The pit was filling slowly, each shovelful of dirt falling with a heavy, muffled sound, like a lid being shut on our failures. The sheets that covered the bodies disappeared one after another. I had seen them alive the day before, some had even smiled at me… and now, nothing was left of them. Nothing but an anonymous pile of earth and silence.

My throat was tight, my eyes dry but burning. I wanted to cry, to scream, to smash the ground. Instead, I just stood there, spear in hand, powerless. Hero? My ass. I wasn't even capable of protecting a handful of villagers.

A small sob broke the air.

I turned my head.

Elene.

The village girl. Healed by Hikari, dressed in a kimono far too big, she looked like a shadow of herself. Her little fists clutched the fabric, her thin shoulders trembled. Her eyes, swollen with tears, stared at the pit as if she were about to throw herself in.

My stomach twisted. Shit… she had just lost her whole world. Her parents, her friends, her home. Everything.

And me? I was nothing but a useless witness to her grief.

Ayame knelt beside her. Her bloodstained hand rested gently on her cheek. Her voice, low and vibrant, cut through the silence:

— "Elene… I know it hurts."

The girl hiccupped, her lips trembling.

— "Why… why did they leave me all alone?"

Ayame drew in a slow breath. Her brown eyes shone with contained pain, but her tone remained calm, almost firm.

— "They didn't leave you, Elene. They loved you, and it was for you that they fought until the very end. What you feel… is the proof that their love is still here."

The little one shook her head, tears flowing in torrents.

— "But… I'm scared… I've got nothing left…"

Ayame held her gently against her. Not a possessive embrace, just a simple, human, maternal gesture.

— "As long as you stay alive and keep moving forward, they'll be with you," Ayame said, placing her hand on Elene's chest, right above her heart, as if to seal it. "Do what they would have wanted you to do with the chance you still have: live, and take one step at a time."

Elene didn't answer with words. She threw herself into Ayame's arms, clung to her as if she were being given back a piece of the sky, and sobbed into her kimono. Her little arms clutched Ayame as if never to let go again, and for an instant — a tiny instant — I had the illusion that this world could be stitched back together with simple gestures.

We set off again at nightfall. The rooftops receded, the city closed itself on its shame. Elene fell asleep against Ayame, drained by her tears; her breathing was small and uneven. Watching her sleep gave me a surge of obligation. She was fragile, and politics, underneath it all, appeared to me like a sea that would swallow her whole if we didn't hold her back.

Reinardht stepped forward once the group had gathered, his expression dry. He waited until the little one was truly asleep, then planted himself before us and spoke. His voice was one that didn't seek to move but to command attention.

— "Good. Now that the girl is asleep, I have things to tell you."

I answered with a grunt:

— "We're listening." The lack of mana clung to my muscles, my head was heavy, the turmoil weighed me down. But my ears stayed sharp when he spoke.

— "The noble you killed," he said, pronouncing the name like a sentence, "was Édouard Valerius d'Aethros — the king's nephew. Understand this well: it won't be the king rushing to lead an open war; he did what one always does with thorns: he placed them far away. But it doesn't change the fact that this murder undermines the calm the throne had bought."

Miyu spat, more anger than bitterness:

— "And the people dying for it, huh? They're the ones punished again?"

— "Yes." Reinardht didn't smile. "Politics is a labyrinth walked with hidden knives. The real problem here is the king's brother: Prince Roderic Valerius d'Aethros. He is patient, he gnaws. He never forgets. And his wife, Princess Isolde — née of Mornelac — doesn't play the coquettish spouse: her house controls the arms trade. She has resources, networks, men who know how to kill without leaving proof."

A shiver ran through me. He stripped the words away like ripping off a bandage in one go.

— "Your action will be read as a declaration," he added. "Roderic and Isolde have everything to retaliate: embargoes, commandos, mercenaries, pressure on cities, rigged trials. This isn't a personal vendetta, it's a strategy. You've stuck your hand into a hive."

Miyu slung her katana over her shoulder, jaw tight:

— "So what do we do? Apologize?"

— "No," Reinardht replied. "I'm only saying: convictions and courage are good. But dying without having built a future is wasting what others fought for. Already, you were lucky the city's commander let your heads go. Without his arbitration, the elite soldiers would have slaughtered you."

Shame ate at me:

— "I acted out of anger. Out of guilt for staying inert."

Reina brushed my hand in agreement, and her voice remained simple:

— "Thank you, Reinardht. Without you, we wouldn't be here."

She too must have understood that, deep down, it was only thanks to him that we got out of the city without real wounds. She spoke little, but we all saw it, after all.

Reinardht shrugged and let out a dry laugh:

— "I'm just raising the next generation, that's all." Then, sharply: "The Heroic Academy will take place in draconic territory. There, human intrigues will weigh less. Take advantage of it: raise your levels, forge your mind and your skills. When you return, Roderic and Isolde will have had time to organize their anger. If you come back weak, you won't last."

The words dropped and echoed like a weapon laid on the table. It was concrete. It was political. It wasn't just a warning: it was a roadmap.

I clenched my teeth. The path became an objective. My heart beat too hard, but for the first time the rage was polished and transformed into a plan: to rise so I would no longer be the one left with empty hands.

Elene slept, her head resting against Ayame's throat; seeing her breathe split me and held me together at once. I closed my eyes for a second, and I promised, silent and brutal: I would find the strength to come back. For her. For all those I had failed to protect.

— "Let's go," someone murmured. I nodded. Hooves struck the earth. Our silhouettes stretched into the night. The weight of politics clung to our backs, as real as armor too heavy. And yet, I walked on.

