Chương 150: Fate if a Fickle Mistress

Soon, the sounds of battle rang out across the clearing as the eleven bonds clashed with their mirror images. Jos still hadn't moved, and neither had mirror Joe. He glanced around, trying to read the fights unfolding nearby. Part of his attention stayed locked on Rose and Corel. He could not help the worry that settled in his chest. He knew they were capable, likely even more so than him, but worry was in his blood, and he did not fight it. As he watched, a voice that had long been silent stirred within him.

'Kakaka, Have faith in your women. They are stronger than you,' Uriel said, her tone imperious.

"My women?" Joe shook his head. They were free birds; he held no claim to them.

'Kakakaka, you sound like the frog you hate. Claim them. Make them yours,' Uriel continued. Joe growled under his breath.

'Enough. I don't need romantic advice from a voice in my head,' he replied, the words light but only half in jest.

'Kakakaka. I can see your thoughts. You can hide nothing from me,' Uriel's presence began to fade. Just before she vanished, she croaked again. Joe scowled. Damn frogs. He returned his attention to the clearing and, instead of stepping forward, lowered himself to the ground. He crossed his legs and began to meditate as the battles intensified around him. He felt a few glances flick his way as he stretched out his senses, but no one spared him more than a moment. They were far too busy fighting.

It did not take long for Joe to notice the difference between how D-grades fought and the battles he was used to. There was no restraint here. No hiding. The bonded were fighting with everything they had. He watched Symphony activate a skill, a towering silhouette forming above her as her sword strikes grew heavier and more precise. Her mirror matched her perfectly, the same silhouette rising in tandem. Neither gained ground as steel met steel and sparks burst at every clash. The others were no different.

Trevaldo, Maestro. Zeth. Zerrepperty. Each was wrapped in some manifestation of power, glowing, shimmering, or cloaked in shadow, their forms amplified as if wearing living armour. The forest trembled as impacts rang out again and again. It was a sight to behold. Under different circumstances, Joe would have studied it. He would have focused, tried to learn, tried to grow. But something felt off. His attention kept slipping away from the others, no matter how hard he tried to hold it there.

Something was pulling at him. Slowly, inevitably, his focus drifted back to the figure standing across from him. Mirror Joe. Something deep inside whispered that fate itself was waiting for them to clash. Joe bounced to his feet and walked toward his mirror. The reflection did the same, stopping only when they were within striking distance. Joe waited for an attack that never came. The faceless version of himself merely tilted its head, regarding him with quiet curiosity. So it was not simply copying him.

It could move on its own. Joe shifted into his opening stance, muscles coiling out of habit, but mirror Joe made no effort to respond. It did not brace, did not prepare. It only stared, head still tilted. After a moment, Joe exhaled and let the tension drain from his body. He straightened, resting his weight evenly on both feet. Fighting himself felt pointless. Absurd, even. The thought of striking that blank, unfeeling imitation stirred no resolve within him at all.

He felt that certainty so strongly that he could not even imagine throwing a punch. With a faint huff of breath, he shrugged. Mirror Joe shrugged in response, and they both turned away. Joe's gaze snapped toward Corel and Rose, but once again his focus slipped. Their battles were there, unmistakable, yet distant, as if he were watching them through fogged glass. He rubbed at his eyes and shook his head, trying to force clarity, but it did nothing.

Even closing his eyes and breathing deeply failed to settle the pressure crowding his mind. Something was off. He could feel a force pressing down on his thoughts, nudging, herding him toward something he did not want to face. A confrontation chosen not by him, but by something else. Jaw tightening, Joe stepped forward and let his breathing change. His aura surged outward, no longer restrained. The world answered.

High above the clearing, the Molodium from the first challenge began to form, its vast shape coalescing against the sky. Sound vanished from Joe's ears as an unnatural silence swallowed the battlefield. The Molodium's gaze locked onto him alone. Joe looked up at it, defiant despite the unease coiling in his gut. It did not speak. It simply watched. Snarling under his breath, Joe tore his eyes away and forced himself to look back at the fights. This time, clarity came with horror.

Groans and cries of pain echoed through the clearing as stalemates shattered and battles tipped violently out of balance. He searched for Rose first, heart pounding, and relief washed through him when he saw her still holding her ground, water raging around her in a controlled storm. He turned to Corel, and his blood ran cold. Her mirror struck first. The shimmering figure surged forward, its blade carving cleanly into Corel's arm. Blood sprayed as the cut bit deep, slicing through muscle.

