I stood there, my blood running cold. Like I'd seen something I was never meant to see. An entity that shouldn't exist. Zain had fought Ren not so long ago—brutal, bloody, bone-breaking—but now he was like this. Standing on his own two feet, wielding the same axe as that grey ogre.
He shouldn't be able to walk. He shouldn't be able to stand. His hands had been melted. His bones had been visible. The healers said he'd need days, maybe weeks, to recover.
Yet here he was.
Blocking my path.
Why was my heart beating faster? Why was my breathing becoming less patterned? I'd faced death before. I'd killed before. I'd sent dozens of souls to Solorus without flinching.
But this?
This was different.
"W-What are you doing here?" My voice came out weaker than I wanted. "You're supposed to be in the medic bay."
Zain took one step forward. I took one step back.
His aura was different. Heavier. More predatory. Like a predator finally face to face with prey that had been running for too long.
"You know why I'm here, Rowan."
He took another step forward.
"What happened to that confidence? Did it go away?" His voice was much lower now. Not that emotional, reckless tone from before. This was the voice of exhaustion mixed with irritation. A man who had been through hell and was tired of talking.
"You're saying that when you're a dead man walking."
"At least I can properly walk." His eyes never left mine. "I can smell your blood. I heard your ankle break from upstairs when you fought everyone."
How does he know? I hadn't seen him there. He was supposed to be unconscious.
"I'm a berserker, Rowan. I have far better senses than other classes. Not to mention my unique skill giving me animal-like qualities."
I manifested two of my arms and dropped into a stance, despite the stinging pain radiating from my wounds. My golden arms flickered, unstable. I was running on fumes.
I blinked.
And Zain was suddenly closer. Much closer. Holding my face with his hands.
His fingers were wrapped in purple, flaming claws. There was no heat—nothing burned—but I could feel intense Lumin radiating from them, pressing against my skin like a silent warning.
Since when had Zain gotten this fast? What happened to him? What had Ren done to this man?
"Are you scared?"
The question hung in the air. The same question I'd asked Edward earlier. Now it was being asked of me.
It's clear you're too petrified right now to even remember you can stab my torso like last time.
But he was right. I couldn't move. Not because of my wounds. Because of him.
I looked him in the eye. His dark irises glowed a faint purple, as if the color was slowly conquering his pupils, spreading like a disease. Like the jaguar was finally taking over.
"How are you still alive?" I asked through gritted teeth.
"It's easy." His voice was calm. Steady. Unshakable. "A woman's words kept me alive. Someone I care for. If I ever hear you mention her name, I'll kill you right then and there."
I laughed shakily. A desperate, broken sound.
"I also had a woman like that, Zain. But be careful. You never know what could happen to her in this world."
"I'll make sure it won't happen." His grip on my jaw tightened. "I won't let anyone harm her. Unlike others, I'm not weak."
Weak?
Weak?
Does he mean to tell me that my fiancée? My love? My everything? Died because I was weak?
I grasped his hands tightly, trying to pry them off. His hold only tightened.
"Do you want to fight now, in the condition you're in? You can land a strike, but I can crush your skull at any moment. We haven't even landed a hit yet. We're at a stalemate."
"Get off me, you monster!"
"What will you do if I say no?" His voice rose slightly. The first crack in his calm facade.
Then, suddenly, he let go.
He stepped back.
The absence of his grip was almost worse than the grip itself.
"Let's settle this once and for all." He straightened, rolling his shoulder. "Once both of us are fully healed, we will fight. The Eighty and my team will have another war—though not now. So consider this a ceasefire, Rowan."
I stared at him. "So now you're the one negotiating, Zain? What makes you think you can do that?"
"Because unlike you, my team has quality. Yours has quantity." He tilted his head. "You have so many rookies, yet do you know their class? Their skill base? Their strengths? Their weaknesses? Or do you just launch all of them at once like a man who has nothing to lose?"
My eyes widened.
"That's your biggest flaw. You, as the leader, don't even know your own team." He stepped closer. "Do you even know Alexandria's unique skill?"
"She has a unique skill?" I whispered, almost to myself.
I have the numbers, but I don't even know them well. I just send soldier after soldier to their deaths, expecting the best results.
"I have my faith in Solorus," I said, the words feeling hollow even as I spoke them.
"That faith of yours clearly isn't working well." Zain's voice was cold. Matter-of-fact. "A man who only relies on faith without proper thinking or strategy is a desperate man. And it's ironic that the man with the most powerful faction is the most desperate out of all of us."
He stepped even closer.
"A wise man once said: faith without works is dead. And it's clear your faith is dying, Rowan. Slowly and steadily. Like a climber reaching a mountain peak before falling off at rapid speed."
"SHUT UP!" I roared, my golden arms flaring. "You don't know anything about faith! A heretic like you shouldn't be talking about faith!"
Zain lowered his head.
His body began to shake slowly.
Then I heard it.
Laughter.
Low at first. Then louder. Not mocking—something else. Something sadder.
He raised his head and looked at me. His eyes were still purple, still glowing, but there was something else there now. Pity?
"Live by that delusion, Rowan." His voice was quiet. Almost gentle. "If you don't believe what I say, then you'll see it coming. And once you fall from that mountain, the last thing you'll think of will be my words echoing in your head."
He straightened.
"So listen to me, and listen well. There will be a ceasefire. Even after this whole murder mystery is over, we will fight. We will fight and determine who wins. Whose ideology wins. Whose philosophy wins. Your god against his non-believer."
He turned his back to me.
"For what is a god to his non-believer?"
Zain walked away, axe in hand. His footsteps grew softer and softer, swallowed by the silence of the hallway.
I stood there, frozen.
What is a god to his non-believer?
Nothing.
They're nothing. Just a concept that others praise.
But I had seen Solorus's miracles. I had seen the things he'd done. The golden arms. The healing light. The power that flowed through Elena's necklace.
I would not let him be beaten by a man who didn't even believe in his cause.
I watched the empty hallway where Zain had disappeared.
Recover fast, Zain.
I will be back.
And the Eighty will be ready.