Hello everyone, author here!
I know it's been a while since the last update, and I want to thank you all for your patience. Some of you might remember I mentioned my college exams—well, things didn't quite go as planned. I ended up with compartments in all my subjects, so I had to put writing on hold and focus completely on studying.
The good news is my exams are finally over, which means I can get back to updating this fanfic! I really appreciate all of you who stuck around despite the break. Thank you so much for your support—it means a lot.
_____________________________________________________
After Mirajane and Erza left the chamber, Rudra remained behind, quietly finishing the food brought in for him. Hisui sat nearby, watching as he spoke between bites—his tone casual, as if his body wasn't still bandaged from the wounds he carried.
Once he finished eating, Hisui stood and gently took the empty plate from his hands, placing it on the nearby table. She turned back only to see Rudra already getting out of bed, moving slowly but deliberately as he reached for his clothes.
"Are you… going to leave?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," Rudra said without looking up, pulling on his shirt with a grunt.
"But you're still injured," Hisui protested, stepping closer. "You should rest at least a few more days."
He didn't respond, focused instead on tightening the straps of his gear.
Frowning, Hisui stepped in front of him and gently grabbed his wrist, halting his movement. "Rudra," she said, voice quieter now. "You know my offer from last time… it still stands."
Rudra paused, finally meeting her eyes. "And you already know what my answer's going to be."
"I know," she whispered, gaze falling to the floor.
Rudra smirked, his expression softening slightly. He reached out and pinched her cheek. "Aww, is the princess going to miss me?"
Flustered, Hisui swatted his hand away and turned her face. "Who would miss a jerk like you?"
Clutching his chest dramatically, Rudra feigned a wounded expression. "Oof. Right in the heart. And here I thought we were making progress."
She turned her back to him with a playful "hmph," though a small smile tugged at her lips.
Rudra walked toward the window, pausing to glance outside. "Let's meet again… at the Grand Magic Games."
Hisui turned, eyes widening slightly. "Rudra—"
He glanced over his shoulder at her.
"Thank you," she said. "For always helping me… "
He gave a faint smile. "Don't worry about it."
And with that, he jumped out the window, his cloak fluttering behind him in the breeze. The last thing she heard was his voice calling back:
"Tell Mira and Erza to meet me at the train station."
Hisui lingered by the window, the faint echo of Rudra's presence still clinging to the room. A wistful smile touched her lips as she whispered under her breath,"…I'm going to miss him."
The quiet was broken by the door creaking open. Erza and Mirajane stepped inside, only to stop short at the sight before them. The princess stood alone in the fading light, her gaze distant, the space beside her empty—Rudra already gone.
"Princess," Mira hurried to her side, concern in her voice. "Can you tell us where Rudra went?"
Hisui turned slowly, her expression calm but touched with resignation. "He left."
Erza's eyes widened. "Left? What do you mean? Where—and why?"
"He just… left," Hisui said softly. "Through the window."
Mira frowned, disbelief flashing across her face. "Then why didn't you stop him? You know he's injured!"
For a moment, Hisui held Mira's gaze. Her tone grew firmer, steadier. "I tried. But he wouldn't listen. Besides…" she glanced back toward the open window, "…we all know once he's made up his mind, no one can keep him here."
She walked toward the chamber door, placing her hand on the handle. Just before leaving, she paused, glancing back at them. "Oh—and he told me to tell you both to meet him at the train station."
With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving the heavy silence behind her.
Erza and Mira exchanged a look. Finally, Erza sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she turned for the door. "Come on. Let's go meet him."
Mira gave a small nod and followed close behind, her thoughts unsettled but her steps firm.
Meanwhile, Rudra had already slipped into the winding streets of Crocus. The city bustled with its usual rhythm—vendors calling out their wares, children weaving between carts, soldiers on patrol—but he moved through it as if detached, his presence a shadow gliding through the noise. Eventually, he stopped before a modest flower shop tucked into a quiet corner.
An elderly woman greeted him with a warm smile. "Ah, young man. What can I get for you today?"
Rudra said nothing. His eyes lingered only a moment before he raised a hand, pointing toward a single white flower resting in a vase.
The woman's smile faltered, softening into something gentler. She wrapped the blossom with care, placing it in his hand. "I see… sorry for your loss, dear."
He did not answer. Only a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he set a heavy pouch of gold upon the counter. The woman gasped at its weight, but when she looked up again, he was already gone, as though the streets themselves had swallowed him whole.
His next steps carried him to Crocus Plaza, where Victor's severed head had been mounted on a pike for all to see. The crowd spat curses and threw stones, but Rudra's gaze remained cold, unreadable. He lingered for only a moment before turning away.
In a nearby shop, he bought the finest bottle of liquor, then left the city behind.
On a quiet hill, beneath the shade of a tall, lonely tree, rested a single grave. Kneeling, Rudra laid the white flower at its base and slowly poured the liquor over the stone, recalling the night they first met in a bar, when she had offered him a drink.
