Amy kept her gaze lowered as they walked.

  The path toward the Egradon settlement wound through a stretch of gray woodland where the trees grew thin and crooked from the harsh winds that swept across the frontier. The ground beneath their boots was uneven with roots and loose stones, and the faint scent of ash still lingered in the air. It reminded her too much of the Mithril zone.

  Of that clearing.

  Of the moment, everything had fallen apart.

  Jasper walked a few paces ahead while Celius remained close to her side. Argus followed slightly behind them, quiet and watchful. None of them spoke for a long while. Only the rustling of branches and the dull rhythm of footsteps broke the silence.

  Amy noticed the glances Jasper and Celius kept sending her.

  They tried to hide it. Both of them pretended to watch the forest, pretended to study the path ahead, yet every few moments their eyes drifted back toward her with the same heavy look.

  Sympathy.

  The weight of it pressed against her chest.

  She hated it. She hated each one of those glances. They should be angry at her; they should be resentful that her actions had caused the death of a teammate. And yet, they showed sympathy. Sympathy for what? Sympathy because her actions had killed their companion, sympathy because she failed to follow a simple order to move. Or perhaps sympathy for her weakness.

  She had always been the weakest in her family, one of the weakest in her academy year.

  Leaves crunched beneath her boots, the sound carrying over the whole group.

  Many people had ridiculed her, tormented her, and bullied her, yet she had always managed to deal with it in her own way. What she lacked in strength, she had in cunning. She would mix poisons in their food, blackmail them with their deepest secrets, and threaten expulsion from the academy.

  Their expressions at that moment had always delighted her. Their eyes filled with dread, their trembling features as they realized that they could get expelled, and disgraced if the student in front of them chose it. And that was what had pleased her, that she could control the outcome. That their future was in the palm of her hand.

  Her emotions scared her; the fact that she felt good from inflicting fear and discomfort on others shook her to the very core. She did not know why she felt that way, why she felt good from hurting others. There had to be something severely wrong with her!

  And then there were those bastards who felt sympathy for her. What was their sympathy even worth! Could it strengthen her core? Could it provide additional strength? No! All that those morons were good for was looking at her like some wounded, defeated animal. Like some fragile little pet. It felt as if those gazes solely existed to mock her weakness.

  And she couldn't even act against them. What kind of person would harm people who sympathized with her?

  Her fingers tightened around the strap of the satchel hanging at her side.

  After several minutes, Jasper finally spoke.

  “Amy.”

  His voice carried a careful gentleness that immediately set her teeth on edge.

  She did not look up.

  “What?”

  Jasper slowed his pace until he was walking beside her. The large man ran a hand through his dark hair before letting out a quiet breath.

  “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

  The words were spoken softly, yet they struck like a hammer.

  Amy’s head snapped up.

  “Yes, it was.”

  Celius frowned. “Amy.”

  “He died protecting me.” Her voice trembled despite the effort she made to keep it steady. “If I had reacted faster, then he would still be alive. That is not something you can simply dismiss.”

  Jasper stopped walking.

  Amy took two more steps before realizing the others had halted behind her. She turned slowly.

  Jasper was watching her with an expression that carried both frustration and concern.

  “You froze for a moment during a battle against a monster far above our rank,” he said. “That happens. Roger knew the risk when he stepped forward.”

  “He stepped forward because I failed.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  Amy felt heat rising behind her eyes.

  “It is exactly how it works.”

  The air between them grew tight and brittle.

  Celius shifted uneasily but did not intervene.

  Jasper’s voice hardened. “Listen to me. If you start thinking like that, then you will end up blaming yourself for every death you ever see. On this frontier that will destroy you before any monster does.”

  Amy stared at him.

  Her throat tightened. She forced the words out anyway.

  “Roger is dead, because of me. So, the least you could do is give me some peace and quiet.”

  Jasper fell silent.

  The wind whispered through the branches above them. She didn't know why she said the words, but she knew she had to get them out.

  For a moment, none of them moved.

  Then Amy turned away and resumed walking.

  No one tried to stop her.

  They continued toward the settlement in heavy silence.

  Amy focused on her breathing, searching for something that would distract her from the chaos of her own thoughts.

  In through the nose. Out through the mouth.

  The technique Professor Ellie had taught them came back to her with quiet clarity.

  Circulate the mana slowly through the channels. Guide it along the natural flow of the body. Do not force it.

  She closed her eyes briefly and began to draw the faint threads of energy within her core outward.

  Mana stirred.

  At first, it moved sluggishly through the pathways of her body.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Then pain followed.

  A sharp burning sensation spread along the channels near her chest and shoulders. Her breath hitched despite herself.

  She forced the mana onward.

