Elric staggered forward, her dagger gripped tightly in her trembling hand. Her eyes widened as shadows began to slither between the trees—black robes moving in the gloom. The demon cult had returned, surrounding them once again.
Reinhardt's breath quickened, his body tensing as he pulled Kael closer into his arms, shielding him with everything he had left. His hand clutched the broken sword tightly, the blade shaking in his grip. He knew the cult's goal had never changed—it was Kael and the weapon. And now Kael was unconscious, defenseless in his arms.
"Elric!" Reinhardt barked hoarsely. "Stay close!"
But she was already moving. She rushed to his side, planting herself between the encroaching cultists and the two men. Her dagger gleamed, though her arm trembled. She raised it anyway, willing herself not to falter.
She tried to summon her bow again—her instinct screaming for the weapon that was an extension of her soul—but nothing came. The suffocating barrier remained. The mana was still blocked. She cursed under her breath and turned instead toward Reinhardt and Kael.
Her heart clenched. Kael was limp in Reinhardt's arms, his face pale, lips stained with blood. His chest did not rise. His stillness chilled her more than the cult's encirclement.
We have to move… we have to get him to the castle… she told herself. I cannot falter now. Not until they're safe.
The cultists closed in, their swords glinting under the smoke-shrouded sky. One lunged, and Elric braced for impact—
—but arrows whistled through the air.
Thuds followed, and several cultists fell, their cries echoing before silence swallowed them. Elric spun toward the sound.
From the edge of the forest, voices rose—a group of soldiers marching forward, their banners snapping in the wind. Albert rode at their head, his face grim, Delcra soldiers at his back.
"For the Hero! For Lord Delcra!"
The arrows kept coming, cutting through the cult's ranks. Chaos broke among the black robes as steel clashed against steel. The cultists snarled and hissed, their leader's voice carrying above the din:
"Fall back. The Hero is broken. We have no need to waste more blood here. Retreat!"
One of them pointed a crooked finger toward Reinhardt and Elric. "We will return for him. His end is already written."
And just as swiftly as they came, the cultists melted into the trees, their shadows vanishing as if swallowed by the forest itself.
Elric exhaled shakily, her body loosening only for a second before she dropped to her knees beside Reinhardt.
"We need to go to the castle—" she began, but her words died in her throat.
Her eyes caught Reinhardt's trembling hands. They were clutching Kael's limp form as if holding him together, but his face… his face was pale, broken, his lips quivering.
"Elric…" Reinhardt's voice cracked as he forced himself to look at her. "He… he's not breathing. He has no pulse."
Her blood froze. "No…"
She grabbed Kael's wrist with desperate fingers, pressing against his skin, praying Reinhardt was wrong. Her lips trembled as she searched for even the faintest beat. But there was nothing.
Nothing.
Her vision blurred as tears welled, spilling down her cheeks. Her voice trembled. "No… no, Kael… please…"
He was gone. His blood had stilled. His heart had already fallen silent.
With shaking arms, Elric reached out toward Reinhardt. Her voice was small, pleading. "C-can I… can I hold him?"
Reinhardt's jaw clenched, his body refusing at first to let go. But finally, slowly, with the weight of a man who had lost everything, he eased Kael into her arms.
Elric pulled him close, cradling him in her lap as though her warmth might coax life back into his body. Her hand brushed against his cold cheek. Then, gently, she wiped the blood from his lips with her thumb. Her tears fell freely onto his pale skin.
"Kael… wake up. I know you're just asleep. Please, wake up…" Her whisper cracked, desperate, a prayer that reached no one. She knew—she knew he would never open his eyes again. His chest remained still, his heart already silent. But she clung to him, shaking, begging fate to prove her wrong.
Albert and the soldiers stopped in their tracks. Their weapons lowered, their voices faltering.
Their lord, their savior, lay lifeless in Elric's arms. The Hero was gone.
Some men fell to their knees in shock, others bowed their heads in grief. The air filled with heavy silence, broken only by Elric's soft sobs.
