Sacrifice looked down at the two kneeling figures clutching their heads, both still reeling from her blows.
Mordred and Reth both had large bumps on their heads.
Mordred had fared worse.
He lay face-first in the mud, blood smeared across his lips—hers.
The moment it touched him, the reaction had been immediate.
Violent.
His body convulsed once before collapsing completely, fingers digging into the mud as if trying to escape his own veins. A strangled sound tore from his throat, halfway between a growl and a scream.
The bloody mud beneath him darkened as he writhed, trying—and failing—to endure the burn spreading through his body.
Sacrifice watched him without expression.
Then she spoke.
[Sacrifice]: Give him blood from the bag. Let him rest.
A brief pause.
[Sacrifice]: Reth—gather only those who stayed.
Her gaze didn't shift.
[Sacrifice]: The ones who left… let them go.
A beat.
[Sacrifice]: If they return, reject them. If they refuse to leave—
A slight pause.
[Sacrifice]: Then treat them as enemies.
Silence followed.
Cold. Absolute.
[Sacrifice]: I'm going to find Protector.
She turned and began walking toward a small, half-collapsed hill.
[Reth]: Yes, boss—
He quickly corrected himself, voice tight.
[Reth]: Boss… Lord Protector is that way.
He pointed in the opposite direction.
Sacrifice didn't slow.
But she did adjust her path.
A brief silence followed after she left.
Reth watched her go, then let out a quiet breath.
[Reth]: …I genuinely can't tell if our boss is terrifying… or cute.
He glanced sideways.
[Reth]: What do you think, Mordred—
Mordred's response was a strained, inhuman scream, his body still twitching in the mud as he clawed at the ground.
Reth winced.
[Reth]: …Right. Still dying. My mistake.
He crouched slightly, eyeing Mordred as the man dragged a mouthful of mud closer, as it might somehow help.
[Reth]: Hey—hey! Don't eat that! That's not going to fix anything!
He looked up sharply.
[Reth]: Where's the blood bag? Someone get it—he's losing his mind!
A nearby mercenary stiffened.
[Mercenary 33]: B-Boss… we don't know where it is.
Reth blinked.
Then slowly looked back down at Mordred.
Who was, in fact, still trying to eat the mud.
Reth exhaled.
Long.
Tired.
[Reth]: …We're doomed.
A pause.
Then, quieter—
[Reth]: …But I'll follow her to the end.
His voice steadied slightly.
[Reth]: For a future. For me… for the others…
He hesitated.
Then looked up.
[Reth]: …and for them.
His gaze shifted.
Not to the crowd.
To a small group standing just behind him.
A woman met his eyes first.
One eye was gone. The other, dull but alive. Her tongue had been cut out long ago, her limbs once shattered beyond repair.
And yet—
She stood.
Barely steady, but standing.
When she noticed his gaze, she smiled.
It was uneven. Broken.
But real.
Her hand rested against her swollen stomach, fingers pressing gently as if reassuring herself that something inside still lived.
Beside her stood two men.
One wore damaged knight's armor, a lance gripped tightly in his single remaining arm. He stood straight despite everything, like a soldier who had refused to fall.
The other was wrapped in layers of cloth, a tube fixed to his mouth for breath. In each hand, he held a blade—his grip firm, unwavering.
None of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
They were Reth's team.
The ones Sacrifice had pieced back together when they should have died.
The ones who stayed.
The ones who would follow—
No matter what came next.
Reth let out a small breath.
Not tired this time.
Resolved.
[Back to Sacrifice]
Sacrifice made her way toward a small hill bone—rib cages fused into walls, skulls half-buried in its frame.
Beside it—
Protector.
He was crouched over a body, tearing into what little flesh remained.
He didn't rush.
Didn't hesitate.
Just… ate.
Sacrifice stopped a few steps away.
And looked.
The longer she did, the more something unfamiliar crept into her thoughts.
Not fear.
Not disgust.
Something closer to disbelief.
Protector's body was in a state no living being should endure.
Both of his arms were partially open—metal plating torn or removed—exposing tangled wires, fractured components, and thick tubes pulsing with dark, sluggish blood. Some leaked. Some moved.
Nothing about it was stable.
Nothing about it was whole.
His chest shifted slightly—
And there it was.
A mechanical heart.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
Loud.
Steady.
Wrong.
Beside it, a single lung struggled, expanding unevenly—half organic, half replaced with crude machinery that wheezed with every breath.
His bones—
Metal.
Reinforced.
Visible where flesh had long since failed.
Deeper still, where no eye should reach—
Crystallized organs.
Blackened.
Rotting.
Barely functioning, yet still somehow part of him.
Tubes ran everywhere, feeding, draining, replacing.
Keeping something alive.
Or refusing to let it die.
Sacrifice's eyes narrowed slightly.
The conclusion was simple.
Nothing here should be living.
Nothing here was living.
And yet—
He moved.
He fought.
He ate.
Her gaze rose slowly.
To his head.
The worst part.
A deer-like skull rested over his face—bleached bone, jagged and unnatural.
But it wasn't his real skull.
Just a shell.
Beneath it—
Metal.
A second skull, forged and fused into place.
Not shaped for comfort.
Not shaped for survival.
Shaped for endurance.
For function.
For war.
Sacrifice watched him for a long moment.
Then—
[Sacrifice]: What happened to you?
Protector slowly turned toward her, his mouth still stained with blood.
One of his hands rose—slow, deliberate—and reached behind his head.
A sharp—
Click.
For a split second, his entire body stiffened.
Then both of his eyes widened.
Focus returned.
Clarity.
He looked at her—truly looked.
His voice came out steadier than before. More aware.
[Protector]: That nail was pressing deeper into my brain than this damned skull ever did.
A faint exhale escaped him.
[Protector]: Don't be surprised.
He flexed one arm slightly—
It didn't move.
[Protector]: Removing it helps me think.
A pause.
His gaze dropped briefly to his own body.
[Protector]: But it also stops my arms from functioning properly.
Sacrifice didn't react.
[Sacrifice]: Then why remove it?
Protector held her gaze.
No hesitation.
[Protector]: Because I need you.
A beat.
[Protector]: Fix what you can.
His voice lowered slightly.
Not weaker—
Just honest.
[Protector]: My last mission… I have to reach Babel.
He looked down at himself again—at the exposed wires, the failing systems, the rot that refused to finish him.
[Protector]: This body is beyond ruined.
A faint, hollow sound left him—something close to a laugh, but without humor.
[Protector]: By every law that should matter… I should already be dead.
His eyes lifted back to her.
Steady.
Unshaken.
[Protector]: But I'm still here.
A pause.
[Protector]: Even if all that remains… is a shell.
Silence settled between them.
Heavy.
Mechanical.
Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
[Chapter end]