Aaron's body was thrown backwards, shrapnel slamming against his chestplate, leaving purple bruises on the skin below it.
Burnt pieces of hair blew against his face, the massive heat wave burning his flesh rapidly while forcing him to his knees with extreme force.
Alarms blared in the distance, Aaron's ears ringing as he stared lifelessly at the blazing building, his grip tight around his blade.
The Crimson Sanctormous had vanished, the sound of his laughter echoing through the boy's head, drowning out Penelope's voice.
Turning his eyes upward, he moved his sword in front of him slowly, his mouth moving before he could even muster the mana.
"Fall."
It wasn't a spell, nor any normal magecraft known by any human alive; however, as if reacting to his words, the sky darkened instantly.
A sudden pressure drop encapsulated the world, an unnatural presence descending upon the region.
The once dry desert was silenced as a handful of raindrops fell from the heavens, landing on the burning building.
Those drops grew and grew in frequency until a downpour rivaling that of a hurricane blasted down on the hotel.
The fire was snuffed out by merely making contact with the liquid, a rush of aquatic radiance drowning out the crackling of burning wood.
The suffocating smoke that threatened to steal his breath away vanished in seconds, the aroma of the sea wafting through the region.
The whole rescue crew, who had just arrived at the scene, stood frozen, watching the impossibility unfolding before their very eyes.
Aaron himself, however, ignored what had occurred, rushing forward as fast as he could, breaking through a collapsing wall, and flying up the metallic stairs.
His skin seared with fiery pain even in the reduced severity of the flames, yet it was nothing compared to what he had faced before.
Reaching the third floor where their room was located, he noticed there was barely anything left of the gallery outside their door, which hung on by a thread as he kicked it in.
The inside wasn't much better, fire ripping at anything it could burn while filling the room with deadly fumes.
His turquoise eyes darted around wildly, searching madly for any sign of the pink-haired girl he so dearly wished to save.
The smell of acidic vapor and incinerated metals blasted through the boy's nose, attempting to suffocate him, yet he pressed on.
Catching sight of a limp form lying on the floor next to one of the incinerated beds, his eyes widened, his mouth falling agape slightly.
Sprinting forward with his heartbeat racing, he dove towards the figure, grabbing at the blackened form quickly.
Her body felt like fire itself, heat radiating straight from her ruined figure that was bathed in black dust.
She didn't let out any sounds, nor even a breath, as he lifted her into his arms, the raging inferno around him trapping him in the room.
Rays of blistering heat washed over him, the intensifying flames attempting to reduce him to nothing but ash.
However, regardless of the pain he felt, he sprinted through the room, kicking his leg forward and smashing the wall in front of him into nothingness.
Leaping from the balcony, he landed on the ground near the medical personnel, immediately turning to them.
"Heal her."
There was no trace of pleasantries in his words, a fierce, murderous intent leaking from his body as he passed the girl off to the healers.
The men and women in the medical attire looked at Aaron fearfully, their bodies trembling slightly as they encountered a being that could kill them easily.
In that moment, he wasn't a fifteen-year-old boy who had saved a girl from a burning building, for he was something else.
A monster.
Feeling their wary gazes on his back, he blacked out, redirecting his stare towards the building that slowly crumbled, ruined by the fiery madness.
The rain had smothered most of the flames, only leaving sparks for the firefighters to douse.
Aaron's eyes did not blink or twitch as he stared on, his body shaking slightly as his mind was overwhelmed with anger.
Deep inside his head, the voice he had been suppressing appeared again, whispering to him.
You caused this. She told you to kill him. That he was dangerous. But you didn't listen. Her blood is on your hands.
It wasn't even the Naelith who influenced those words, but simply Aaron's own subconscious directing them back at him.
Both Penelope and the beast were silent, an unusual occurrence for the Apex, which rarely interrupted its mental bombardment.
But in that very moment, its fear for what its host would do outweighed its desire for destruction, a first in the history of their bond.
…
He sat inside the hospital yet again, this time, however, outside the operating room, waiting for the doctor's report.
The night had turned to day as he stared at the doors that separated him and Akari from one another.
