[Fin's POV – Elmer Academy, 4th Floor – Alchemical Laboratory]
The door slammed shut behind me as I stumbled into the room.
For a second, just a second, I leaned against the cold stone wall and breathed.
The lab was dim, filled with the acrid scent of dried herbs and the residue of potions. Dozens of workbenches lined the walls, each cluttered with magical reagents, glowing roots in jars, stacks of enchanted parchment, half-filled vials of viscous purple fluid that pulsed faintly like they were alive.
Slid down the wall and sat. Saelira's voice still rang in my ears.
Brother.
What kind of messed-up family tree did I just get dropped into? I closed my eyes and clenched my fists.
Focus.
Just… breathe.
Ali's voice cut in after a moment, gentler than usual.
"You're stable. Heart rate decreasing. Cortisol levels elevated, but within tolerance."
I cracked one eye open. "Gee, thanks for the medical rundown."
"Would you like tactical advice instead?"
I sighed. "Hit me."
There was a pause, like she was considering the weight of my next decision.
"You have 3817 PP available," she said at last. "You've earned more than enough for the System's Path-Based Gacha."
"You know you could've told me that before we met the scary lady?" I scoffed, flicking through my system page. "Whatever, with these 'path rolls', I get more themed rolls?"
"Correct. You may now choose to allocate 1500 PP toward a guaranteed roll within a specific Path, such as the [Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer]. Doing so may significantly increase synergy with previously acquired cursed techniques."
I closed the page and glanced down at my hands. My fingers still tingled from the fire of Igni, but the cursed energy in me pulsed deeper. Heavier. Like it was waiting for me.
"…And the alternative?"
"You may spend 1000 PP on a Standard Guaranteed Rare/Mythical Gacha Roll. This offers higher variance, potentially granting tools, weapons, or abilities outside your current specialisation, but without direct synergy."
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. "So… either I double down on the Jujutsu stuff… or I gamble for something wild."
Ali hummed. "Strategically, the [Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer] roll will align with your current fighting style and cursed energy control. Greater long-term growth. However… unpredictability can yield results the enemy cannot prepare for."
She paused, then added:
"You are, after all, remarkably good at being unpredictable."
I snorted. "Gee. Thanks."
But I was already thinking.
This cursed energy inside me was sorta strong. But I didn't understand it yet. And Saelira… she wasn't playing around. If she caught me again, I couldn't rely on just running. I needed power.
Focus.
I pulled open the System Interface again...
[Gacha Options Available]
[Standard Guaranteed Rare/Mythical Roll – Cost: 1500 PP]
[Path Gacha: Jujutsu Sorcerer – Guaranteed – Cost: 1500 PP]
[Current PP: 3817]
I stared at the two choices.
Both good. Both are risky in different ways.
I tapped my finger lightly against the hardwood floor.
"…Ali?"
"Yes?"
I exhaled.
"Let's see what this Path can do."
[Path Gacha – Jujutsu Sorcerer] -> (–1500 PP | Remaining: 2317 PP)
[Rolling… Guaranteed Pull – Processing Alignment…]
……
[You have rolled - Cursed Technique – Shrine (Incomplete) - Mythical]
[Current Ability: Dismantle]
[Note: Technique is fragmentary. Other components of Shrine must be earned, learned, or unlocked through additional Gacha rolls.]
My heart stopped.
"…No way...Shrine?"
Ali's voice dropped low.
"Yes. You just unlocked the foundational technique of the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna. You've acquired a fragment, just one claw from the beast, so to speak."
"Dismantle," I said aloud, looking wall of the class
A simple cut, from what I can remember from the show. Not a blade. Not fire. Not energy. Just… pure severance.
It cut. A slice stretching across the room, from wall to wall
And now I had it.
"…And the rest of this Shrine?"
"You'll need to grow into it. Master it. Or roll more. Shrine is a layered construct, you've only just unlocked the outer walls."
"Great," I muttered. "So I just got a haunted house for a skill."
Ali chuckled. "More like a cursed temple. But yes."
