In this world, things sometimes happened that no one could have imagined.

When Clay lived as a Hero, he faced all sorts of enemies and encountered countless situations that defied imagination.

And now, he was once again facing one such moment.

"…Yelena."

Yelena suddenly appeared before Clay’s group, who were resting for a moment by the riverside at sunset. And she was mortally wounded—beyond recovery.

"Yelena…?"

Following Clay, Naiad confirmed her figure and gasped with a look of horror.

"How did you get here…?"

Elves and spirits shared a fairly close bond. Both were races that lived in harmony with nature, giving them common ground.

Though elves were indifferent and spirits highly exclusive, making true closeness rare, they still respected and communicated with one another on that basis.

But if it were only that, Naiad wouldn’t have looked so shocked.

The Hero's party, centered around Clay. Both Yelena and Naiad had once belonged to it. They had embarked on adventures together, shared countless journeys.

Life and death, joy and sorrow.

Ties forged through that process. Out of that past habit, Naiad instinctively tried to approach—only for Clay to stop her with a hand.

"Don’t, Naiad."

Startled, Naiad turned back to Clay. Without even meeting her eyes, he spoke.

"Don’t do that."

It sounded almost like a plea. Naiad swallowed hard. It struck her then—her actions might hurt him.

She had already heard what he’d gone through. She knew well enough what position he now stood in.

Clay could no longer approach Yelena as he once did. He had become someone who could not. And that was a path he had chosen himself.

So she, too, who had decided to walk that same path, needed to accept that she could go no further here.

"Ah."

A pained groan escaped her lips. Whatever had happened to Yelena, whatever could be done to help—those were no longer her concerns.

"Naiad."

At that moment, Clay spoke firmly to her.

"Don’t forget what I told you."

Naiad had never encountered an old comrade in this way before. So it wasn’t strange for her to still find this pain unfamiliar.

After the execution, the relationships between the Hero’s former party members had completely shattered. It was likely something she still found difficult to fully accept.

Clay gently lowered her stiffened body to the ground.

"Syltanaro."

Clay then called to the humanoid Syltanaro, who was standing tense from Yelena’s sudden appearance.

"Hold on to Naiad."

Watching Clay turn his gaze solely to Yelena, Naiad flinched.

"No!"

Syltanaro gripped her tightly.

"Don’t even think about running out there again. Not unless you intend to betray the Demon King."

"I—I just…"

Naiad tried to say something but clamped her eyes shut and bit her lip.

"Kh…!"

Looking utterly devastated, she turned away. Syltanaro held her gently in both arms and turned his head toward Clay.

"…Still showing up without warning, huh."

Clay, simply standing before Yelena, muttered as if to himself.

"A fatal wound?"

"……"

There was no reply.

She was gasping for breath, struggling even to speak.

Death.

Her life was nearing its end. Clay slowly lifted his gaze to look above her head.

—I can die when I want to.

The words Yelena had once said came back to him.

—Peacefully, without so much as catching a cold.

Crack.

His clenched fist tightened with force. Her current state was anything but peaceful. Far from it.

"She’s used up all her life."

Above her head, the number 1 flickered in red, erratically. As though showing the heartbeat barely keeping her alive.

"…Clay."

It was a long time before Yelena finally spoke in a weak voice, as if revealing she had fought with everything she had as an elf.

"Are you… still in front of me?"

She couldn’t even lift her head as she asked. Clay answered in a low voice.

"Yeah."

"So this… isn’t a dream, then."

Even in her wrecked state, she let out a slow breath, as though enchanted by this moment.

"I’m sorry, Clay."

"……"

"I’m… so sorry."

She had always been clumsy, like a child, when it came to apologizing to humans, having lived in such an insular society. But now, she poured out her heart with everything she had left.

"A pathetic end, Yelena."

But to Clay, apologies were among the most meaningless things of all. If they weren’t made at the right time, then no matter how sincere, they were utterly worthless.

Even so, though he responded without emotion, his body trembled ever so slightly.

It couldn’t be helped. That much—truly—couldn’t.

"Still… I'm glad… I could… tell you."

Yelena didn't care about his attitude. As if she expected nothing from him.

"It must… be a miracle."

Struggling to catch her increasingly ragged breath, she offered not a final farewell—but something else entirely.

"Behind this… is Elhaen."

Elhaen. The god of mankind and the one who had bestowed divine power upon the Hero.

Possessing power greater than any other, but at some point, they had vanished beyond the world, their whereabouts unknown.

"Elhaen… was involved… in your execution…"

Cough.

A lump of blood spurted from her mouth.

