Seems like I'm not the only one who's late...
The thought crossed my mind as I spotted her ahead, maybe thirty or forty meters out—Forza, standing still like a silver statue amid the creeping mist and low, murmuring wind.
Her cloak gave her away.
The Wal-kins crest shimmered on its back—graceful and proud—etched in silver so polished it seemed to catch sunlight that didn't exist. A radiant illusion against skies swallowed by thunderclouds, where no sun had dared show its face all day.
I approached quietly, slipping to her right after gently tapping her left shoulder.
A simple trick. A harmless bit of mischief, an act she's yet to experience... Hopefully not, though.
She flinched. Just barely. But she turned quickly, and when her moonlit eyes met mine, her expression shifted.
At first, recognition bloomed: soft smile, warm gaze.
But then her eyes dropped toward my eye, the only one left.
The smile died.
Her lips thinned. Her gaze steadied.
"…That doesn't look good," she said, her voice quieter now. Not pitiful—just honest and on-point.
I extended an arm for her to take.
She hesitated, but eventually looped her own through it, and we continued walking. The golden gates weren't far— they were visible, maybe a couple of kilometres. The wind picked up around us, curling through the stone paths and lifting loose threads from her cloak.
I was about to deflect, to make some half-joke reply, when she stopped abruptly.
She stepped in front of me.
Faced me fully. Her face was calm, but her eyes—the same silvery shade as a frost-covered blade—were sharp, focused, and... Concerned?
"Lucius," she said as her voice left behind the formal tone it carried.
"What happened?"
Her tone wasn't angry. It wasn't soft either. It had that particular crispness, like a professor asking a question they already knew the answer to, waiting to see what lie the student would give.
'It seems she's got a rough idea.'
"Nothing," I openly lied. "Just an incident… during training."
I placed a hand on her shoulder—gently, not forcefully—and turned her back around before walking again.
She didn't resist, allowing herself to be commanded by someone much weaker.
But she didn't believe me either.
Of course, she didn't.
Who would?
Still, she let it slide.
Let me slide.
'Really? It was that easy?'
After a moment, she muttered, "At least put some effort into lying."
Yeah right...
I exhaled softly, wind biting at the tips of my ears, exposed and cold, stinging like they'd been cut.
"During training," I said again, this time with more weight, "I got careless. Missed a few signs I shouldn't have. Didn't notice something I should've. Now I'm missing something I'll never recover."
My hand briefly touched the bandaged side of my face, a muscle memory now, whenever this injury is mentioned.
"But don't worry. I'm not going to be some one-eyed liability... I'll manage."
It wasn't just about not telling her.
It wasn't about protecting her from the weight of what I knew. What I'd seen.... Why drag her into this mess? She's a guest here, not a resident. Plus, I don't feel the need to inform her about things I've discovered. She's an outsider at the end of the day, let's not forget that, I told myself.
Forza might be strong. But loners like her… they carried pain in silence. And that silence could break them faster than blades ever could, especially if the silence is paired with despair... A deadly combo, from my experience.
"I see…" she said softly. "Then, I guess I should be thankful."
She pulled her cloak tighter around herself.
"Most people… would've abandoned me," she murmured, barely audible over the wind. "You didn't."
Her words hung in the air, fragile as frost on glass.
I didn't respond; my presence here, alongside her, was enough. Actions speak louder than words, after all.
The cold was starting to dig in now—real cold. The kind that crept into joints and tried to hollow you out from the inside. It bit at my ears, scraped across the skin where my hood hadn't shielded. Forza had wrapped herself tighter, her entire frame hidden beneath the greyish-dark, noble cloak of her House.
The clouds above rumbled with distant thunder. Lightning traced soft veins across the sky.
It wasn't just a storm rolling in.
Something heavier was coming. A storm, yes. Heavy rainfall as well? Perhaps both.
"How confident are you? About this raid?"
Her voice was calm, but the sincerity in it stood out randomly, reminding me of her status and the physical weight her presence carries, as there were a few individuals, mages, adventurers and knights alike, staring and talking amongst themselves, I realised.
She's famous, I guess... Plus, her beauty does attract a lot of attention, unwanted attention*.
She's not like those calculated polite nobles,... Which is rare, even among those who live behind marble walls and silken curtains, acting and claiming themselves as our messiah for some stupid reason.
Nobility was more than a title—it was an identity, a bearing, a way to exist a step above. Yet here she was, speaking as an equal. Not commanding. Just… asking. Conversing, walking beside a commoner, a non-elemental mage at that... No, I'm not being Melodramatic, this isn't how nobles act around their lesser counterparts.
We kept walking, our pace steady, boots rhythmically hitting the muddy stone path as I mulled over the question.
Anyways, her question, what was it again?
"…Honestly?" I finally said, "Not much, I'm afraid."
I didn't look at her when I said it. Just kept my eye forward, rain misting over us like a curtain waiting to be torn open.
"This is our first and last mission together. We've got no synergy, no flow. And along the way—between the plans and the pain—I gained something, yeah. But I also lost something... something significant. Obvious."
My hand instinctively grazed the bandages again, the sharp pain no longer bothered me as I've gotten used to its current-like sensation.
"In this condition, no sane person would've volunteered to go with you. No one would willingly walk into terrain like this, against an infamous beast like that, just for the very wrong reasons."
The truth, raw and jagged, rolled from my mouth on its own.
Forza said nothing. Just kept walking beside me. Listening.
