Maricella’s face was twisted with emotions she could no longer control—anger, grief, jealousy, longing—each one fighting for dominance. Her eyes shone, not with confidence, but with something far more fragile: hurt that had been left unanswered for too long.

  “So this is the life you wanted, isn’t it, Soma?”

  Her voice trembled despite her attempt to sound firm.

  “You left me… you left old Spearhead… just like that.”

  She took a step forward, knuckles whitening around the hilt of her sword.

  “Tell me—do you feel guilty?”

  A bitter smile crossed her lips, one that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Or are you happy now that we’re gone?”

  Soma didn’t answer.

  Not because she didn’t want to—but because her chest felt tight, as if every breath dragged old memories back to the surface. The battlefield around her blurred slightly, replaced by fragments of the past she had buried too deep to touch without bleeding.

  That silence cut deeper than any insult.

  Maricella’s chest tightened. Her breath grew uneven.

  “You said you didn’t want to drag us into your bloody path because you cared about us.”

  Her voice cracked.

  “But look at you now.”

  Her gaze flickered—sharp, wounded, accusing.

  “You found yourself another partner.”

  A hollow laugh escaped her.

  “Someone better suited for your dark dreams, right?”

  She stopped just a few steps away.

  “Answer me, Soma.”

  Her eyes burned, glassy with unshed tears.

  “Why did you leave us that day?”

  The sword slid free with a metallic scream.

  “Speak… or I’ll make you.”

  Soma finally lifted her eyes.

  They weren’t cold.

  They weren’t angry.

  They were exhausted.

  Her body ached—not just from past battles, but from years of carrying guilt she had never allowed herself to explain. Her breath was slow, uneven, as if she had been running for far too long with no place to stop. Pain sat heavy in her gaze—deep, ancient, and unspoken.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Slowly, almost gently, she lowered her weapons and relaxed her stance. Her shoulders sagged, the strength draining from them as if she had finally decided to stop fighting—not Maricella, but herself.

  She opened her guard.

  Completely.

  Maricella froze.

  Her breath hitched.

  That wasn’t the Soma she was ready to fight.

  That was someone surrendering.

  And yet—rage surged anyway.

  Fueled by confusion and heartbreak, Maricella screamed and poured everything she had into a single strike, aiming straight for a vital point—believing pain would wake Soma up, believing a clash would force answers out of her.

  But Soma didn’t move.

  Not because she couldn’t—but because she wouldn’t.

  The blade struck.

  Blood spilled.

  The impact ripped the air from Soma’s lungs. Her knees gave way, strength abandoning her as warmth spread rapidly across her side. The ground rushed up to meet her, and the world tilted violently before settling into silence.

  Time shattered.

  Maricella’s face drained of color.

  “Soma—!”

  The sword fell from her hands as she dropped beside her, panic replacing fury in an instant. Her hands trembled violently as she pressed against the wound, trying—failing—to stop the bleeding.

  Her vision blurred.

  Tears fell freely now.

  “I—I didn’t mean to…”

  Her voice broke apart.

  “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you’d let it happen…”

  She stared at Soma’s pale face, at the blood staining her clothes—at the way Soma’s breathing had grown shallow, fragile.

  “You were always strong.”

  A sob tore out of her.

  “You were never supposed to fall like this…”

  She clutched Soma tightly, pulling her close as if her arms alone could keep her alive.

  “I just wanted to know why you left.”

  Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “I wanted to understand.”

  “I wanted to help you…”

  Her tears soaked Soma’s hair.

  “But instead…”

  Her breath shook violently.

  “I hurt you.”

  She pressed her forehead against Soma’s.

  “What kind of person hurts the one she loves most?”

  Her hands shook as she held her.

  “I’m sorry, Soma. I’m so sorry.”

  “But don’t leave me.”

  “I’ll save you—no matter what it costs.”

  Soma stirred faintly.

  Pain pulsed through her body in dull waves, but beneath it was something softer—relief. Relief that Maricella was still here. That she was being held. That, for a moment, she wasn’t alone.

  Her lips parted, her voice weak but gentle.

  “It’s… okay, Maricella…”

  A soft breath.

  “This… is my fault…”

  Her fingers twitched weakly.

  “I’m… fine…”

  “I just… need… to rest…”

  Her eyes closed.

  Soma went still.

  Maricella felt her heart stop.

  Fear flooded her completely—but instinct screamed louder.

  She sensed it.

  A presence.

  She turned sharply, placing herself in front of Soma just as a malicious force cut through the air. Her eyes locked onto an old man cloaked in black, a crimson mask hiding his face.

  His gaze lingered on Soma—knowing, unsettling.

  Then he vanished.

  Maricella didn’t chase him.

  She couldn’t.

  All that mattered was the girl bleeding in her arms.

  She gathered Soma carefully, carrying her as if she were made of glass. Inside the room, she tried everything—warming her body, pressing the wound, whispering her name again and again.

  But nothing worked.

  Hands shaking, heart breaking, Maricella finally made her choice.

  She would beg if she had to.

  She would ask the guild leader—the one known for her unmatched healing skills.

  Because losing Soma—

  Was not an option.