The battlefield had gone strangely quiet. The air still smelled faintly of smoke, scorched ground, and the lingering bitterness of demon corruption, but it was no longer alive with screams or the clash of steel. Instead, I heard voices—human voices, shaky but alive.
For the first time since we stepped into that nightmare, I allowed myself to breathe properly. My chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the pounding in my ears finally slowing. Around me, the others gathered. Lumiel's silver hair caught the fading light, his hands glowing faintly as he checked over the last of the wounded. Yuki and Orielle hovered close, their presences steady and warm, while Sylas stood at the edge of the ruined street—silent, unreadable, but no longer radiating the suffocating aura of corruption.
I didn't speak yet. I wanted to, but my voice felt caught somewhere between exhaustion and disbelief. Then someone else broke the silence.
"Lady Shellia… you saved us."
I turned toward the voice. An adventurer, his armor cracked and streaked with soot, staggered forward. His eyes shone with a mix of awe and gratitude. He lowered his head, almost like a bow.
Others followed. First a handful, then more. They came slowly at first, leaning on one another, wounded but alive. Their words rose one after another until it became a chorus.
"You purified the land."
"The corruption's gone—look, even the earth feels lighter."
"You're… you're really the Spirit Beloved from the legend, aren't you?"
I swallowed hard. Their gazes fixed on me as though I had single-handedly pulled them all from the jaws of death. I wanted to protest, to tell them I wasn't alone, that without my companions I could never have done it. But before I could open my mouth, Yuki darted to my side, puffing his cheeks the way he did when he was annoyed.
[Don't even think of denying it, Lia. You worked harder than anyone. Take their thanks, even if just for now.]
His voice was firm but soft, and I almost smiled. Orielle folded her arms, her crimson hair catching the last rays of light like flame.
[He's right. Stop trying to push everything away from yourself. We're your spirits. If you fall, we fall. Their gratitude is yours to carry, and ours to share.]
Lumiel raised his head then, his turquoise eyes calm and clear. "Lady Shellia has done more than most saints could ever dream of. Let their gratitude stand. You have earned it."
Hearing all three voices at once made my throat tighten. I drew in a shaky breath and finally nodded.
"Thank you," I said simply, my voice carrying over the ruined square. It wasn't much, but it was all I could manage without tears threatening to spill.
The adventurers seemed to take my words like a blessing. Some cheered, weak but heartfelt. Others just smiled through their exhaustion. A few fell to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground in reverence I wasn't sure I deserved.
One woman—her arm bound hastily in cloth—stepped closer, her eyes wet. "My brother… the corruption wouldn't heal, no matter what. But when your priest—Sir Lumiel—laid his hands on him, it was gone. He's breathing again because of you all. We… we owe you everything."
Lumiel inclined his head with quiet grace. "Do not thank me. The divine flows where it must. I only guided it."
Another adventurer spoke up, this one younger, barely older than a squire. His voice cracked with emotion. "The shield… when the monsters came, I thought I'd die. But your shield held, sir. It saved us."
Lumiel did not smile, but there was a softness in his eyes. "Then live well. That is thanks enough."
The boy nodded furiously, tears streaming down his face.
I glanced at Sylas then, curious how he was taking all this. He stood apart, silent, the blue tint of his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He neither sought gratitude nor avoided it. He simply… existed, like ice made flesh, calm and still. Strangely, the others didn't seem afraid of him anymore. Perhaps they sensed what I now knew—that he was no longer an enemy.
The mood slowly shifted as the realization sank in: we had won. Survivors began helping one another, pulling debris aside, tending to wounds with fresh determination. Laughter, shaky but real, broke through the exhaustion.
"We're alive."
"We actually made it."
"Because of them."
Their eyes flicked to me, then to the group at my side. Always together. I felt the weight of their stares, but for once, it didn't crush me.
Yuki suddenly climbed onto my shoulder in his small hamster form, his fur glowing faintly white. [Look at them, Lia. They're already spreading the story. By tomorrow, the whole city will know.]
Orielle smirked, tossing her fiery hair back. [And why shouldn't they? You stood against corruption and didn't falter. Let the world see the truth.]
I let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "You three are impossible."
Lumiel finally turned his gaze to me, steady and calm. "Not impossible, Lady Shellia. Only devoted."
The warmth in his words nearly undid me. I clenched my fists lightly at my sides, grounding myself.
A group of townsfolk approached then, people who had clearly hidden during the chaos. Their clothes were simple, their faces streaked with ash and tears. An older man stepped forward, leaning heavily on a staff.
"My granddaughter was among the wounded," he said hoarsely. "She breathes now because of your light. May the spirits bless you a thousand times over."
I bowed my head respectfully. "I only did what I could. But… thank you."
The man's eyes shone. "No. You did what no one else could. We will not forget this day."
Around him, others murmured in agreement. Already, whispers were spreading through the crowd—words like "Spirit Beloved" and "legend" and "savior." I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but Yuki rubbed against my neck as if reminding me not to shrink away.
[Let them talk. It's not pride, Lia. It's hope. And hope is what they need.]
I nodded faintly, letting his words settle inside me.
The atmosphere grew lighter as relief took root. A few adventurers even managed tired grins as they exchanged jokes, their voices less strained now. I caught snippets as they passed:
"She fights like a whole battalion."
"Did you see that flame? Pure flame—never seen anything like it."
"Rank B? She should be higher."
I pretended not to hear, but my lips curved upward despite myself.
Soon, preparations began to move the injured back toward the guild. Lumiel organized a few capable hands to carry stretchers, his commanding presence unshakable even in weariness. Orielle, still in her human form, strode among them with surprising authority, her mere presence encouraging others to keep moving. Sylas followed silently, his icy aura calming the chaos like a winter wind. And Yuki, small as he was, offered comfort with every soft glow of his fur.
As for me… people kept approaching. Some wanted to thank me personally. Others just wanted to touch my hand, as though to assure themselves I was real. Each time, I offered what I could—a smile, a word, a nod.
Inside, I felt something shift. Not just exhaustion or relief, but something deeper. These people weren't looking at me as a duke's daughter. They weren't looking at me as a failed queen from a past life. They were looking at me as… Shellia, the one who stood with spirits and brought light when darkness threatened to consume everything.
And strangely, for the first time, I didn't feel unworthy of it.
As we prepared to leave the ruined square, one adventurer raised his voice. "Three cheers for Lady Shellia and her companions!"
The cheer that followed was ragged, tired, and imperfect—but it was real. Voices lifted into the smoky air, echoing off shattered walls, carrying hope like a banner.
I stood there, surrounded by my companions—Lumiel steady, Yuki warm, Orielle fierce, Sylas silent—and let the sound wash over me.
This was the aftermath of battle. Not just silence and ruin, but life. Gratitude. Hope.
And as we began the slow walk back toward the guild, I realized something: whatever came next, we would face it together.
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