Ethan's breathing was uneven—short, shallow, almost trembling. Dust drifted around him as he stood on unsteady feet, facing Kaerath with eyes that could no longer open.
Akira watched from the ground. His vision blurred at the edges; every sound felt distant. His broken leg refused to move, yet his mind screamed at him to stand.
He couldn't.
Not fast enough.
Not in time.
Ethan took another step, swinging blindly. It wasn't an attack—it was the motion of someone refusing to fall. His fist grazed Kaerath's shoulder. The demon didn't even blink.
Kaerath simply caught Ethan's wrist.
A crisp crack echoed across the battlefield.
Ethan gasped, the pain knocking the air out of him. He staggered forward, trying to pull free, but the demon's grip didn't loosen.
Akira forced himself upright. His fingers dug into the ground, searching for leverage.
"Ethan… stop," he whispered.
His voice didn't reach.
Kaerath lifted Ethan by his collar. The boy's feet hovered above the ground, kicking without rhythm or purpose. His breath rattled against the demon's fingers.
"You fought well," Kaerath said, his tone lacking both praise and mockery. "But it ends here."
The demon's hand moved. Smooth. Precise. Almost casual.
His arm pierced Ethan's chest.
There was no dramatic explosion of blood. No scream. Just a sudden stillness—shocking in its simplicity.
Ethan's body trembled once.
His lips parted as if to say something.
Nothing came out.
Kaerath withdrew his hand.
A dull, wet sound followed.
Something dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
Akira froze.
His mind refused to understand what he was seeing. The shape on the ground. The limp body in Kaerath's hand. The slow collapse.
It didn't feel real.
But the world didn't wait for him to catch up.
Ethan fell forward, landing on his knees first… then quietly onto his side.
His hair covered part of his face.
His chest no longer moved.
The battlefield—once loud—felt painfully silent.
Akira's breath caught in his throat.
"Ethan…"
The name left his lips softly, almost as if speaking too loudly would make the scene collapse.
He crawled toward the body. His palms scraped against broken stone. Blood dripped from his chin. His injured leg dragged uselessly behind him.
The distance wasn't long, but it felt endless.
Ethan's hand lay open on the ground.
Akira hesitated before touching it.
Cold.
The kind of cold that didn't belong to the living.
His fingers curled around Ethan's, but there was no response.
Something inside him tightened—quiet, heavy, irreversible.
Kaerath watched from above, expression unreadable.
"Humans," he said, "break so easily."
Akira didn't look up.
His shoulders trembled once.
Not from weakness.
Not from fear.
Just… from the weight of something he couldn't name.
Hyejin's body.
Ethan's body.
The battlefield scattered with what used to be a team.
And Akira—half-conscious, half-broken—realized a simple truth:
He was alone again.
The same way he had been at eleven.
A faint sound left him. Not a scream. Not a cry. Just a quiet breath… sharp, strained, and painful.
The world felt different now.
Colder.
Narrower.
The air shifted around him, reacting to something inside him breaking—not loudly, but completely.
Kaerath tilted his head.
"…Interesting."
A small spark of aura flickered around Akira's fingers.
Dim.
Unsteady.
Yet undeniably alive.
As if responding to a single emotion carved too deeply into the heart to ignore