Corel cried out and leapt back, pain flashing across her face as she tried to regain her footing. The mirror gave her no quarter. Joe moved without thinking, stepping forward to intervene. The Molodium moved with him. A colossal hand descended from the sky, the pressure crashing down on Joe's shoulders like the weight of a mountain. His legs buckled as the force pinned him in place. He tried to Space Jump, desperation flaring, but the skill refused to activate. Something vast and incomprehensible held him fast.

Joe stared upward in pure terror as the massive hand continued its descent, intent unmistakable. Joe felt a faint sense of inevitability flow through him as he awaited his demise. __ Earlier that day. The Molodium of fate creaked as it bent its legs and resumed its seat above the fated event now unfolding. This particular Molodium was overseeing its eight hundred and sixty-third event, making it the most experienced Molodium still in existence. It blinked slowly as its thoughts turned inward.

The Molodium did not experience emotion. That was a mortal flaw, one it did not possess. Yet if it were capable of such things, its current state would have been called confusion, and that alone was deeply unsettling. Why was there one of the fateless within its fated event? The Molodium had no answer. So it stretched its mind and synced with the collective. Fateless. Here. Why? It sent three simple words and waited for an answer. Only moments passed before the first fellow Molodium responded. Seen before.

Fateless with two bonds. Fateless who bends. Care. Care? That was an odd word to send. The Molodium understood the word but not the context. It opened its eyes and watched. It observed the eleven bonded participants as they triggered one of the most lethal trials available, the Maze of the Forgotten. A challenge with a survival rate so low that it bordered on the impossible. Once again, the Molodium waited for the inevitable. The slow collapse. The deaths. The end of all bonds involved.

The Molodium leaned forward, its head tilted. The fateless was severing the connections between the Forgotten and their malevolence. The Molodium blinked. This outcome did not exist within any visions of fate it had ever witnessed. This was not a variation. It was a deviation. One that had never happened before. For hours, the Molodium watched as the bonds fled, fought, adapted, and survived. One obstacle after another fell, until at last the challenge was cleared. Understanding settled into place.

The Molodium rose and stepped forward, observing as the bonds entered the clearing and triggered the final trial. Another challenge with a grim survival threshold. And yet, once again, something was wrong. One of the mirror images was… corrupted. Fate blurred. The Molodium halted, its vast form vibrating as its sight fractured. Its view of future paths vanished entirely. There was only one phenomenon capable of disrupting fate on such a scale. The Molodium's gaze locked onto the source.

The fateless stood apart, watching the battles unfold while its mirror stood at its side. That was enough. The Molodium vanished and reappeared high above the clearing, looming over the final challenge as it fixed its attention on the fateless below. It could not speak here. Instead, it allowed its presence to press down as warning and command alike, forbidding further interference. At first, the fateless froze, and the Molodium believed compliance possible. Then the fateless stepped forward. The Molodium struck.

Its colossal hand descended as it detected the activation of a spatial skill. The fateless was only E-grade, no, a grade hidden between E and D, which meant it was strong enough to stop what came next. The Molodium suppressed the skill without effort. It watched the fateless stare upward in horror as its hand fell, intent on removing this disruption from fate entirely. But something happened. Something unexpected. Something profoundly lucky. For the first time since its creation, the Molodium of fate missed.

__ Joe leapt back as the colossal hand slammed onto the ground next to where he had been standing. Dirt and stone exploded outward. He threw his arms up on instinct, shielding his face, and landed hard but upright, and his aura burst free, blasting debris in every direction. His heart thundered in his chest, the echo of near death still ringing through him. Did it miss on purpose? He wondered, mind racing. The thought crept in unbidden. At the final instant, the Molodium's hand had shifted.

Something had stopped it from crushing him like an insect. Joe shuddered as the massive hand dissolved into nothing, and the Molodium withdrew once more, returning to its place high in the sky. It stared down at him as if nothing had happened, as if it had not just tried to erase him from existence. Joe did not move. He barely breathed. Only when he sensed motion to his left did he dare turn his head. Mirror Joe stood nearby, fist raised in the air, its attention fixed on a battle unfolding across the clearing.

Joe followed its gaze and forced himself to focus. It was watching Corel. Her fight had shifted. Corel's mirror crouched low, one arm hanging uselessly at its side. Relief surged through Joe so sharply it hurt. His vision blurred, and he turned away, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. A wail tore through the clearing. Joe spun around as the first life was lost. One of the robotic bonds fell beneath its mirror's strike. Joe saw the instant the light vanished from its eyes, extinguished completely.

