Chapter 68

The hidden passage was cloaked in oppressive silence. The faint, flickering light of the enchanted orb cast wavering shadows on the damp stone walls, barely illuminating the makeshift sanctuary where Gale and Ganth now rested. Despite the stillness, the air felt suffocating, weighed down by the unspoken turmoil between them.

Ganth leaned heavily against the wall, his steel-like body marred with fresh bruises and cracks. Each labored breath came with a faint wince, though he tried to mask his pain. Gale sat on a rickety bench, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly as though trying to crush the weight of his thoughts.

The demon's haunting words lingered in the air, reverberating like a cruel refrain.

"A god is not your loyal pet..."

Gale whispered the words to himself, his voice raw with bitterness. His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white, his frustration teetering on the edge of rage.

Breaking the silence, Ganth's voice cut through, weary yet resolute. "She wasn't wrong, you know."

Gale's head snapped up, his glare sharp enough to cut stone. "Don't. Not now, Ganth."

But Ganth didn't falter. He met Gale's gaze, his own eyes steady despite the fatigue in his body. "We've spent our lives demanding things—from gods, from each other. Justice, salvation, power. But have we ever stopped to think about what we're asking? What we're taking?"

Gale's jaw tightened. He turned away, his voice low and tense. "And you think I haven't thought of that?"

"Have you?" Ganth pressed, stepping forward despite the pain coursing through his battered frame. His words were deliberate, his tone cutting through Gale's defenses. "Because all I see is a man chasing revenge, not justice."

The accusation landed like a blow. Gale's body stiffened, his hands trembling.

Ganth took another step forward, leaning on the wall for support but refusing to let up. "You didn't care about this world before. You wanted nothing to do with it. You were happy living a simple, carefree life until she—" Ganth's voice faltered momentarily. "—until your sister gave up everything for you."

"Don't," Gale warned, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger and grief.

But Ganth pressed on. "She believed in something greater. She saw the world's pain and tried to carry it. And now, here you are, pretending this crusade is for her. But it's not, is it? It's your guilt driving you, Gale. Your guilt because you couldn't save her."

"Shut up!" Gale roared, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, neither spoke, the only sound the faint crackle of the enchanted orb.

And then, Gale's shoulders began to shake. A quiet sob escaped his lips, followed by another, and another, until his grief spilled out in raw, unfiltered waves. He buried his face in his hands, his voice barely audible.

"I just wanted to live a life," he whispered through his tears. "With her. That's all I ever wanted. Why... why did she have to die? Why does that goddess get to rest while I..." His voice broke, and he couldn't finish the sentence.

Ganth sighed heavily, his earlier frustration giving way to quiet understanding. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bench beside Gale, groaning slightly as his injuries protested. He placed a hand on Gale's shoulder, offering a comforting pat.

"You're not wrong to feel this way," Ganth said softly. "But you can't let it consume you. If you keep letting the past dictate your every move, you'll never find peace. Not for her. And not for yourself."

---

Meanwhile: Aleena's Home

The soft glow of moonlight poured through the windows of Aleena's home, casting long, delicate shadows across the room. She sat curled in her favorite chair, her knees drawn to her chest as she stared out at the night sky.

But her thoughts were anything but peaceful.

The memory of Fito's battered form lingered in her mind, her loyal follower's voice echoing in her ears. Aleena pressed her hands together, resting her forehead against her knuckles.

"What am I doing?" she whispered to herself.

She rose from her chair, unable to stay still. Pacing the room, her thoughts churned in an endless loop. For centuries, her purpose had been clear: to protect, to guide, to serve. But now, doubts gnawed at her resolve.

Fito's words replayed in her mind:

"The enemies have... ran—"

Aleena's fists clenched at her sides. Enemies. Who were they? Why were they targeting her people?

She shook her head, her voice firm. "I won't let this happen again."

But even as she spoke, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. She had given everything for the world before—her life, her strength, her peace. How much more would it demand of her?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint knock at the window.

Aleena turned sharply, her body tensing. She extended her senses, scanning the energy outside.

"Fito?" she murmured, recognizing the familiar presence.

She crossed the room and opened the window, revealing Fito standing outside, her expression apologetic and nervous.

"My liege," Fito began, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I... I need to tell you something."

Aleena's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Fito hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as if afraid they were being followed. "The ones who attacked me earlier... they were human."

Aleena's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"They knew your name," Fito said, her voice trembling. "They spoke of you as if they knew exactly who you were. And..."

Aleena's chest tightened. "And what?"

"They mentioned... the Demon Lord," Fito whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aleena's grip on the windowsill tightened, her knuckles turning white. "The Demon Lord," she repeated, her voice low and dangerous.

The peaceful night was over.