(Yuuta's POV)

I don't know how long I had been lying there.

Time didn't feel real anymore. It came in slow, suffocating waves—minutes stretching into hours, each breath harder than the last.

The cold had seeped into my bones.

My limbs—twisted and useless—felt like they weren't part of me. I could see them, broken and bent at unnatural angles, but there was no pain anymore. Just a dull, distant ache. Like my body had already given up on itself.

My chest rose in shallow gasps. Sharp, ragged. Every breath tasted of iron and stone.

I was lying in a pool of my own blood. It had seeped into the cracks of the stone beneath me, painting the earth in a dark, glistening stain. The cold from the cave floor clung to my skin, numbing what little sensation I had left.

So this is it.

I'm going to die here.

Not in a bed.

Not at home.

But here. In this hollow tomb of stone.

This was how stray dogs died, wasn't it?

Not with a bang.

Not even with a whimper.

Just… alone. In a place where no one would ever find their bones.

I wanted to move. I wanted to crawl. Even if it was just an inch. But my body didn't listen. It lay there, heavy and limp, like it had already accepted the end.

And yet… I couldn't close my eyes.

Not yet.

Because I was waiting for her.

I wanted to see her face—just one more time.

Even if it was only in my final breath.

Erza... please… just once more.

The cave was silent.

Until it wasn't.

Footsteps. Soft. Hesitant. Echoing faintly through the tunnel.

I knew those steps.

Slow. Struggling. As if each one took more willpower than the last.

Her shadow appeared first, carved against the cold stone walls, long and trembling. Then, her figure emerged—small, fragile beneath the weight of the world.

Erza.

Her silver-white hair hung loose, veiling her face like a curtain. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, as if shielding her heart from shattering completely.

But she was crying. I could tell.

Her steps said everything.

Unsteady. Uncertain. Like her legs wanted to collapse beneath her.

When she reached me, she fell to her knees.

She didn't speak. She couldn't.

Her hands hovered over my broken body, trembling, unsure of where to touch, terrified that even the lightest graze might hurt me. Her lips parted, but no sound came. Just breathless, shaking silence.

I wanted to ease her pain.

I wanted to tell her I was alright.

But all that escaped my throat was a fragile whisper.

"I-It hurts…"

Pathetic. That's all I could say.

Her expression didn't change.

But something inside her snapped.

She leaned forward, lowering her face to my hand, and… licked.

Slow, deliberate. The roughness of her tongue contrasted against the tenderness of her touch. Then my forehead. Then the open gash across my collarbone.

The sensation was strange at first.

But I understood.

"Dragon saliva has healing magic."

She was trying to save me. Using every part of herself. As if her own body was the only medicine she could offer.

Tears slid down her cheeks, falling onto my skin, mixing with the blood. Her hands trembled against me, not from fear—but from desperation.

Then, she kissed me.

Not a gentle kiss. Not a farewell.

It was long. Deep. Raw with emotion.

Her lips pressed against mine, trembling, moving slowly as if trying to pour her breath into me, giving me the air I couldn't draw for myself. Her tongue brushed against mine, soft and pleading, like she was begging me not to leave her.

When she pulled away, her face was flushed, soaked in tears.

And then she hugged me.

Tight. Fierce. As if she could hold my soul in place with sheer will.

I felt her shaking.

Not from weakness.

But from the weight of everything she couldn't say.

"I… I'm sorry…" I choked out. A breathless apology that meant nothing. I didn't even know what I was apologizing for anymore.

But Erza didn't answer.

She just wept.

Her tears fell onto my face, mingling with the blood and dirt. She stayed like that for what felt like forever—crying, licking my wounds, pressing desperate kisses against my skin, trying to heal what couldn't be healed.

And, slowly, it worked.

The bleeding dulled. The fire of pain dimmed to a fading ember. My breath, though still shallow, no longer scraped against my throat like broken glass.

Eventually, she slipped her arms beneath me.

And lifted.

Even with her frail frame, even with her knees buckling—she carried me. Cradled me like I was weightless, as if the years of pain had forged her into something stronger than she looked.

I couldn't move. But I felt safe in her arms.

As we turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of it.

A pillar of jagged ice.

Aaron.

Frozen mid-scream, his body encased in a crystalline tomb. His face was twisted in an expression that wasn't fear—but defiance. His hand was outstretched, as if reaching for something that would never come.

But there was no warmth left in him.

No malice.

No redemption.

Just silence.

That wasn't nature.

That was her.

Erza hadn't spared him.

But she hadn't destroyed him either.

She had left him there—frozen, untouched, trapped in his own ending.

Her wrath wasn't loud. It wasn't violent.

It was cold.

Absolute.

Final.

She said nothing.

As she carried me through the narrow veins of the cave, her footsteps echoed—soft, deliberate, unyielding. Each step carried a quiet promise: she wouldn't let me die. Not yet. Not here.

But even though her lips never moved, I could hear her.

In the way her arms held me.

In the way her body trembled beneath the weight of unspoken words.

She was breaking.

And yet… she kept walking.

We left the cave behind.

The cold stone gave way to soft earth and damp leaves, and the sound of dripping water faded into silence. The forest ahead was unfamiliar—tangled trees stretched high above us, veiling the moonlight in silver webs. I didn't know where we were. I didn't care.

All I could feel was her.

Erza.

She carried me in her arms, step by step. Her bare feet moved silently across the forest floor, careful not to stumble, careful not to let me fall. Her arms never loosened. Her grip was steady… but her face—

Her face had darkened.

She didn't cry out loud, but her tears wouldn't stop. They streamed quietly down her cheeks, like a river flowing through a land already broken. Her eyes, usually bright with fire and defiance, were now shadowed—clouded by something deeper than anger.