Por screamed, the sound raw and shattered, as his bond collapsed nearby. He tried to rush forward, but his mirror blocked him at every turn. Por's grief erupted into fury. He attacked with everything he had, unleashing skill after skill in a desperate attempt to break through. His mirror answered every strike, matching him perfectly, denying him even the chance to reach the fallen body lying alone in the clearing. Zeth's mirror shimmered and dissolved, torn away by a sudden gust of wind.

Joe turned aside, sorrow washing through him like a tide. There was something about this place that amplified the emotions he was feeling, seeing a stranger lose their life. He searched for Corel again, heart pounding, and found her still standing. She moved with a fluid grace, locked in a deadly dance with her reflection. Step and counter, strike and evade. Each anticipated the other, adjusting constantly, pushing for the smallest opening. Watching her steadied Joe's breathing. His thoughts slowed.

He had to believe in her. Even with his belief building, he felt utterly powerless. The Molodium loomed above, an unyielding presence, and even mirror Joe seemed to stand as a warning against further temptations to interfere. So Joe did the only thing left to him. He watched. Another cry dragged his attention back to Por. This time, it was in victory. Por shattered his mirror at last and rushed to his fallen bond's side, collapsing to his knees as he gathered the body into his arms.

A single tear traced its way down his face. Seconds later, both vanished. The first claimed by fate. Only five more minutes passed before the second body fell. Clavascious was cut down by her mirror, her death marked not by a scream, but by the way Zerrepperty faltered when it happened. She stumbled mid-motion, her rhythm breaking for the briefest instant, then forced herself steady and fought on. She already held the advantage, and moments later her mirror collapsed, its head severed cleanly from its body.

Zerreperty approached her fallen bond slowly. She knelt and, with careful fingers, closed Clavascious's eyes. The gesture was gentle, intimate. Joe watched as she said a silent prayer, hands moving in a foreign way. Before she vanished, she lifted her gaze and met his. There was sadness there, deep and unguarded. Then she was gone. Joe exhaled shakily as a faint susurration rippled through fate itself. He glanced upward, sensing something shift, but the moment slipped away before he could grasp it.

He straightened, resolve settling over him. Out of respect for the fallen, he would see this through. He turned and stepped toward his mirror. The clearing erupted in violence. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Joe spun as an explosion of aura tore through the space behind him, but it was not Rose or Corel. The power came from Trevaldo.

Garvo lay motionless at his feet while Trevaldo stood over the body, his hand still dripping as the mirror of his bond fell apart before him. Trevaldo screamed. It was not a shout, but a wail, raw and unrestrained. His bloodshot eyes snapped to his own mirror. He lunged forward, swallowing a pill wreathed in flame as his body convulsed and cracked, reforming into something warped and monstrous. This was the second time Joe had seen someone swallow such a pill.

Trevaldo slashed the air once, and his mirror split cleanly in two. The halves hit the ground and faded like smoke from a fire. Joe barely registered the attack itself. All he saw was the aftermath. A line of impossibly fine mana had sliced the mirror image apart as if it were never whole to begin with.

"Why!!!" Trevaldo roared, his voice no longer refined, but jagged and feral. He turned his burning eyes on Joe and raised a clawed, scaled hand.

"Why does he die, while you live? You who disrupt fate and endanger us all." Joe did not see the attack coming. He felt it. Every hair on his body stood on end. Every nerve screamed as the air shimmered and mana tore toward his throat with killing intent. He reacted without thought, activating Space Jump with his second mana bar, drawing on enriched mana. That was the only reason he survived. Joe reappeared several feet away, gasping as he adjusted to the faster Space Jump.

His body was moving quicker than his thoughts could track, so he stopped trying to think at all. He just moved. Another razor-thin line of mana sliced through the space where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier, and Joe vanished again, surviving by the narrowest margin. There was no time to question Trevaldo's intent. This was the second time he had been targeted simply for existing, or was it for his actions in provoking the Molodium? He doubted he would get an answer.

Joe did, however, see clearly the grief driving Trevaldo, the way his loss hollowed reason out and left only rage behind his eyes. Nothing he could say would reach him. Nothing would stop this. So Joe did not try. He moved. Trevaldo surged forward when his ranged strikes failed, power flaring as a sparkling mantle wrapped around his transformed body. He reached for Joe with a clawed, veined hand, but Joe slipped beneath the grasp and struck back.

