It was a declaration.
Or at least that's what Alana thought initially.
Rex is a Scion, which was basically a legitimate occupation—that was only reserved to those with deep and devastating trauma. One that produced a strong enough drive to propel him to invincibility, and she believed his words.
If he said that he had gone through life and death more times than Spirits, beings that lived for thousands of years, then Alana would believe him. How else would he be recognized—and become a Scion had it not been for that?
At this moment, however, her guts were telling her the complete opposite.
Rex could survive this somehow.
But his main drive right now was not to survive.
It was more out of spite.
"You're… You're grieving," Alana mumbled in a whisper.