"Please… don't forgive me."

This sudden reunion, and what she had just said—it was overwhelming even for Clay. Was she saying that Elhaen had plotted his death?

Perhaps, at the brink of death, Yelena was simply trying to confuse him.

But Clay didn’t suspect that.

He knew—without doubt—that she would never lie about something like this.

"I never intended to forgive you."

"Then… I’m glad."

She smiled.

"Truly."

In that moment, Clay’s face twisted.

It was cowardly.

She wanted her death to leave no burden on Clay. And that infuriated him. He hadn’t forgiven her. If they had met under different circumstances, she would have simply been his enemy. He would have raised his blade and struck her down himself.

"You're leaving without even bearing the weight of your sins."

To his cold words, Yelena replied,

"I'm… sorry. Even… to the very end."

Feelings with nowhere to go circled them like a wheel.

"The Hero is already dead."

Clay, in the end, did not partake in that exchange of emotion.

"So don’t leave your final words here."

There was no comfort. No forgiveness.

"Where you're going… meet the one who died."

If there were to be a moment where she might encounter the past on her way out…

The conversation ended there. No more questions. No more answers. Only the shared presence of breath between them remained. And then, one side reached their end first.

"Clay… Clay…"

Her trembling finger reached toward him, shaking like a dying leaf.

Clay slowly extended his hand.

Just a little more, and he might have touched her.

But he didn’t. He stopped.

"……"

Even so, she didn’t lower her hand. As if just the sense that he might’ve touched her—that alone was enough.

Tap.

Her finger fell, and the red number above her head vanished. The body that had seemed to defy time stiffened like stone as all life drained from it.

Silence descended upon the empty shell. Clay stood, gazing quietly down at what remained of Yelena—for ten minutes, twenty, maybe an hour.

"…Lutan."

Noticing something from the residual lightning clinging to her, Clay slowly turned around.

Step, step.

Clay walked on, and Syltanaro followed behind him, still holding Naiad in his arms.

"Yelena…"

Naiad’s gaze remained fixed on where Yelena lay, all alone.

Until she could see her no more.

That was the end.

♧

‘She didn’t use the sacred artifacts?’

After the incident, having heard the detailed report from the Imperial personnel, Valuel frowned.

‘What exactly happened?’

Yelena had clearly stormed the Guardian Knights’ sanctuary and stolen most of their sacred artifacts. If she fought Lutan, it would’ve been normal for her to use them.

‘It wasn’t discovered that she lost them because she didn’t use them… but still.’

If she had been unable to use them, that was one thing. But if she had other motives, that would be far more troubling.

And if Lutan were to learn of all this later, the consequences could be even worse.

‘I have to find out what really happened.’

Valuel moved quickly.

First, he headed for the secret medical facility where Cadis was located. Inside, Ravi still lay unconscious, unable to awaken.

"…How is the patient?"

Before addressing the main issue, Valuel asked the healer standing beside Ravi. The healer gave him a troubled shake of the head.

"Forgive me, but the chances of survival are slim. With what I’m capable of, all I can do is keep her alive."

"I see."

It was grim news. Valuel exhaled a heavy sigh.

‘If only I could confirm whether Yelena had shared any plans with her before…’

As it stood, that remained nothing more than a hope. Valuel turned to the healer and said,

"If she shows any signs of regaining consciousness, notify me immediately."

"Understood."

Having finished his request, Valuel turned to leave—and spotted Cadis just entering the facility.

"Where have you been?"

To that question, Cadis replied curtly,

"I went to retrieve something the healer needed."

"The capital and its outskirts are in chaos right now. Until Ravi’s condition stabilizes, move cautiously."

"……"

Cadis slowly turned his head toward Valuel.

"Valuel, do you truly want to save Ravi?"

"What? What are you saying?"

"I mean… are you only interested in the information she holds?"

At those words, Valuel stood silently for a moment before letting out a quiet chuckle.

"You and Ravi were never that close. Are you trying to stain my name with that?"

"You left everything, even awakening the Ancient God, to us. But the moment Yelena gained the upper hand, you cast us aside so easily."

"Cadis."

"I’m not trying to rebel. But…"

Cadis furrowed his brow as if something in his heart ached.

"From the Hero’s death onward, we’ve been nothing more than shadows. I just wonder—was that really supposed to be our role? To work only in darkness, always hiding from the light?"

Valuel said nothing. Cadis brushed past him and muttered quietly,

"Perhaps… our fate is to live unforgiven."

Without even knowing what Yelena had left behind for the one who would bring about their ruin.

(End of Chapter)

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