"…And yet," I added, the edge of a breath catching in my chest, "I'm excited."
She glanced my way at that.
"This isn't some fruit dropping into my lap. It's not luck or fate. This feels like a blade, double-edged. Meant more for slicing than shielding. And that idea… it thrills me. Terrifies me. But also—excites me to my damn core."
I chuckled, mostly to myself. "I'm scared. I'm underconfident. I'm already wounded. And you know all that. You see it. But I'm still here. Because we're going to find that Chimaera, hunt it down, and kill it. Together. As a team."
My voice steadied as I spoke. My resolve solidified in the downpour.
She gave a stiff nod—awkward, unsure—then held out her fist.
I blinked.
"…A fist bump?" I asked, a bit amused.
She nodded again, a little embarrassed.
I let out a quiet laugh and met her fist with mine.
Yeah. She's… cute. Innocent, even. I'll admit that much.
But internally? I hoped—really hoped—we wouldn't find that Chimaera.
That speech? That resolve? Sounds great on paper. Looks great in a memory. But people with something to lose don't march into death smiling.
And I'd already lost something yesterday.
I wasn't planning on following it up with another something, like a streak of my life.
Sure, there's a part of me—the part that stirs when the wind sharpens and the tension coils—that wants this fight. That burns for it.
That part can go screw itself.
I'm reckless. Not suicidal. And this? This isn't even a one-sided gamble, it is a suicide mission.
Yet here I was, beside her, with my feet refusing to turn back, knowing full well the consequences of not turning back right now...
'God! I've gone soft.' I thought as my eye rolled back momentarily, before I resumed my focus on the checking post of the Golden Gates.
A few hours later…
The middle section of the Outer Rims.
Cold. Harsh. Alive. Dark. Scary. You name it, and I'll agree in response.
The rain was pounding, hammering through the canopy like falling nails. Lightning tore the sky into jagged fragments. The wind had turned the downpour diagonal, slashing across our path like knives. It wasn't a storm. It was a warning.
Forza was on the upper branches of the tallest tree nearby, her cloak soaked and whipping violently in the wind, silver eyes narrowed, glowing faintly in the gloom. She stood steady, balanced, amplifying her senses.
Wind mages were unmatched in tracking. In a storm like this?
Only they could listen through the chaos.
I didn't bother trying to help.
It would've been pointless.
Instead, I stayed beneath the tree, watching her. Letting my instincts stay sharp. Letting my thoughts drift... Which was now getting boring, especially when I had someone new to talk with, to talk about.
Therefore, I spoke.
"If I'd backed out… what would you have done?"
She didn't turn. Didn't hesitate.
"I would've come alone."
Simple. Like she was stating the price of bread.
I stared up at her silhouette, sharpened by rain, outlined by the occasional flicker of lightning.
"You say that like it wouldn't kill you."
"It might," she replied.
'It will.' I corrected, internally.
Still so calm.
Still that strange, noble softness.
But behind it, I sensed something colder.
"But I'd rather die trying," she continued, "than sit around waiting for someone stronger to show up and do it for me..."
Oh… that's admirable.
I didn't say it out loud. Just watched her, soaked in stormlight, balanced like a blade in the wind. I couldn't deny the admiration rising within me. But there was something else too—something hidden in her tone, beneath her eyes. Not fear. Not pride. Motivation.
Something stronger than the prestige of AIMS.
Something buried much deeper. Sharper. Personal.
The wind screamed through the trees again. The forest groaned like some ancient beast, disturbed from slumber. Leaves twisted violently, and lightning cracked against the horizon, illuminating Forza's descending figure in jagged flashes.
She landed near me, her cloak dripping, her face twisted—not with fear, but with frustration. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes, usually calm like silver pools, now narrowed into storm-forged blades.
"I can't track it. Not from here," she muttered, a flicker of anger evident in her voice. "We'll have to move deeper."
I looked past her, to where the forest thickened, transforming into something more akin to a flooded jungle. The ground ahead was already knee-deep in water. Roots, vines, and shadows tangled in ways that suggested no sane beast—or human—had passed through in ages.
On any other day, I might have accepted this. Might've nodded, offered a dry joke, followed along without resistance.
But today?
Nope.
I opened my mouth to object, but she cut me off.
"Return if you're not going to stick around," she said without even looking at me, voice flat but sharp. "Just like you can read my face, I can read yours."
I blinked. "Listen—"
"No."
"..."
"Please, just—"
"No."
"…Will you at least—"
"I won't."
A nerve twitched in my temple.
I stared at the tree beside me—tall, soaked, innocent. My fingers twitched, and I nearly unleashed my telekinesis right then and there, just to relieve the pressure.
This woman was getting under my skin.
And yet... What the hell is wrong with me?!
Why can't I just walk away? Leave her to this suicidal plan? It's not hard. It shouldn't be hard. I want to leave. I should leave, without a word! After all, actions speak louder than words!
And yet… I stay.
Why?
Why is a part of me still siding with her, even now?
Why am I prioritising her safety over my own? She can fucking fly away if things go south! Just like that, while I would be swimming across these gross patches of miniature lakes and rivers!
She turned, ready to march forward again into the rain-soaked abyss.
I exhaled through my nose, slow and sharp.
Then bowed, exaggerated and sarcastic.
"Lead the way, Ms. Commander," I said, voice dripping with reluctant obedience.
She didn't turn or reply.
Just walked.
And, against my better judgment…
I followed her footsteps.... Into the initial craters of the swamp regions.