Jake gasped. Every breath he took reminded him of the boot that had pinned him to the cold stone. He stared at Aaron's corpse, struggling to reconcile the terrifying man he had been moments ago with the lifeless heap now bleeding out on the ground.

The world tilted; gray stone and smoke spun in a nauseating blur until a hand gripped his arm.

"Jake."

Lena pulled him up, forcing his legs to take his weight when they only wanted to buckle. He stumbled against her, and for a second he thought Aaron was there again.

But he wasn't.

He looked up. A smear of blood streaked across her cheek like war paint, mixing with the grime of battle. But it was her eyes that caught him. They were calm, clear, and unblinking. Her smile told him that everything would be okay.

"Are you ok?" she asked, searching his armor for deep dents.

He tried to nod, but his neck felt stiff, partly because of the still encroaching fear he was feeling and partly because of the injuries he got. Jake looked down at his shaking hands. His dagger was still in his hands, and he found himself unable to release the grip on it even a little.

He hadn't won. He hadn't even come close. The level gap... it wasn't just a number in the System. Jake had thrown himself against everything he had, and he had lost. If Lena hadn't come to help him…

"I couldn't..." His voice was a thin, broken thing. "I wasn't strong enough."

Jake had wanted to be the hero, the avenger. It was a way for him to repay Lena and Reidar, who had helped him avenge his family and had given him a place to stay and a way to grow.

Instead, once Aaron understood how his power worked, when he got rid of the summoned creatures that rushed to defend Jake whenever he was in trouble, among the many, he turned into the victim.

Lena didn't let go of him. Her hand shifted to his shoulder, squeezing tight enough to bruise. Almost. That anchored him to the present, to the fact that he was, nonetheless, still alive, while Aaron wasn't. Lena wasn't looking at the battle raging around them, the screams of the War Hounds and the spriggans, or the roar of their summons. She was looking at him.

"You did well," she said. "You stood in front of a monster that terrified grown men, and you didn't run."

She leaned in, and the two's eyes met. "That was brave. Braver than anyone had a right to ask of you."

The praise hit him harder than he expected. Something cracked inside him: the fragile shell he'd built to hold back the fear. All at once, the adrenaline drained away, leaving him hollow and shaking.

A sob tore from his throat. Tears blurred the blood on his armor, dissolving the soldier he'd tried to become and exposing the terrified boy beneath. He pressed his face into her chest and wept—for the fear that had consumed him, for the weakness he couldn't deny, and for the impossible relief of still being alive.

—***—

Aldric wove through the carnage as he ended the lives of the remaining War Hounds who were too stubborn to flee. The battle was winding down; the roar of combat was fading into the whimpers of the dying and the crackle of lingering spells.

He looked around the battlefield, searching for his allies, his friends, and his comrades. His gaze landed on a familiar figure near the crumbled remains of the eastern wall.

Helga was on the ground.

In front of her lay the body of Tim Korg, the War Hound bastard she fought against. His armor was shattered, and his chest caved in.

Helga hadn't been lenient and made sure the bastard was truly dead.

Aldric's heart kicked against his ribs. Fear spiked through his chest, and he ran. He cleared debris and bodies in long strides, but his eyes were only on the woman.

He dropped to his knees beside her. "Helga!"

She was propped up against a slab of concrete; her breathing was very shallow, to the point that it was nonexistent. What was worse was that her armor was rent open on the left side, and blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the dust.

But it was her left arm that made his stomach turn. Or rather, where her left arm should have been.

The shoulder ended in a ragged stump. Blood pulsed from torn muscle and shattered bone, pooling in the dust beneath her.

A few meters away, her severed arm lay palm-up in the rubble while her fingers were still curled around a broken shield strap as if refusing to let go. It was even weird Helga was using a shield to begin with, but that indicated that her opponent was anything but an easy one.

Aldric dropped to his knees. He was unsure of where to touch without causing more pain or what to do in general to help her. "Helga... gods."

Her head turned, a smile blooming as her eyes, sparkling with delight, met his and locked in a gaze of pure joy.

"Hey, pretty boy," she said. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You are… you are…" Aldric's voice was fighting to come out. He took a strip of cloth from his inventory and pressed it against the stump, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Stay with me. We need to get you to a healer, one that can actually help you."

Helga winced but didn't pull away. "Relax, it's just a scratch," she said, though her face was pale.

"Matthias can fix this," Aldric said, more to reassure himself than her. "He's got the right skills for this. He can reattach it. Just hold on."

Helga let out a laugh that turned into a cough, spraying flecks of blood onto her chin. "Reattach it? Good. I was just getting used to having just one arm."

Aldric was about to respond when Helga's expression shifted. Her grin faltered, her eyes widening slightly as her breath caught in her throat.

Then she coughed.

It started as a single, wet hack but quickly turned into a violent fit. Her body convulsed with each spasm, and blood sprayed from her lips, streaking her chin and chest in dark crimson. She tried to turn her head away from him, but the coughing wouldn't stop.

Aldric's hands moved on instinct, one supporting her back, the other hovering near her face, unsure where to help. "Helga! Helga!"

She couldn't. Each cough tore through her, her remaining hand clawing at the ground as if trying to anchor herself. Blood bubbled at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes watered from the sheer violence of the fit.

Finally, the coughing subsided. She collapsed back onto the ground, gasping for air, her chest heaving. Her face was even paler now, her lips stained red.

"Damn," she said. "That... was not fun."

She looked past him at the dead thug lying in a pool of his own blood, and the grin returned. It wasn't the smile of someone in shock.

"That was a hell of a fight, Aldric," she said with a very satisfied tone. "The best one I've had since this whole mess started."

Aldric stared at her, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You're insane, you know that?"

"I'm a winner," she said.

A low hum vibrated through the ground beneath them. Aldric's head snapped up. Above, the thick gray clouds began to part, and through the gaps came shapes. They were large, angular, and metallic.

There were at least a dozen of them, each one wearing the emblem of the Aegis Phalanx.

Aldric's smile widened. "Looks like the cavalry's here."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.