At nearly eight in the morning, a man exited the room, his pale face covered in sweat and his white doctor's outfit stained with black char.
Straightening his posture to prepare himself for the news, Aaron stared into the man's eyes, listening intently.
"She is in critical condition. We have no idea if she'll survive, much less be able to live without medical equipment. Thirteen healers were barely enough to stop the multiple lacerations near her spine. She lost a lot of blood; however, we are hopeful that she will be able to bounce back."
There was a silence after the man spoke, the blond boy's sigh resounding through the waiting area.
"Good…"
Wiping his face with his hands, he looked at the doctor again, a sad look plastered across his face.
"How many casualties for the entire building?"
It was a question that the boy had been putting off since he had arrived at the hospital, a statistic he needed to know but wasn't ready for.
"Thirty-eight confirmed dead. Eighty-two are in critical condition. Everyone else made it out with minor cuts or bruises thanks to the miraculous appearance of that rain."
Leaning back in his chair as he heard the words, he breathed in, imagining each and every one of their faces behind his eyes.
A mother and her child, a husband and wife, a grandfather and his grandchildren, all gone, reduced to ash.
Watching the grief settle over the boy's face, the doctor returned to the operating room in a hurry, anxious about the aura leaking from the blond child.
『Aaron… This isn't your fault. Even I couldn't detect that man's presence and—』
She was cut off as Aaron spoke over her, the doctor being long gone, allowing him to ramble to his heart's content.
"I've had enough of people telling me it's not my fault. Whether it be you or those firefighters who brought me here. This one is on me, and there isn't anything that can change that."
Balling his hands up and placing them on his knees, he continued.
"I left that man's fate up to chance, and it backfired, leading to civilian casualties. Each one of their deaths is on my soul to bear, and I'll have to live with that forever."
Looking over at the door where Akari lay, he sighed, covering his face with his hands and looking towards the floor.
"That's it."
Standing up and walking towards the door, he grabbed the handles and pulled with a fraction of his strength.
The wood groaned under his force, the bright room behind it appearing in the turquoise-eyed boy's vision.
There was a thin layer of glass between the chamber he was in and where Akari rested, her body hooked up to a variety of machines.
Each sensor beeped and buzzed without stopping, the sound of her labored breathing echoing throughout the operating room.
Doctors hovered around her while healers cast holy magic over the parts of her body devoid of life or color.
Her once beautiful cherry hair was smothered with burnt pieces of charred black, her brilliant blue eyes tightly shut.
The last words she had said to him resounded in his head like screams of agony, the response he wished he had given her now eating away at his very existence.
He just wanted to open his mouth and shout out at the top of his lungs that no, he wasn't okay, and it was likely he would never be alright again.
For he had lost too much, and he would only continue to lose more as he travelled the world, facing danger after danger.
Aaron did not avert his gaze for even a moment as he watched the machines tick away, her life reliant on the people ahead of him.
This is what happens when I'm lenient.
He placed his hand against the cold reflective surface, breathing in deeply only to exhale a second later.
There is no excuse or reasoning that can justify this. That cultist… No. That bastard will pay the price for his actions today.
His eyes glossed over for a moment, the reflection in the light seeming oddly bright on his vision, creating a strange spiraling effect.
Huh?
The feeling of his heart skipping a beat made him gasp, a drop of blood coming from his lip in a dry black clump.
Blood?
His thoughts were mangled for a moment, the sound of the Naelith's laughter coming in a sharp wave.
Then, as soon as it had come, it stopped, his vision and heartbeat returned to normal, and the noise inside his head ceased.
Taking a deep breath, he shrugged off the odd weight added onto his shoulders, the echoes of the Naelith resounding in his mind like a drum.
Closing his eyes, he summoned Penelope into his palm, her broadsword form dim in the hospital light.
Slowly placing her in the sheath tucked against his back, he took one final look at the sleeping girl.
The same serene face he had seen only a couple of hours before, now wrought with pain and scorch marks.
Closing his eyes slowly, he turned away, exiting the room quietly and making his way out of the hospital before the clock struck nine.
The Crimson Sanctormous would pay for the crimes he committed that day, and the retribution that the young Aaron Grimstall would request far exceeded what he could afford to offer.