I stood up slowly, bones cracking. My cursed energy was already shifting, coiling in new ways. Sharper.
I held out my hand.
"…Dismantle."
A faint, shimmering line of cursed energy carved through the air, like a blade that wasn't there, but was. A stack of metal trays on the nearest table clattered to the floor as their edges were neatly sliced in half.
I raised a brow. "Holy shit."
"Indeed."
"Ali."
"Yes?"
"Let's roll again. Path of the Jujutsu Sorcerer."
...
...
[You have rolled - Kento Nanami's Cursed Energy Reserves - Rare]
It wasn't flashy. No technique. No weapon.
But I felt it.
A surge. Like a second heart in my core, pulsing cursed energy through my limbs.
Ali chimed in.
"Your core output is now in line with seasoned combat sorcerers, equivalent to a High Grade 1. You may now channel more power with less strain."
I whistled low.
"That's what I'm talking about."
"Additionally," she added, "This reserve is known for high compatibility with ratio-based techniques and sustained combat scenarios."
"So I can go longer."
"In both battle and, presumably, ego."
I smirked. "Look at you. Developing a sense of humour."
"I am adapting to my user."
"Damn right you are."
The system faded from view, my total PP now sitting at a lean 817.
I rolled my shoulders, drawing in a slow breath. The cursed energy in my core didn't sputter or burn; it coiled cleanly around my ribs and spine, humming just beneath the skin.
"Alright, Nanami," I muttered. "Let's go be professional."
And with that, I moved deeper into the corridor, one hand on my bracer, the other already crackling faintly with sharpened cursed energy.
I shut the lab door softly behind me.
My footsteps echoed off the cold stone floor, a quiet staccato rhythm that matched the thudding of my heart. Every corridor looked the same in this place: arched ceilings, stone walls marked by faintly glowing runes, a chill that sank into your bones. But there was no mistaking the direction I was headed.
Down.
The pull of cursed energy was magnetic. Thicker now, like molasses in the air, wrapping around my shoulders and curling against the base of my skull. It wasn't just power, it was presence. It had weight. Intention. Something deep beneath this place was waiting.
I went back down to the stairwell, entering the room I'd first seen my "sister". At the very corner of that room was...another stairwell. Luckily, there was no sign of her here.
I followed the stairwell, its descent tighter, narrower than the grand ones above. I trailed my fingers along the wall as I moved. It was wet, cold sweat or condensation, I couldn't tell.
Ali was quiet.
Which was never a good sign.
"You're doing that thing again," I muttered under my breath, keeping my voice low.
"What thing?"
"That silent thing. The 'I'm worried but I don't want to tell you' thing."
"I'm processing."
"Uh-huh."
A pause.
Then:
"I estimate the source of the cursed energy is seventy meters beneath your current position. It is… volatile."
"You don't say."
Another turn. Another landing. My boots hit each stone stair like a hammer against glass. I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried not to think about the fact that Saelira was somewhere above me. Maybe watching. Maybe waiting.
Or maybe she was just letting me dig my own grave.
The walls began to change.
Subtle at first, etched glyphs twisting into older shapes. Not Elvish. Not Common. Something older. Runes curled like spirals, intersecting with angular claw marks. Some were glowing, others pulsed in quiet sequence, like a heartbeat I couldn't hear but felt in my chest.
I ran a hand over one, and it burned cold. I stared at the wall a moment longer.
"This place is a school?"
"Originally. But this level has been retrofitted. Whatever is down here, it was not part of the original design."
I didn't like that. Not one bit.
Finally, the stairwell spilled into a broad corridor. Torches flickered from iron sconces, their flames a sickly green. At the far end, a gate, half-rusted, half-obsidian, carved with a circular emblem I didn't recognise, waited.
It wasn't locked.
Of course, it wasn't locked.
I stepped through, breath catching as the corridor opened into a wide chamber carved directly from the earth. No polished floors here. No Academy refinement.
This place was a crypt.
And at its centre… the source.
