The fire that burst from Lina’s magic circle was unlike any flame she had ever seen. It burned a pale yellow-white, flickering wildly like something alive, uncontrolled. When it struck the nearest mana beast, the creature screamed as the light clung to its body and ate through flesh like acid.

  Despite the rain, the fire lingered where it landed—on branches, grass, and the bodies of mana beasts. It seemed that what she had read in the books about Imperium, which claimed that Grace-fire was like the sun and unaffected by water, wasn’t just nonsense the Imperium spewed to praise their magic.

  And yet Lina felt no heat from it. Unlike ordinary fire magic, this one carried no burn, only a faint warmth that spread through her fingers. It was strange, comforting in a way, but her body didn’t share that feeling. Her blood throbbed as if boiling under her skin, her throat turned dry as sand, and even her tongue felt cracked and raw. Every spell she cast left her a little weaker, her breaths coming shorter and sharper.

  But the beasts didn’t stop. For each one that fell, another lunged forward, drawn by the smell of blood and the emptiness in their stomachs that would never subside, even if they devoured the whole world. The air shook with their snarls, claws scraping through the mud as they closed in.

  Realizing that despite her newfound power, everything had its limits, Lina controlled her use of Grace as best as she could. She knew that even the smallest graze from the flame was enough to halt a mana beast’s advance, making them panic and try to extinguish it. So she used only basic spells, not that she knew advanced Grace spell or even how to utilized it in the first place. This was the first time she used her magic without mana and only with Grace after all.

  And still, she kept casting. One spell, then another, then another, until her hands shook so badly that the runes started to blur.

  Lina moved back little by little, each step feeling like she was walking on molten lava. Her legs screamed in agony, trembling beneath her, while her throat burned from the strain of channeling Grace magic. Every inch she retreated felt like a mile, every fire she cast like it tore another piece of life out of her.

  She finally stumbled past Axel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lying motionless on the muddy ground. She couldn’t stop—couldn’t even reach for him. All she could do was keep her eyes forward, hands trembling as she summoned another flicker of light.

  “Axel! Axel, we need to go!” she shouted, her voice hoarse and cracking.

  No answer. Only the rain, the hiss of fire, and the guttural growls closing in.

  Lina’s heart twisted. His chest still moved, barely, but it was enough to tell her he was alive. For a fleeting moment, the thought of leaving him behind crept into her mind like a whisper from the dark. And for that same fleeting moment, she almost listened.

  It made sense, didn’t it? Axel was her only chance to redeem Vierna’s mistake, to bring something back to the Reich that could pardon her friend. But reason didn’t matter here. Logic wouldn’t stop the beasts or save them both. If she stayed, they would die. If she left, maybe she could live.

  Yet agreeing to the thought didn’t come easily. It clawed at each other, the cold, rational voice urging her to run and the other, quieter one that refused to let go. Because even if she told herself she had saved him for his usefulness, deep down she knew it was a lie. That excuse, that mask, was something she wore to make sense of her own heart. The truth was cruelly simple: she wanted to save him because she couldn’t bear not to.

  But she couldn’t. Not anymore. Her legs trembled, her lungs burned, and even standing had become an act of will. Every breath was a battle, every heartbeat a countdown. The realization tore through her like ice; she didn’t even know if she could save herself.

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  “JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY!”

  Her trembling plea went unheard. Not by the gods, not by the mana beasts that kept coming at her despite her desperate efforts to drive them away. By now, her legs had given out; she knelt beside Axel like an ember refusing to be snuffed out by the winter wind.

  The storm raged on, uncaring for the half-dead girl struggling to fend off the final nail in her coffin. The black vultures of death circling above her drew closer with each passing minute, and it felt as though another shovelful of dirt was being thrown onto her grave.

  At long last, she couldn’t take it anymore. The yellowish aura around her dimmed to nothing, and her flames were swallowed by the inevitable. Her thoughts scattered—frantic, incoherent, unable to form a single plan to escape the nightmare she had found herself in.

