The silence after the storm was deafening.

The once roaring lake now lay still, its surface reflecting only fractured pieces of the pale sky. The monstrous serpent that had risen like a god from its depths was gone — erased from existence, as though it had never been. The only proof of its existence was the thick scent of iron that still lingered in the air and the faint ripples that slowly calmed into glass.

Avin could still hear the echo of its final roar reverberating inside his skull.Every beat of his heart replayed it. Every breath dragged that sound back up from the edge of memory. His body trembled; his arm — the broken one — screamed with pain every time he shifted. His entire being felt like it was stitched together by will alone. He looked over the ruined lake, half expecting the beast to resurface, but the still water reflected only his battered reflection and the crimson-stained sky.

Then he saw her.

She stood several feet away — still, silent, composed.The woman with the red hair that shimmered like molten copper under sunlight. The blade at her side, a narrow rapier no thicker than a rod, still hummed faintly with power. The air around her shimmered too, like reality itself bent to avoid touching her.

Avin wanted to thank her. To speak. To show that he understood what she had done — that she had saved him. But the words never made it past his throat. His tongue felt heavy, his thoughts scattered. Instead, he simply watched her.

She turned slowly, meeting his gaze. Her expression was unreadable — not cruel, not kind. Just distant, as if her thoughts existed far beyond this bloodied lakeside. The wind lifted strands of her hair, tracing soft arcs through the air. Even in the quiet aftermath of chaos, she moved like someone rehearsed by time itself — precise, deliberate, perfect.

Then she walked toward him.Her steps were featherlight, leaving no sound in the wet soil. The distance between them collapsed in measured grace, each motion seamless, unhurried.And when she finally stopped in front of him and leaned down, Avin's body betrayed him.

He flinched.

It was a reflex — pure instinct. A subtle jerk of his arm, a tightening in his chest, his breath caught between his teeth. He didn't even know why. His mind blanked, his body moved.

She paused. Her eyes flickered for an instant, sharp with something unreadable — recognition, maybe annoyance — before softening again.

Then, without speaking, she reached into her belt and pulled something out.

Avin froze, every muscle taut.Why did I react like that? he thought. What am I afraid of?

He knew her — or rather, the original Avin did. Memories whispered like ghosts through his mind: she was younger by a year, sharper in every skill, the prodigy of their bloodline. The original Avin had hated that, had envied her perfection. But fear? That emotion didn't belong. He couldn't remember ever fearing her.

Yet here he was — trembling.

She extended her hand toward him. In her palm was a small vial, the liquid inside shimmering faintly in silver-blue swirls. It looked alive — pulsing softly like a captured heartbeat. Recognition struck him immediately.The same potion Leo had given him once. The one that burned like wildfire but healed like salvation.

"Don't die," she said softly.Her voice was calm — too calm. Smooth, melodic, almost soothing in the way a lullaby before death might be."It'll disgrace our family."

The words carried weight, but no warmth. A command, not compassion.

Avin exhaled shakily and nodded, unsure if she even wanted a reply. She rose to her feet, turning away, and sunlight caught on the crimson fabric wrapped around her waist. His eyes followed the glint — and froze.

206.

He looked down at his own tattered waistband.106.

"Hundred more than mine, huh?" he murmured, half-laughing, half-sighing, the sound dry and bitter. He didn't know if he meant envy or admiration. Maybe both.

He looked back at her one last time. Her hair caught in the breeze, reflecting tiny fragments of gold and red, like flame and blood braided together. She looked almost untouchable — divine. A god in human skin.

He uncorked the vial and lifted it to his lips. The cool glass trembled against his shaking fingers. Then he drank.

The liquid slid down his throat like molten metal.It burned — seared through him with violent intensity, spreading from his chest to his limbs like wildfire devouring a forest. His veins pulsed, his breath hitched, his stomach turned inside out.

At first, he thought it was working — that it was healing him.Then the pain shifted.

The burn became cold.The cold became sharp.

He clutched at his chest, gasping. "What… the hell…" he croaked.

The warmth in his body twisted into something sinister. His veins blackened beneath his skin, pulsing unnaturally. His heart pounded once — twice — then stuttered, skipping beats erratically. His lungs constricted as if the air itself turned solid.

He fell forward, one hand clawing at the ground.His stomach twisted violently, bile rising up his throat. His body spasmed; his fingers went numb. It felt like his organs were tearing themselves apart from the inside.

His vision blurred. The world flickered in and out like a broken projection — color draining, sound warping. His muscles seized; his joints stiffened, refusing to move. Even his heartbeat became dissonant — a chaotic rhythm of dying thuds.

He realized then — it wasn't healing him.It was killing him.

"...No…" he gasped, eyes wide. "N–no, no, no…"

He looked up at her through the haze of pain.She had stopped walking. Her head turned slightly, enough for him to see her profile.

And then she smiled.

Not the composed, distant expression she had worn before. Not serene. Not kind.This was something darker — a slow, deliberate curl of the lips. A grin that dripped with quiet satisfaction, almost playful in its cruelty.

The kind of smile that said she'd expected this.That she'd planned it.

Avin's heart hammered once more, then faltered. His vision tunneled, edges closing in. He couldn't breathe — his chest refused to rise. His body convulsed again, a desperate, involuntary spasm that only deepened the pain.

And yet — through it all — she watched.Still, calm, beautiful.Watching him die.

He reached out weakly, his hand trembling in the air before falling back to his side. His throat tightened, a choking noise breaking from his lips. His body began to collapse, his mind fading with every blink.

She raised her hand.A soft, almost elegant wave.Her grin still painted across her face like an artist's final touch.

Then the world dimmed.The wind faded.The sound of the waves died.

And Avin fell — the last of his breath escaping him in silence.

Darkness swallowed everything.

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