The edge of her sword still gleamed, stained with crimson, as her trembling fingers tightened around the cold metal.
«Husband and wife»
The words echoed in his head like a cruel mockery. "How long had it been since those vows meant anything?"
Now, they were just hollow phrases, stripped of meaning, trampled by the very lips that had once spoken them.
«Tilldeath do us part».
And oh, she had kept that promise well.
.
.
.
"Stupid…!"
The word escaped my lips.
My voice—my own voice—sounded foreign, broken by the blood filling my mouth.
The taste of iron reminded me I was still alive, even though each heartbeat sent waves of fire through my chest.
She said nothing. Not even a whisper.
She just looked at me.
That damn look.
The same one that once was my shelter, my entire world…
Now emptier than the void, colder than the steel that had pierced me, and crueler than any wound.
When did it all go to hell…?
...
Ah, right. Now I remember…
My knees buckled for a moment, and I barely managed to stay standing.
The world swayed around me, but my eyes never left her.
Her knuckles were white around the hilt, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly.
Was it rage? Pain? Remorse, maybe?
It didn't matter.
A bitter smile crept onto my lips, mingled with a trail of blood slipping down my chin.
"How ironic," I whispered, voice cracking. "In the end, it was you who betrayed me."
I stepped back. Then again.
Staggering. Dazed. My chest torn to pieces.
Blood poured from inside and out—hot at first, now cold.
My fingers found the hilt of another sword—still embedded in the corpse of the Demon King, whose body hadn't even cooled yet.
With a groan, I pulled it free. The sound was wet, coarse.
An inevitable conclusion to a war that brought nothing but suffering.
I raised the weapon with what little strength I had left.
Emotions flooded me, but I didn't waver.
I turned to face her.
Helena. The Saint.
The one who vowed to fight beside me.
Who, on a winter's night, kissed my lips and swore never to let go of my hand.
The woman I had entrusted my life to…
And who now came to take it with her own blade.
We stood upon Asier's grave—now reduced to nothing more than scorched earth, soaked in blood and shattered bones.
The heavens no longer watched us.
The constellations that once guided us had abandoned us.
Now, they simply stared in silence, awaiting the bitter end of our story.
There were no more words.
---
CLANG!
The first blow was devastating.
Our swords clashed with a dry crack, sparks bursting from the point of impact.
Her blade scraped past my guard, tearing through the leather bracer on my arm.
I stepped back, but she didn't let me breathe.
She no longer hesitated. She no longer faltered.
Helena attacked as if she had never known me.
CLANG! CLANG!
Another strike came—faster this time.
I tried to deflect it by instinct, but the impact still reached my shoulder.
She wasn't fighting to defend herself.
She was fighting to kill me.
Her strength was precise.
The kind you wouldn't find in someone already exhausted.
Her sword came down.
I turned just in time, the blade grazing my ribs.
The pain was sharp and searing, but I forced myself to keep going.
I couldn't back down.
We collided.
Tripped over debris. Fell.
Rolled across a ground littered with ashes and dried blood.
She struck my face with the hilt of her sword.
I hit her jaw with my elbow.
---
CRACK.
I felt bone give way.
She spat blood, but didn't stop.
She rose faster than I expected.
Charged me again with a flurry of blows.
CLASH! CLANG! CLANG!
Our swords clashed over and over.
The blades trembled from the force of our strikes.
The air around us vibrated with tension—even without the mana to coat our weapons.
Helena pivoted on her heel and lunged.
I dodged by inches—felt the wind of her strike brush past my neck.
I countered immediately, slashing at her hip, but only left a shallow wound.
Nothing that could stop her.
We pulled back for a breath, gasping.
My legs trembled.
Her breathing was uneven, but her eyes remained locked on mine—unmoving.
There was no longer any doubt in them. Only resolve.
She came at me again.
And this time, she didn't hold back.
CLANG! SLASH! CHING! CLANG!
I blocked as best I could.
My sword screamed with the strain. My arms throbbed with pain.
But I stopped her.
For now...
She wasn't called the Chosen of God for nothing.
The "Apostle."
But I knew the truth.
Helena wasn't a savior. She was a puppet.
A masterpiece forged by unseen hands—manipulated like a marionette by the very beings we praised without question.
There was a time I believed this was my punishment.
My trial for defying fate.
Too late, I realized…
I had lost my comrades.
My family.
And now, I was losing the last thing I had left—
The woman I loved.
All at the hands of the gods.
Of Helena.
That one second of distraction was enough.
Her blade plunged into my shoulder, and the pain exploded like liquid fire beneath my skin.
Another wound. One more for the collection.
She didn't stop.
Didn't tremble.
Didn't hesitate.
---
My blood splattered across her face.
That nearly flawless skin was finally stained—revealing the storm inside her beginning to unravel.
Her gaze was no longer human.
Cold. Empty.
And in that darkness… there was something else.
Something silently begging me.
To end it.
To kill her…
And in that moment, I finally accepted it.
She was no longer Helena.
Not completely.
The woman I fell in love with had vanished long before I was ready to admit it.