Barbara parted her lips slowly, as though struggling to comprehend the nightmare standing before her. Her eyes blinked involuntarily, as if resisting the reality of what she saw.
Then… she whispered in a fragile voice, like someone trying to awaken from a heavy dream.
Barbara: "What are you doing…?"
But Aqua did not look at her. His gaze remained fixed on the ground, where the blood of the fallen mingled with the shadows of the palace—where no road back remained.
And then, in a voice devoid of emotion… a voice that was not a request but a sealed fate… he murmured.
Aqua: "Step aside… Barbara."
There was no threat in his tone, no anger—only certainty. Certainty that the one standing before him now… no longer had a place in his path.
Barbara did not move.
She remained where she was, suspended between what she ought to do and what she could not bring herself to do. Her hand still hovered near the hilt of her sword, yet she did not draw it. She was not merely a guard, nor merely an obstacle in his way… she was something else. Something that blood could not erase, something that grief could not wash away.
But Aqua no longer saw her as he once did. He saw her now as a fact to be erased, an obstacle to be removed. His feelings no longer mattered here; there was no room for weakness.
Aqua: "Barbara, step aside."
He repeated it, his voice colder, as though the words themselves fell upon her chest like descending stones. But this time, when she answered, her voice was not a whisper… it trembled, laced with fear she had never expected to feel, and with a disappointment she had never thought would wound her.
Barbara: "Why…?"
It was a simple question… so simple that it should not have warranted an answer, and yet at the same time, it was far too heavy to be left unanswered. Why? Why was he here, drenched in blood, on his way to the king?
But did she truly want to know the answer? Or was she searching for something else… for the remnants of the person she once knew, for a sign—no matter how small—that he had not become entirely what she had feared?
It was not just "why"… it was a silent plea, a desperate attempt to cling to a truth slipping through her fingers.
But Aqua did not reply. At last, he raised his head, and his eyes… were empty. No, not entirely empty—there was something harsher than emptiness within them. Awareness. Awareness that he no longer belonged to this world as he once did.
He took a step forward. Barbara did not move.
Barbara: "You killed them… didn't you?"
The words were whispered, yet her voice did not shake out of fear… it was weighed down by a truth she did not wish to face. Her eyes were fixed on the blood dripping from his clothes, watching as though searching for an explanation, a justification… a lie she could allow herself to believe.
Barbara: "Tell me you didn't."
But silence was harsher than any confession. It was raw, stripped of excuses, leaving no room for doubt or deceit.
Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, yet she did not draw it. Not yet. This was not a battle between killer and victim, nor between warrior and warrior… it was something deeper, older, and far more painful. It was a struggle between two souls who had once stood side by side, who had once looked upon the world with a single gaze—only to be torn apart by fate onto paths they were never meant to walk.
And now… they faced each other once again, not as allies, but as living proof that the past was dead, and that what remained… was nothing but a shadow haunting them both.
Aqua did not retreat, nor did he hesitate, as though crossing an invisible line between a past that could never return and a future from which there was no turning back.
Barbara felt something break inside her. Perhaps it was hope, perhaps the person she once knew, or perhaps the trust she had never realized she held in him.
She drew in a trembling breath, then finally whispered in a voice so fragile it barely carried.
Barbara: "Then… will you kill me too?"
The silence between them hung like a sword suspended in the air, and yet it did not fall.
Aqua lifted his gaze toward her, as though seeing her for the first time… or perhaps, for the last. His eyes were like a storming sea, and yet the surface remained still, concealing something unfathomable beneath. It was not anger, nor coldness, nor even regret. It was something more savage… and at the same time, more human.
Barbara felt her heart tighten, as though the air around her had grown heavier, harsher. It wasn't fear that froze her, but realization—realization that she no longer knew the man standing before her. Or worse… that she knew him all too well, and could no longer deny it.
The silence between them was not mere absence of words; it was a hidden battlefield, a war between what should have been and what had become. She watched as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword—not in preparation for an attack, but as if drawing balance from it… balance he could not find within himself. His eyes carried a buried torment, a struggle between the mission that had brought him here… and something deeper, something he could not even admit to himself.
And at last, in a voice so low it barely broke the silence, he spoke.
Aqua: "Don't make me do this."
It was not a threat, nor a plea. It was a brutal truth, barren, like the sword suspended above them both, ready to fall.
But Barbara did not retreat, nor did she grow angry. Instead… she smiled—that fragile, sorrowful smile that bore disappointment greater than rage. The smile of someone who understood that every path had led them here, and that there was no escape… from the end.
