Chapter 77
It ends (8)
Kepa's eyes fluttered open—slow, sluggish. Light bled into his vision like water through cracks. A thousand knives stabbed into his nerves. His body screamed.
Pain.
It was everywhere. But there was one point it pulsed from the most—his chest. Burning, throbbing, sharp with every breath.
He tried to shift his head. It barely moved.
And then he saw it.
A thick, jagged piece of rebar had punctured straight through his chest. Metal, rusted and cold, protruded from just below his sternum, slick with his own blood. It had gone clean through. His breath hitched at the sight, but even that small movement sent agony flashing through him.
He blinked, barely able to stay conscious. By all rights, he should already be dead.
But something warm pressed against him. A faint glow. Gentle, trembling hands.
He looked down again—and saw the hands pressing over his abdomen. Mana, delicate and barely sustained, flowed through them, desperately working to slow the damage. To delay the inevitable.
Then he followed those hands to the face of their owner.
And time seemed to stop.
The pain dulled for just a moment.
Because what he saw… was nothing less than divine.
A woman, knelt over him, face taut with desperation and grief. Her skin was pale—pale as paper. Her lips blood-red, her hair a flowing cascade of blonde, catching the ash-riddled light like threads of gold. Her expression strained, eyes heavy with sorrow and fatigue. But to Kepa, she looked like something out of a dream. A painting of divinity.
A goddess.
His lips moved, trying to speak her name. Only a croak escaped.
Still, he stared at her, fixated.
So beautiful… and yet so heartbroken. What could possibly put such sorrow on the face of a being so radiant?
The expression marred her beauty in a way that made her seem even more tragic.
And the more he stared… the more familiar she looked.
It clicked.
Like a shattered memory crawling its way back into the present.
Althea.
....
The rebar was far too deep.
Althea couldn't remove it. If she did, he'd bleed out before she even got a healing method off. All she could do was try—try to buy him more time. Try to slow the bleeding, hold his organs in place. Try to keep him alive when nature itself had already decided otherwise.
It was a hopeless effort.
But she wasn't giving up.
Her hands shook as she poured more of her dwindling mana into him.
She bit down hard on her already bloodied lip, trembling with frustration and pain. Her fingers were steady, but her shoulders shook. Her mana pool was draining fast. She was already down to thirty percent. She was burning herself away to keep him alive for just a few more moments.
Even though it was pointless.
Even though it was futile.
Because this—this was IAM's friend.
So she couldn't lose him too.
Not after all the people she had already left behind. Not after all the ones she'd had to walk away from. Not after the guilt she carried like a second spine. She couldn't take another one. She couldn't take this.
Her hands shook harder.
.....
Kepa, blinking against the haze, looked at her—this woman desperately trying to keep him tethered to a body that had already failed.
And he whispered in his mind:
Althea… my goddess… I… I'm already a dead man.
I don't deserve your hands.
I don't deserve this kindness.
He slowly, painfully, raised one hand and placed it over hers. His touch was weak, trembling. Barely there. But he held on.
.....
"What?" she whispered softly, her voice cracking under the weight of grief. "What is it?"
A dying voice, almost inaudible.
"A-IAM… goddess… Save IAM…"
Her heart jolted.
He slowly pointed to a direction not to far from them.
Her eyes widened in shock. She looked in the direction he pointed with his trembling fingers.
And then she felt it.
A sliver of life force. So faint, she'd missed it completely.
It was there. Barely flickering. A dying candle behind layers of rubble.
IAM.
She leapt up and rushed to the mound of collapsed metal and stone not far from them, every step driven by urgency. She fell to her knees in front of it, brushing debris away with frantic hands.
And then she saw him.
IAM—his body crushed beneath heavy rubble. His legs mangled and pinned. His left arm bent at a sickening angle, also trapped. His right arm was resting over his chest, limp and unmoving.
His face was still. Eyes closed. He did not respond to her voice. Didn't stir. Didn't twitch.
"Come on… IAM…" she breathed. "Please…"
She grit her teeth, trying to reach him, but the rubble wouldn't budge. Her hands clawed at the steel, bruising her fingers, scraping her palms raw.
But she wasn't strong enough.
The stone and metal refused to move.
She let out a raw, strangled scream and slammed her fists against the debris, sliding to her knees.
She felt so useless.
What a joke.
A path concept built on giving to others. A healer. A protector. A light in the dark.
And yet here she was—kneeling helplessly before the dying.
She couldn't reach him.
Couldn't help him.
Couldn't help anyone.
Not again.
Raj. Regina. Those two men she'd failed earlier. Her mother's words echoing. And now IAM—her final failure.
Not again. Please—not again.
Her heart caved inward, memories swallowing her.
Her brother.
It was his birthday.
The one day that was supposed to mean joy. That was supposed to give him life.
And on that very day, she'd been forced to watch it be taken away.
She had watched him waste away—bedridden, fragile, bones showing through his skin.
Her brother died that day.
A heart attack.
And she could do nothing.
She held his cold body and cried for hours. Her mother sobbing. Her father silent. Her mother blaming herself—for giving birth to such a weak child.
And Althea—too young, too scared, too small—could only sit and watch.
Just like now.
"I promised…" she whispered. "I promised I would never let it happen again…"
And yet here she was.
Powerless.
A choked cry escaped her lips.
"I can't do it… I can't save them… I can't move this rubble… I can't help anyone… Not even myself…"
Iam died today.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body shook.
And then—
A sound behind her.
Wet.
Fleshy.
Followed by—
A hand. Large. Rough. Resting on her shoulder.
She turned, eyes wide, tears still glistening in her hazel eyes.
Kepa stood behind her.
Barely.
His expression was soft. Gentle. And in his blood-streaked face, he smiled.
"I have heard your wishes, my goddess… so please… don't cry anymore."
Her mouth opened. "No—what are you—"
But he was already moving.
He activated his path method. His war path.
His veins lit up beneath his skin like burning lines, flooding with surging mana. His body trembled under the strain as he began to burn through the last of his energy like dry leaves in fire.
He gently moved her to the side.
And with a roar of effort—he lifted.
Steel. Stone. Rebar.
He lifted them all.
Grunting. Bleeding. Dying.
But still moving. Still fighting.
Making a path to IAM.
Clearing away the death.
One piece at a time.
He reached IAM's crushed legs and arms. He lifted the pieces pinning him down.
Blood poured from his mouth.
His mana completely drained.
He swayed—
But he smiled.
"It's time to wake up, bro," he whispered.
Then he fell back. His strength finally gone.
Althea scrambled to him, eyes wide with horror.
He reached for her hand, barely catching it.
"If you can't help anyone…" he rasped, "or even yourself…"
"…Then let someone help you."
"Because you're only human, Althea…"
His breath grew shallow.
His eyes full of clarity.
His gaze never wavered from her face.
"And please… wake him up."
Her voice trembled. "Thank you."
Her hand squeezed his. Her tears fell freely onto his bloodied chest.
"Thank you… thank you so much… thank you for everything."
She held him until the light in his eyes faded.
Then she stood.
Her expression sharpened. Her tears slowed.
Resolution.
She turned to IAM.
She would save him.
No matter the cost.