It was just a platform. Round. Ringed in runes. Chains hung suspended in midair, not anchored to anything physical, but floating, pulsing like veins of light leading toward a jagged seal carved into the platform itself.
Then something hit me like a truck.
My vision doubled.
I dropped to one knee, clutching my ribs.
"Fin!"
"I'm okay," I gritted, though I wasn't. "Just...give me a second."
The energy was unlike anything I'd felt before. Saelira had pressure. Strength. But this? This was raw. Ancient. Like touching the underside of the world and realising it had teeth.
I stumbled forward.
One step.
Two.
Then stopped. My foot had landed on something… soft.
I looked down.
Fabric.
A robe.
Black. Crimson stitched. Burned at the edge.
I knelt, brushing it aside, revealing brittle bones curled beneath. A skull was half-shattered. Fingers twisted like they'd been praying or clawing at the floor.
Another cultist.
Dead. But not decayed.
Preserved by the magic down here.
I rose slowly.
There were more bodies in the corners. Not a massacre. A ritual. Failed or successful, I couldn't tell. But they'd gathered here. Around that platform.
To what?
Summon something? Feed it?
I didn't know.
"Ali."
"Yes."
"You said the resonance was like mine?"
"Yes. A match, partial. Possibly a result of lineage."
I stared at the platform.
"Kael'ven."
Silence.
"Fin..."
"No. Don't tell me you don't know"
"I cannot confirm," she said gently. "But I believe this was once… a throne."
I didn't like the way she said that once.
The seal on the platform cracked suddenly, a hairline fracture splitting through the centre, bleeding light like an open wound.
That was it.
I backed up. Fast.
"We're done here."
I turned and sprinted back the way I came, cursed energy coiling through my legs. Not full Flash Step, just speed. Controlled, clean. My boots struck stone like thunder as I surged up the stairs.
Halfway to the third floor, I felt it.
A presence behind me.
Not cursed. Not Saelira.
The platform.
It was watching.
Not a person.
The thing below.
I kept running.
...
The wind hit me like a slap as I burst out into the open courtyard. My cloak shimmered back into place as I dove into a cluster of hedges, breathing heavily.
Above, the moon was high. The streets beyond the Academy are still quiet. The turrets hadn't activated. No alarms blared. Somehow… I was still invisible.
I crept toward the gate.
It looked taller now. The iron bars twisted like spears. Arcane glyphs pulsed along the top, barely visible in the moonlight.
But the system buzzed in my ear.
Ali: "External threat radius clear. Now is your chance."
I didn't wait.
Dismantle
I cut the gate into, letting me simply walk out.
The night wind was cool on my face. My lungs ached. My knees buckled once, but I caught myself.
I didn't stop moving until I reached the lower hills, the Academy shrinking behind me like a distant bad dream.
The city was asleep.
The usual buzz of taverns and lantern-lit alleys had gone quiet. I ducked into a side street near the old aqueducts, collapsed on a stone bench, and finally let my legs give out.
Ali didn't speak.
Neither did I.
The only sound was my breath. And the distant rustle of wind in the trees.
I looked up at the stars. Too many to count.
One of them looked like it was falling. A comet?
Or maybe I was just hallucinating.
"Ali."
"Yes?"
"…Thanks. For not saying I told you so."
"I would never."
A pause.
"You were right," I muttered. "That was suicide."
"Yes."
"You don't have to agree so quickly."
"…Sorry."
I smiled. Just a little.
My hands were still shaking.
Not from fear.
From adrenaline.
I'd felt it.
That thing under the platform? It wanted out.
And it wanted me.
And I wasn't ready.
I looked toward the academy once more, then rose and turned toward home. The sun was just beginning to appear above the mountains. It was time to get stronger.
...
[Fin's POV – Forest Beyond Yartar – One Week Later]
The trees screamed when I cut through them.
Not literally. But close.
A wave of cursed energy split the air, and a massive spruce was severed clean through. It didn't crack, didn't groan, just slid apart, top half falling with a muffled crash to the mossy floor below.
