[Realm: Uhorus]

[Location: Verdantis]

[Outskirts]

Little changed with the erasure of the Abyssal Warden.

Mai knew that before the creature had even fully disappeared beneath the golden light.

The lesser Abyssal Creatures would fall into disarray now. Their movements would lose structure, their strange coordination broken apart alongside the death of the thing directing them. The more calculated advances would cease. No more breaches and no more unnatural hesitation before stronger opponents.

But they would still remain.

Thousands upon thousands of them.

Mindless once more and relentless once more.

Mai exhaled lightly through her nose.

The cold air of Verdantis did not fill her lungs; instead, what entered was the scent of grass, fresh earth, and living things.

Her violet eyes lowered slightly. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

The world around her had changed.

Beneath her feet, vigorous green grass stretched outward endlessly across the snowy landscape, overtaking the white frost entirely within a massive radius. Patches of trees stood tall throughout the field, their leaves vibrant and full despite the cold climate they existed within moments ago.

It looked disconnected.

As though a fragment of spring had been forced into the dead heart of winter.

The remnants of her Qi still lingered there, overflowing life into the land around her after the amount she had released during the battle. Small motes of golden light drifted lazily through the air between the grass while the snow further beyond continued falling quietly.

For a brief moment, it almost looked serene, peaceful even.

Then the sky ruined it.

Those tears still hung overhead, those massive black ruptures split across the heavens, leaking darkness into the world. The sight stained everything beneath it no matter how beautiful the land became.

Mai’s lips twisted.

("Little has changed despite that thing’s demise.")

Her thoughts carried a bitterness she could not quite hide from herself. Another Abyssal Warden would come eventually, perhaps not immediately and perhaps not today.

But the Abyss adapted.

It always adapted.

And the next one would be stronger; that was the nature of it. An endless escalation with endless hatred.

"General Mai?"

The voice broke through her thoughts gently.

Mai turned slightly at first before fully looking behind her.

A familiar figure stood there amidst the field of green.

Snow-white hair and red eyes, with that small warmth in her expression despite the tension surrounding the world.

"Lucinda?" Mai questioned, genuine confusion entering her tone for the first time in a while. "Why are you in Verdantis?"

Lucinda stepped forward carefully, though before answering she paused briefly to look around them.

Her gaze swept across the transformed landscape, the grass, the trees, and the lingering golden particles drifting through the air. Then upward toward the wounded sky above them.

Even she looked slightly unsettled by the scene.

Finally, her red eyes returned to Mai.

"Well," Lucinda began softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "we heard there was a large-scale Abyssal attack happening in Verdantis, and after hearing how severe it was, we came as quickly as we could."

Her expression softened further.

"Mostly because of you and Fiona."

Mai stared at her quietly for a moment, as ever there was sincerity there, honest concern.

And somehow that only made the exhaustion sitting in Mai’s chest feel heavier.

"Are the others with you?" Mai eventually asked.

Lucinda nodded lightly.

"Only Agatha, Cor’nella, and Victoria." She explained. "Mirabella stayed behind to recover a bit. Adrian, Astrid, and Lukas are still occupied handling their own regions."

Mai gave a slow nod.

"I see."

Her gaze drifted toward the distant snowy plains again.

"It is good that you came," she admitted after a moment. "But the Abyssal Warden has already been dealt with."

Lucinda blinked faintly at the unfamiliar term.

Mai continued before she could interrupt.

"It should not be long before the remaining Abyssal Creatures lose what little coordination they possessed. Once that happens, they will begin scattering instead of moving together." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "That makes them less dangerous on a large scale, but far more difficult to fully eliminate."

Lucinda tilted her head slightly.

"Wait," she murmured, "Abyssal Warden? I have never heard that title before."

Mai went silent briefly.

Lucinda noticed immediately how the General’s posture shifted: a slight tightening of the shoulders and a clenching of the jaw.

Then Mai finally spoke again.

"Abyssal Wardens are vastly stronger than ordinary Abyssal Creatures," she explained slowly. "They tend to manifest when enough resistance is presented against the Abyss itself. Usually after large numbers of Abyssal Creatures are destroyed, or when something threatens the tears directly."

Her gaze lowered.

"They are different from the others." There was disgust in her voice now. "They think. They adapt. They coordinate lesser creatures around them." Her fists slowly clenched at her sides. "And they are far more devastating."

Lucinda noticed it immediately, the tension and the anger hidden beneath Mai’s calm exterior. It was minute, but impossible to miss once seen.

The General hated these things, not in the ordinary sense. It was not simple anger toward an enemy. It looked deeper than that, personal.

Lucinda remained quiet.

"...I see," she murmured eventually.

Her eyes drifted upward toward the sky again.

The tears above Verdantis did indeed look weaker now. Their movements were sluggish compared to the usual tears, the black liquid no longer pouring endlessly from them.

("Then what I faced in Galadriel...") Her thoughts slowed. ("That was probably an Abyssal Warden too.")

Slowly, Lucinda looked back toward Mai.

The General clearly knew far more about the Abyss than most people alive. It was Mai who first recognized the true nature of the tears. Mai who understood the patterns behind the invasions.

And Lucinda wanted answers.

Desperately.

How many Abyssal Wardens existed?

How deep did the Abyss truly go?

Why did these creatures even exist?

Questions filled her mind endlessly.

