The wheels creaked as the horse pulled the carriage.
Under the gasps of the injured, the coachman stoically and silently controlled their trajectory. He, never having come across a circumstance as gruesome as this—with the nobles of all people—didn't dare to make a sound.
Seated along with said injured, Isaac's mind was blank. Exhausted and lost, he couldn't help but stare at the clouds, the sky that was peaceful unlike the agony that his three peers were facing.
"…Lucky you." Isaac turned and found Randal glaring at him with his reddened eyes. His quivering lips indicated how much pain was coursing throughout his body. "Of all people… it was Isaac Nameless who made out unscathed… heh… of course it was…" His eyes spoke denial, as if he couldn't believe that his amputated leg was a reality. "You… you went in last. You knew… you knew something… you piece of shit…"
"Shut… up." It wasn't Isaac who responded. Vane, opening his eyes weakly amidst his profusely sweating self, managed to mutter words out at Randal. "We… told you to wait… and you didn't listen…"
"You… you shut… up…" Randal, gritting his teeth, aggressively yanked Vane by the collar, which earned the groan out of the latter as he tried his best not to lose his grip over the bandaged, severed arm that he had been holding. "I'm… Randal Ursula… the prodigy and the future… head of House Randal… there is no way a genius like me…"
"Shut… UP!" Vane exploded, his body trembling so hard in rage that he temporarily forgot the pain he was subjected to. "FUCKER! If you listened… if you and that… ragdoll listened to us…" Tears poured down from the eyes of the boy who appeared to be intelligent and judicious the first time Isaac saw him.
Randal, with reddened face, gnashed his teeth. Slowly, his grip over Vane's collar loosened. Releasing the hold, Randal slumped back, leaning against the carriage with his trembling eyes on the missing section of his leg. "Fuck… fuck… fuck…" Tears filled up in his eyes. "I don't… even have my leg with me… it's gone forever…" He slammed his right hand on the space between him and Vane. From the force, the carriage shook violently. "My life…. is over…"
Again, Isaac didn't say anything to that. He concluded that silence was the best response, for no words would comfort them.
Time passed slowly. The carriage moved without a stop, and the shakes that it produced upon encountering bumps and rough roads felt more extreme than they have been in the past.
Eventually, night arrived. Vane and Randal were asleep, but Isaac couldn't afford to do the same.
The rations that he prepared beforehand from Dodyon weren't yet eaten. He couldn't feel any hunger when the pungent odor of rotting flesh, as well as the smell of iron, filled up the proximity.
Isaac looked down. There was Camilla, whose head was still on his lap because there wasn't enough space in the carriage.
He reached her crisp, thin, and drastically shortened hair that was dry and greasy. Below, be it her facial feature or her skin, nothing was recognizable. If not for her weak breathing and occasional, pain-filled coughs that induced her body to shake and cause even more pain, he would've believed that she died.
Strangely, as he looked at her, he didn't feel disgust. What he instead found was the pair of dark eyes that were open, indicating that she was conscious.
In silence, he read her. Then, he subconsciously whispered, "you are afraid." It wasn't something that was based on logics. His mouth simply moved on its own, and he was too tired to keep it controlled. "The talk of your father having betrayed you. You want to deny it, and you've been searching for ways to deny it. However, you couldn't… because it's the truth."
Parting the eyes, he looked up. The night's sky was gloomy, clouded by the hazy clouds that were white and beautiful during the day.
He chuckled. In the end, the mysteries were once again left unsolved. Why does the renegade want him dead? What is the identity of the mastermind responsible for sabotaging him? All he found out was that he had many enemies. Seran Crane, someone from House Valerius, and now, Moro Raven—he was exhausted.
What was he supposed to do? For how long must he continue this desperate struggle to survive?
"I wonder why I saved you." Isaac said to Camilla without looking at her. "You were just one of many, no different from any other." A pause. "You see, Camilla… this world is gray to me." Closing his eyes, he breathed out from his nose. "I don't understand what it means to feel joy anymore. It's been a while. The sense of accomplishment, being fulfilled, feeling happy—those virtues have long become foreign to me." Then, another pause. He whispered, "this must have been the world you were trying to escape. That must have been the reason why you left me."
In the end, he was approached only when he was useful.
Camilla approached him because he could, being in the similar situation as her, comfort her. She was the first to ever approach him, and once he became useless to her, she threw him away.
He became acquainted with Elara, a commoner girl, in the academy. Low self-esteem and shyness secluded her from the others, and they ended up getting along… or so did Isaac think. These days, he wondered if Elara intentionally approached him because he, as 'Valerius' back then, had a value.