I stood in the clearing, breathing hard, cursed energy steaming faintly off my shoulders like heat haze.
"Dismantle."
Another tree fell. A clean slice from ten meters away.
My fingers tingled. The edges of my cursed energy were beginning to sharpen into instinct. Faster. Deadlier.
The clearing I had carved for myself was a ruined mess of trunks, exposed roots, and splintered bark. Every tree in a twenty-meter radius was either missing a limb or had a deep scar carved into its side.
Ali's voice echoed through my head.
"Efficiency improving. You've reduced your cursed energy loss per Dismantle from 28% to 20%. Good work."
I didn't answer right away. I was panting too hard.
Sweat rolled down my neck. My shirt clung to my back. A bead of blood slid from the corner of my lip where I'd bitten it during the last pulse of backlash.
I shook it off.
I wasn't done.
I turned, crouched low, and vanished.
Flash step.
My body snapped across the clearing in a blur. Leaves blasted into the air in my wake. I twisted mid-step, redirecting my cursed energy into my legs, then rebounded again, bouncing off a stump into the sky.
Crack—boom—crack.
I shot upward, soared over the canopy, then dropped back down with enough force to crater a patch of loam under my boots.
I landed in a crouch, grinning.
"Not bad," I muttered. "Not bad at all."
"You're developing quicker than expected," Ali said. "The feedback loops between your nervous system and cursed energy are stabilising."
"Means I can go faster?"
"Yes. But only if you don't blow out your knees again."
I winced. "You bring that up one time…"
"You tripped into a creek at Mach 3 and screamed about your dignity."
"Okay, twice."
Ali didn't answer. I was pretty sure she was smiling somehow.
I rose, flexing my hand. My cursed energy pulsed in sync with my breath now. Like it was part of me, not some separate weapon. I could feel it flow when I twisted, feel it bloom when I struck out.
I looked around.
The clearing was done. Every exercise I knew, movement, slicing and shaping cursed energy. I'd run them twice. Some three times.
But I wasn't satisfied.
I walked to a line of standing trees at the edge of the clearing. One, in particular, had a knot near the middle. Small, like an eye.
I lifted my hand.
Focused.
Let the cursed energy roll through my chest, up my shoulder, then down, snap, out through my palm.
"Dismantle."
A nearly invisible line ripped through the air.
The tree trembled.
Then the knot popped. A chunk of bark and heartwood slumped to the ground, a perfect slice through the centre of the knot, like a laser had removed it from existence.
Ali whistled.
"That was precise."
"I've been practising."
"Would you like a personal rating?"
I shrugged. "Hit me."
"Raw destructive capacity: High Grade 1. Efficiency: 60%. Technique mastery: 34%. Precision: above average. Emotional stability…"
"Don't you dare."
"…Fluctuating."
I groaned, wiped my forehead. "Ali, it's been a week of barely sleeping, not eating real food, and training until my hands cramp. Of course, I'm fluctuating."
"Would you like a nutritional suggestion?"
"I swear if you recommend a protein bar again..."
"I was going to say apples."
I blinked. "Wait… seriously?"
"I have diversified."
I stared into the forest, wind blowing through the ruined grove I'd made. Leaves swirled around my ankles. Despite the heat from my exertion, the woods still smelled like morning rain and pine.
My smile faded slowly.
A week.
That's how long it'd been since I escaped the Academy. Since I ran from Saelira. Since I felt that thing beneath the school calling out to me.
And the worst part?
I hadn't stopped thinking about it once.
Not even for a second.
Not during training. Not during breakfast. Not even during those quiet moments when Helga caught me spacing out and just raised an eyebrow before sighing.
I wanted to believe I was just paranoid.
But I knew I wasn't.
Whatever was down there, it wasn't done with me.
And I wasn't done with it either.
"Ali."
"Yes?"
"How strong do I need to be before I can go back and not get torn apart?"
A pause.
"Strong enough to win."
"…That's not helpful."
"I do not have the answer. But I can tell you this: you've grown faster in one week than most sorcerers do in years. You are not normal, Fin."
