Seven days had passed.
Seven days since Javier's rampage on the battlefield.
Seven days since he lost himself to rage.
Seven days since he believed he had lost Liana and Gloria forever.
Javier's eyes slowly opened, the world around him blurry.
His body ached from the overuse of mana, but more than the physical pain—his heart felt hollow.
His mind was a blank slate.
He had woken up, yet nothing felt real anymore, as if a piece of him had been ripped away.
The maids brought food to his room, but he barely touched it.
A few bites—that was all he could manage.
He didn't even taste it.
The ones who had always ensured he ate properly—were gone.
There was no Liana gently scolding him to eat more.
No Gloria teasing him about being picky.
The silence was unbearable.
Javier left his room, his steps slow and heavy.
His feet carried him toward the Pekko pen—without him even thinking.