She gazed at him for a moment, her eyes glistening with restrained tears. Her lips trembled, biting down in a desperate attempt to cage the storm inside her. Yet her gaze never left him… searching for something, anything, that could explain what he had become.
And then—
Aqua: "He killed my father…"
Aqua's voice was low, calm, and yet within it lived all the rage, all the grief, all the devastation he had never allowed himself to acknowledge before. It was not merely a statement… it was a verdict, a truth carved into his soul, the chains that bound him, that forced him down this path.
Her eyes widened, as though the world itself had stopped around her.
She stood there, silent, stunned, while the air seemed to lose all weight. Her gaze fixed on him, not with quiet reassurance, but with a terrifying stillness that resembled a storm about to break.
Then… her body trembled. Not a mere shiver, but a convulsion that shook her to the core, as though the truth she had just heard was dismantling her from the inside out. She tried to breathe, but the air was thick, suffocating… heavy with fear and betrayal.
Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword, not to strike, but as if searching for something to hold onto amidst the maelstrom of emotions she could no longer control. Her hands shook violently, and she shook her head in desperation, whispering, her voice breaking.
Barbara: "Aqua… please don't do this… please come back… please… please don't… please…"
She repeated it as though trying to rewrite reality, as though words alone might drag him back from the abyss… but she knew. She knew the Aqua she had once known was gone.
The tears she had fought so hard to restrain finally fell—hot, burning—staining her cheeks as her body collapsed beneath the weight of an unbearable truth… the realization that the rift between them was no longer a mere conflict, but an endless chasm.
Her words were like a hand reaching out into the darkness, trying to catch him before he fell completely. But the darkness had already swallowed him whole.
He stood there, his gaze fixed on her, cold as a distant horizon, unreachable. There was no anger, no sorrow—only emptiness, as though every feeling he had once carried had withered away.
But she could not stop. She could not allow him to sink any further.
She stepped toward him, though her legs could barely carry her, though her trembling betrayed her, though her mind screamed that she no longer knew the man standing before her. Yet she ignored it all.
Barbara stammered, her voice on the verge of collapse between broken breaths, her eyes pleading for something she no longer recognized. It was as if her whole mind had shattered into glass, every fragment cutting into her as the weight of reality bore down with merciless cruelty.
Barbara: "Please… we can… we can leave! We can go away from here! We can live… live far from all of this… and… and… and leave behind everything… everything we saw, everything we lost… Please… please… Aqua!"
Her voice trembled, the words stumbling, collapsing over one another, as if forcing their way toward some fragile bond that might still tie him to her—to the Aqua she once knew. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they were more than tears; they were a silent call to humanity, a cry to pull him back from the edge, a cry to save herself as she wavered between hope and despair.
Barbara: "We can… we can start over! We can hide from all of this… live alone… just us!!"
The sentences broke apart, cut short, as if the words themselves recoiled from being spoken. But her heart screamed, her mind fractured, and her hand shook on the hilt of her sword, searching for something—anything—to hold onto, to resist the void swallowing everything around her.
Then came the silence. The silence that precedes the end of all things. The silence that pressed against her chest, choking her breath, strangling every unspoken word in her lungs. Yet she did not retreat, did not falter, did not look away from Aqua, despite the emptiness that now lived within him.
Barbara: "Please, Aqua…"
Her voice was barely a whisper, tangled with broken breaths, surrounded by tears she could no longer contain.
Barbara: "Don't do this… don't lose yourself on this path… I'll be by your side, I promise you…"
Her promises were true, but they both knew—they were no longer enough.
Aqua lowered his gaze for a moment, as if some faint part of him still hesitated… and then, when he raised his eyes again, she saw the end she had feared all along.
Calmly, in a voice like cold wind seeping through cracks in the walls, he spoke.
Aqua: "It's too late, Barbara."
Aqua stood before her, nothing separating them but the tension of their breaths. His deep blue eyes, like the sea, fixed on hers, trembling between shock, fear, and despair. There was no light in his gaze… nothing but an irreversible decision.
Barbara did not move. She did not step back. She could not even breathe properly.
He needed no more words. The blood dripping from him told the whole story in silence.
At last, Aqua moved… one slow step, then another. He passed by her quietly…
She could hear his footsteps, echoing through the long corridor as if retreating not only into the distance, but out of her life entirely.
She wanted to do something—anything—but her body refused to obey, as though she had turned into a fragile statue on the verge of breaking.
The corridor was long… yet it felt endless.
