(VICTOR'S POV)
All my life, I had been taught how to kill.
I was born into a family of soldiers, warriors sworn to the Theocracy of Demiurge. From the moment I could stand, a blade was placed in my hands. I remember those days vividly—my palms split and bruised after endless hours of training, orders being carved into my ears.
They tried to teach me Prana. I had no talent for it. Ordinary Mana was all I could wield, and even that came with effort. "Good enough," they said. After all, I wasn't going to become a Paladin or anything.
Only those who served the Church, or were devotees of Demiurge, were permitted to live permanently in the capital. Anyone else found living there illegally were expelled without mercy. If they were accused of crime, real or fake, they were executed.
I learned quickly that punishment was not equal.
Only those deemed lesser truly paid the price.
My friend was one of them.
I cried for an entire day. I sat beneath the great oak in the open field, its branches stretching wide like it was trying to shield me. I cried until my chest ached and my throat burned, until there were no tears left.
"Why are you crying?"
I looked up, my vision blurred, and saw someone standing before me.
"…What?"
She was a girl, not much older than I was. Long dark-blue hair framed her face, her green eyes sharp and steady. Two small moles under each eye punctuated her features, almost like intentional marks of distinction. Everything about her—her posture, her voice—radiated the confidence I didn't have.
"I asked why you were crying," she repeated.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to explain. My words came out broken, uneven. She listened in silence, her expression never changing.
"They banished him," I finished weakly. "His whole family, too."
My head dropped. My teeth clenched as anger replaced grief.
"This country is horrible!" I shouted, rising to my feet. "Why can't people live here? Why does it have to be like this?!"
My fists trembled at my sides.
"Everyone should be able to live anywhere! No one should be cast out just because they don't follow some stupid law!"
She nodded once. I expected her to scold me for heresy.
Instead, she spoke quietly.
"Then," she said, "let's change it."
"What?"
I stared at her, certain I had misheard. What she just suggested was heresy.
"Change it?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "You can't change the Theocracy."
She didn't hesitate.
"You think a god wrote those laws?" she asked.
Her words struck deeper than any blow.
"No. Humans did. And if a law is evil, then those who enforce it are nothing more than guards in a prison."
"How?" I asked. "We're just kids. We're weak."
She bent down, picked up a fallen branch, and snapped it cleanly in two.
"If power makes them bow," she said, letting the pieces fall, "then we'll become strong!"
A smile curved her lips.
"We'll break them down!"
She turned to me.
"What's your name?"
My lips trembled before I finally answered.
"…Victor."
She pressed her first against her chest.
"My name is Ophelia! I'll become a great hero one day. An adventurer!"
She extended her hand towards me.
"Let's become heroes, together!"
And Now—
Cold. Cold.
Nothing but coldness registered in my mind for a long while. After that, I felt the stinging of the patchy grass and ground under me. The roots of the trees. And then something painful and wet pouring out of me.
Blood.
And then, impossibly, warmth.
'Ophelia....Did I live? Or am I already dead?'
I couldn't tell. And worse, I couldn't tell if it mattered anymore. If I survived this, it would only be as something broken. A burden. A delay in her path forward.
A failure.
The word echoed, familiar as a scar.
I'd heard it my entire life. From my parents. From my instructors. I have heard that an awful lot, haven't I? Again and again I have heard that.
Again and again, I trained until my vision darkened, until my body gave out, until even pain felt normal.
The warmth spread further, pushing back the cold.
No.
As a warrior, as a human being, I could not give up. Not here. Not now. Not ever. Not until that thing lay dead. Not until I see Ophelia's dream come true.
I would not end like this.
Warmth sharpened into sensation.
The first thing I felt was pressure against my chest. Then pain followed, blooming hot and deep, dragging a hoarse gasp from my throat.
"—he's breathing!"
Voices rushed in all at once. I forced my eyes open.
Ophelia was there. Kneeling in the dirt beside me, armor smeared with blood that wasn't all hers. Her shoulders were shaking. Tears slid down her cheeks unchecked, falling onto my chest.
Beside her hovered our healer—a young girl with ginger hair pulled into a messy braid, hands glowing faintly as mana flowed from her trembling fingers into what was left of my body. Her face was paler than ever
"Don't stop," Ophelia whispered, voice breaking. "Don't you dare stop. If you die here, Victor, I swear—" Her teeth clenched. "I won't forgive you. Ever!"
It was almost funny. Even now, she sounded like she was giving an order.
My arm felt heavy. But I forced it to move anyway, every inch screaming in protest. Slowly, clumsily, I lifted my hand and pressed it against her cheek, brushing aside one of her dark-blue locks.
She froze.
Then her eyes snapped down to mine.
"…Victor?" Her voice cracked completely.
I tried to speak. Nothing came out but a rough exhale. Still, my thumb moved, faintly, against her skin.
I was alive.
Ophelia let out a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and leaned forward, forehead pressing against mine. Her breath hitched as she gripped the front of my armor, knuckles white.
"Idiot," she whispered. "You absolute idiot...."
The healer sagged in visible relief but didn't stop, pouring mana into me as if afraid I might vanish the moment she did.
I stared up at the canopy above us, vision swimming, pain roaring back with every heartbeat. It hurt. Gods, it hurt.
_________________________________________
(THIRD POV)
Adam stopped, Tani let out a startled noise. Alaric did as well, looking to where that sound had come from. Something monstrous had just attacked, not so far away.
"What was that?" Victoria asked.
"...It came from the east. That's where Victor is." Melina spoke up.
Alaric's expression grew solemn, his eyes looking out for the things hiding in the shadows.
"The core?" He looked towards Melina.
"...Maybe."
Alaric nodded.
"Well. Let's look Ophelia first."
He turned around, Melina joined him.
Adam was about to walk up to them as well, but suddenly, Victoria's hand rested on his shoulder.
He turned his head towards her, along with Tani.
"What?"
And then he noticed her expression. Duty and seriousness were etched all across her face.
"Give them to me."
Adam nodded as he sighed, he opened his bag and pulled out what she wanted. A holster, carrying twin silver guns. Guns that were already loaded up with bullets engraved with mana.
He tossed it towards her, she smiled as she felt the familiar texture.
She tied it around her waist and walked along with the rest.