Something like heartbreak.

I couldn't speak. My throat was raw, burned from earlier—probably torn from my own screams. My lips barely parted. Not a single sound escaped.

I wanted to say something.

Anything.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"Please talk to me."

But my mouth wouldn't move. My voice was still lost somewhere in the pain.

I looked down at my own hands—my fingers twitching faintly. I could feel them again. The numbness was gone. And not just that… the bones that had been shattered were healing. The wounds across my arms had already closed.

Even my missing teeth were… coming back.

It's really worked.

Erza's saliva.

Dragon healing.

She didn't hesitate. She used it all. Her tears, her kisses, her body, her warmth. She poured her entire self into saving me. Into putting me back together—piece by fragile piece.

And I had hurt her.

Not with words.

But with recklessness.

I ignored Grandfather's warnings. I walked into danger like I was untouchable, like I had something to prove. I dragged Erza into it without thinking. I made her watch me fall apart.

I wasn't brave. I was just… stupid.

Weak.

But she came for me anyway.

And now, here we were—walking through a forest neither of us recognized, under a sky full of moonlight and ghosts. She said nothing the whole time. Not a single word passed her lips. But I could feel it, like weight pressing down on both of us.

The silence.

Her silence.

It wasn't cold.

It wasn't angry.

It was something deeper.

Something that said, "You almost left me."

She held me like I was fragile.

But she was the one who had shattered inside.

She was the strongest being I had ever known. A dragon in human skin. And yet… tonight she cried like a girl who'd lost everything.

I didn't deserve to be in her arms.

I didn't deserve her at all.

But still, she held me.

Through the dark trees. Through the twisting branches. Through the shadows that whispered between leaves.

And then, just ahead—beyond the forest's edge—

lights.

A city.

Faint at first, flickering through the trees like fireflies. But as we moved closer, they grew brighter. Towering silhouettes appeared on the horizon, washed in pale moonlight. Roads. Cars. Windows glowing with life.

We were almost there.

But even as the world came back into view, I couldn't stop looking at her face.

So quiet. So still.

Her tears had stopped now, but her expression hadn't changed.

I wanted her to speak.

Even if it was to yell. Even if it was to say she hated me.

But all she gave me was that silence.

And somehow, that silence hurt more than anything I'd ever felt.

(Allen's POV)

The cave was silent now.

No whispers of breath. No distant cries. Just stillness, and the cold echo of what had been.

I stood there alone, buried deep in the roots of the world—a cavern carved by my own hands across 800 years of blood, ash, and ambition. This was my sanctum. My throne beneath the dirt. The place where demons like me whispered to the bones of the old gods.

And yet… it felt hollow tonight.

I exhaled slowly, the sound thin against the stone.

"My master was saved," I muttered to no one, a faint smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. "Good."

But I hadn't shown myself.

I couldn't.

Not with her there.

Erza… that damn dragon. That damn woman. That damn force of grief and destruction wrapped in human skin. Her rage had turned the cave into a death sentence, and I knew better than to walk into a dragon's firestorm—especially when her mate lay broken in her arms.

One wrong move, and she would've turned me to ash before I could blink.

So I waited.

I watched from shadows like the coward I never was. Not because I lacked strength—but because I valued survival.

I ran a clawed hand along the wall of the cave, tracing a rune etched centuries ago. So much history. So much conquest. And yet… all of it felt like dust now.

But hope?

Yes, hope remained.

Yuuta.

My new master.

He just didn't know it yet.

All he needed was a taste. Just one sip from the cup of true power. When he understood how strength could bend the world, how fear could silence gods—he would crave it. And I would be there to give it to him. Whispering in his ear. Guiding his hands. Feeding the fire inside him.

And together, we would build an empire.

A legion of immortal warriors.

A kingdom born of ash and resurrection.

Nova would fall. Earth would kneel. And even the gods would lower their heads when he passed.

And when that day came… I would ask just one thing of him:

To make the other demons to be his slaves.

To turn me—Allen, the devourer, the whisperer—into a Guardian among monsters.

Yes… it was all coming together.

Or so I thought.

My smile faded as I turned.

There he was.

Aaron.

Still frozen. Still staring.

His body encased in jagged blue ice, shards curling around him like a coffin sculpted in regret. His expression was twisted—not in rage, but confusion. Pain. As if, even in death, he didn't understand why I betrayed him.

I stepped closer, my boots crunching on frost.

A strange weight pressed on my chest. Not guilt—I don't have the organs for that. But something close. A kind of cold… pressure.

He was my previous master.

The one I used. The one I twisted.

I didn't lie to him—I simply never told him the truth. And in return, he gave me everything. Madness. Destruction. Freedom.

And now?

He was nothing.

Just a statue.

Just a loose thread.

I reached out and laid my palm gently against his cheek. The ice was so cold, it burned.

"You were fun," I whispered. "But we're done."

And then—

I smashed his face in with a brutal strike.

The ice cracked like thunder. Shards flew across the cavern like glass rain. His head collapsed in on itself, splintering into dust. I struck again—shoulders locked, no hesitation—and his body exploded into glittering fragments, shattering across the stone floor until nothing remained but silence and air.

No trace.

No evidence.

No witness.

Because I couldn't let Geta know.

Not about the broken contract.

Not about the change.

I did it for Yuuta.

To protect him.

To protect my future.

I let the shadows gather around me, thick and oily, folding like a second skin. The cold lingered in my bones, but I didn't mind.

Now, it was time to act.

Time to fulfill my master's first unspoken order—one even he didn't know he had given me:

Ending my own organization with my own hand.

I raised my hand, fingers spread wide, and disappeared into the void between worlds.

Laughter followed me—low and echoing.

"Subharshi… Subharshi…My Enternal Master."

To be continued.