His fist crashed into Trevaldo's elbow as his other hand summoned his quarterstaff. Pain ripped through him as bones fractured in his knuckles, and his skin split and burned where it passed through the seething image of power around Trevaldo. The gap between them was undeniable. The difference in grade was not something Joe could bridge through effort or will alone. Still, he refused to stop.

He Space-Jumped again, reappearing at Trevaldo's flank as his staff screamed through the air and slammed into an exposed shoulder. The impact numbed his hands as the weapon rebounded, but he felt it, the faint give of resistance, the smallest cracks forming beneath the blow. For a fleeting instant, hope sparked. Then Trevaldo's clawed fist crashed into Joe's barding-covered chest. The world exploded. Joe was hurled backwards, smashing through trees and undergrowth as the forest swallowed him whole.

As he flew, barely aware of his own trajectory, he caught a glimpse of something impossible. Mirror Joe. The reflection had moved. Staff in hand, it struck Trevaldo from behind, the blow slamming into unguarded ribs. Trevaldo staggered, shock flashing across his warped features as he twisted toward the new attacker. Green orbs locked onto Mirror Joe. Joe did not see what happened next. Another tree shattered around him as he crashed through it, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

He slammed his staff into the ground, carving a trench through the earth and arresting his momentum long enough for his mind to catch up. He vanished once more and reappeared in the clearing, not far from Trevaldo, who was now locked in combat with Mirror Joe. He no longer doubted its purpose. If it truly was his reflection, then it shared the same priorities. Eliminate the threat. Protect his bonds. Joe tightened his grip on his staff and stepped forward to join the fight.

Joe felt Trevaldo's back tense just before his blow landed. He brought his staff down hard onto one shoulder. It rebounded again, the force mostly absorbed, yet not entirely. New cracks spidered across the scaly flesh, and Joe felt a grim flicker of satisfaction. His staff hissed and steamed as it passed through the protective image cloaking Trevaldo, and Joe strained to understand what he was striking.

Farmer's Sight told him it was something dense and refined, but that knowledge alone did not explain how it functioned. He twisted midair as a clawed hand swept toward him, a lance of mana screaming past his face close enough that he felt the heat of it. At the last instant, Mirror Joe's staff jabbed Trevaldo's wrist, disrupting the attack and sparing Joe from being cut in half. Trevaldo snarled and turned on the mirror.

Joe twisted again, slamming his staff into Trevaldo's ankle, just hard enough to throw him off balance and make the retaliatory strike miss by inches. The air around Joe pulsed, and finally, his Mana Stream surged to life. A shimmering sash of purple-enriched mana wrapped around his body, draining half his remaining reserve in a heartbeat. He pulled the entire stream free and coiled it around his staff. The weapon hummed, vibrating in protest, but it held.

He had never intended to rely on enhanced skills so soon after breaking through. But fate truly was a fickle mistress. This was a battle he could not survive alone, and fate had forced him into it regardless. Mirror Joe shimmered beside him, its own Mana Stream igniting in perfect synchronicity. They moved together. One struck from the right, the other from the left. Trevaldo crossed his forearms and blocked both attacks. The moment of contact detonated into a violent bloom of mana.

The explosion tore through the air, and Trevaldo roared as blood sprayed free. Joe reappeared above Trevaldo as his mirror slipped beneath him. They struck, vanished, struck again, a relentless rhythm of motion and impact. Trevaldo blocked every blow, but no longer carelessly. Armour formed over his arms as he adapted, his earlier arrogance stripped away. He was taking this fight seriously at last, and that realization tightened Joe's chest. This fight had just become far more dangerous.

Joe managed to raise his staff as a sudden thread of mana sliced toward his head. A bubble of enriched mana wrapped around his staff and held for a fraction of a second before shattering. The blast slammed into the wooden shaft, cracking it with a sound like splitting bone, and the force hurled Joe aside. Somehow, the staff did not break. The bubble of mana reformed around his staff, but a massive portion of the stream was gone. Joe knew that he could not block another strike like that.

He vanished again, narrowly avoiding the next attack, and reappeared in a low crouch. He swept his staff at Trevaldo's armoured leg at the exact moment his mirror struck the same ankle. Trevaldo crashed to the ground, mana blades slicing harmlessly through empty air as he lost track of the two Joes. The overlapping blows amplified each other, their combined force far greater than either alone, and Joe heard the pain-filled growl tear from Trevaldo's throat.