"Gee. Thanks."
"That was meant as encouragement."
I lowered my arm. Looked at my palm. The faint outline of cursed energy danced between my fingertips like smoke.
"Encouragement or not," I muttered, "I'm not going back until I can make whatever's under there afraid of me."
Ali didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
The wind blew through the treetops again, softer this time. Like it was listening.
I looked up at the sky, clouds thick over Yartar. Storms are coming in from the coast. Distant thunder rumbled, low and slow.
And under it all, I could still feel it.
That cursed energy, coiling in the earth like a serpent beneath stone.
I felt a presence within the treeline. Suddenly, a wild boar jumped out, charging at me.
I raised my brow.
...
The smell of blood clung to me like a second skin.
I'd wrapped the wild boars in thick canvas, tied them tight at the legs, and slung them over my shoulder with a coil of rope biting into my collarbone. My boots were caked in damp soil, flecks of dark fur still stuck to my sleeves. My cursed energy, barely reined in after that last spar with a tree, buzzed just beneath my skin.
But none of that mattered when I crested the hill and saw the house again, its warm light leaking from the windows, a thin trail of chimney smoke curling into the sky.
Home.
It was still weird to think of it like that.
The door creaked open with a bit of a shove, damn hinges were swelling from the humidity again, and I stepped in just as Helga looked up from the armchair in the main room.
She was reading the paper.
Which was weird enough.
But it was the glasses that made me stop.
"Hey," I said, shifting the weight of the boars on my shoulder. "You, uh… rob an old librarian on your way home?"
Helga didn't look up right away. Her legs were kicked up on a nearby stool, one arm flung over the backrest lazily. Her hair was tied up messily, strands of it falling over the frames as she turned another page.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, voice dry as kindling. "Was starting to think you ran off and married a nymph."
I raised a brow. "Do they even have those around here?"
"Plenty. Most wouldn't go for a scrawny kid who talks to himself in the woods, though."
"I'm not scrawny," I muttered. "And I don't..."
She raised an eyebrow.
I sighed, plopping the boars onto the side counter with a dull thud.
"I brought dinner."
She finally looked over the edge of the paper.
"Boar?"
I nodded, pulling the rope from my shoulder and rubbing the red line it left behind. "Two of them. Not too old, good meat. One nearly gored me, but I hit it with a Dism—uh, with a well-placed stab."
Helga squinted. "Dism what now?"
"Dislocated its tusk," I said quickly, waving a hand. "Hit a rock. Slipped."
"Mmm."
She folded the newspaper shut and finally gave me her full attention, and yeah, she still looked like Helga: tired eyes, hair like a warzone, that faint line of a smirk that said she knew more than she let on.
But those glasses…
I squinted. "You feeling alright?"
"What?"
"You look like you're about to give me a ten-page report on the geopolitical implications of goat farming."
She snorted. "I'm reading, Fin. My eyesight's not what it used to be."
"Since when?"
"Since always."
"You've never worn those before."
She shrugged, standing up and walking past me toward the kitchen. "Didn't need them before. Print got smaller."
"That's not how that works."
"Sure it is. You get older, print gets smaller."
She started peeling off the boars' canvas, inspecting the cuts with a trained eye.
I leaned against the counter beside her, brow furrowed. "You never mentioned anything about your eyesight going."
"I never mentioned a lot of things," she said lightly.
Something about the way she said it made me pause.
I glanced back at the newspaper on the chair. It was folded neatly, front page down. I couldn't read the headline from here, but I could see the corner of something strange, a glyph, maybe. A symbol.
"What were you reading?" I asked.
"News."
"About?"
She wiped her hands on a cloth, keeping her back to me. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"That usually means it's something I need to worry about."
"No," she said, finally turning back around. "It means I want you focused. Not distracted."
I folded my arms. "You're the one who told me to start paying attention to the world around me."
"And you've been really subtle about it," she said, arching an eyebrow. "You've been in that forest almost every day. You think I don't notice?"
I opened my mouth. Shut it.