  If she became stronger, then this would never happen again.

  The pain intensified.

  A quiet voice spoke behind her.

  “You should not do that right now.”

  Amy’s eyes snapped open.

  Argus had moved closer at some point during her attempt. His gaze rested on her with an intensity that made her immediately aware that he had seen everything.

  Her jaw tightened.

  “You were circulating mana,” he continued calmly. “Your channels are strained after the battle. Forcing them now will only make the damage worse.”

  Amy felt a flash of anger rise in her chest.

  “Mind your own business.” Her hand clenched into a fist just as she said those words.

  Why was she having such a reaction to simple, sensible advice? Yes, she was angry at him for giving advice when she needed none. But, she knew that there was another reason she was angry. A small part of her still thought that Argus could've done more back during the fight. The final attack had been very powerful, too powerful for a mere gold rank to execute.

  There was little chance he was lying, what goal would he be aiming to accomplish? Why would he even have helped them if he wanted to deceive them or get them killed?

  But, maybe he was being completely honest and, she was just trying to find anything that would deflect the blame from her. Maybe she was trying to find a reason that proved it hadn't been her fault that Roger died. That someone else got him killed, not her.

  Just not her.

  Argus did not react to the sharpness in her tone.

  “I understand why you want to do it,” he said quietly. “But pushing yourself in this state will only delay your recovery.”

  The words felt like oil poured over a flame.

  “You understand?” He understood her? How could he even claim to understand what she felt at this moment?

  Amy turned toward him fully now.

  “How exactly would you understand?”

  Argus held her gaze without flinching.

  She could see the faint exhaustion lining his features. Several scars lined his face, and dried blood stuck to his shirt. The battle had taken its toll on him as well, yet his composure remained steady.

  It only made her angrier.

  “Do you have any idea what it feels like?” she demanded. “To watch someone die because you hesitated?”

  Argus said nothing.

  Amy felt the words spilling out before she could stop them.

  “Have you ever lost someone you cared about?” Her voice rose. “Have you ever stood there knowing that if you had acted differently, then they might still be alive?”

  Jasper shifted behind her.

  “Amy.”

  She ignored him.

  “Answer me,” she said to Argus.

  For a moment, Argus simply looked at her.

  The forest around them seemed to grow very quiet.

  Then he spoke.

  “Yes.”

  The single word was quiet.

  Fragile.

  Amy blinked.

  Argus lowered his gaze slightly.

  “I have.”

  There was something in his voice that caused the anger inside her to falter.

  It was not defensive.

  It was not resentful.

  It sounded tired.

  Deeply tired.

  Amy felt the heat in her chest fade into an uncomfortable heaviness.

  “I…” She hesitated before forcing the next words out. “I’m sorry.”

  Argus did not respond.

  She looked away.

  “I... shouldn’t have said that,” she continued quietly. “I-I'm sorry.”

  Her hands trembled slightly.

  “I’m sorry for the loss of your loved one.”

  Argus remained silent.

  The moment stretched.

  Then Jasper cleared his throat and gestured toward the path ahead.

  “We should keep moving. The settlement isn’t far.”

  No one argued.

  The wooden palisade of the Egradon settlement came into view shortly afterward.

  Rough watchtowers rose above the walls, their silhouettes stark against the pale sky. Smoke curled from several chimneys within the settlement while the faint murmur of voices drifted over the barrier.

  Amy felt a strange mixture of relief and dread as they approached the gate.

  Two guards stood at the entrance.

  One of them stood rigidly upright with a spear resting against his shoulder, while the other leaned casually against the wooden post beside him. The second guard held a metal flask and appeared to be halfway through a story, judging by the animated motion of his free hand.

  Their conversation halted the moment the approaching group caught their attention.

  Both guards straightened.

  Their eyes quickly took in the bloodstained armor and exhausted expressions of the adventurers.

  Concern replaced their earlier ease.

  “Jasper,” the upright guard said as they drew closer. “You all look like you went through hell out there.”

  The casual guard lowered his flask.

  “What happened?”

  Jasper stepped forward.

  “We ran into trouble in the Mithril zone.”

  The guards exchanged a glance.

  Their gazes shifted toward Argus.

  “Who’s he?” the upright guard asked cautiously.

  “A companion who helped us survive,” Jasper replied.

  The guard studied Argus for a moment before nodding slowly.

  “Well, you lot clearly need medical attention,” he said. “Go on inside. Report to the wardens first.”

  They stepped aside to allow the group through.

  As Amy passed the gate, she felt the familiar atmosphere of the settlement settle around her. People moved through the narrow streets carrying supplies or leading pack animals. Conversations drifted from open windows while the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed through the air.

  Several heads turned as the group walked by.