Seizing the opening, Joe triggered two seeds beneath Trevaldo's spinning form. Thick vines erupted from the earth and slammed into him, pinning him just long enough to give both Joes another clear chance. Joe's staff blurred with renewed ferocity as he and his mirror moved as one. The same leg. The same arm. The same ribs. Every strike mirrored, every motion perfectly aligned. It felt natural, as if they had been meant to fight together.

Whenever Trevaldo's full attention locked onto one of them, a vine burst from the ground to disrupt him, buying just enough time to keep either Joe from being torn apart. Then Trevaldo roared. A section of his armour shattered. Joe broke through the weakening defence and landed a clean, mana-wrapped strike against Trevaldo's ribs. At the same instant, something went wrong. His mirror had stepped a fraction too close, misjudging Trevaldo's reach by the smallest margin.

A clawed hand flashed out and tore straight through the mirror's arm, severing it completely. Joe's mind screamed. An aura shout blasted him away, the force hurling him across the clearing. He hit the ground hard and rolled, pain flaring as he came to a stop and forced himself back to his feet. Blood poured from a deep gash along his side where an unseen slice of mana had nearly cut him in half. A huge section of his barding detonated and vanished. There was no time to question what had struck him.

Joe dragged his focus back to the battlefield. Trevaldo had not pursued. He knelt instead, clutching the wound torn into his side, his breathing ragged with pain. Joe's attack had done a massive amount of damage, but the cost of that single opening had been enormous. Joe and his mirror both crouched now, battered and bleeding. He prayed it would be enough. He glanced at his mirror. Its right arm was gone, torn away completely, its staff clenched in its remaining hand.

"Thank you, friend," Joe murmured, knowing exactly what that sacrifice had bought him. Now he had to make it matter. He poured nearly all of his remaining mana into his Mana Stream and stepped forward. Joe slipped into a trance as his movement skill carried him forward. His thoughts narrowed to a single purpose. Widen the wound. End this. Trevaldo was in no state to swallow a healing pill, and Joe intended to exploit that weakness. He feinted high, then cut low, knocking Trevaldo's foot from beneath him.

His staff struck a knee, then stomach, then temple in rapid succession as he flowed past. Clawed fingers tore through his barding, missing flesh by a breath. Farmer's Sight flared with warning as mana gathered at Trevaldo's fingertips. Joe twisted aside by the smallest margin as a blade of mana sliced through the space he had just occupied. His staff snapped upward, crashing into Trevaldo's chin and snapping his head back. That single heartbeat of imbalance was all Joe needed. He Space-Jumped.

His staff slammed into the bleeding wound from behind as a vine burst from the ground and shattered Trevaldo's stance. Trevaldo snarled and lashed out blindly. Joe Space Jumped again, but he was a fraction too slow. A fist connected with his arm. Joe reappeared several steps away and nearly dropped his staff as his entire arm went numb. Stupid! he thought. He could not afford a single mistake. One clean hit would end this. He forced his breathing steady and moved again.

His mirror tried to rejoin the fight, but with only one arm its attacks were easily brushed aside. Joe intercepted a strike meant for it, then whipped his staff toward Trevaldo's bloodshot eye. Trevaldo jerked aside and detonated another wave of aura. The world lurched. Joe was ripped from the ground as gravity vanished. He floated helplessly for an instant, panic clawing up his spine, he Space Jumped in rapid succession until he found solid footing and slammed down into an area where gravity still held.

What was that? The answer came too fast. Trevaldo had seized his mirror. Joe turned to see Trevaldo tear the reflection apart. Flesh and light split as the mirror was ripped in two, gore splashing as it began to fade. Its existence ended in silence. Trevaldo landed lightly, gravity restoring itself as he straightened and fixed his gaze on Joe.

"This was not how it was supposed to end," Trevaldo growled.

"He was better than me. He didn't deserve to die. He was my friend."

"Then mourn him," Joe shouted back.

"Stop this madness!"

"No." Trevaldo exploded forward. Joe vanished and reappeared behind him, slamming his staff into the ground as gravity vanished. His feet lifted helplessly as his limbs refused to respond properly, as if some unseen force had seized control. Panic flared as Trevaldo closed the distance. Joe tried to Space Jump in time. He tried to flee. He was too slow. A razor-thin blast of mana tore into his chest at the exact moment he vanished.

Joe hit the ground hard at the forest's edge as torn muscle and blood burst from his chest. He screamed as the mana grazed his heart by the narrowest margin before dissipating. He was alive. Barely. Pain drowned out everything else as blood poured from him in terrifying volume. How? The thought surfaced through the agony. How was he supposed to fight this? Trevaldo was too fast. Too strong. So far beyond him, it felt absurd.