The air was still, as though the entire castle held its breath, watching his heavy steps in silence. The blood clinging to his clothes dripped onto the marble floor, leaving a trail, as if the earth itself sought to drink in what had happened.
Then, amidst that silence, a sharp sound rang out…
A faint metallic hiss, as though the very air had been split in two.
His steps halted, but not because of the sword drawn from its sheath. It was because of the sound that carried an unspoken plea… and an unacknowledged pain.
Barbara: "Stop."
Her voice was steady, but not strong… it carried a hidden tremor, a weakness concealed behind a mask of resolve.
Her hand shook, yet the sword remained firm in her grip, pointed toward him as she turned. Her eyes now bore not only pain… but decision.
Aqua stopped. He did not turn immediately. He simply remained silent, as though granting her one final chance to withdraw.
But she did not.
Slowly, Aqua turned to look at her… at the hand clutching the sword's hilt, though her fingers trembled. At her stance that tried to appear firm, though her body barely held together. At her eyes, filled with desperate determination… yet he saw something deeper still.
He saw fear.
He saw denial.
He saw the hope that had not yet died… but now barely breathed.
He let out a faint sigh and looked at the sword raised before him. Then, in a voice cold as a draft seeping through the cracks of a wall, he spoke.
Aqua: "That's enough, Barbara."
He saw her lips press tightly together as if clinging to her words, but her eyes widened for an instant, as though those words had struck harder than any blade. Pain shone in them, as if she were fighting against the truth… and yet, she did not lower her sword.
Barbara: "Don't say that."
She whispered it, her voice drowning in sorrow, as though she were struggling to hold on to breaths lost in the crowd of her grief. And yet, she raised her sword higher, as if she were trying to protect him… or perhaps protect herself from the fate that crept toward them both. In her hand, the sword seemed like the last thread tying her to the world she had once known, to the life they had shared together. As though she were trying to pull him back from the edge of the abyss… but he had stepped beyond that edge long ago.
Aqua did not answer. But his gaze said more than words ever could. It was the gaze of a man who saw only the ending he had chosen, who had abandoned everything else for its sake. Then, without another word, he turned and took a step forward.
In that moment, Barbara whispered, as though her words were the last she could speak before breaking apart.
Barbara: "So… will I lose you too?"
Aqua froze for a heartbeat, as if those words had struck something buried deep within him… something he thought had long since left his heart. He turned toward her and spoke softly, his voice carrying a suffering that seemed to rise from within.
Aqua: "You lost me a long time ago, Barbara…"
But before he could finish the sentence, his eyes caught something—movement at the edge of his vision.
A man, concealed behind the farthest column, bow drawn tight. The arrow, aimed with deadly precision, gleamed faintly in the dim light, racing against time itself.
Aqua's heart sank. A suffocating dread filled his chest. No time. No chance. No place to hide.
His hand shot out instinctively as he shouted.
Aqua: "Barbara! Watch out!!"
But his voice was swallowed by the cold air, lost to the moment. It was already too late.
The arrow was loosed.
Its harsh flight cut through the silence like death itself, as if the world had frozen still.
Time slowed. Slowed to a crawl, as though the entire universe had halted to bear witness to this shattering instant.
The arrow pierced Barbara's throat like a shadow slicing the air.
And then, blood burst into the air, spraying across Aqua in a crimson storm.
The droplets shimmered as they scattered—slow, surreal—an agonizing vision filling the space, spilling the life that had run in her veins in a matter of seconds. It was like a tragic wind, unleashed into the air, drowning everything in chaos.
Aqua stood frozen, like a lost specter, his eyes locked in hollow horror.
The blood continued to spatter against him, and even that seemed slow, each drop landing on his face, his hands, his heart… as if each drop marked the beginning of his own collapse. His heartbeat surged wildly, out of rhythm, stripped of meaning.
And when Barbara fell, everything stopped.
It was as though time itself had ended at that fatal moment.
Her body crumpled, her head slumping to the side, as if life had chosen to leave her, exhausted from all its battles, leaving only silence in its place.
Blood streamed from her throat, flowing across her body, carrying with it memories already fading into the void.
Her eyes… those eyes that once carried laughter and hope… closed now, seeing nothing but the abyss that devoured all.
Aqua could not comprehend what had happened.
Her blood covered his hands, his face, his very soul.
He looked at her, his eyes widening in horror, as though she had never belonged to this world at all… as though she had only ever been a fleeting dream, lost in the corners of time.
