CHAPTER 29: END OF THE WAR? MIYU OPENS UP TO ME?!

The dust choked my lungs. Everyone was still lying on the ground, our bodies crushed by the shockwave. Reina was panting, her face pressed against the mud. Hikari couldn’t even lift her scepter anymore, her fingers trembling too much. Even Ayame, her back arched in pain, clenched her teeth not to groan.

And him.

Sarhael.

Standing, alone, in the middle of the corpses. His black silhouette cut through the flaming sky like a living wound. His hand trembled slightly when he pulled the last blade out of his side: Albrecht’s. The metal slid out with a viscous sound, a jet of dark blood splattering on the stone before evaporating instantly, burned by the heat of his own body. He chuckled low, as if even pain itself was a bargain under his control.

— "Listen to me well," he spat, coughing ash. "You want lives? Take them. Take my soldiers, take my houses, take my names carved into the earth. Swallow them. But leave them. Let them breathe one more time."

He stepped forward, his burned eyes searching ours — not to threaten, but to seal an agreement.

— "I offer you my flesh." His hand clawed at his side, the skin cracking like an old parchment. "Burn me. Turn my arm into an arm that consumes forever. Let pain haunt me, eternal, if that’s the price. Let my blood be the tax that saves them. Take my eye, take my mouth, let me die ten thousand times if it brings just one of them back."

The bargaining vibrated between us, grotesque and pure: he proposed to shoulder the curse, accept perpetual torture, trade his tormented body for a chance at the living. His breath hissed like a promise:

— "Make them live. Let my arm burn for eternity if it must. I take the pain. I bear the shame. Give me in exchange one more morning for them, one night where they close their eyes without screaming, and I’ll accept without flinching."

He paused, as if to let the world sign. No hero, no god, no law could answer; all that remained was his mad proposal, the evidence of a man turning grief into negotiation.

— "I will pay. I will pay with all I have left. But give them back their breaths."

His lips pressed tight. Then, without waiting for an answer, he planted the blade into the ground and, slowly, the air around him seemed to seep. You could feel, after his words, that the world was considering the offer — or that he himself, by speaking it, had found a way to survive grief: selling his flesh to buy a chance.

My stomach clenched. It’s over. We’re all going to die today. That icy certainty nailed me in place. We had nothing left to give. Nothing.

And then, a voice.

— "We’ve held out long enough."

Ayame.

She lifted her eyes to the sky, her damp chest rising with each breath, her kimono half-open, showing the swollen roundness of her breasts despite the dust clinging to her skin. Her voice cracked the air, calm but heavy.

A rumble answered.

I looked up.

Above us, the shadow ripped the clouds apart. An entire fleet of flying ships cut through the air, their massive hulls gilded with gold and blazing runes. The sky vibrated with metallic thunder, and chains of light held each vessel as if they descended straight from the gods.

A whistle.

Then an impact.

A man had just fallen from the largest ship, and the ground split beneath his feet. Dust rose, but his figure remained clear, immaculate. Tanned skin, muscles sculpted like marble, a square, clean-shaven face, a short beard outlining his steel jaw. His black hair cropped short, his red cape whipping in the wind. In his hand, a lance of scarlet metal vibrated with a sacred halo, and on his left arm, a round shield engraved with runes shone like a sun.

He looked like a Spartan. Clean. No useless scars, no madness in his eyes. A living image of military perfection.

He swept the battlefield with his dark gaze, then locked eyes with us.

— "Looks like I arrived just in time."

My breath caught. He wasn’t looking at Sarhael. Nor the crushed soldiers far off. No. He was staring at us. Me. The girls. As if we were the heart of this world. Humanity’s hope.

I understood, in that suspended silence, that we were truly the center of everything.

Sarhael, meanwhile, chuckled again, stepping forward, his wound closing under an arm still consumed by black flames.

— "You... you think your arrival changes anything?" He stretched out his charred arm, crackling with energy, as if offering him a deal. "I’m not done. I can still..."

The man with the shield raised his lance, and his voice rolled, calm, implacable.

— "If you continue... I will have to stop you."

Sarhael growled, stepped forward again, his feet crushing corpses, his body vibrating with monstrous regeneration. His words dripped promises, threats, impossible bargains.

And suddenly, the air split.

A portal opened, black, circular, its edges crackling with scarlet runes. From its center burst a figure.

