Evolution Online: I Can Fuse With All Things-Chapter 63: What Does It Mean To Fight?

After the decision had been made, the lady led them back to a weathered cottage in the village center—once the main hall, now their last refuge.

They had spent the day constructing savage wooden fences with razor-sharp edges and building makeshift catapults to hurl stones at distant targets. Though primitive, Lucien found himself impressed.

Seeing so many huddled at the gate, one might think they had all surrendered to despair and chosen to flee, scavenging for scraps within the Federation’s walls.

However, more people were fighting back in the village, and Lucien was deeply impressed by that.

He saw no need to run from challenges like this—in life or in games. Confronting such dangers was the very essence of existence, the reason we live and breathe.

What good is life if everything unfolds exactly as expected?

Lucien hadn’t realized he’d always held this philosophy, but now that he reflected on it, that would explain why he pursued his path despite harboring grudges against his father.

Lucien smiled faintly before stepping into the cottage.

The cottage wasn’t large, but it could accommodate about fifty people. They had created makeshift partitions for families to shelter temporarily.

A choking, foul stench hung in the air. While Lucien wanted to pinch his nose, he refused immediately—that would be unfair to these desperate people.

Gaya, however, frowned and pinched her nose.

Lucien closed his eyes and exhaled.

’This elf...’

"Why the hell is it so stinky?"

Gaya’s voice rang out, both beautiful and harsh in equal measure.

Lucien didn’t need to facepalm himself—his shame was perfectly hidden behind his mask anyway.

Elara whirled around with a fierce scowl.

"What?"

Gayanna met her with an equally sharp frown.

"What? Being wretched isn’t an excuse to live as though you’re already dead. You all claim to be fighting, but what is this hollowness?"

Her voice grew even more cutting.

People emerged from different sections of the makeshift partitions—some peering out, others standing and staring at Gaya and the newcomers.

Elara stormed toward Gaya and came face to face with her.

"What do you know? You’ve probably lived in your father’s kingdom your entire life, then come of age to become some pompous luxury Adventurer, granted privileges from some high-sky Mage Academy, and now you think you can waltz in here and speak as if we don’t know what it means to fight? Do you even know what it means to fight?!"

With every word the lady spoke, Lucien felt his stomach plummeting deeper.

The lady’s anger was justified, but Gayanna was absolutely the wrong person—the worst person—to say those things to.

Of course, Lucien didn’t know what kind of life the lady had endured to reach this point. But he knew for certain that Gaya had been sealed for ten thousand years—in no narrative could that be the kind, luxurious upbringing of a princess.

The few days they’d spent together had also made him realize that Gaya was antisocial. He was too, but not in her way.

She masked it with defiant actions, blackmail, gaslighting, manipulation. She was a powerful elf—undoubtedly, from what he’d witnessed at the Temple, the strongest of them all.

So she would have experienced the detachment that strong people endure and perhaps reacted to it in her own way. After all, people respond differently to the same experiences.

Gaya wasn’t a pampered, luxurious person, and she wasn’t completely evil either.

’Why do I feel like I’m making excuses for her?’

Instead, Lucien waited for her response to truly understand.

Gaya stared at Elara with an indifferent expression. It was impossible to tell what was going on in her mind.

She exhaled and smiled.

"Child. I have seen people fight. I have fought myself..."

She pointed forward with long, slender fingernails.

"Those don’t look like people fighting to live. They might as well be dead already."

Elara gritted her teeth, her shoulders trembling. Then her hand flew.

But before it could strike Gayanna’s face, she caught it. Her dark stare burned into Elara.

"You must be insane."

Gayanna flung the hand down and grabbed Elara’s cheek, squeezing it with her fingers. She turned the young woman toward the people. Elara tried to struggle, but it was futile.

Adrian stood beside them, unsure what to say or how to react. He whispered to Lucien.

"Master Cien. Sh—shouldn’t we do something about this?"

Lucien shook his head.

"No."

Not because he didn’t want to.

’Can I trust my judgment of Gaya? She seems like a good person to me—am I wrong or right? I want to find out.’