She leaned on the counter. "You're stronger. Faster. You move like someone with power now. I knew it wouldn't take long before you started pushing your limits."
"I've been training," I said simply.
"I know. But forests don't fight back. At least, not like people do."
There was a moment of quiet.
The smell of iron from the boars still hung heavy in the air. The soft crackle of the fireplace behind us made the whole house feel smaller somehow. Quieter.
She took off the glasses. Set them down carefully.
"You can keep lying if it makes you feel safer, Fin. But sooner or later, I'm going to find out what you're doing."
I met her eyes.
Not angry. Not even disappointed.
Just tired.
"You're not in trouble," she added. "Yet. But I hope, wherever you're going, whatever you're chasing. I hope you're ready."
I wanted to say I was.
But instead, I just nodded.
Then, finally, she smiled again, small, faint, but real.
"Now get washed up. You smell like sweat and pig's blood."
"You're welcome."
"And make sure to leave the liver. I'm making stew tonight."
I rolled my eyes and stepped toward the sink.
But I couldn't shake the feeling.
Something was different.
Not just her glasses.
Not just the way she'd been reading.
Something in her posture. Her gaze. A tightness around the mouth, like she was preparing for something. Bracing for bad news.
I washed my hands in silence, watching the water turn red.
Dinner would be quiet tonight.
...
The stew was amazing.
Thick chunks of boar meat fell apart at the touch of my spoon, soaked in a broth so rich it almost made my eyes roll back. There were thick-cut root vegetables, wild herbs, and just a hint of something spicy that clung to the back of my throat in the best way. I didn't even bother talking. I was too busy devouring everything in my bowl like a starving animal.
Helga sat across from me, posture relaxed, one hand curled around a ceramic mug of something steaming. She hadn't eaten much. Mostly just watched me with that small, knowing smile she always wore when I was stuffing my face like I'd never seen food before.
She finally spoke between sips.
"You're gonna bite your spoon at this rate."
I glanced up, cheeks full. "Mmmph–wha?"
"Chew. Then talk."
I swallowed with effort, chasing it down with a gulp of water. "S'good."
"Obviously."
Another spoonful vanished into my mouth.
Helga reached over with her spoon and flicked the edge of my bowl. "Slow down before you choke. You're not racing the stew."
I grinned, licking broth from the side of my thumb. "You make it like this, and I am."
She shook her head, amused. Then set the mug down with a soft clink and leaned back.
"I'll be heading out for a few days."
My chewing slowed.
I blinked. "What?"
"Business came up."
I stared at her. "Business?"
She nodded, eyes drifting toward the small window where the firelight cast long shadows on the wall.
"You have a job?"
"Not in the usual sense."
"Since when do you do 'business'?"
She shrugged, nonchalant. "Since before you were born."
"Okay, now you're just being dramatic."
"I'm serious."
I set my spoon down slowly, eyeing her. "You don't even know anyone here. What kind of business are we talking?"
"The kind you don't need to ask about."
I leaned forward. "Is it dangerous?"
"I've handled worse."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight."
I crossed my arms, trying not to pout. "And you expect me to just… stay home and twiddle my thumbs?"
"I expect you not to burn the house down while I'm gone."
I scoffed. "Wow. High expectations."
She raised a brow. "Need me to write them down?"
"…No."
She let the silence hang for a moment. Then, quieter:
"I'll be fine, Fin. Really."
I searched her face. The shadows under her eyes were still there. The tiredness hadn't left. But there was steel behind her voice, the kind you don't fake.
Whatever she was doing… it mattered.
Even if she wasn't telling me why.
I nodded eventually, reluctantly. "Okay."
She smiled, just a little. "Thanks."
I glanced down at my half-finished bowl. Then back at her. "Do I at least get to ask when you're leaving?"
"First light."
"Wow. No warning, huh?"
She smirked. "You got stew. That's more than most people get."
I didn't laugh.
Instead, I leaned back in my chair and fixed my gaze on her.
"…Is this about the letter?"
