In that moment Xin saw a Parallel in Belial Something he has seen in his past... a memory of an elf that did not care much about others, This selfish act led to multiple peoples death's...just because of that one person...
I didn't want to think of Bel like that...but now...
Something within Xin snapped...An emotion he thought he would never had to reveal infront of Belial, but some things needed to be said
"You… you didn't even bother saving that man…" Xin's voice cracked through the cold mountain air, louder than the wind, sharper than the beaks of the flying hollows.
Belial stopped mid-step. The miasma barrier shimmered faintly behind him like golden glass, flickering at its edges. He didn't turn. He didn't need to. He could feel Xin's eyes boring into the back of his skull.
Xin took a few steps forward, his boots crunching over broken stones. His voice was raw. Furious. Wounded.
"Do you think this is a game?"
Belial's breath caught. He didn't answer—not out loud. But somewhere in the hidden corners of his mind, an honest thought rang.
This Is a game.
A sick one. A cruel one. But a game all the same.
"Do you think these people's lives are worthless?" Xin continued. "Do you think they're just meaningless meat shields? That because we're stronger, we're allowed to treat them like background noise?"
"No, I—"
"These people have families, Belial," Xin said, voice rising with every word. "They have goals. Just like us. Some of them joined this expedition because they were desperate. Some to prove something. Some for their kids."
Belial turned slowly, but Xin wasn't done.
"You didn't even care when the people in the catacombs died," Xin hissed. "You didn't flinch. You didn't mourn."
"I did." Belial's voice was low, defensive.
"Then tell me," Xin challenged, stepping closer, his golden eyes burning. "What were their names?"
Silence.
Belial's mouth opened. Then closed.
His gaze fell.
He didn't know.
He hadn't asked. Hadn't thought to. The catacombs had been a nightmare—twisting corridors, blood And methane in the air, echoes of things that shouldn't have had voices. He had fought like a beast cornered. He had killed. He had survived.
But he hadn't learned their names.
Xin saw it. And his expression turned colder.
"I knew it," he said. "Deep down… you really are heartless."
"That's not true," Belial snapped, the air around him flaring faintly with residual ether. "You don't know what I've been through."
"No?" Xin's voice trembled—not with fear, but rage. "I tried to help you. Back at the Oasis. When they were hunting you. I covered for you. I took risks for you."
Belial flinched, old memories bubbling to the surface like rot: firelight on black sand, voices shouting in the distance, and Xin standing between him and a dozen swords drawn in judgment.
"All you do is use people," Xin said, biting the words. "Use them until they break, then move on like nothing happened."
Belial's hands curled into fists. "Yet without me," he said darkly, "you wouldn't have survived half of this."
"You're right," Xin admitted, stepping even closer. "But that doesn't make you a better person. It just makes you necessary."
They stood there for a moment, nose to nose, tension a blade between them.
Xin's voice lowered to a whisper. "Fine. I'll forget about it. I'll let it go. But only if you tell me one thing."
Belial didn't move.
"How do you know so much about this world?" Xin asked. "How do you always seem one step ahead? What aren't you telling me?"
Belial looked away.
"I can't answer that," he muttered.
Xin laughed. It wasn't the sweet usual laughter.
"So we're just keeping secrets now?" he asked. "Hiding what we know so we can look smart? So we can save our own skin at the cost of everyone else?"
"It's not like that."
"No?" Xin growled. "Then explain it to me! You know the layout of places you've never seen. You call monsters by names no one else knows. You fight like someone who's done this before. So what is it?"
Belial remained silent.
The golden dome above them crackled, faltered, and finally dissipated with a soft chime.
The wind swept in.
Neither of them flinched.
"So that's it," Xin said, his voice dropping. "Fine. Looks like you'll be better off without me anyway."
Belial's heart skipped. "Don't say that..."
"So what if i did?"
Xin turned his back.
And something in Belial snapped.
"I never asked for your help!" he shouted. "I never asked for any of this! You think I'm some cold bastard? You think I don't care? You're wrong."
"Then show me I'm wrong," Xin whispered, without turning around.
Belial didn't answer. He dint know how to answer, he thought of his next words but he dint speak.
Instead, he took three steps toward the cliff's edge.
Xin turned just in time to see him standing on the ledge, boots inches from the abyss. A cold updraft whipped his cloak around him like mourning ribbons.
"Don't," Xin said, stepping forward. "What are you doing?"
"I don't know," Belial said, smiling bitterly. "...Maybe you're right, I'm done pretending I'm something I'm not."
"Bel—"
"You want to know the truth?" Belial yelled over the wind. "I don't belong here. I'm not one of you. I don't have your values. I don't feel the same way you do. I'm trying to survive."
He turned his head, eyes gleaming with something between madness and clarity.
"You think I'm heartless? Maybe you're right."
Then, without hesitation—
He spread his arms apart as if waiting for a death's embrace, and fell to the depths of the mountain.
Xin ran to the ledge, skidding on the loose gravel, arms outstretched too late to catch anything but empty air.
But there was no scream.
No thud.
No squashing sound.
Only silence and the setting sun.
...
Xin's lips trembled before he steadied himself with a deep breath.
"Shun," he murmured, his voice tight, "how much further?"
Shun glanced up the winding path carved into the mountainside. "Only a mile. Maybe less…" He hesitated. "Is Nero…?"
"That person is irrelevant," Xin snapped, but the words came too quickly, too sharply. "What's important is getting to safety. Right?"
He wasn't looking at Shun when he said it. His eyes drifted back, settling on Raven.
That question was meant for him.
For a moment, Xin braced himself. Part of him thought Raven might leap off the cliff in pursuit of Belial. Another part feared a clenched fist socking his face. But instead, Raven moved silently to the edge. He knelt down, still as a statue, staring into the abyss below.
The wind howled between the jagged rocks. In the silence that followed, Xin thought he heard something. A whisper? A stifled curse behind Raven's visor? It vanished before he could be sure.
Then Raven stood, his movements slow, deliberate.
"...Let's get these soldiers to safety first," he said flatly, brushing past Xin without another word.
The group moved forward, feet crunching against the gravel path. Shun, lingering near the edge, took a quick glance downward. Clouds coiled around the cliffs like restless spirits. At this height, even through the mist, he should have seen something—a glint of a yellow shirt, a dark shape, anything.
But there was nothing...
He didn't know Nero well, but he had seemed… decent. Steady. Shun could understand where Xin was coming from, the loss gnawing at him, heavy and sharp. But from where he stood, it had looked like Belial was trying to help. Trying, and failing.
Xin wasn't wrong either. His troops had grown stronger. They'd cleared the first trial. But they'd lost people too—a lot of people.
There was no easy answer. No clear villain. Just the path ahead.
And so they marched.
Time stretched thin, until the burning heat that clung to their skin began to fade. With it came a sudden, welcome change in the air—a cool breeze, soft and clean. Xin let the wind wash over him, and with it, some of the weight pressing down on his chest.
They had reached the summit.
Here, the sky opened. The clouds parted, revealing a strange clarity. Above them, high in the sky, hung a moon—but it wasn't white or silver. It was blue, deep and rich, like layers of water compressed into a sphere. It didn't feel like a moon at all. It felt like a planet—another world, too close, too heavy too big.
It loomed over them like a watchful eye.
But there was another force one far below actually...he was pretty sure it enveloped the whole mountain, but it seemed...dormant in a way, so he chose to ignore it. Xin stared up at the celestial sphere up above, lost in its unnatural pull. For the first time in what felt like hours, he allowed himself to think: At least we're safe now.
Heh..Heh…'friendship' is always a fragile thing isn't it...Xiaoxin.