  The blood on their clothing drew immediate attention.

  Whispers followed them.

  Jasper attempted a smile.

  “Well,” he said lightly, “at least there's no lack of attention.”

  No one laughed.

  The joke fell flat against the heavy mood surrounding them.

  Jasper sighed quietly and fell silent.

  The Frontier Wardens’ hall stood near the center of the settlement.

  Its stone walls bore the green emblem of the organization carved prominently above the entrance.

  A phoenix with its wings crossed.

  Amy had seen that emblem countless times since joining the wardens.

  Today it felt different.

  They stepped inside.

  The interior bustled with activity. Several adventurers stood near the notice board while a clerk worked behind the long wooden counter.

  The woman looked up as the group approached. No one currently held her attention.

  Her eyes immediately scanned their adventurer badges. Jasper showed her the medallion that spoke of their membership with the wardens.

  “What happened to you three?”

  Jasper began recounting the events.

  He spoke slowly and carefully, explaining the encounter with the Ashstone creatures and the sudden appearance of the mother.

  Amy remained silent.

  Celius added details whenever Jasper faltered.

  The clerk listened without interruption while jotting notes onto a parchment.

  When they finished, she leaned back slightly.

  “Well,” she said after a moment, “you are not in immediate danger of dying, so I hope you can wait five more minutes.”

  Jasper’s glare was immediate.

  The clerk sighed.

  “Relax. I only meant that we need the report finished first.”

  She reached beneath the counter and retrieved a document.

  Her eyes scanned the names listed there.

  “Four members set out on the expedition,” she said slowly. “Only three have returned.”

  The room grew quiet.

  The clerk’s expression softened slightly though her tone remained professional.

  She slid the parchment across the counter.

  “You know the procedure.”

  Jasper stared at the document for a long moment before taking the pen.

  His hand moved slowly across the parchment.

  Celius signed next.

  Amy watched them both.

  They hesitated while writing.

  Yet she could tell that Roger’s death had not struck them as deeply.

  They had known him for only a short time.

  For them, he had been a capable companion. Perhaps even a friend.

  For her, he had been something closer to family.

  He had known of her struggles and had brought her along for some firsthand experiences, even though she hadn't even given the academy trials. He had assured her that nothing was going to happen, that he was too strong for whatever danger awaited her. That nothing would happen to anyone.

  The memory returned unbidden.

  Roger stepped forward with a grin.

  Roger shouted for her to move.

  Roger’s body collapsed to the ground.

  Amy’s hands clenched.

  She remembered how she had frozen even after he had sacrificed himself.

  If the Ashstone mother had chosen that exact moment to attack, then Roger’s sacrifice would have meant nothing.

  A cold determination settled quietly within her chest.

  That would never happen again.

  The clerk tapped the parchment lightly.

  “Your turn.”

  Amy stepped forward.

  Her eyes fell upon the yellowed parchment.

  The green phoenix emblem marked the top of the page.

  For a moment, another memory surfaced.

  Roger squinted at the emblem during their first mission together.

  “You know,” he had said with a chuckle, “that thing looks more like a crow than a phoenix.”

  Amy blinked rapidly, clearing aware the tears.

  She forced the memory away before the tears could follow.

  Her hand hovered above the parchment.

  The pen felt strangely heavy in her fingers.

  She became aware of the others watching.

  Jasper.

  Celius.

  Argus

  Even the clerk.

  Amy inhaled slowly.

  Then she lowered the pen.

  Her signature appeared beneath the others.

  The moment the ink settled onto the parchment a quiet realization spread through her chest.

  Roger was truly gone.

  The finality of it settled over her like a weight.

  The clerk nodded once and pulled the document back.

  “Report accepted. Now go see the healers before you collapse.”

  The healer’s chamber smelled faintly of herbs.

  Amy barely remembered sitting down on the narrow cot while a healer examined her injuries. Warm light spread across her arms and shoulders as gentle mana worked to mend the worst of the damage.

  Her eyelids grew heavy.

  Through the haze of exhaustion, she vaguely noticed Argus standing near the doorway while a healer treated the wounds on his side.

  A few minutes later, he stepped outside without a word.

  Amy watched him leave through half-closed eyes.

  Then the warmth of the healing magic washed over her once more.

  The last thing she felt before sleep claimed her was the quiet ache of grief still lingering in her chest.

  This time, however, another emotion grew with it.

  Resolve.

  Next time, she would not freeze. Next time, she would be ready. She let the warmth of the healing magic sink into her bones, feeling the ache of grief fade slightly, but never disappear. Roger’s laughter, his voice, the weight of his sacrifice, all of it stayed with her. And for the first time, she understood that strength would not come from ignoring that weight—it would come from carrying it.