Her smirk didn't falter. Not right away.
But she didn't answer either.
She busied herself with stacking the empty bowls, taking a slow sip from her mug as if she hadn't heard me. But her silence, that tight, deliberate kind, was all the confirmation I needed.
I straightened in my seat, the edges of my voice sharpening.
"So it is."
Helga didn't look up. "Don't start."
"You didn't even tell me what was in it."
"I didn't need to."
"How is that your decision to make?" I pushed back from the table, the legs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. "If it involves you, it involves me too."
"No," she said, finally looking at me. Her voice didn't rise, but it hit harder than a shout. "It really doesn't."
I stared at her, jaw clenched. "You don't get to disappear on me and act like I'm just supposed to sit here and twiddle my thumbs-"
"That's exactly what I expect you to do," she cut in flatly.
I stepped around the table, meeting her halfway in the kitchen.
"I could help."
"No," she said again, firmer this time. "You can't."
My voice dropped. "Why?"
"Because I'm not putting you in that kind of danger."
"You think I haven't been in danger before?"
"I think you nearly died a while ago."
We stood there; she, stone-faced but with tired eyes. Too tired.
"I'm stronger now," I said. "Stronger than you think."
She nodded. "You are."
"Then let me..."
"But not strong enough."
That stung.
I looked down, fists trembling at my sides. "You don't trust me."
"It's not about trust."
"You always say that."
She didn't respond.
I looked up, meeting her gaze. "You trained me. You raised me. And now what? I just sit around and do chores while you walk into gods-know-what with a sword and a frown like that's enough?"
Helga's jaw tensed. She turned back to the sink, setting the bowls in with more force than necessary.
"This isn't like what we dealt with back on the farm. It's worse. And I won't bring a child into it."
"I'm not a child."
She didn't answer.
That silence hurt more than anything she could've said.
I stepped back.
"Fine."
She looked over her shoulder.
I was already turning away.
"You wanna handle it all on your own? Go ahead, watch me give shit!"
"Fin-"
"Goodnight."
I didn't slam my door, but I shut it hard enough that she knew I could've.
The room was cold.
Not in the way that made you shiver, the kind that settled in behind your ribs when the heat left with the person who closed the door on you.
I lay back on my bed, one arm flopped across my face.
Gods, I was such an idiot.
I wasn't mad at her.
Not really.
Ali's voice came softly into the silence, almost like she'd been waiting.
"…You don't hate her."
"No shit," I muttered, not moving.
"You never really have. Not even when she yelled at you for throwing that sword into the roof beams."
I huffed a laugh. "That was one time."
"That was three times."
A pause.
Then:
"She means a lot to you."
"Yeah," I said, my voice quieter this time. "She does."
Ali was silent again, like she knew what I was about to admit before I did.
I stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows move with the moonlight. My chest was tight. Not the kind that cursed energy could fix. This was something else.
"…I love her."
Saying it made my mouth feel dry.
"I-"
I laughed, small and sharp. "That's the first time I've actually said that."
Ali's voice, gentle and amused: "Would you like me to log it as a critical confession?"
"Shut up."
"I'm noting that as 'Deflection through sarcasm.'"
I smiled faintly, the kind that hurt a little.
"She found me when I was nothing," I said, fingers curling in the blanket. "Raised me. Trained me. Never asked for anything. Never treated me like some tool or some lost kid. Even when I was weak. Even when I messed up."
"She chose you," Ali said, simply.
"Yeah." I exhaled slowly. "And I've spent most of my time being a little shit about it."
"You are a tsundere."
"I am not a-" I cut myself off. Groaned.
"…Okay, maybe a little."
"A high-ranking one."
"I will dismantle you."
Ali giggled.
The silence that followed was softer now, less bitter.
I stared up at the ceiling for a long time, my fingers drumming against my chest in thought.
"…Wherever she's going," I said quietly, "I just hope it goes well. I just…"
I swallowed.
"…I just want her to come back."
Ali didn't say anything that time.
She didn't need to.
...
End of Chapter