He rose slowly from the grave, his words carried away by the wind.
"May your soul find peace… and happiness."
Without another glance, Rudra turned and walked back toward Crocus. The city's noise pressed in—traders shouting, carts rattling over cobblestone, children darting between crowds. Yet none of it seemed to touch him.
He moved with the same cold detachment as always, a figure untethered from the world around him.
The railway station loomed ahead, crowded with travelers and soldiers alike. On one of the benches near the platform, Erza and Mirajane waited, luggage resting neatly at their feet.
The two had been quiet, though their eyes betrayed the restlessness of those who had been waiting far too long.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, planting herself in his way. "You disappear without a word and come back as if nothing happened. Do you even realize you're still injured?"
Rudra didn't look at her. His eyes slid past her as though she were nothing more than one more stranger on the platform. His reply came cold, clipped, stripped of warmth.
"Let's go. We're leaving now."
He brushed past her, his cloak trailing lightly against her arm.
He brushed past her shoulder.
Erza spun, temper flaring. "That's it? No explanation? No answer? Do you think you can just walk past people like they don't matter?"
He didn't turn. His stride remained steady.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the noise of the station. Heads began to turn, travelers whispering as they watched.
Before she could take another step, a soft pressure settled on her shoulder. Erza turned to see Mira's hand resting there, her expression calm, though her eyes carried something more complicated.
"Let it be," Mira said gently. "You know he won't answer."
Erza clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply through her nose. Her anger faltered, leaving behind only weariness. "Tch… fine." She turned back, stooping to gather their bags.
It was then the voices rose—shouts carrying across the platform, raw with gratitude. Women clutching children, old men leaning on canes, and others who bore the look of the recently freed.
"Mister, thank you!""Bless you for saving us!""We'll never forget what you did for us!"
The sound cut through the noise of the station, all of it aimed at the tall man already walking toward the train.
Rudra didn't slow, his stride unbroken. Without so much as a glance back, he lifted a hand in the faintest of waves—a wordless acknowledgment—before vanishing into the train.
Mira and Erza exchanged a quiet look, neither finding the words to speak. In the end, they followed.
Inside, Rudra sat by the window, head resting lightly against the glass, eyes closed. Whether he had slipped into sleep or simply wished to shut the world away, they couldn't tell.
The train lurched forward, steel wheels humming a steady rhythm along the tracks. Conversation between the two women resumed in fragments, soft and subdued, yet Erza's gaze drifted back to Rudra again and again.
There was anger in her voice still, but beneath it simmered worry—an unease Erza couldn't quite shake, no matter how many times she forced herself to look away from him.
Time passed slowly. An hour bled away into the steady rhythm of the train. Eventually, the sharp edge of Erza's frustration dulled; she and Mirajane settled into light conversation, sharing food from their packs. For a while, the quiet clatter of wheels and the faint chatter of passengers became their world.
That peace shattered with a low, strangled sound.
"...ghh—"
The pained grunt tore their attention immediately toward Rudra. He was still in his seat, head pressed to the glass, but now his body was trembling, sweat dripping down his face. Both women froze as they saw it—the change.
From his forehead, a single, jagged horn began to push outward, curling slightly as it grew. Black markings—jagged, flame-like stripes—spread across one side of his face, twisting down his neck like living chains. His expression was tormented, lips parted in a silent gasp, every muscle rigid with pain.
"Rudra—!" Mira shot to her feet, stepping toward him. "Wake up!"
Her hand reached for his shoulder, but before she could touch him, his eyes snapped open.
He jerked upright with a sharp gasp, chest heaving, his gaze darting wildly as though he'd been ripped from some nightmare. The markings still burned across his skin, glowing faintly. Both Erza and Mira stood in front of him now, worry plain on their faces.
"Rudra, what's happening to you?" Erza demanded, eyes narrowed in alarm.
But he didn't answer. Instead, his gaze dropped to his own hand, where the black markings crawled across his skin in jagged patterns. His eyes widened ever so slightly—the only crack in his usual composure.
"Tch."
In a blur, Rudra shoved the train window open. Cool wind rushed into the compartment, scattering their hair.
"Rudra, wait—!" Mira reached out, but he was already gone.
He vaulted from the moving train, landing hard on the ground below before sprinting across the fields. His form grew smaller, then vanished into the horizon, swallowed by distance.
For a long moment, Erza and Mira could only stare after him, stunned.
Finally, Mira spoke, her voice tight. "Erza… what was that? Why was he in pain? Why did he just run?"
Erza's fists clenched in her lap as her eyes lingered on the blur of passing trees outside the window. "I don't know, Mira. But…" She drew in a slow, heavy breath. "I can tell one thing—he's headed toward Magnolia."
Her reflection in the glass stared back at her, grim and determined.
Rudra… what's happening to you?