As the last footsteps of the White Leader's forces faded from the capital, silence finally settled over the shattered city.
Only then… did the Captain move.
He walked straight toward Hinata, his boots echoing softly against the broken stone.
Hinata was struggling to rise, one hand pressed against the wound on his back, pain trembling through his body.
The Captain knelt beside him and slipped an arm under his shoulder.
"HINATA… are you alright?"
The words were steady, but the Captain's voice carried a weight — a deep, quiet tremble he rarely allowed anyone to hear.
Hinata lowered his gaze, shame filling his eyes.
"…I'm sorry, Captain," he whispered.
"I… let my guard down."
The Captain shook his head immediately.
"No."
His voice was calm — too calm, like someone forcing control to keep from breaking.
"No one… not even I… could have predicted that Oxel would betray us. This is not your fault."
Hinata looked down further, jaw clenched, fighting the pain in his back and the heavier pain twisting in his chest.
The Captain saw it clearly — that sadness, that disbelief.
Because he felt it too.
The betrayal hung between them like a wound they both shared.
For a moment, neither spoke.
They simply stood there in the ruined city.
Two warriors who had faced death countless times, yet now wore expressions of people who had lost something much more precious.
Their faces looked hollow — as if a piece of their world had been taken from them.
As if the attack on the capital… had already been forgotten beneath the weight of Oxel's betrayal.
The Captain finally exhaled and turned to Roxy, who had been standing nearby, pale, shaken, trying to process everything.
"Roxy," he said quietly, "take care of the injured. And… tell me the condition of the capital once you've checked everything."
Roxy straightened, but her eyes were wet, her voice thin.
"…Yes, Captain."
She bowed her head slightly and walked away.
Her steps carried no strength — only sadness, only confusion.
She looked as if each step was heavier than the last.
And as she disappeared into the wounded streets of the capital…
The Captain stood there, Hinata leaning on him, both of them silent, both staring at the ground…
Then, with a low voice, Hinata said:
"…I hope the others are safe."
The Captain nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the broken stones beneath their feet.
"I hope so too."
Silence settled again.
Hinata glanced at the Captain's expression — distant, tense, heavy with a pain he was trying to hide.
Hinata forced himself to speak, to drag the mood away from the betrayal clawing at both of them.
"If Rolsten were here," Hinata said, trying to sound normal, "he'd be yelling at you right now."
The Captain blinked, turning slightly toward him.
Hinata continued, a weak, tired smile on his face:
"He'd say, 'Why are you standing like that, Captain? Look at your face!'"
A faint breath escaped the Captain — not quite a laugh, but something close.
His voice softened just a little.
"…Yeah. He would have."
Hinata nodded, forcing more strength into his tone than he truly had.
"What do you think he's doing now?"
The Captain's eyes lowered.
"I sent him to take Roxy's parents somewhere safe. I… hope all of them are alright."
Hinata let out a small, shaky chuckle — not because it was funny, but because he was desperately trying to keep the Captain from drowning in sorrow.
"What could happen to him? You know how he is… it's almost impossible for that guy to die."
The Captain's lips twitched, the smallest hint of a smile forming — not enough to be happiness, but enough to show the memory warmed him.
"…Yeah," he murmured.
"You're right."
But even with that faint smile, both men felt it — the ache, the betrayal, the uncertainty of what came next.
Just as the Captain and Hinata tried to gather themselves and move away from the carnage…
Ten guards burst from the twisting alleys of the ruined city, swords drawn.
Their armor clanged — cold, brutal — and in an instant they formed a tight ring around the two of them, blades pointed and final.
Hinata stiffened, eyes wide.
"What are you doing?" he spat, voice sharp, panic and anger mixing.
At the head of the group strode a man( name Vladmir) unlike the others. Taller, broader, his presence rigid.
He wore the black livery of the royal guard, heavy leather reinforced with steel plates, golden stripes glinting even in the low torchlight.
He stepped forward, his boots striking the ground with authority.
"Captain," he said, voice low but carrying over the courtyard.
"You are under arrest."
Shock froze the Captain mid-step. His sword hand dropped slightly; his eyes narrowed.
"Why?" he demanded, voice bitter, incredulous.
The royal guard's gaze didn't flicker.
"You are charged with the murder of the General." His words landed like a hammer.
The Captain's blood turned cold.
The world tilted.
"And," the guard continued, "with failing to control your subordinate. The traitor Oxel's betrayal, the damage done to the kingdom… it rests on your negligence."
Hinata staggered backward, glancing between Captain and guard.
Horror and disbelief painted his face.
"Are you serious?" Hinata spat, voice cracking.
The guard's expression was unreadable.
He flicked a heavy gauntlet, and two more guards stepped forward to grip Captain's arms.
"Orders from the throne," the guard said.
"Your trial is demanded. Until then, you remain detained. Resistance will be treated as mutiny."
A heavy silence descended — heavier than the smoke of the ruined city.
Time slowed.
For a moment, the Captain simply stared — at the guard, at the swords, at the fate closing around him.
Then, with a cold clarity, he nodded.
"Very well," he said softly.
"But know this — the truth will come out why I killed him. And when it does…"
He didn't finish.
The guards seized the Captain, binding his hands tightly with rope.
Hinata's voice cut through the tension.
"Captain!" he said, taking a step forward.
"Don't worry—I'll get you out of this mess!"
The Captain paused as the guards dragged him.
He turned his head just enough to look back. A faint, calm smile touched his lips.
"I know," he said quietly. "And don't worry about me."
The next day.
The Captain sat behind the cold iron bars, deep in the heart of a jail that felt more like a forgotten grave.
The air was thick with the rotting stench of death—old bodies of criminals left to decay in the corners, their bones half-buried under layers of dust.
The stone walls were stained with years of filth, dark patches of mold crawling across them like living shadows.
Cobwebs hung heavy from the ceiling, stretching from bar to wall as if even spiders had long abandoned this place but left their ghosts behind.
The floor was uneven, coated with dirt, dried blood, and muddy footprints that overlapped from countless prisoners before him.
A single torch on the wall flickered weakly, its light barely reaching the far side of the cell block, making everything feel colder, darker, and endlessly silent—except for the faint dripping of water echoing somewhere deep in the corridor.
It was clear this prison had not been cleaned in years.
It was not a place meant for reform. It was a place meant to break people.
The Captain sat in the center of his cell, wearing thin, torn white prison clothes.
Dust and grime clung to the fabric, and his hands were streaked with dirt from the rough stone floor.
Despite all of it, his posture remained calm—back straight, eyes steady, as if the filth and darkness around him meant nothing.
The Captain heard slow, dragging footsteps echoing through the corridor.
Someone was approaching.
The shadows shifted… and then a familiar face appeared beyond the bars.
Uzair.
His hair was messy, his face pale, wrapped in fresh bandages across his cheek and forehead.
His uniform was torn in several places, stained with dust and dried blood.
He looked exhausted.
And his eyes—usually sharp and confident—were dark and hollow, carrying a weight far heavier than his own injuries.
The Captain immediately stood up, stepping closer to the bars.
"Uzair… what is the matter?" he asked, voice calm but firm.
"Is the capital safe? Rolsten? Cedric? Roxy? The others… are they alright?"
Uzair didn't answer.
He just stood there… head lowered, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.
He couldn't look the Captain in the eyes.
The torch behind him flickered, casting long shadows across his face—the expression was unmistakable.
Something was terribly wrong.