I remember my first guild visit.
It was chaotic, overwhelming, loud... but one thing stood out from all of it — Jhansi. Or rather, the silence surrounding her. Even Sia — known for speaking her mind without a filter, especially in front of me — avoided the topic of Jhansi's past like it was laced with poison, a subject of taboo, perhaps. The downfall of House Raigarth had always felt wrong to me and the rest of our friends and associates inside the guild and knights division. Suspicious. Unnatural. People whispered all sorts of things — betrayal, blackmail, forbidden allegiances — some even labelled it a sinister act from the shadows of the throne.
Who would've imagined those buried secrets ran so deep... so connected to everything we're now dealing with?
As much as I would love to sit down with Jhansi and talk about her family, her house, her fall — I know better. It wouldn't be that simple. It wouldn't even be possible.
I remember my second meeting with her far too well.
Which also became my last.
I was younger back then. Stupid, insecure, and desperately trying to fit into the world of those around me — the so-called honorary noble knights. I wanted to belong, to be respected, maybe even feared. So I did what insecure boys pretending to be men often do — I mocked others. I insulted the Nmanas. Loudly. Casually. For no reason other than to gain cheap approval.
And in that moment, I didn't just lose the respect of Jhansi. I lost a part of myself.
As that memory surfaced, I instinctively raised a hand to the hollow of my face, just below my burst eye, now wrapped tight with medicine-soaked bandages. The skin itched like hell. The irritation was maddening, gnawing at my nerves like an angry rodent trapped under the skin. But I resisted. I had to resist. No matter how tempting, no matter how careful I thought I could be, scratching would only worsen it. Maybe even spread the infection. Or leave something worse behind.
Pain was my new normal. I didn't need to add more to it.
That day... that second meeting... it turned into a lesson I never forgot.
Sia slapped me.
No, slammed her palm across my cheek so hard that the outline of her fingers was imprinted on my skin for days. The entire side of my face swelled like a melon. And she didn't hold back, not even a little. Didn't hesitate. Didn't blink.
And honestly?
I deserved every bit of it.
Maybe even more.
I was the one who said that inhumane garbage. The Nmanas had done nothing to provoke me. Nothing to deserve the venom I spat that day. It wasn't bravery. It wasn't wit. It was cruelty wearing the mask of confidence — the kind of arrogance born from fear and weakness.
So much for being called "the child with a man's brain" back then, huh?
I might've been intelligent for my age, sure. Maybe even insightful on a good day. But maturity? Kindness? Empathy?
Those things... I lacked. I was a mirror reflecting those around me. And most of them were broken.
Now, standing here, connecting all the pieces — the fall of House Raigarth, the Nmanas, the rise of the Wraiths — I see the truth. This isn't just some cursed prophecy or random dark force rising from the ashes of history.
This is our doing.
Us, mages, knights, nobles... even the average city-dwelling commoner. We might not have caused the Wraiths directly. We may not have dipped our hands in whatever cursed ritual transformed them. But we let it happen. We ignored them. Silenced them. Watched them be crushed under the weight of empire and apathy.
And now, the dead come knocking.
It won't matter if someone was kind to them in life or simply didn't care either way — the Wraiths won't check records for mercy or innocence. They'll kill indiscriminately. That's what vengeance does when it festers too long.
Maybe — maybe — they'll spare people like Mercy, Sia, Sara, and Jhansi. Those who actively helped the Nmanas. Who fought for them without expecting anything in return. No glory. No status. Not even gratitude.
But that hope? That dream? It's just that — a dream. A fantasy I whisper to myself when the silence becomes unbearable.
Maybe the Empire's ignoring the warning signs because they're focused on something else. Maybe they believe this invasion of the outer rims — this final campaign against the last corrupted beasts — is more urgent. And maybe they're not wrong. After all, that calamity has already claimed over ten million lives. Saints. Generals. Entire bloodlines. Gone. It's not easy to shift your focus from one apocalypse to another.
So maybe they're playing the long game. One step at a time.
Or maybe... the Empire is just as blind and ignorant as its people.
But I'm not. Not anymore. Not after yesterday.
Not after what I saw.
"Damn," Ninia's voice broke the silence. "Is that how much you talk to yourself... And the reason Jhansi doesn't like you?"
I turned to her and nodded. It did sound strange when someone put it like that, but... It's who I am. This is how I process. This is how I keep myself grounded. Can't really change that now, can I?
I love myself, and the way I exist, for better or worse.
But you... Who are you, really?
You're clearly no Nmana. So that whole "elderly woman here to care for abandoned children" act? Yeah, that doesn't fly anymore. Not with me.
Not like it ever did.
I always had my suspicions about you. None of them are positive, by the way.
Ninia raised her brows, clearly amused as she read the thoughts spilling out of my mind like an open journal.
"What, you thought I was some creepy old pedo?"
The deadpan delivery, paired with that crooked smirk, caught me off guard.
I snorted. "No. That's... a bit much, even for me."
I paused, exhaled, and let the truth come out.