Reinhardt stood frozen, staring. His eyes burned, his hands clenched until blood dripped from his palm. He should have protected Kael. He had sworn to. But he had failed.
Now, Kael—his only friend, the man he called his Hero—was dead.
And Reinhardt could not forgive himself.
Elric's body trembled as she cradled Kael against her. Her sobs broke through the silence, raw and unrestrained.
"I failed you…" she whispered, her tears dripping onto his cold skin. "I failed to protect you… the way you always protected me."
Her cries shook with grief, the sound slicing through every heart that heard it. She had watched him fight for the world, fight for them, but when it was her turn to shield him, she had faltered. Now, he lay lifeless in her arms.
Reinhardt stood beside them in silence, his golden hair matted with blood and ash. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned—emeralds dulled by despair. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms. He said nothing, because there was nothing to say.
All around them, the soldiers who had fought so desperately moments before lowered their weapons. One by one, they knelt, bowing their heads in mourning. Their breaths hitched as grief swept through their ranks. The Hero—their light, their hope—was gone.
At last, Albert stepped forward. His face was pale but steady. He crouched down beside Elric, his voice rough but solemn.
"This is the last thing I can do for him."
He lifted his hand, closing his eyes as he chanted softly. Magic pulsed through his fingertips, glowing faintly as it sealed Kael's open wounds. It was not to heal, for no spell could bring him back—but to grant him dignity, to let him rest without the marks of suffering carved into his body.
When the spell was complete, Albert withdrew, and from within his cloak, he drew a clean handkerchief. He offered it to Elric.
Her hands shook as she accepted it. She pressed the cloth gently against Kael's face, wiping the blood from his lips, his jaw, his cheeks. Her tears continued to fall with every stroke, blurring her sight.
"I wished… you could have gone peacefully…" she murmured. "But instead you suffered… until your last breath…"
Her fingers trembled against his cold skin. Every touch ached.
Above them, the sky began to shift. The dark clouds that had gathered with the cult's malice slowly unraveled, dissolving into the air. The suffocating smoke lifted, and for the first time in hours, light broke through. The battlefield no longer groaned beneath the weight of shadows.
Elric bent lower, cupping Kael's face between her trembling hands. Her eyes searched his closed ones, her tears streaking down her cheeks.
"I can't let you go without this…" she whispered.
Her lips brushed against his, soft and trembling. A farewell kiss. She lingered there, desperate, her heart clinging to the memory of his warmth. Long enough to etch it into her soul, long enough to pretend he was only asleep. Her lips quivered, her tears falling onto his cold cheek.
Then, without anyone noticing at first, a faint flicker of red drifted through the air. A butterfly—its wings glowing crimson as though woven from fire and sorrow—descended gently. It landed delicately upon Kael's pale finger, resting there as if guarding him.
Elric did not pull away. Her lips still lingered on his. Her tears kept falling, staining his skin.
And then—
A sound tore through the stillness.
A gasp.
Kael's body jolted in Elric's arms, his chest heaving as if searching desperately for air after drowning. His back arched slightly, a violent shudder running through him. His lungs dragged in ragged, broken breaths—the sound of a man pulled back from the abyss.
Elric's eyes flew open. She pulled back sharply, her lips parting in shock.
"K-Kael…?"
The handkerchief slipped from her trembling fingers as she looked at him. Her despair shattered, replaced by something she had not dared to hope for.
Reinhardt fell to his knees instantly, his eyes wide, his voice breaking. "Ka… Kael?"
The soldiers, who had moments before been mourning, now stared in stunned silence. Their mouths hung open, unable to comprehend what they were witnessing. The Hero—who had lain lifeless, whose pulse had stilled—was breathing again.
Elric's tears streamed anew, but now they were no longer tears of despair. They were tears of hope.
Her voice shook, filled with desperate relief. "He's alive… Kael is alive!"
The crimson butterfly lifted from Kael's finger, circling once above them before dissolving into the light.
