Elion and Aeron stopped beside Zenovia, who was kneeling next to Maya, carefully pouring a healing potion into her mouth.

It took a few seconds, but Maya coughed lightly and pushed herself back onto her feet. She was all better.

"Thank you, Zenovia," she said with a small smile.

"I’m glad you’re alright," Zenovia replied with a nod.

Both of them looked up, shocked to find that the battle was already over and the demon gone. Elion and Aeron stood there looking at the pair of girls as if nothing had happened.

"Elion did all the work," Aeron said, pointing straight at him before they could ask any questions.

"That’s not true," Elion denied it, raising his hands innocently.

Zenovia narrowed her eyes slightly.

"So you were messing with us when you said you couldn’t defeat it alone?"

Elion waved his hands quickly.

"No, not really. I’m only an advanced mage. That demon was easily a mid-ranking high mage-level warrior. I was just lucky that Aeron was such good support... You guys too."

He paused for a moment.

"All I did was finish it off, and I have a lot of useful skills, some of which were handy when it came to getting past the demon’s thick skin."

"I see..." Zenovia said quietly.

Once that was settled, their gazes drifted back to the distance where the wyvern had taken Yakuza and the fallen captains.

"What should we do...?" Maya asked, her voice heavy.

Elion looked at her.

She looked like she was barely holding herself together. From his perspective, it looked like she was on the verge of tears.

He didn’t know how close the three of them had grown to those captains in the time they had spent together, but if he had to guess, they had to have become more than just acquaintances.

Unlike him, they had been here for more than two months, fighting, living, and surviving together in this war. In all that time, they had to have shared lots of memorable experiences, and of course, in that kind of situation, bonds formed quickly, perhaps becoming stronger than most would expect.

Elion sighed quietly.

He didn’t try to comfort them, nor did he offer any empty words. Nothing he could say would truly reach them right now.

Yakuza was visibly devastated.

And...

He understood that feeling. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough. It reminded him of the day he lost his father.

Elion had been very young at the time.

As the only parent and relative he had left, his father’s death had changed everything. It had been a turning point in his life.

If not for one of his father’s old friends taking him in for a while, long enough for him to grow and stand on his own, he might have ended up on the streets as a beggar, surviving however he could.

’I should visit the old man when I get back,’ Elion thought quietly.

He stopped a short distance away from Yakuza.

The man had once again pulled Sylvara’s body into his arms, holding her and refusing to let go. Sylvara’s once-beautiful face was now marred with bruises, her right arm mangled into torn flesh.

Elion’s gaze softened.

It didn’t make sense for someone like Yakuza, a veteran of war, who must have seen countless comrades fall already, to be so affected into such a state.

So why...

If Elion had to guess, they must have had something going on. Perhaps that was what he couldn’t take, losing her like this.

’She became something more than just a comrade to him...’

He could almost picture how their relationship must have played out - two people growing close in the middle of war, perhaps becoming lovers, so close that they had promised to start a family once it was all over, to have children together, to build a home.

And now, that future was gone.

It was tragic.

War was always tragic.

So many young lives.

So much potential.

So many friends, family, mothers, fathers, children, and lovers, all lost to the throes of war. Elion couldn’t help but think.

What if it was him?

What if he somehow lost Celeste and their unborn child in a similar situation?

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would react.

Though...

Maybe he already knew. His reaction when Aria had lost her arm was enough to paint that picture. He would definitely lose it.

"I’m sorry..."

Yakuza’s voice came out in a whisper.

It wasn’t clear who he was apologising to. Sylvara, or Elion, and the others. But most likely, it had to be her.

He must have felt like it was his fault. Like he should have been there to protect her.

He blamed himself.

Felt like it was his duty to ensure her safety.

Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way.

People came and went.

They lived, and they died.

And the worst part was, you never knew when.

What might have started as a routine morning could end this tragically.

Elion stood there, not knowing what to do. This had stopped being just a trial a long time ago.

It was more than that now.

He heard the sounds of sobbing coming from behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Maya, which wasn’t surprising at all.

This sight...

It was just so sad and tragic.

...

Elion hardened his expression and forced himself to stay calm. He made a quiet decision. He would leave this to Aeron and the two women.

He didn’t trust himself to handle it properly... not when he felt so disconnected from it all. It didn’t feel like he truly knew these people.

So instead, he turned away and did what he did best.

He fought.

His mind slipped into a cold, almost empty state as he threw himself back into the battlefield, helping the coalition forces retake the front that had begun to crumble after losing their commanding officers.

The demons had pushed forward in that brief moment of chaos, but Elion pushed back harder.

He encountered powerful enemies along the way. After all, that four-armed demon could never have taken this front alone.

There were others. Plenty of them.

But in that detached, half-aware state, Elion became unstoppable, more so since he fought like he didn’t have a care in the world.

He tore through the battlefield like a storm, cutting down wave after wave of demons, leaving destruction in his wake.

By the end of it, only a handful managed to escape.

The rest fell beneath his blade, and for the first time since gaining his strength, Elion had pushed himself to his limits.

After fighting for hours on end without holding anything back, his stamina and mana were all completely drained. He was exhausted and completely spent.

And by the time the fighting finally ended, the sun had long since vanished behind the mountains on the horizon. Elion’s gaze was distant and unfocused.

Even as the coalition forces gathered around him, humans, elves, dwarves, beastmen, even the few vampires, raising their voices in praise, singing of his strength, calling his name and calling him a hero, he didn’t hear them.

Or maybe he just didn’t care.

His eyes remained empty and lost. Eventually, he returned to camp after a few hours of riding atop his bird. Sweat and blood covered him from head to toe.

The camp was quieter than usual.

The usual chatter, the laughter, the restless energy that came with soldiers after battle was gone, replaced by low voices, murmurs, and the occasional distant sob.

Elion walked through it all, receiving lots of glances, but no one approached him. Of course, the news of the six dead captains had reached everyone by now, which must be why the camp was so quiet despite the strategic victories on all three fronts.

His boots crunched softly against the dirt as he moved deeper into camp, the scent of blood still clinging to him, mixing with the faint smoke of dying fires.

The healers’ tent was full.

He kept walking until he reached a quieter section near the edge of the camp and stopped. He looked down at his bloodied hands.

They were trembling. He flexed his fingers once to try and push it away.

"I’m so exhausted."

He exhaled slowly and leaned back against a wooden post, closing his eyes for a brief moment. But the moment he did, images flashed.

Sylvara.

The other captains.

Yakuza’s scream.

Maya crying.

He opened his eyes immediately. A quiet curse left his lips.

"...Fuck."

He pushed himself off the post and looked up at the darkening sky, the last traces of sunlight fading into the night.

The darkness was slowly spreading to every corner of the great forest, literally and figuratively.