A demon.

He was nothing like the grotesque masses we cut down by the hundreds. He was lean, clad in black plate armor veined with red, each piece glowing like lava beneath volcanic crust. His helmet, horned and ornate, let spill silver hair contrasting violently with his abyss-black skin. His eyes, two blue embers, fixed on Sarhael without a wasted word. At his belt hung a curved blade, forged in translucent metal that pulsed like a heart.

His voice, when it rose, vibrated through the air like a death knell:

— "By order of the Demon King... you must return, Sarhael."

A brutal silence fell. Even Sarhael, the one who bargained so much, stopped. His lips trembled, but no word came. He lowered his head slightly, like a dog before its master.

Yet he turned his burned eyes to us. To her.

Miyu.

Still lying down, half-fainted, her hair stuck with sweat and blood.

Sarhael’s voice, hoarse, broken, cracked one more time:

— "I will come back for you... for all of you."

His charred arm was regenerating even as it burned, the steaming flesh reforming in crimson waves, then burning again. He backed into the portal, his chains of flame folding over him.

Then, as if pain and hatred could erupt from an already broken body, Miyu pushed herself up on one elbow. Her mouth spat out a high, strangled laugh, and her voice tore the night air, raw:

— "Come back, bastard! I’ll find you, I’ll make you pay for every fucking breath — I’ll kill you with my own hands!"

I saw Sarhael falter for just a fraction of a second, as if the echo of that fury had struck him, but the shadow claimed him and he was gone. The portal slammed shut. His image vanished, leaving behind the stench of burnt flesh and ash.

Miyu remained there, panting, her fingers dug into the dirt, her eyes wide and red — not only from pain, but from a rage so vivid it seemed to want to consume everything left around her.

Around us, the world’s breath returned, timid, heated by the threat still fresh on our lips.

Then, the tension collapsed and my body betrayed me: the lack of mana in my body, the fatigue of battle, the wounds screamed in unison. I gripped the earth one last time, the taste of iron filling my mouth, and faintly heard Ayame’s voice near my ear — "Hold on..." — then nothing.

My eyelids closed on the vision of Miyu screaming into the night, and I passed out, drained, burned, finally unable to fight.

~

When my eyes opened, the acrid smell of crushed plants and dried blood stabbed my throat. I was lying on an improvised pallet, among the charred ruins of Duskfall. Frayed sheets served as a tent, and behind them, the red light of the setting sun filtered through like prison bars.

A warm breath tore me from my stupor.

— "You slept all day."

Hikari.

She was sitting there, at the edge of my makeshift bed, her thighs pressed under her blood-stained ivory kimono. Her brown eyes fixed me, shining despite the dark circles.

— "We healed you. You should be better."

I lowered my eyes to my own body. Bandages everywhere. My chest, my arms, my legs... poultice-soaked wrappings stuck to my skin, burning with healing. Every breath woke a dull pain, as if my flesh refused to mend without protest.

I lifted my eyes to her, unable to hide my hoarse voice:

— "And you... did you get to rest?"

She shook her head gently. A strand of hair fell over her face, and she tucked it back behind her ear with a slow, almost timid gesture.

Fuck. Even in the middle of this ruin, she found a way to be beautiful. My cheeks warmed against my will.

— "No, not yet... but thank you for asking."

— "Try to sleep a little, okay?" I said.

Her angelic smile charmed me even more.

— "Yes... thank you."

A movement made me turn my head.

Miyu.

She had sat up suddenly on the neighboring pallet. She too was covered in bandages — naked underneath. Her huge breasts spilled from beneath the too-loose wrappings, her perfect hips and thighs marked with dirty bandages. Even in this state, her body was a provocation.

Her eyes flew wide, startled. Then she exploded:

— "No... no... that’s not possible!!"

Her voice ripped the air. She grabbed a blanket, threw on her black and red kimono halfway, the folds gaping over her pale thighs.

— "Fucking hell!!" she screamed, and already she was running out, her bandages slapping against her bare skin.

Hikari made a move to rise.

— "I’ll..."

I put my hand on her shoulder. Her warmth pierced me, stronger than pain.

— "No. Leave it. I’ll go."

I forced my body to move. Each step pulled at me, but I stood, grabbed my black kimono crumpled beside me. The fabric slid over my wounded shoulders, and I tied the belt with clenched teeth. My breath was short, my ribs still on fire, but I couldn’t let her go alone.