He lay there, broken and alone, death hovering close enough to taste, when a whisper dragged his awareness back from the brink.

'Stop being weak!' Weak? He was facing something he never should have been forced to face. An enemy leagues above him. How was that weakness?

'Do you think fate cares about any of that. Survival has only one rule. The strong survive!!" Uriel hissed. His heart lurched. The word struck deeper than the pain. She was right. If he stopped here, if he gave up now, what would happen to Corel? To Rose?

'No!' Uriel continued.

'They do not matter. This is your fight. This is your moment. Be strong or die.' His arms moved before he fully understood why, hauling his battered body upright. Why did her words carry such weight? Why did she care at all? His mind whirled with these questions as he breathed deeply.

'Because,' Uriel whispered.

"Because?"

'Because I am your blood.' Joe opened his eyes and moved. Trevaldo's clawed hand crashed down where his head had been. Joe was already in motion. It was that simple. He did not block. He did not resist. He just moved. His body blurred as he slipped through space in a way Trevaldo could not track. The D-grade roared in fury as Joe vanished from his sight. A staff slammed into Trevaldo's leg, and when he spun to retaliate, a blur smashed into his face.

Joe flowed forward, ducking into a blind angle with ghostly precision. His battle instincts were in full force as he finally began to understand something that had eluded him this whole time. Trevaldo was fighting with his eyes alone. Not his senses. That meant he had blind spots. So Joe used them all. He struck and shifted. Ducked and dove. His staff hammered the open wound again and again, each blow widening it, tearing it further as blood poured freely.

Trevaldo staggered under the relentless assault, unable to track what he could not see.

"Blood for blood!" Joe growled.

'Blood for blood,' Uriel echoed. Trevaldo began to slow as blood poured from his side, soaking the earth beneath his feet. Joe's own injury had sealed itself. His reforged body boosted his ability to survive the massive damage. No blood fell from him now as he moved faster than ever before. Focus and adrenaline drove him beyond his limits, and he no longer hesitated or faltered. He struck again, and this time Trevaldo roared as his footing failed and he crashed to the ground. Joe showed no mercy.

His staff hammered into Trevaldo as he struggled to rise. Trevaldo lashed out wildly, trying to swat away the relentless presence tearing at him, but vines erupted from the soil and knocked him off balance again. The tide had turned. Joe moved freely. His staff cracked down on an exposed nose. He spun and shattered a knee. He flowed past and crushed an elbow. Each impact sent steam hissing from the staff as mana flared at every strike. He did not rush the end.

He wore Trevaldo down methodically, inexorably, until the frantic defences finally collapsed and Trevaldo hit the ground hard. Only then did Joe stop. The fight drained out of Trevaldo as his form shimmered and shifted. The pill's influence faded, and he reverted to his original shape. Joe lowered his staff, holding it loosely as he stared down at the broken, long-necked figure sprawled at his feet. Trevaldo spat blood as he struggled to speak.

"I apologize," he rasped.

"I lost myself in my grief. I hope you can forgive me." He coughed again, blood spilling from his lips as his eyes widened at the sight of his own ruined body.

"I think I might be dying," he croaked. Joe nodded slowly. There were no words left for the man who had nearly killed him.

"I am sorry," Trevaldo whispered. He hacked violently, spitting something dark and wet onto the ground.

"Please tell the princess… tell her I… lost my way." Trevaldo collapsed with those final words, his life spilling out onto the ground beneath him. Joe felt a dull itch at the back of his mind as his silenced status screen vibrated, a cascade of unseen notifications passing by. His legs nearly gave out, exhaustion and shock crashing into him all at once, but the sound of soft footsteps forced him to remain upright. He turned with effort and saw his two bonds approaching. Their battles were over.

Each bore a shallow gash along the cheek. Rose limped slightly while Corel cradled a bloodied arm. Even like this, even smeared with blood and fatigue, they were beautiful. The sight of them standing, alive, was enough to steady him.

"I think I love you both," Joe said before he could stop himself. He winced, then added quickly, "As my bonds," punctuating it with a weak wink. Rose and Corel both laughed, and Joe joined them, the sound raw but genuine. He immediately regretted it as fresh pain flared and blood seeped from his still-healing wound.

"Does he always confess his love covered in blood?" Rose asked, her tone light despite everything.

"Yes," Corel replied with a chuckle.

"I often bite him quite deeply." Joe stared at her in disbelief.

"Corel. We really have to discuss your habit of oversharing."