The Grim Loop Of Destiny-Chapter 19: Duty or what?

The battlefield lay in silence. The echoes of Veythor's footsteps had long faded, swallowed by the endless darkness of the Eternal Forest. Yet the weight of his presence remained a suffocating aftertaste of power and cruelty.

Ralf stood motionless, his jet black eyes fixed on the path Veythor had taken. Though the man was gone, his words lingered, burrowing deep and gnawing at Ralf's mind. Slowly, his gaze shifted.

Erika lay on the bloodstained ground, broken and still. Her face once fierce and defiant was pale, streaked with dirt and crimson. Her black hair, wild and tangled, fanned around her like a dark halo. The slow, shallow rise of her chest was the only sign she still clung to life.

Ralf walked toward her. The wind rustled through the trees, cold and indifferent, carrying the scent of blood and ashes. He crouched beside her, his green hair falling over his face, casting shadows on his sharp features. For a moment, he just watched her the fragile, shattered form of a girl who had dared to stand against a monster.

He reached out. His pale hand brushed against her forehead, her hair slipping between his fingers like strands of silk soft, yet streaked with sweat and blood. The contrast was bitter.

He exhaled, a long, weary breath. His voice broke the silence, low and rough.

"Love... It's a disease. The deeper you fall, the sicker you become until there's nothing left but madness."

The words hung in the air, and Ralf didn't know if he was speaking to her or to himself.

He stayed like that for a while, his hand resting lightly against her head. And then, quietly, a question rose in his mind one he had asked himself too many times.

"Why do I always try to save this girl?"

The answer should have been simple. She was Miral Krules's daughter the daughter of his master, the only man Ralf had ever truly respected. But was that all it was?

He remembered the flicker of anger he'd felt at Veythor's words. The way his fingers had twitched a small, involuntary movement when Veythor had humiliated her. That irritation... that ache... what was it?

He closed his eyes.

"Why did I flinch? Why did his words cut so deep? Why do I keep trying... even when she never listens?"

The silence offered no answers. Only the cold and the darkness.

Ralf sighed and sat down beside Erika, his back resting against a half-burnt tree. His sword cracked, chipped, and barely holding together lay across his lap. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, but sleep wouldn't come.

Not yet.

Because even now, as he sat there in the ruins of their defeat, one question wouldn't leave him.

"Maybe... it's not just duty."

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He didn't finish the thought. He couldn't.

So instead, he kept watch over the broken girl lying beside him, over the darkness that surrounded them, and over the pieces of himself he didn't yet understand.

Morning broke over Narzan. The royal capital of Narzan Kranel, stirred with life the air thick with the sounds of merchants calling, horses clattering down cobbled streets, and children laughing in the morning sun. Birds flitted through the clear blue sky, their songs weaving through the hum of the bustling city.

But beneath the warmth and life, there was something else a tension hidden in the cracks. The laughter was too fragile. The footsteps too hurried. The ever-watchful eyes of armored guards patrolling the alleys served as a quiet reminder: joy was a dangerous thing in Narzan.

A shadow passed overhead an eagle, larger than any ordinary Harpy eagle, its wings slicing through the wind. Its feathers shimmered in shades of black and silver, and its keen eyes scanned the city below. It flew toward the heart of the capital, where the castle loomed a towering fortress of dark stone, more imposing than anything else in the kingdom. At its highest peak, a massive black flag rippled in the wind, the symbol of an eagle emblazoned on its surface. It stood proud and unyielding a reflection of the empire itself.

Beside the castle stood the royal court, a sprawling structure of ancient stone and cold authority. The day had only just begun, but already, its halls were stirring with whispers of power, ambition, and fear.

And far beyond the castle's reach, the forest still waited where broken warriors lay and fate's wheels turned ever forward.

What will happen next can you guess?