The closest figure lay half-buried in ash.

Only the torso and head remained visible, with their legs and lower body consumed by the grey waste. Skin showed blistering that suggested burns but produced no fluid.

The ground below the person was cracked and revealed darkness beneath rather than flesh.

The warrior's dimmed eyes remained open, still searching and scanning the crimson-black sky as if hoping for rescue that would never come. Golden light that had once defined these spectral forms had faded to barely perceptible glow.

Reinhard knelt beside the figure with ash puffed upward, coating his boots and lower legs. He reached out, extending his hand toward the warrior.

The warrior flinched violently.

The movement was instinctive, recoiling from contact as if Reinhard's hand carried additional torture rather than aid. Fear replaced the searching hope in those dim eyes as no one touched each other here.

No one dared as contact meant sharing curses, spreading corruption, multiplying suffering.

But the warrior paused when he saw the smile on Reinhard's face.

The expression shouldn't be in this type of area; a soft and warm smile shouldn't be in this horrifying landscape. But what made him tremble even more was the compassion, care, and no judgment in Reinhard's light blue eyes.

"Take my hand." Reinhard said softly, lacking any trace of command despite the imperative phrasing. "Let's go."

The warrior trembled as he stared in shock before he spoke, but his voice kept on cracking. "W-Why...?" The word barely formed, emerging as a broken whisper. "Why would you...?"

Reinhard's smile never wavered. "Because no one deserves to be abandoned, especially people like you."

He spoke it as though stating a fact. It was words that left the man stunned, his expression shifting between emotions before tears began leaking down the warrior's cracked, burnt skin.

The liquid emerged dark, a result of the curses flowing through the man's veins, but the curse couldn't stop the man's emotions.

Reinhard's hands slid beneath the warrior's shoulders. He lifted, pulling the figure free from the ash that tried clinging like quicksand. The warrior's weight felt wrong, simultaneously too heavy and too light, as if mass fluctuated with each curse passing through corrupted form.

He carried the warrior to a nearby collapsed structure. The melted architecture offered a section of wall that was still standing without too many cracks or holes. Reinhard lowered the figure gently against the support, ensuring stability before stepping back.

His gaze swept across the rubble before finding a three-foot-long stone, roughly cylindrical from the melting process. His hands gripped both ends before his muscles flexed as he snapped the piece free from the larger section.

The stone broke with a crack that echoed across the ash plain.

Reinhard's hands worked the crude material, scraping off excess with the edge of another stone fragment. Not refined craftsmanship but functional shaping that created a walking stick from raw components.

"Here." He extended the makeshift support toward the warrior. "Lean on this, but also lean on me if you need."

The warrior stared at the offering before shifting to Reinhard's face, and then back at the stick. His expression kept cycling through disbelief to confusion to something approaching hope.

Trembling hands accepted the stone.

The warrior used it to push upright, his legs shaking, but the stick began supporting his weight, and he was able to stand straight.

Reinhard nodded before he began walking with the warrior close by.

Reinhard continued to the next wounded soul, who lay face down, arms splayed outward as if reaching for something just beyond grasp. Black corruption covered half the visible skin, crawling lines spreading with each passing second.

Reinhard knelt again before his hands rolled the figure over gently, revealing a face twisted in silent agony. "I've got you. You're not alone anymore."

He lifted the man before carrying him over to the side, finding another walking stick, and then moving back. The warrior he'd saved first watched with an expression suggesting witnessing an impossible miracle.

"Help me," Reinhard said simply, gesturing toward the third figure visible in the distance.

The first warrior hesitated; fear clashed with something else in those dim eyes, something that might have been courage reawakening.

Once the second warrior could walk, Reinhard led them and the first warrior to the third figure.

And then to the next, and then the next, and even more.

Reinhard moved through the hellscape with determination. Each warrior who could barely use their legs received the same treatment. They were lifted from ash, supported to a stable position, given a crude walking aid, and encouraged to stand despite protests.

While those who had broken arms after having a wall pushed off them were told to hold before following.