Cassiopeia approached him because she was curious of his ability. Vesper, because he was interested in gaining Cassiopeia's attention. Magnus, because he was intrigued by his performance against Silas Fulgur.
Thing is, he didn't know what it meant to trust someone. Ever since his mother's death, he had no one but himself to rely upon. He had to self-teach everything, without a guidance. Some called him talentless. Some others called him a freak. Perhaps, they weren't wrong, but he always believed it was because he wasn't given the same opportunity as them.
"…It's as if this world is against me." Isaac muttered. "Is perhaps what you're thinking at the moment."
Camilla's right hand, just as burned as the rest of her body, twitched ever so slightly.
"It's the thought I've been trying to overcome for years, but to no avail. You were the trigger." Isaac looked down into her eyes once more. "So, you are technically getting what you deserve. In a way, this could be considered a karma for your egoistical, arrogant, and self-righteous acts. That means that theoretically, I should be satisfied upon seeing you like this. Maybe, I should've left you to die back in there." He tried to smile, but his lips didn't budge. "Yet, I didn't, and I don't feel satisfied."
He wondered what Camilla was thinking. [The Prism] couldn't read the facial expression that was broken by the severe degree of burns. The slight gleam in her eyes wasn't sufficient to conclude her sentiment that wasn't visible.
However, that didn't mean he didn't know her.
"So, I wondered if it's the pity that I'm feeling. After all, you are a coward, always trying to be seen as capable and elegant. You acted prideful, trying to convince yourself that you are naturally superior, that others should be glad to be used by you." Isaac shook his head. "I don't think that's what I'm feeling either."
Isaac closed his mouth. For a long while after, he didn't say anything. Camilla then wriggled, just barely, which probably was the best she could currently achieve. Her dry and burned lips parted slightly, but no noise came out. She was trying to say something, but to no avail.
"You will be fine, Camilla." Then, he said, which put a stop to her attempt to speak. "Even if you're branded Nameless and is mocked and fingered by the entire capital, and is being targeted by the unknowns who want you dead, life is surprisingly resilient." The way he spoke was as if he was speaking to himself rather than to her. "Eventually, you will figure it out. One way or the other."
The night was long, and Isaac didn't speak anymore after that.
…
At a desolate site, Moro Raven whistled casually while sitting on a tree stump. With a blood-stained cloth covering his ruptured eyes, it was quite a peculiar scene—since someone as severely wounded as him won't be able to remain so impassive to one's own state.
"Oh, at last, you've arrived." Moro looked up and smirked. Just as he said, a figure revealed himself from the trees that shadowed the area.
Said person was completely anonymous, with a black robe and a mask covering up all his features. All that could be indicated was he was quite tall, and that his body frame was that of a man.
"…Your eye." The voice was deep and low, as the mysterious person remarked on Moro's wound.
"Lost it. Oh, and also," Moro casually informed, "Arsonist died."
"What?" The reaction was immediate.
"Yes, dead. The man of fire was cooked alive by the beastly fire. Talk about the irony." Moro shrugged. "Oh, and one more. I failed to kill Isaac Nameless. Not sure if Camilla Hedron is still alive though."
"An F-rank skill owner."
"Nuh-uh, not just any F-rank skill owner. He's the one who defeated Silas Fulgur." Moro wiggled his finger playfully. "Also, don't try to hide it from me—I know that you guys tried to kill him twice already, and failed in both attempts."
"…Then, at least inform me." The masked man asked, "how competent was he?"
"He's a complete novice." Moro's response was immediate. "Smart and knows his stuff, but definitely inexperienced in fights." He then stroked his chin. "And I let him escape—oh, wait, it was actually the other way around. I was the one who escaped—"
"Can he," the masked man interrupted, putting a stop to Moro's blabbering, "can he defeat Aldric Zephyr the way he did with Silas Fulgur?"
"Nope." The answer for this was immediate as well, with Moro putting up an X with his arms. "Aldric Zephyr—heh, that dumbass is fast. Well, not fast as me in the basic state, but he's got that [Tempest] to make virtually everything about him quicker. Isaac Nameless can't touch him."
For a moment, the masked man remained silent, seemingly in a thought. Then, he stated, "rest well. I will contact you should another mission arrive." He turned, about to leave.
Grinning, Moro replied, "you aren't going to kill me for failing the mission?"
The masked man stopped. "Is that what you are wishing for?"
"No, no, I don't." Moro laughed lightly. "I mean, I used to in the past because I was interested in finding out who you exactly are. Now, I can't be bothered on who you may be. Just promise one thing though."
"Which is?"
The laugh suddenly died from Moro's face. "You better not give anyone else the mission to assassinate Isaac Nameless. I like him, and he's mine."
The masked man didn't say anything to that. Simply, he resumed the walk.