"Which is? Might be?" I prompted, half-expecting her to drop something big — some hidden angle, something I'd overlooked.
Ninia didn't disappoint.
"Her abilities. Her strange calm. That mystery she walks with like it's stitched into her skin..." she said slowly, folding her arms. "If she's really going alone, in your absence, like you just said, predicted, then maybe it's not bravery. Maybe she's hiding something. Maybe... she has a card you haven't seen. One she deliberately didn't mention. She might even be using you... Watching how you lead, how you adapt under pressure. Letting you believe you're the navigator while she maps your reactions simultaneously."
Damn. That's ... a lot of thinking.
But honestly? I preferred this now. Overthinking is better than being caught off guard. It's armour — flimsy, maybe, but armour nonetheless. And if Ninia's theory holds even a drop of truth, then I'm screwed either way. Either I lead Forza towards a fresh, pissed-off Chimaera... or I drain her energy on beast skirmishes and end up facing that same nightmare with an exhausted, non-believer partner.
"So... you're not planning to abandon her?"
And there it was — the classic accusation hiding behind a question.
Why is it that no matter what I do, even my noble intentions get questioned?
Maybe this is what Mercy felt back then, when I doubted him. When I looked him in the eyes and thought his kindness had strings.
I get it now.
Sorry, my soon-to-be father of a captain.
No. I'm not going to abandon her. Either she turns back, or we face whatever's out there together. That's non-negotiable... for some reason I still don't fully understand... And here I thought, that I had no problem ditching, or abandoning people... Great, just fucking great. Another side of me that will definitely be helpful in future, prioritising strangers over my own well-being.
I raised a hand to cut off Ninia's incoming question. She paused, narrowed her eyes, but read the message.
I wasn't interested in unpacking the why behind my loyalty or concern for Forza. Maybe it's just guilt. Maybe obligation. Maybe something worse. But that didn't matter now.
The mission ends, and she goes her way — likely off to one of those golden cities in the central region, chasing exams and research grants. Our partnership has a fixed expiration date. After that, the chances of meeting her?
Zero.
So yeah — I'm seeing this through. I gave her my word. And the odds of us actually running into the Chimaera? Slim. Too slim.
Ninia seemed to understand my resolve, even if she couldn't decipher my reasoning. Hell, I couldn't. But it is what it is. Why turn back now?
She leaned against the wall, her gaze shifting, tone dipping into something more serious.
"You need strength. If this mission goes right, you land an SS-ranked mana core. You know what that means. That kind of purity could shift everything. Especially now, with enemies hiding in every corner... even our own shadows."
She paused for a moment, then added, more quietly:
"But the eye. The one you lost... you're underestimating what that truly means. That's not a scratch. That's a void. And we've spent the last hour pretending it doesn't exist."
Yeah...
That's why I was in such a rush. I need every second I can get. Before the raid. Before the world catches up to my wounds. I need to train. I need to learn how to fight like this. Blind on one side. Vulnerable. Half the warrior I used to be.
"You need training?" she said again, this time standing. Her expression shifted, something dark and gleaming beneath it. "Good. Meet me outside in two hours. I've got just the thing for you."
She smiled — no, smirked — as she turned and stepped toward the door. "You'll learn a lot tonight. I'm honestly kind of excited."
What a strange person.
Unexpected, sure. But real. Maybe too real.
Another regret to toss on the growing pile. I should've approached her sooner. Could've learned a hell of a lot more, been stronger, smarter. But I kept my distance, like an fucking, scaredy idiot.
I looked at her retreating figure, and my throat clenched with words I didn't say fast enough.
I'm sorry.
For everything.
For keeping Rebecca away from you when she stayed at my place. For isolating Lav and Sara when they tried to visit. For all the rumours I unknowingly spread — calling you a weirdo, a relic, an old maniac.
Just... sorry.
The words tasted bitter even in thought, like burnt steel. I've screwed up so much. Just by existing in these people's lives.
But Ninia — despite everything — has always been there. Always watching over the kids like some half-broken guardian.
Maybe she hides it. Maybe she pretends not to care.
But I see it now. She does. She loves them. Like a real mother would. Quietly. Desperately.
Not that I'd know. I've never had a mother. Or a father. Or a home that felt like mine.
