Lilya stood silently amidst the giant wooden ruins slowly withering away, staring at the fragments of the Elder Treant's body as they dried and cracked. Dead leaves drifted around her, falling gently like tears that had arrived too late. A tightness settled in her chest—not from wounds, not from exhaustion, but from guilt quietly creeping between each breath.
From the stories buried within Hikaru's memories—and from the Elder Treant's own fading whispers—she knew the ancient being had not been an ordinary monster. For all this time, the Elder Treant had been one of the forest's protectors, a natural guardian of Eldwyn Village. A being that might have stood there long before she had ever been born.
Yet Lilya also knew—
when all of this ended—
judgment might await her.
The villagers' stares.
Questions from Elder Harald.
The village chief's decision.
Perhaps even condemnation for taking the life of one of Eldwyn's protectors.
Her fingers slowly curled into fists at her side.
But—
for the first time—
none of that felt important.
Not now.
Not while Cecilia was still somewhere in this forest.
If she had to bear hatred, punishment, or blame after everything was over—
then she would accept it.
As long as Cecilia could be saved.
The night wind drifted softly past her, carrying the remnants of dried wood dust through her golden hair.
And then—
something crossed her mind again.
The Elder Treant's final words.
"...Veldrin... is in danger..."
Lilya's eyes widened slightly.
Her body tensed.
"...Veldrin?"
Her heartbeat quickened.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Because she knew that name.
It was not merely a name.
It was a family name.
The name of the home where she had been raised.
The family that had taken her in when she had lost everything.
The Veldrins.
Yet—
Lilya's thoughts raced.
No.
It couldn't be Harlan.
Nor Rasa.
If the Elder Treant had spoken of Veldrin being in danger—
then there was only one possibility.
"...Cecilia..."
Her lips moved softly.
Her breath caught slightly.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the glowing blue sword in her hand.
Her gaze sharpened.
But—
slow footsteps approached from behind.
"Lilya."
That warm voice made her flinch slightly.
She turned quickly.
"...Uncle Harlan?"
The middle-aged man stood several steps away.
He looked far more exhausted than usual.
His clothes were stained with dirt and marked with small tears.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
And yet—
that warm smile remained unchanged.
The same smile that had always greeted her and Cecilia whenever they returned home.
Harlan stopped in front of Lilya.
He studied her for a few moments.
Then smiled faintly.
"I know you must have your own reasons for being here, right?"
His tone was soft.
Not judgmental.
Not demanding.
Just warm.
It made Lilya's chest tighten slightly.
"..."
She opened her mouth—
but no words came.
And Harlan continued.
"We were searching for the two of you."
His gaze softened.
"Knowing at least one of you is safe..."
He let out a quiet breath.
"...that alone already makes me feel a little relieved."
Then—
slowly—
his large hands moved.
Resting gently on Lilya's shoulders.
Warm.
Steady.
Just like before.
Like when she had been small and frightened after a nightmare.
Harlan looked directly into her eyes.
Tired.
Worried.
Yet full of trust.
"So..."
His voice weakened slightly.
But remained firm.
"...can I entrust Cecilia's rescue mission to you?"
Lilya's breath halted for a moment.
Then—
slowly—
she turned.
Toward the others.
Rhett stood not far away.
His sword still in hand, though his shoulders sagged much lower than before. His leather armor was covered in tears and scratches. Sweat mixed with mud clung to his face.
Exhausted.
Completely exhausted.
When their eyes met—
Rhett smiled faintly.
The kind of smile that looked like someone finally able to breathe after surviving too long.
"To be honest..."
He exhaled deeply.
A hand rubbing his shoulder.
"...I'm already exhausted from fighting all those things before you showed up, Lilya..."
His tone sounded light.
But the heaviness in his breathing made lying impossible.
He truly was exhausted.
Then—
Rhett paused.
His gaze dropped briefly to the Treant ruins.
To the massive slash marks cutting through the forest.
Then back to Lilya.
And this time—
his smile changed.
Warmer.
More sincere.
"...but..."
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
Chuckling softly like someone admitting defeat.
"...I know you must've fought plenty of strong enemies on your own."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"...alone."
Silence lingered briefly.
Then Rhett laughed softly again.