Yet the moment she met Mai’s eyes fully, the words stopped in her throat. Those violet eyes looked hollow. Not empty from apathy, but empty from exhaustion and memory. There was also rage burning there, deep and violent rage buried beneath layers upon layers of restraint.

But nothing else accompanied it. No fear, hope, or uncertainty, only hatred for the Abyss.

Only that.

And suddenly Lucinda understood something very clearly. Whatever history Mai had with the Abyss, it had wounded her deeply.

Lucinda lowered her gaze slightly.

She could ask.

Mai would probably answer, but she did not want to force those memories back to the surface simply because her own curiosity demanded it. Not now and not while the General already looked as though she carried the weight of the world across her shoulders.

So instead Lucinda simply stepped beside her quietly.

"The court mage Lyra seems to have returned to Embereach," Lucinda finally spoke up after the silence had stretched for a while, her voice softer. It was obvious she was intentionally steering the conversation elsewhere, away from the Abyss and whatever memories had darkened Mai’s expression moments ago.

Lucinda brushed a strand of white hair behind her ear as her red eyes briefly shifted toward the distant horizon where Embereach rested beyond the snowstorms and scattered hordes.

"She’s reinforcing the wards there," she continued. "The Abyssal Creatures apparently stopped attacking after a while, so I assumed it was because you killed that Abyssal Warden."

Even saying the title still felt strange in her mouth.

Mai remained silent briefly.

"That is their usual behavior when their ’leader’ is destroyed," Mai finally murmured. "Without direction, the lesser Abyssal Creatures lose cohesion. Their instincts remain, but whatever intelligence binds them together fades."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked northward.

"And if the Court Mage truly returned to Embereach..." She exhaled lightly. "Then perhaps we may finally discuss something worthwhile."

Lucinda caught onto the meaning immediately.

"You didn’t have much luck with the people in power while you were here?" she asked carefully.

Mai gave a humorless smile, barely even that.

"Luck would mean they were willing to listen long enough for a conversation to occur," the General replied quietly. "Most of Verdantis’ governing body refused even the idea of a proper meeting." Her gaze lowered. "The situation has become too dire. Everyone is focused only on surviving the next hour."

The exhaustion in her voice was unmistakable.

Lucinda’s eyes lingered on her.

("She looks so tired...") The thought came unbidden. She was not physically tired; Mai still stood perfectly straight. Her breathing remained controlled, and her presence was as composed as always.

But something about her felt worn down.

("She wasn’t like this before the calamity.")

Lucinda remembered it clearly.

Mai had always been disciplined in her own way. But there had once been warmth beneath it and a cheerful attitude that made people naturally feel safer around her.

Now everything about her seemed heavier, even the way she stared at the tears above the sky felt tired.

Lucinda’s chest tightened slightly.

("I want to help.") She did not want to see people she knew carrying all of this alone. ("I can help.")

So Lucinda straightened slightly before speaking again, her tone firmer despite its gentleness.

"I’m sure we’ll gain the support we need from Verdantis eventually," she said. "And honestly, they’d probably want to make use of someone like me anyway." She gave a small shrug. "A spawn of Octavia isn’t exactly common."

Mai’s eyes shifted toward her immediately. There was no admiration in her expression, only a faint crease in her brows.

"Not exactly a good thing," Mai murmured quietly.

Lucinda blinked once.

Mai looked away again before continuing.

"When nations grow desperate, they stop seeing people as people." Her voice remained calm, though there was something bitter beneath it. "Strength becomes currency."

The General’s gaze swept across the distant landscape.

"And those capable of changing battlefields..." she paused slightly, "...are expected to continue doing so until there is nothing left of them."

Lucinda went still; Mai’s words did not sound dramatic, but they stuck all the same.

For a moment, Lucinda did not answer.

The wind continued blowing between them, carrying snowflakes over the endless grasslands created by Qi.

Lucinda smiled slightly.

"But that’s fine," she said softly.

Mai’s eyes shifted back toward her, Lucinda met them directly.

"With the strength I have, I should help as much as I can." Her fingers lightly curled against her armor. "And then more."

There was no arrogance in her voice, no pride either. Merely conviction, whether it was misplaced was anyone’s guess.

Mai studied her quietly.

Lucinda looked young, too young, perhaps, to speak with such certainty. Yet there was no hesitation in her eyes.

And somehow that only caused the General’s expression to darken slightly.

"You sound like someone preparing to carry the entire world by yourself," Mai said after a long pause.

Lucinda laughed softly at that.

"Well..." she admitted, "someone has to help carry it, right?"

"That mentality destroys people." The response came immediately.

Lucinda blinked slightly in surprise.

Mai herself seemed to realize how sharp her tone had become because she closed her eyes briefly before exhaling through her nose.

The General spoke again, in a quieter tone.

"You cannot save everyone, Lucinda." There was no cruelty in the statement, only painful honesty. "You will fail sometimes. People will still die. Cities will still fall. There will be moments where no amount of strength changes anything."

Her violet eyes opened again.

"And if your only answer to that is ’I should have done more,’ then eventually you will break yourself apart chasing something impossible."

Silence followed; Lucinda stared at her quietly.

The wind swept between them again.

Far above, the tears pulsed weakly across the dark sky.

Then Lucinda smiled again, though it seemed more strained.

"But if I stop trying," she murmured, "then I think I’d regret that even more."

Mai’s expression tightened; for a brief second, Lucinda thought the General might continue arguing.

Instead, Mai simply looked away.

Perhaps she understood the feeling too well.