Reality

The moment L2 died, L1 let out a shriek— not a vocal sound, but a tremor in the mind. Everyone felt it. A psychic pulse of grief, rage, and something far more alien.

Then it went berserk.

Lucia was thrown back like a ragdoll, crashing against a tree.

L1 howled again — another psychic tremor — and its goo-like arms extended unnaturally, swelling with new mass, dripping as if melting. It charged Vael with mindless fury, claws elongating.

But Kiera was already moving.

She appeared behind Vael and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Switch," she whispered.

Vael, too drained to argue, blinked back and collapsed to a knee, panting.

Now it was Kiera's turn.

L1 dashed toward her like a meteor, but this time, the shadows responded like never before.

Instead of soft but rigid tentacles, she summoned dozens of sharp, flexible, sword-like shadows.

They obeyed her every thought.

As L1 charged, its strength surging, she launched her attack.

L1 thrashed wildly, hoping to destroy the blades before they could strike.

But it quickly realized—it wasn't enough.

Vael had already worn it down. Now? It was practically oozing black goo, which could only be assumed to serve as the creature's blood.

Shrieking, L1 slammed its fist into the ground, creating a miniature quake that sent shockwaves through the area, destabilizing Kiera.

She lost control of her spell.

But she was far from defenseless.

She was still a swordsman, after all.

Coating her blade in a shadowy aura and enhancing her speed with a burst of telekinesis, she dashed forward to meet the Legionnaire head-on.

However, before they could clash, a cracked shield swung between them, deflecting L1's claw swipe just in time.

Drako.

The impact was more than he could handle. The strike hurled him backward and knocked him out cold.

But it was enough.

Kiera had her opening.

And she didn't miss it.

With one fluid, decisive motion, she slashed through the center of L1's torso—clean and precise. The strike split the creature vertically in two.

It collapsed, twitching as the parasite perished with its host.

The battle was over.

Needless to say, the group settled down for the day, utterly spent from the fight.

Lucia had a few injuries—deep cuts across her arms and thighs—but nothing life-threatening.

Drako might have sustained a concussion; he hadn't spoken much since waking up, and his eyes still looked unfocused.

Vael and Kiera were simply drained. Physically, magically, emotionally.

So, it was Ash who was tasked with setting up camp.

She seemed to have caught a cold or something, since she was coughing.

However, she didn't complain.

This stretch of forest had belonged solely to the Corrupted Legionnaires. Now that they were dead, there were no other beasts in sight. The group would be safe here, at least for the night.

Though the sun still hung low in the sky, they all collapsed into sleep shortly after eating—too tired to care.

Only Ash remained awake.

She sat near the fire, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on top. The others were scattered across the clearing, asleep or unconscious — it didn't really matter which. The only sounds were the wind, the occasional flicker of flame, and Lucia's uneven breathing.

Ash didn't belong here.

She knew that.

She wasn't a fighter. Not like them.

Not like Vael, who blinked around the battlefield like it was a dance floor.

Not like Kiera, who moved with cold precision, her shadows bending like blades.

Ash… watched.

That was her role. That had always been her role — observing, learning, disappearing when it mattered.

She wasn't useless. She just wasn't like them.

She hugged her knees tighter and stared into the fire.

There had been a time, back in the village, when she'd had a different name. Softer. Happier.

She didn't remember it anymore.

Not after the flames. Not after the screams.

Not after waking up alone, covered in soot and ash.

Now, she only answered to that. Ash.

The girl who walked behind the heroes. Who gathered herbs, watched trails, read maps. Who never raised a weapon — because she wasn't made for that.

And tonight, that was fine.

She looked at Kiera's face, relaxed in sleep for once. At Vael's blood-stained coat. At the charred remnants of L1 still melting into the earth.

She didn't envy them.

Yeah, totally not jealous…

She was just… glad they'd survived.

Ash exhaled quietly and lay back against her pack. The fire crackled on.

And the forest, for once, stayed quiet.

The only sound that could be heard was her occasional cough.