He ran toward her, his legs barely carrying him, each step heavier than the one before. Reaching her, he caught her fragile body in his arms, his trembling hands desperate to bring her back to life.
Aqua: "Barbara! No! Don't go! Don't leave me!!… Please, don't go, Barbara!!"
Barbara gasped for breath, her face pale, her eyes filled with terror and disbelief.
Blood seeped slowly from her neck, pooling around her—an eternal message of sorrow in the final moments of her life.
Her lips quivered, barely moving.
She placed her weak, trembling hand on Aqua's shoulder in a desperate attempt to hold on, while her heart screamed in fear.
Her fading eyes lifted to him, vision dimming into shadows.
And with a voice trembling from exhaustion, she whispered.
Barbara: "I... I'm scared…"
The words came out with difficulty, as if dragging something heavy and painful from the depths of her soul.
She did not want to leave.
She did not want to abandon him to this world alone.
With each word, more blood spilled, clouding her sight, stealing away the last glimpses of life before they disappeared.
Aqua, his voice trembling: "Barbara… I… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
His words bled out of him as his heart bled within.
Tears dripped onto her face, mixing with the crimson that stained her pale cheeks.
And in that final instant, a faint, fragile smile formed upon her lips—weak, but real.
Barbara, whispering: "Y-You're here… That's enough."
Her smile flickered like a light in the dark, carrying hope even in the face of death.
She struggled to breathe once more, her voice fading into the rising silence.
Then, in a final whisper, she spoke the words that would haunt Aqua forever.
Barbara: "I.. love you…"
In that moment, Aqua felt the earth collapse beneath his feet.
He had lost more than a life.
He had lost a piece of himself.
It was as though the ground had truly given way beneath him, as though more than one life had been torn from existence. A fragment of his soul had been ripped apart. Her voice vanished into silence, her eyes closing forever. Her body lay cold in his arms, time slipping away while he was powerless to stop this eternal farewell.
The weight of her body pressed upon his heart heavier than anything he had ever borne, and her death was, for him, the moment of his own destruction. Aqua no longer knew who he was or where he was meant to go, but he knew that in this moment, he had lost everything.
He bore witness to Barbara's fall before him, listening to the silent explosion of his heart. Her blood stained his body, marking him with her presence, as though he himself had become a part of this tragedy.
His body was paralyzed. Frozen in place, unable to escape the nightmare unraveling into a horrific reality. Barbara lay before him, life draining away, while he remained helpless. Aqua's eyes stayed fixed on her—the girl who had always been the force that drove his world. And now, Barbara was nothing but blood on his hands—a fragment of life he had tried to save from chaos, while he himself sank into it.
He looked at Barbara, pleading for something—anything—that could stop the devastation tearing him apart. But there was nothing. Nothing but emptiness. A memory collapsing into ashes within his heart, trapping him between the moment he lost everything and the moment he realized the truth was inescapable.
He was imprisoned within the wreckage left behind by time.
In the dreadful silence that cloaked the hall, as Aqua stumbled between his tears and shattered memories, the sound of heavy footsteps broke through. Slow, deliberate, each one echoing with the dread coiling around his heart.
And then, from the shadows, Nithor Rakalion emerged. His features were pale, his eyes cold and indifferent to what had unfolded before him, as though Barbara's death were nothing more than a passing scene in his evening's amusement.
With a chilling calm, he dropped his bow aside, his voice carrying like mockery across the tragedy before him. His gaze turned toward Aqua, unreadable, his expression shrouded in mystery.
Nithor: "Ah… what a touching scene."
He spoke with a cold, merciless smile: "Well then… this works. Now we can take our time."
Aqua trembled, his eyes refusing to leave Barbara's lifeless body upon the ground. Her blood stained his hands, seeping into his heart as though carving wounds that would never heal. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes drowning in shock and pain.
He raised it inch by inch, as if the weight of the moment shackled his every movement. His breaths were heavy, the very air betraying him, his heart pounding with endless agony.
Everything around him was still, as though time itself had paused to witness Aqua's tragedy—or perhaps to mock him, as if loss itself were laughing at his weakness.
And when his eyes finally rose, the truth stood before him…
Nithor Rakalion. Standing there, in the shadows of nothingness, silent, watching. His cold, merciless eyes reflected no regret, no pity—only something deeper… something like inevitability, as though everything had already been written, as though the entire world had conspired against him in that very moment.
In the emptiness left by tragedy, Aqua felt everything collapse within him. Yet within that collapse, he found himself—for the first time.
His soul stood before a battle—not for his body, but for his spirit.