Sure, I've had Sia. Lavya. Sara. Others. But they're friends. Lovers. Fighters. None of them ever really filled the space in my chest that parents are supposed to.
Ninia must've sensed the guilt swirling in my eyes. She stopped near the door and spoke without turning back.
"It's okay," she said, voice far more tired than I expected. "I've made more mistakes than I can count. A thousand, probably more. And I've had a long, long life to rack them up."
She exhaled softly.
"I've come to accept it. I just don't care about the small stuff anymore. I've lost too much. Too many. And now?"
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Look around. Do you see a man walking with love in his eyes for a woman who waits for him? Do you see children playing, ones who look like me? My eyes? My nose? My smile?"
She smiled then, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"You don't. Because that's the price of peace. Seclusion. Of hiding away. Of watching the world bleed from a distance... A price of being a survivor of the unthinkable, one that consumed everyone, and fucking everyone you loved, cherished and would've happy died for."
Another pause. Then she added, quietly:
"And the long-lasting peace... it always comes with a cost. One not many are willing to pay."
"..."
"Unlike me, you started with nothing," Ninia said, her voice low and almost reverent. "No friends. No family. No one to care for, no one to care for you. You walked into this world alone… and somehow, gathered people who now cling to your soul like gravity. You built a home in hearts that didn't know they needed one."
She glanced at the door, then back at me, eyes softer than I'd seen in a while.
"You and I we're different… but we're also not. That's why, before I leave this room, I'll say one last thing."
She paused, as if deciding whether or not to let herself be vulnerable.
"Don't hesitate. When it comes to those you love, never put your survival above theirs. If danger comes, if something monstrous threatens to consume everything you hold dear… face it. Slay it. Or die making sure it never reaches them."
Her voice cracked slightly — just once.
"Because I would've done the same. I wanted to. Years ago. But I wasn't given the chance. And now I live with the echo of people I once called family… and let me tell you, being a sole survivor with only ghosts for company?" She looked away. "It's the loneliest kind of hell. And worse, when you're expected to keep living — honouring their sacrifice — without ever feeling them by your side again?"
She shook her head.
"I would rather die a hundred times than keep breathing in this shell of a life."
The door closed with a soft finality behind her.
And I was alone again.
Not what I would've preferred... but when was life ever big on preferences?
Her words hung in the air like incense smoke — heavy with the scent of memory, of loss, of things never said. I could feel the history etched into each syllable, the kind of wounds that scab over but never really heal. A long life spent watching the people she loved fall around her while she lived on, unchosen by death but punished all the same.
I had time now — too much time, really — to sit with my thoughts. And so I did what I probably shouldn't have: I imagined the kind of life I never wanted to live.
A world where I was invincible. Unkillable. A god among men. A reincarnated deity with unlimited mana and perfect control...
But no, Sara.
No Sia.
No, Lav — that grinning bastard.
No Mercy and Edward, grounding me, guiding me.
No Arcane, whom I still wait for like a one-sided lover boy each season.
Just me.
Alone.
Even thinking about it made my chest tighten. My mana pulsed out of rhythm. That version of life — the "perfect" one — was unbearable. It made my vision blur and my lungs hollow.
Even with all my mantras about surviving, fighting, pushing forward… what's the point if it's without them?
If it ever came to it — if it ever truly came to it — I wouldn't mind dying to make sure they kept breathing. Again and again, if necessary. A quick, clean death? That's easy. A world without them?
That's hell.
The remaining hours passed in near silence as I focused on my mana core — the way it circulated, its rhythm, its nature. The theoretical side of it, at least. The real combat lesson had already been delivered courtesy of a shadow demon that nearly cost me my soul.
But now... I needed calm. Control. Foundation.
Eventually, I rose and made my way toward the open grounds — the same wide, worn patch of earth where kids usually played before dinner. Their laughter was absent now, tucked away in bedtime stories and closed windows. The floor creaked beneath my boots, wood bending with age, but still strong.
Huh? Interesting...
I felt him before I saw him.
A presence outside. Familiar. Steady. Disciplined.
It had been a while.
Ninia had summoned him to train me?
Didn't see that one coming.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
And the first thing I wanted to see... was his face. His expression. The way his eyes would narrow or maybe widen when he saw me — this new, changed version of me. Half-blind. Bruised. Hardened.
Let's see how this goes... After all, an unexpected surprise is still a welcome one.