And for a heartbeat, the battlefield seemed to breathe again.
Kael's body convulsed as he suddenly lurched forward. A violent cough wracked him, blood spilling from his lips, staining the earth beneath him. The sound of him gasping—dragging air back into his lungs—echoed like a miracle through the battlefield.
Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened. Scarlet flecks swirled faintly in their depths as he blinked against the blur. The first face he saw was Elric's—her eyes red from weeping, her tears falling not in grief this time, but in sheer, overwhelming relief.
She pulled him close, crushing him into her embrace, her arms trembling as though afraid he might vanish if she let go.
"Kael… it's a relief… you're alive…" her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of the emotions she had held back. Her tears fell into his hair as she sobbed against him.
Reinhardt's legs gave way as he dropped beside them, his arms joining hers, encircling Kael's fragile frame. His voice was ragged, raw.
"Don't you dare scare me like that again…" His words trembled, a mix of fury, fear, and relief, his face pressed against Kael's shoulder.
Kael's breathing came in short, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling unevenly. The pain throbbed beneath his ribs, stabbing at him with every breath. His trembling hand slowly lifted, pressing against the place where the dagger had pierced his heart. Instead of torn flesh, he found smooth skin—healed, though the ache remained deep inside, a wound not of the body alone.
His chest burned. His body begged for rest. Still, his hand did not fall. He lifted it weakly, brushing against the arms that held him—the warmth of Reinhardt and Elric anchoring him to life.
"Don't… do that again…" Reinhardt whispered, his voice breaking, as if commanding him, as if begging him all at once. Elric's sobs only deepened, muffled against his shoulder. She refused to let go, terrified that if she did, he would slip back into silence.
Kael's gaze shifted, drawn to a glimmer at the edge of his vision.
There, in the quiet aftermath, the crimson butterfly hovered once more. Its wings, fragile and shimmering, carried it to a single flower growing amidst the blood-stained grass. With delicate grace, it settled upon the bloom. Kael's eyes followed as its wings faltered, breaking apart into glowing mist that faded into the air.
His lips trembled. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks.
He understood now. The butterfly had given him its soul, its light, its life. For so long, it had lingered at his side, carrying him back from death's grasp. Now, at last, he knew the truth—it had sacrificed itself for him.
A sob shuddered through his chest, and he let his tears fall freely.
The weight of exhaustion pressed down upon him. His limbs grew heavy, his vision blurred at the edges. His lips parted as if to speak, but the strength never came. The world dimmed, his eyes fluttering closed despite Elric's desperate calls.
"Kael! Stay with us—Kael!" she cried, shaking him gently. But his body only grew limp again in their arms.
This time, however, his chest still rose and fell. His pulse, faint but steady, beat beneath Reinhardt's trembling fingers. He had not left them—he had simply surrendered to unconsciousness, too weak after his heart had been stilled for so long.
Reinhardt exhaled shakily, brushing Kael's damp hair from his forehead. "He's still with us…" His voice cracked again, but now it carried relief instead of despair.
Elric clutched Kael tighter, unwilling to let go. His body was no longer cold. Warmth returned to his skin, breath whispered against her shoulder, and his heartbeat thudded softly against her ear.
The soldiers moved in silence, their grief transforming into awe. Whispers spread among them—of a miracle, of a hero who refused to die.
Together, they carried Kael back toward Delcra's castle. Reinhardt bore his sword, its crimson gleam dulled by blood and ash, while Elric refused to loosen her hold on him for even a moment. She cradled him carefully as if carrying something more fragile than glass, her eyes never leaving his face.
His pale lashes fluttered slightly, but his body remained limp in her arms. She bent low, pressing a trembling kiss to his cheek, her voice breaking in a whisper only he could hear.
"Thank you… for staying alive."
Her tears fell against his skin once more, but this time, they carried relief.
The road ahead remained uncertain, the war far from over. But for now—for this one fleeting moment—Kael still breathed. And that was enough.