The wind had changed.
It no longer smelled of fire and blood, though the stench of war still lingered faintly beneath the ruins. In the aftermath of the Thousand Trial, the system-formed arena had begun to disassemble. Glowing sigils dimmed. The charred ground softened into dust and stone. The world was returning to itself—at least, what was left of it.
Kael stood near the ridge where Darius had fallen. His hand rested on Kureha's hilt, but he wasn't tense. Just still.
Across from him, Reya sat atop a crumbled column, her legs hanging over the edge, spear resting beside her. The bandage on her thigh had been replaced. Her expression was unreadable.
Neither had spoken in a while. Again.
This silence felt different.
Softer.
"Feels like we should say something," Reya said at last, her voice tired, but not broken. "To mark it. To honor him."
Kael looked up. The sun was beginning to rise—weak orange light cutting through the fog that hadn't fully lifted.
"He hated speeches," Kael said quietly. "Said they made everything worse."
Reya chuckled once, the sound brittle. "Yeah. 'Less words, more action.' Classic Darius."
Silence again.
Then: "We made it, Kael."
Kael didn't answer immediately. He turned toward the remains of the battlefield. The ogres were gone. So were the corpses. The system had cleaned it all up as if none of it had happened.
Except it had.
"We survived," he said eventually. "Doesn't feel like making it."
Reya watched him carefully, then nodded once. "Still. You fought like hell. He would've said something dumb like, 'Damn Ronin finally earned his name.'"
Kael allowed himself the smallest smile.
Then Reya slid off the column and walked toward him, brushing soot from her gloves. "That's why I'm doing it."
"Doing what?" Kael asked.
"A guild," she said. "An official one. I already submitted the application through the system a few minutes ago."
Kael turned to her, brows raised. She shrugged.
"You saw what the Viper Guild is. There's no order out here, Kael. No rules that protect the weak. We need something. A group that doesn't prey on others. A name people can trust."
Kael's eyes flicked back to the horizon.
"You think the system cares about trust?"
"No," Reya admitted. "But people do."
He said nothing, so she continued, voice growing steadier. "I'm calling it the Valkyries Guild. Built on justice. On intervention. We'll stop guilds like Viper. Pull people out of death zones. Give them a shot at surviving this mess without becoming monsters themselves."
She stepped closer.
"I want you with me."
The request didn't surprise Kael—but it landed heavier than he expected.
She wasn't asking because she needed muscle. Or strategy. She was asking because she didn't want to do it alone.
He met her gaze. Saw the flicker of hope there. The same determination she'd shown against the ogres, against Thorne. The same fire Darius had once carried like a torch for both of them.
But Kael…
He shook his head slowly.
"I can't."
Reya didn't flinch. "Why?"
"Because I'm not ready to protect anyone," Kael said. "Not yet."
He looked down at his hands — the blood beneath his nails, the healing cuts, the tremble he hadn't quite shaken since that night.
"I couldn't save Darius," he added. "I froze when I saw Thorne's blade coming. He moved first. He died for me."
Reya stepped beside him, voice low. "That's not your fault."
"It doesn't matter." Kael's jaw tightened. "I need to be stronger. On my own. I can't rely on others to take the hits meant for me."
A long pause.
Then Reya nodded, quietly.
"I figured you'd say that," she said. "Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."
"I know."
Reya reached into her satchel and pulled out a patch — freshly crafted, stitched with a white spear laid over a golden wing. She held it out.
"The Valkyries will be watching," she said. "You'll always have a place, Kael. Even if you never wear the mark."
He took it.
Didn't answer.
Didn't have to.
They stood like that for a moment — two survivors of a battlefield that would never truly leave them — before Reya finally took a step back.
"I'm heading west," she said. "There's a beacon settlement outside Sector 17. Safer ground. First recruits are waiting."
Kael nodded. "I'm heading east."
"Course you are."
She smiled — tired, soft. "Try not to get yourself killed, Ronin."
"You too, Valkyrie."
And just like that, she was walking away.
Kael watched until she disappeared behind the crumbling ridge, the wind tugging at the ends of her scarf, the ash still drifting like memory around her.
Then he turned.
Faced the east.
And walked into the rising light — alone.