But there were some who resisted at first, from the curse being too much or their own doubt in themselves.

Some shook so violently they could barely maintain consciousness. But Reinhard held them until trembling subsided enough for movement.

Some protested they were too far gone, and that the corruption had advanced too much, and the curses were too deeply ingrained in them. Reinhard ignored the protests before saving them anyway.

Those already saved or who were just wandering around began following.

A small crowd formed behind Reinhard.

Warriors leaning on makeshift supports, leaning on each other, moving with shuffling steps but moving nonetheless. People covered with curses that distorted their figure, and others were trembling with every step.

Then the whispers started as Reinhard continued saving others, and doubt began ringing out from some people.

"It's pointless..." One warrior muttered, watching Reinhard approach a figure whose corruption had spread to cover the entire visible surface. "He's already lost."

"You can't save everyone..." Another added, gesturing at dozens more figures still scattered across the ash plain.

"That one betrayed us during the final battle..." A third warrior pointed at a specific figure. "Left his position, caused three others to fall."

"That one abandoned her squad..." Someone else contributed. "Ran when things got desperate."

Each accusation hung in the crimson-black air.

They were pointing out others' past sins, failures, betrayals, all of which were catalogued and remembered even in this place of damnation.

Reinhard heard them all, but his steps never faltered. He reached the heavily corrupted warrior, who was the "already lost" one, and knelt beside the figure.

His smile remained soft and warm despite the accusations surrounding him.

"None of that matters right now. The only important thing is that it's just us in this terrible landscape. It's only the people around us that we can rely on, and that also means we shouldn't abandon each other." Reinhard said softly.

But then one person spoke up in a trembling tone. "How can you… How can you trust those who ran away?"

Reinhard chuckled. "I can trust that all of us have the same goal and desire, right? Tell me without missing a beat, what do you all want-"

Instantly, all of them shouted. "We want to leave this place!"

But then all of their eyes widened when it wasn't those standing that spoke but the one lying in front of Reinhard, and the others scattered around.

Reinhard lifted the corrupted warrior who had visible black lines crawling across his skin. "Because we all have the same goal and desire, there is no reason for us to abandon, betray, or pull each other down. Instead, let's put all our effort and energy into working together to escape this place."

Stunned silence followed.

The warriors who'd been whispering doubts stood frozen. Something shifted in their faces, expressions moving from confusion and doubt toward something fragile but undeniable.

Hope.

They hesitantly began moving to his surprise, to the others around. He had expected them to need more convincing, but then he smiled at their awkward actions of trying to help the others, as if they hadn't done this in a long while.

The warrior who'd spoken of pointlessness moved toward a nearby figure. His hands extended, trembling, then grasped shoulders and lifted.

The one who'd insisted they couldn't save everyone found herself fashioning a walking stick from rubble, hands working automatically while her mind processed new possibilities.

The accusers of betrayal and abandonment exchanged glances. Some guilty emotion passed between them before they moved together toward warriors they'd condemned moments before.

They carried the wounded.

They lifted rubble from trapped figures.

They steadied one another when their legs threatened to give out.

They stood where none could stand moments before.

These actions spread like ripples across still water. Each warrior became a helper in turn. The crowd behind Reinhard swelled, going from ten warriors to twenty, thirty, and even more.

All moving together, supporting a weight too heavy for individuals alone.

Soon, Reinhard wasn't leading them or doing all the work, but instead, they were carrying his will and belief forward.

Repeating his words and shaping his simple truth into shared conviction.

"Let's put all our effort and energy into working together to escape this place."

The phrase echoed across the ash plain, spoken by dozens of voices simultaneously. Becoming a mantra which soon turned into a symbol, for the community that was formed from the cursed people around.

A voice emerged.

Not spoken aloud or came from an individual, but instead appeared inside Reinhard's head.

"...This is not you, Reinhard..."

The voice carried qualities beyond human vocal range, simultaneously deep and high, male and female, singular and multitude. It suggested something vast speaking through an aperture too small to contain its true nature.

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