Chapter 201: The Mysterious Crimson Girl

After days of darkness, on that night, Shingin finally opened his eyes. The world before him was still a blur, shrouded as though by a veil of mist. He tried to focus his gaze but could only feel the surrounding chill and an unfamiliar warmth.

"You're finally awake?"

A cold, magnetic voice broke the silence. The sound was so captivating it sent a shiver down his spine, yet carried an undeniable iciness that kept others at a distance.

Struggling to sit up, Shingin's vision gradually cleared, and a figure came into view—a woman whose presence was as striking as a crimson wing descending upon the earth, yet imbued with an aura of cold detachment.

Her long crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders like a stream, shimmering with a soft, radiant glow. A gentle breeze tousled her strands, which danced with the lightness of feathers. Her bangs were neatly pinned to either side, revealing a smooth, flawless forehead. A few stray strands framed her pale cheeks, adding a touch of dreamlike allure. Her hair was partially tied into a high ponytail, the ribbon trailing down like delicate feathers glinting faintly in the moonlight.

She stood with a grace both slender and poised, reminiscent of a swan by the water's edge. Her grayish-purple dress clung softly to her form, the hem flaring out like wings, hinting at an elegant figure beneath. Intricate patterns adorned the fabric, subtle as starlight, lending her an air of unassuming sophistication.

Her eyes, deep crimson with an amber-like sheen, seemed to harbor countless whispered secrets. Sharp and cold, her gaze carried a commanding presence, leaving those who met it feeling both scrutinized and subdued. Her long lashes cast delicate shadows, rendering her expression inscrutable. There was no warmth in her stare, only an aloofness that set her apart from the world.

Each of her movements was as silent as a descending feather, yet impossible to ignore. Shingin found himself transfixed, his throat tightening as an inexplicable sense of awe washed over him. Her presence was like a blade, exquisite yet chilling, beautiful yet unapproachable.

"She's… stunning…"

Shingin murmured almost instinctively, his voice laced with amazement and a dazed reverence.

A flicker of cold disdain crossed the woman's eyes as she responded flatly, "Superficial."

Shingin froze, waving his hands in a flustered attempt to explain. "No, no, that's not what I meant… I just—your crimson hair, it's truly beautiful!"

For the first time, Shingin saw crimson not as a symbol of fear but as something breathtakingly extraordinary.

The woman lifted a hand and absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair away, her motion elegant yet indifferent. Her gaze settled on Shingin, calm and unaffected. "That's the first time someone's complimented my hair."

"How could they not?" Shingin hastily replied, his tone earnest. "It's genuinely remarkable, so unique."

His words earned nothing but a dismissive glance.

Awkwardly shifting the conversation, Shingin asked, "My name is Shingin. What's yours?"

Instinctively touching his chest, he found the wounds—once fatal—miraculously healed, though the pain lingered faintly. He added, "Did you save me?"

The woman answered coolly, "Tsubasa." She paused briefly before continuing, "I merely used my abilities to help your chest recover. As for why you're alive, that's because of your alien soul. When the soul doesn't die, neither does the person. And your soul is… unusually strong."

Tsubasa's voice carried no emotion, as though she was stating simple facts. Yet her crimson eyes seemed to pierce through him, bypassing his exterior to glimpse his very essence. Shingin felt a chill grip his heart.

Her words triggered a flood of memories in Shingin's mind. He clutched his chest as fragmented images clawed their way back: his mother, Biyu—a kind and resilient woman; his companion, Ryuosho—who once fought alongside him; his long-lost brother, Shingen; his mentor-like leader, William; and Elder Kasamaki, whose wisdom commanded respect. They were all gone. Dead.

The scenes crashed into his consciousness like a relentless tide, overwhelming him with guilt and despair. An unseen weight crushed his chest, suffocating him. His body curled inward as silent tears streamed down his face, soon giving way to muffled sobs.

"Mom—Ryuosho—Shingen—William—"

His cries ripped through the silence, each name a testament to his heartbreak, the crushing sorrow swallowing him whole.

Tsubasa sat indifferently on the grass, her posture relaxed, almost dismissive. Her crimson gaze bore into Shingin without sympathy or emotion, as though she was observing something insignificant.

Shingin's cries grew louder, his grief spilling uncontrollably. His shoulders shook as his anguish took hold, his body trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind.

Only when his wails reached a crescendo did Tsubasa stand abruptly. Without warning, she grabbed his collar and pulled him close. Her strength caught him off guard, forcing him to meet her penetrating gaze.

"What are you crying for?" Her voice was sharp as ice, her stare cutting through him like a blade. "Do you want pity, or do you think wallowing in sorrow will change anything?"

Her crimson hair swayed slightly, the movement brimming with defiant sharpness. Her piercing eyes seemed to strip away every defense, exposing his soul.

Shingin continued crying, his voice breaking with a mix of helplessness and rage. "My mom is dead! My friends, my brother—they're all dead! Is it wrong to cry? Am I not allowed to grieve?"

Tsubasa's grip tightened, her voice colder than ever, as though delivering a sentence. "Cry once to release your pain; that's human. But if you cry endlessly, what's the point? Cry until you die? Cry until they reincarnate? Or cry until the world itself stops for you?"

Shingin clenched his fists, opening his mouth to retort, but her words cut him off mercilessly.

"Crying changes nothing."

Each word struck him like a hammer.

"Your mother won't come back, your brother won't return, and your friends won't stand before you again. Tears only make you weaker, draining the strength you need to fight. They've already died once for you. Will you bury their sacrifices with your endless tears?"

Her biting words silenced him. His tears fell without sound now, his sorrow turning inward. His fists pounded the earth in frustration, the knuckles whitening under the strain.

Releasing her grip, Tsubasa's voice softened just slightly, her tone as cold as ever but carrying a faint undertone of something deeper. "If you're done crying, then stand. Living on is the only way to honor them."