"But I did think you were insane. A maniac. Maybe someone with too much grief tucked away behind your wrinkles and that fake smile of yours. Someone who used her pain to help abandoned kids, not because it's noble... but because you were abandoned once, too. Maybe by your family. Maybe by life. I don't know."
I scratched the edge of my bandage gently, resisting the urge to go further.
"It's hard to put into words, the way I felt about you. Still is."
Her expression didn't change much. But I could see it in her eyes — that flicker. That brief ripple in the still waters.
Maybe I was right.
Maybe I hit too close.
Or maybe I still knew nothing at all.
"Anyways..." Ninia finally spoke, her voice cutting through the heavy fog of my thoughts. "About your mission. That Chimaera you were supposed to slay... alongside your new noble girlfriend. What of it?"
She glanced around, clearly trying to change the subject — natural, but still obvious. I kept my eyes on her, silently wondering if I'd struck a nerve earlier. Probably. But I had little time or energy to push further. So I replied.
"Well, it's simple, really. I lost an eye. My armour's in pieces. Unless you're hiding expert blacksmithing skills behind that passive-aggressive smile, I've got no choice but to abandon the mission." I leaned back, letting my body melt into the comfort of stillness, but the words kept flowing. "Forza will understand. She has to. I was never fully confident in facing a damn Chimaera with her anyway. She's strong, sure — but synergy? Zero. We'd be walking into a death trap without coordination. It's not like how things went with Mercy. He and I had a rhythm."
Ninia hummed in agreement, but it came with a tilt of her head.
"Hm. Valid point. It really is. But... will you be able to live with the consequences if she decides to go anyway? If she ventures into the outer sectors of the Rim... alone?"
Consequences.
Right.
No. I wouldn't be able to handle that. Not even a little.
Especially not when she's the only heir to House Wal-Kins, the ruling family of Varis. Sure, her relationship with her family was... strained, at best. But politics don't care about sentiment. The moment her noble blood ends up in the soil, I become the scapegoat — the nameless, lowborn commoner who backed out and sent their precious little daughter into the jaws of the Rims alone.
Wait— Didn't Dargan mention something about solo ventures into the Rims being banned?
Yeah! There was a whole private announcement. No adventurer, no mage, not even a knight, was allowed to enter the outer zones without a team.
"She also told you the Wraith rumours were fake, remember?" Ninia cut in like she was reading my thoughts, which, to be fair, she was. "And yet, Wraiths are real. As real as the moon above and the mountains behind us. But according to the higher-ups? Just rumours. Nothing more. Plus... she's the daughter of Lord Wal-Kins. No gatekeeper's gonna stop her. Not one with a working pair of lungs, at least."
Damn it.
Do you really think she's insane enough to go in alone?
"You tell me," Ninia replied flatly, crossing her arms. "You've met her. I've only seen what's in your head. Is she that reckless?"
I hesitated, but the answer was already sitting on my tongue.
"Forza isn't insane... just determined. Her goal — something about a cure, right? — It doesn't matter. She'd leap into fire if she thought the answers were there. Me or ghosts, it wouldn't matter. She'd go."
I stared down, my remaining eye involuntarily softening as I let out a breath.
This is tricky. Really tricky. Help?
I didn't say it aloud. I didn't need to.
Ninia caught the plea written in my expression, and despite her signature judgmental glare, she gave in.
Nice. The submissive-charming look still works... And now she knows it works.
Great. Just fucking great.
"Oh, I know it works," she muttered, unimpressed. "And I'll let it slide. This time."
I nodded slightly, my neck still aching with sharp flashes of pain that shot down to my shoulder. It was hard to show gratitude properly when your body hated you for it.
"There's a chance," Ninia said, voice cooling, "that the Chimaera isn't even there. Do you really think a wounded, abandoned apex predator is just going to sit still in the same spot for days?"
With my luck?
Yeah. Probably.
Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if the Chimaera had healed up overnight, gone feral from rage, and was now waiting — just waiting for someone to rip it apart. Preferably me.
"I wouldn't even bet on her being that badly injured," I muttered. "She's old, experienced, pissed, and we'd be going in one person stronger than last time... Not really a fair trade."
Ninia raised a brow and leaned in.
"Then go with Forza. Stay by her side. She'll need someone to navigate, someone to watch her back. She's a researcher, not a fighter — remember? So distract her. Misdirect her. Lead her into the wrong areas. Waste her energy on weaker beasts. Tire her out. And when she's finally running on fumes, persuade her, make her understand if she decides to let go of this hunt right now, she'll have ample amount of opportunities later on, as long as she's alive... That way, she'll choose to abandon the hunt herself. That way, you don't get blamed for retreating, and she stays alive... Which is exactly what you desire as well, for that 'loner' to live."
A pause.
"That way... everyone wins."
Damn. That's... actually a solid plan, and a far-fetched assumption.
Good job, Ms. Ninia.
"Though," she added, just as I dared to feel optimistic, "there's a slight problem with that plan... One that might turn into a very dangerous scenario."
Ah, here it is.
The "but."