  For a moment, the mana beasts didn’t move. Their growls and snarls now sounded like laughter at her futile struggle. She didn’t know why they hadn’t pounced yet—maybe they were intelligent enough to savor her despair.

  But none of that mattered anymore.

  Her mind drifted somewhere else—somewhere serene and bright. A simple village, where the leaves were green instead of black, swaying lazily in the autumn breeze. In the distance, she saw them: children of every race running and laughing, adults smiling as they worked. She knew them all. They were the people of her home village—waiting for her, standing on the other side of a small wooden bridge.

  And among them stood a woman—familiar, achingly so. The healer of her village. The one who had called her “the most precious jewel in the world,” who had told her to believe in herself despite her silver hair and frail mana. The woman’s black hair fluttered in the wind, framing her soft, golden-brown face. Her eyes were gentle—the kind that accepted weakness without judgment, the kind that replaced rejection with love.

  She walked toward Lina, slowly, silently. Not like the last time Lina had seen her—melting, crucified, screaming as fire devoured her flesh.

  This time, she said nothing. She only reached out her hand.

  Lina’s heart pounded. Every second made her want to take it more. But she knew what it meant. If she took that hand, if she crossed that bridge and river, she would never return. She would never see her soulmate again—the one who had accepted her despite everything.

  But how could she refuse warmth when her whole body was pierced by phantom needles? When her blood boiled with Grace and her throat spilled only blood instead of breath? How could she refuse peace when all that was left in her world was pain?

  And so she gave in. Slowly, she reached out toward her.

  And as her fingertips brushed that warmth, she understood.

  Maybe, at the end of everything, death wasn’t so bad after all.

  Vierna… it looks like this is as far as I go… forgive me for promising so much and yet delivering so little.

  As the last embers of her flame faded into ash, Lina found herself unable to move. There was nothing left to cast, nothing left to fight with. All that remained was the pounding of her heart and the distant rumble of the storm.

  She looked at the horde closing in—their silhouettes rippling through the smoke and rain—and for the first time, she smiled. It was small, tired, almost peaceful. Maybe this was how it was always meant to end.

  Raising both arms, she braced herself, waiting for the claws to rend her flesh, for teeth to tear her apart. There was no strength left to scream, only the wish that when it came, it would be quick.

  But just as the nearest beast lunged—its claws poised inches from her face—it stopped.

  The air turned still. The sound of rain dulled as if the forest itself had drawn a breath. Dozens of hollow eyes fixed on her, unblinking, uncertain. For a heartbeat, she thought she was hallucinating. Then she saw it clearly—their trembling limbs, their twitching muscles.

  Their eyes—if empty sockets with faint glimmers could even be called eyes—trembled with uncertainty. Their twisted, crystal-studded bodies shook violently; some collapsed to the ground, twitching and retching a dark, viscous substance. The rest turned on one another, as if questioning something unseen, as if realizing too late that something was terribly wrong.

  The creatures that had haunted her every step, that had slaughtered without mercy, now shuddered before her like hounds sensing a greater predator. Their growls warped—no longer hunger, but confusion, panic. Some snapped at each other, jaws clashing in erratic rhythm, while others staggered backward, whimpering low in their throats.

  Then, one by one, they broke. The first turned and bolted into the dark, crashing through the undergrowth. The rest followed in chaos—slithering, crawling, bounding into the black forest from which they had come. Their retreat was frantic and disordered, like prey fleeing a predator unseen.

  Lina stayed where she was, trembling. The storm still howled, but beneath its roar lingered a silence more profound than any prayer.

  And then she heard it, a voice, as sweet as honey and as intoxicating as Ambrosia. A voice that belongs to some one she knew and love and yet at the same time wasn’t exactly the same. It was more compassionate more fulfilling.

  “Lina?”