CHAPTER 57: IT’S ALL MY FAULT...

My knees crash into the ground, and I seize Roxy’s arm as fast as lightning splits a tree. It’s cold—far too cold. Her breaths come faint and ragged, each one weaker than the last, as if she’s already standing on death’s edge.

"Anna, faster! Please—more power, she’s slipping! She—"

"She’s going to be okay, calm down Quill..." Anna’s voice reaches me, steady on the surface but fraying at the edges. I turn my gaze toward her and see the truth carved into her young face. Fear wrinkles her expression, lines that shouldn’t exist at her age—like she’s aged years in mere minutes just to save Roxy.

Anna? My eyes widen. What’s happening to her?

The crimson light spilling from her hands flickers dimly, weaker by the second. My chest tightens as realization strikes. She’s not just healing. She’s burning her own life away to mend Roxy’s. That kind of power isn’t a gift. It’s a one-way ticket to hell. I should stop her... but doing so would mean revealing my own powers.

"Anna, you—" The words choke off when her eyes meet mine, trembling yet unshakably determined.

"She’s going to be okay... okay..." she mutters again, her voice flat, lifeless, as though she’s speaking to herself more than to me.

I can see she’s pouring out more than her body can handle, burning herself away just to mend the hole tearing through Roxy. But she’s fading too—her light dimming, her strength unraveling. If she can’t endure it, will that mean they’ll both die? Will I lose them both? The thought claws at me, and it terrifies me.

Why? Why would she push herself this far for us? She joined this party only to toy with me, to mess with my path. None of this makes sense.

Maybe some questions are better left unanswered. Maybe I should just take this for what it is—kindness freely given. If I can’t, then I’ll lose the ability to trust anyone at all. But this isn’t just kindness. It’s suicide. If I stay silent, I’ll lose them both. I need to act. I need to use my powers. I can’t hide them anymore.

"Quill... can you come here for a second? I think... I think I killed something."

Powder’s shaky voice cuts through the air. He’s still standing over the boar’s corpse, sword dangling from his grip. His whole body trembles, hands barely holding on. His eyes—wide, pleading—lock onto mine like I’m the only one who can save him. That kind fool... he never even hurt a fly before.

"It’s okay. You did what you had to, Powder." My voice wavers as the weight sinks in. I was the one who told him to do it. Maybe I should’ve been the one to swing, to deliver the last blow. But instead, I pushed him into it. I gave him that command... Even forced him forward with my power just so he wouldn’t falter. That makes it my fault. I can smell his fear, feel it crawling under my own skin.

But then his gaze drifts to Roxy. The sword slips from his hands and hits the dirt with a dull clang. He clutches his head, dropping to his knees, shaking like a leaf in a storm. His eyes scream for help I don’t know if I can give.

His sobs reach me, loud and raw, cutting through everything else... I try to move toward him, but a cold grip clamps down on my shoulder.

Amara?

"I don’t... feel good, Quill..."

Her voice is low, almost hollow, and her fingers—ice cold, hard as if carved from bone—dig into me. My head snaps up, and my stomach drops.

Her skin is peeling. Rotting away second by second, spreading like cracks in old porcelain. The mist from her umbrella doesn’t stop—it keeps billowing, thicker, darker, wrapping everything in its suffocating veil.

Something’s wrong. Terribly wrong. These aren’t the same powers she controlled in the World of Punishment. This is different. Wilder. As if even she can’t stop what she’s unleashed.

Her breaths grow heavy, and her grip clamps down on my shoulder so hard I swear the bone begins to crack.

"You’ll be alright, Amara, just try to hold your powers—!" My words feel useless as her eyes turn cold, distant, as if she’s already somewhere else. This isn’t the same Amara I know.

Ruin and panic.

Everywhere I look, the world is falling apart. This party—this whole idea—was a mistake. That’s the only thought hammering in my head right now.

Who do I help first? What do I do? Stop. Please, stop. I can’t take all of this responsibility. How... how does anyone lead? How does anyone carry this weight without breaking?

I’m afraid. They’re afraid. I can’t... I can’t do this. Please, someone—anyone—help me. Please...

But the silence answers back.

Nobody’s coming. Nobody’s ever going to save me. If I can’t protect them, then what’s the point of this cursed power? What’s the point of me?

[Danger!] [User’s mental state is a threat to the plotline.]

[Danger!] [User’s mental state is a threat to the plotline.]

[Danger!] [User’s mental state is a threat to the plotline.]

[Danger!] [User’s mental state is a threat to the plotline.]

[Danger!] [User’s mental state is a threat to the plotline.]

I clench my teeth, rage burning through the fear.

Enough.

I’m done listening to this damn system. I’ve been a fool—terrified of rebelling, terrified of stepping out of line. And for what? To play house with destiny? To pretend a bunch of farmers, merchants, and misfits can suddenly stand as adventurers?

No...

Not like this.

Not as we are now.

"Quill, calm down. Everything’s going to be alright, just stop whatever you’re doing right now!" Big Boss’s voice drills into my skull, sharp and commanding. But his silhouette is nowhere to be seen. Can’t even show yourself when I need you, huh? Useless creature...

So I ignore its command.

"Shut up... you don’t get to tell me what I should do..." My voice cracks, broken, rage and fear colliding in my chest until it feels like I’ll choke on them both.

And then, as if this wasn’t enough of a disaster already, something even more dreadful emerges...

The leaves whisper restlessly around us, rustling as if the forest itself senses the fracture in me. And then, several footsteps echo, dragging my attention away.

Figures emerge from the treeline, walking like they own the world.

Glorius’s party...? No. Not now. Why?! How are they here so damn fast?! Panic claws at me.

"Quill, right?" Auror steps forward, his massive shield raised out of habit, but when his eyes sweep over us, his stance shifts. The shield lowers, and his eyes harden.

"Their party is finished," he says flatly. "One’s dying, another is throwing her life away to save her. That one’s already rotting alive. The boy by the beast has lost his mind. Just kill them all."