We had walked for hours. The stones of the road hammered my soles as if they wanted to sink into my bones. Each step drained a little more mana, a little more breath, and yet I kept going. Not for me. Not for us. But because Ayame was still carrying Elene, asleep, and seeing her breathe forced us to keep moving.

When Duskfall's walls finally rose in the night, I felt as if they were judging us. Black, cracked, still smoking from the last battle, they didn't welcome us. They towered over us. As if to say: you survived, but for what?

They were there, at the gate. Elyra, upright, her spear still stained with dried blood. Maeron, his face hollowed but his eyes hard as the steel of the books he endlessly quoted. Ilyas, the archer, his gaze cold, his silhouette taut like a bow always drawn. And finally Albrecht, that living wall, that rock of authority who watched us in silence.

We told them. Not everything. Not every tear, not every sob of Elene, not the dead stares of the peasants we hadn't managed to save. But the essential: the noble, his cruelty, his execution. Reinardht who had covered us. And that new, invisible weight clinging to our skin: the politics of a kingdom where killing a bastard never erased evil, but only spawned more.

Elyra stepped forward. Her gray eyes settled on the little girl Ayame was still carrying. Silence weighed heavy. Then she spoke, grave, but with a gentleness I hadn't known in her.

— "Elene…" She bent down, kneeling to her height. "I offer to become your mother. To live with me. You will no longer have to fear loneliness. Does that suit you?"

The little one lifted red, still-wet eyes, and her lips trembled.

— "I… I want to stay with the heroes. Please."

Fuck. Her voice tore through me.

Reina knelt as well, laying a gentle hand on the child's head. Her fingers slid through her hair with maternal slowness.

— "We have to fight the villains, Elene. We can't take you everywhere. But listen to Elyra. Stay here, grow stronger, and one day… you'll be able to help us. Okay?"

Tears swelled in the little girl's eyes, but this time they shone with something other than sorrow. She nodded vigorously, her cheeks still streaked with salt.

— "Yes… I'll do my best… to help you later!"

I felt my throat tighten. Damn, she had lost her whole world and already she was swearing to carry a burden bigger than herself.

Ilyas, silent until then, stepped forward and laid his gloved hand on Elyra's shoulder.

— "We'll train her too." His voice cracked like a promise. "Each of us will do our best."

Maeron nodded, his dark eyes shining with rare gravity.

— "I will give her knowledge, books, discipline. The words to forge her mind."

Albrecht, finally, set his massive hand on the fragile shoulder of the child, and his tone, deep as a war drum, resonated through the courtyard.

— "And I will teach her strength. To stand tall. To endure. To never bend."

I stood there, mute, my heart crushed between two certainties. We weren't leaving just a child behind: we were leaving a promise. And this world never forgave promises.

~

Night had fallen on Duskfall like a shroud. Torches dimly lit the corridors, the mist muffled the sounds, and I… I couldn't close my eyes. Lying on my makeshift bed, I tossed and turned. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to yield. Too much weight, too much blood, too many dead faces in my head.

After a while, I sat up. Staying there burning myself out was useless. My steps led me almost by themselves toward Elyra's tent, set up in place of her still-rebuilding quarters. I was ashamed of this need, this urge to seek refuge with her… but I also knew that there, I would find some air.

I pushed aside the canvas. She was there, lying down, but not asleep. Her silhouette was cut by the flickering candlelight. She turned her head, her gray eyes fixed on me without surprise, as if she'd been waiting. I approached, hesitant, then slipped against her, back turned, my head finding its place on her firm chest. Her scent hit me at once, sweet vanilla, intoxicating. I breathed out.

— "You know… all this is wearing me out, Elyra."

Her hand barely moved, brushing my shoulder. Her voice vibrated low and soft at the same time.

— "You've turned your whole life upside down. And humans aren't making it easier for you. It's normal you're exhausted."

I bit the inside of my cheek. The words spilled out despite me, like an overflow.

— "I try to do my best for the girls. I try to grow up as fast as I can. I never forget my meditation, my training, my spear. I try to guide our choices toward what's right. But yesterday… yesterday I snapped. It was the right thing to do, I know. And yet… because of me, they're now in danger, far more than they should have been."

Her fingers rose into my hair. A slow caress, comforting, almost maternal but charged with something else too.

— "Kaito… no matter the burdens you want to carry, no matter the calculations you force on yourself… you're still human. A human with feelings, with desires. Yes, our actions have consequences. But living by weighing every consequence… that's not really living."

I closed my eyes under her hand. Her tone wasn't judging. She was almost rocking me.

— "I hope I can become a hero worthy of my blessing," I murmured. "I hope I can give a bit of happiness to this world before I die."

Her breathing lowered, slow, warm.

— "That's why we're here, Kaito. To give you the time to grow."

I turned toward her. Her light nightwear slid down her shoulder, revealing the curve of a breast, the nipple erect under the dancing glow of the flames. My gaze climbed despite me back to her gray eyes. She didn't look away. She held mine.

My stomach clenched. I was ashamed to admit it, but I desired her. And in the middle of this chaos, that desire tasted like a refuge.

— "I'm going to miss you, Elyra…"

Her lips curved into a smile, almost sad.

— "Then let's make the most of our last night before a long time."

At her words, I leaned in, slowly, my lips seeking hers. When they finally touched, it wasn't just a simple contact: it was a kiss of desire, burning, hungry, that promised a night where nothing else would matter.

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