Gaya spoke into her ear, forcing Elara’s cheek to remain still as she struggled.

"Do these people look to you like they want to live?"

Elara looked at all of them—the young, the old, the women—all standing there, staring at her with fallen, hollow gazes, withdrawn.

Somehow, it had always been there. But she felt like she had never paid attention to it until now.

When the need for a leader arose after her father, the Village leader, died, she had to step up. Even before the Goblin Infestation, she’d had to toughen herself.

She had never truly stepped back to look at someone unless she was giving orders, caring for the children, or handling some other task.

Gaya’s whisper sounded in her ears.

"You have never truly looked at them, have you?"

Elara didn’t respond. Her power of resistance had diminished, and she was looking at everyone with watery eyes.

"Look at them. Their eyes have lost any light of fight. Any willpower. All that’s left is a hollow shell waiting for death’s dawn."

Gayanna released her grip and turned Elara around, glaring into her eyes.

"Is this the meaning of fight? This is the fight you speak of? If this is the fight you mean, then no, child. I have never fought. But I have stood before gods and declared my will with a defiant light in my eyes, my heart leaping with resolve and expectation of victory.

"I have faced death and with my teeth, savagely torn through every shred of its tendrils. I fought hard like a madwoman because I was desperate to live, not expecting death."

Her voice dropped.

"If you cannot at least ignite the expectation of victory in the hearts of those you call your soldiers, then I see no reason why this is even a battle at all. And I question whether you yourself have given up on this place."

Elara stood with her head and shoulders down. Gaya’s words sank deep into her head and heart, and tears broke from her eyes and rolled down her dirty cheek.

Adrian moved his hand and wiped the corner of his eyes. At that moment, Lucien turned to him slightly, but Adrian didn’t see Lucien’s raised brow.

’What is this guy doing?’

Elara trembled but clenched her fists tightly and stopped trembling. She sobbed and sucked it in for a moment.

Then she spoke.

"What do I do...? What do we do to survive? To win?"

She tried to hold it down, but more tears broke from her eyes as she raised her head to Gayanna’s face.

Gayanna smiled and gently patted the young woman’s head. Her hand lingered for a moment, her touch unexpectedly gentle.

Her voice was calm now—quiet, but not soft.

"You ask what to do. Good. That is the right question."

Elara sniffled, wiping her eyes roughly with the back of her hand. She looked younger in that moment. Less like the woman who had taken on leadership, and more like a daughter who had shouldered grief too soon.

"The first thing you do..."

Gayanna stepped back, glancing at the others.

"...is burn the rot."

Elara blinked.

"What?"

Gayanna turned to the makeshift partitions, the sagging cloth, the hollowed stares behind them.

"You tear down what reminds them of death. These ragged tents, this darkness, this stench of resignation—it must be undone. If they live inside graves, they will begin to think like the dead."

There was a brief silence. The kind that made air feel heavier.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could already see where this was going.

Gayanna continued.

"You build a fire. Not to destroy—but to cleanse. Clean the floor. Let the air in. Let the people see the sky. And then, you speak to them—not with orders, but with belief. Tell them what you believe. Even if it’s a lie at first."

Elara looked up, uncertain.

"And if I don’t believe?"

"Then you must fight yourself before you fight goblins. Because no sword drawn in doubt ever wins."

Lucien tilted his head, a quiet smirk playing beneath his mask. That sounded a little like something he would say—if he were trying to sound wise.

Elara said with a shaky voice.

"I can help... I can... try."

Gayanna slowly stepped past her.

"You won’t try. You will do."

She stopped at the doorway of the cottage and looked back over her shoulder.

"Gather the children. Start with them. Hope begins small."

Then she left.

Lucien followed her out without a word. Adrian looked between the two women, unsure, before deciding to jog after Lucien.

Elara stood alone for a while, trembling still, but then—slowly—she turned. Her eyes swept across the room. People who had once looked away now stared, waiting, unsure.

She muttered first.

"...Light a fire..."

Then louder.

"Light all the damn torches. Tear down these partitions—we are not hiding anymore. We will not look like corpses."