dead ends until the clock ran down. The mad scientist gave you a choice: save the boy or save the girl. Six hours. You couldn't choose. You searched again, desperately. In the end, you failed to find either in time. They both died—their collars detonated. Later, you learned they hadn't even been in the same place. And to this day it haunts you, doesn't it, Instructor? What if I had chosen one? What if I had saved at least one? But you didn't choose. And even now, the madman who did it is still free."

Her voice started trembling.

"Why… why are you doing this to me!? If you dug into my history—if you know—why be so cruel!?"

Azriel fought the urge to purse his lips. Yes, it was mean—cruel, even disgusting; he felt it himself.

"Because being an instructor was only a temporary fix for the sickness you developed after that mission—the sickness of not choosing. The medicine's wearing off, Instructor. You're not even choosing your own students anymore."

Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes.

"What are you saying? I—I saved your life! I might not have been able to choose whether to attack the royal family or the Revolutionary Army, but I've kept the cadets safe, I—"

"If you truly wanted them safe, you would have chosen to destroy the Revolutionary Army, or the royal family, or both. You would have killed anyone who threatened your students. You didn't—and every minute you stall puts them in greater danger in this unfamiliar world. If you can't fix that indecisiveness, you're unfit to be an instructor, or a hero. You might as well resign."

"..!"

Ranni's mouth opened, but her throat locked, as if the words refused to leave.

Azriel's voice softened.

"You don't have to prove me wrong. Prove it to yourself."

"W…what do you mean?"

"I'm going to speak with the Marquis. I'm done lingering in this world. When I return, you either kidnap the girl—or you kill her."

"What!? You want me to kill a little gir—"

"It's either you kill the girl—so that the High Commander finally becomes capable of dying—or you kidnap her and call it mercy, buying her a few days at most while you scramble for a way to save her. It ends the same way: she dies."

"…No! No—you can't be serious—"

"It's either the lives of your world, or this one," Azriel cut in, his voice gone cold.

"You have until I return."

He turned and limped toward the door. Ranni stared at his back, a storm of feelings warring behind her eyes. Azriel paused with his hand on the frame and added, in that same icy tone:

"Oh—and if, when I get back, the girl isn't here—alive or dead—I'll kill her myself. Immediately. Even if I have to bury you beside her."

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