I cast one last glance at Hikari.

— "Rest a little."

Then I left the tent, my legs heavy but determined, and headed in the direction Miyu had fled.

After a few minutes of walking that tore at every rib, I reached the edge of a grove, the same from which the demons had come. The air was cooler there, as if the forest wanted to swallow everything that smelled of war. She was there, leaning against a charred trunk, knees pulled up, kimono half-open, bandages sliding off her shoulders like rags. Miyu was crying silently, her head bowed, one hand pressed against her stomach as if to hold something too big and too heavy.

I sat beside her without a word. The setting sun filtered through the branches, tracing golden bands across the mud and Miyu’s burned skin. Each ray made her tears shine with a cruel glimmer. My hands were numb, my body still aflame with pain, yet it felt as though everything had stopped around us.

I lowered my eyes to my fingers, stained with dried blood, and then I spoke because the silence hurt more than any wound.

— "I’m sorry, Miyu..." My voice shook before I could steady it. "I wish I’d been more there for you. To ease you. To be stronger so that... so that everyone stayed alive." I couldn’t stop thinking of Thorn, his shattered head haunting me. Each image stabbed me like a cold blade.

She turned to me, red eyes, trembling mouth. Her tears now flowed freely, carving bright tracks on her soot-darkened cheeks.

— "Do you know what I had to do?!" she spat, and the words ripped the air.

— "Do you know what I had to fucking do?!"

Her voice was both hate and plea. She let her hands drop to her knees, shaking with spasms.

— "I... " She drew in a breath, a whimper escaped her. — "... I decapitated Selene. She... she begged me. She screamed for me to soothe her, to end her suffering... and I..." Her throat tightened, a raw sound burst out, not quite a sob, not quite a laugh. Her body trembled like a wavering flame.

I could say nothing. Her confession hollowed me out. I had seen horrors, but hearing that from Miyu’s lips froze me to the bone.

Without thinking, I embraced her. Her face buried against my chest, wet and burning. Her kimono slipped on my shoulder, revealing the curve of her collarbone, skin marked by fresh wounds. She smelled of iron and sweat, of rage and fatigue. When I held her, she collapsed completely, as if for an instant, I could carry that weight with her.

— "I’m so sorry, Miyu," I whispered, with no idea how to soothe a soul broken by this. "I wish I’d been there. Truly."

She struck my chest with a trembling fist, the raw force of a pain too big to contain. The blow bent me, yet I didn’t push her away. Her palm stayed pressed against me, burning.

— "You should have..." she said through clenched teeth, each word a stone. — "You should have, Kaito."

Her eyes pierced me. In that gaze was an accusation not only against me, but against the whole world, the mission, the fate that had stolen lives from us. I felt my own gaze harden, paler, sharper. I wanted to say something — to promise, to explain, to beg forgiveness — but no words were strong enough for that abyss.

So I stayed silent. I held her tighter, until her sobs slowed, like a sea catching its breath. Around us, the forest kept drinking the light, twigs cracking under the distant steps of soldiers. The sun sank, and the world took on a dark, dirty shade, as if night itself knew our sins.

I promised myself in silence what I hadn’t the courage to say aloud: I would do everything to mend this, if mending was possible. Even if it burned the last of my flesh and will.

Her red hair was plastered to her cheeks, still damp with tears, when she finally lifted her eyes to me. The dying light filtered through the branches, scattering sparks across her soaked face. Her hand hesitated a moment before sliding over mine, warm, trembling, then climbed up my arm in a gesture that made me shiver despite my wounds.

— "Thank you... Kaito."

My throat tightened. She continued her slow ascent, her fingers caressing my burned skin until they reached my cheek. I stared at her, breathless, unable to look away. My face flamed instantly, my cheeks heating under her touch.

— "Thank you for being here."

Her words split my chest open. And before I could understand, before I could react, her lips pressed against mine. A kiss first stolen, sweet and brutal at once.

My eyes widened, my heart skipped a beat.

But soon... I didn’t resist anymore. My body, my thoughts, everything gave way. I let myself be swept by that kiss which, fuck, I had no desire to refuse.

Her salty taste of tears mingled with my own burning, and the world around us disappeared. There was nothing but her lips on mine, her hand gripping my cheek, and that shared breath that made me forget war, death, and everything else.