Tiredness mixed with embarrassment.
"...so..."
He shrugged lightly.
"...this is kind of embarrassing for a former adventurer..."
A small grin formed.
"...but I'm leaving this mission to you."
Lilya froze briefly.
Her chest tightened.
Because there was no hesitation in Rhett's eyes.
No pressure.
Only trust.
Behind him—
Kael raised a hand casually.
Scratching the back of his head.
His face still dirty and bruised.
"Man..."
He clicked his tongue softly.
"...I never expected Lilya to use sword skills even though she's just an ordinary village girl."
His gaze drifted to her glowing blue blade.
Still unable to believe it.
"...is this because of your adventurer parents' blood or something?"
His tone was half joking.
Half serious.
Because even now—
his mind still could not fully process what he had witnessed.
A slash that split dozens of Treants apart.
It simply made no sense.
Beside him, Bram snorted.
His axe resting against his shoulder.
"...guess we better stop making Lilya mad after seeing that."
His tone remained flat.
Though the corner of his lips twitched upward.
"...I'm not ready to get split in half like those trees."
Kael chuckled.
"Yeah, same here."
Not far away—
Darian stood quietly.
His sword already sheathed.
He stared at Lilya for several seconds.
Then—
sighed softly.
A faint smile appearing on his otherwise stoic face.
Lilya smiled.
Not a bright smile overflowing with energy—just a small, warm curve of the lips, like dim light in the middle of a dark night. The atmosphere amidst the giant wooden wreckage felt strangely peaceful. Only moments ago, they had fought desperately against the rampaging Elder Treant. The ground shook. Wood splintered through the air. Sweat and blood covered weary faces.
And now—
amidst their exhaustion—
those small jokes made everything feel a little lighter.
Lilya lowered her gaze briefly, closing her eyes.
Breathing in.
Breathing out.
Slowly.
Her heartbeat settled, no longer pounding wildly like when she had used [Heaven Divider].
Her body still trembled.
Her hands still felt numb.
But her thoughts—
clear.
And when she opened her eyes again—
her expression had changed.
Sharper.
Brighter.
Lilya looked at each of them one by one.
Rhett.
Bram.
Kael.
Darian.
And finally—
Harlan.
The man watching her warmly despite the exhaustion lining his face.
"Everyone..."
Lilya's voice was soft.
But clear.
She took a breath.
"...I promise."
Her grip on the glowing sword loosened slightly.
"When all of this is over..."
Her eyes met Rhett's.
Then Kael's.
Then Bram's.
Then Darian's.
And finally—
Harlan's.
"...I'll explain what happened to me."
Silence lingered.
Rhett exhaled deeply, smiling faintly.
"Alright."
He nodded slowly, finally sheathing his sword.
"We'll wait for both of you to come back."
Harlan stepped forward.
His large, rough hand gently rested atop Lilya's head—
just like before, when she was little and had just lost her parents.
"Please bring Cecilia back, Lilya."
His voice trembled slightly at the end.
Yet his smile remained warm.
Lilya nodded.
That was enough.
No unnecessary words.
Because between them—
their feelings already said more than enough.
She turned around.
Ahead of her—
beyond the withering remains of the Elder Treant—
the dark forest stretched endlessly.
No paths.
No signs.
Only thin mist drifting between towering trees and cold air sharp enough to pierce bone.
But Lilya knew—
somewhere ahead—
Cecilia was waiting.
"Cecilia..."
The whisper barely escaped her lips before the night wind carried it away.
Then—
WHOOSH.
Lilya shot forward.
[Quick Step]
Blue-gold light trailed behind her sword for an instant before vanishing into darkness.
Her movements were light.
Fast.
Silent.
Within moments—
the blonde-haired girl had vanished deep into the forest.
"Alright, let's head back to the village," Rhett said quietly.
One by one, they nodded.
No protests.
No hesitation.
Because they all knew—
their bodies had already reached their limits.
Wounds large and small covered them.
Muscles screamed in pain.
Breaths still heavy despite the battle ending.
Harlan stared toward the darkness where Lilya had disappeared.
His lips moved silently—
a prayer only the night sky might hear.
"Please let both of you survive..."
Then they turned away.
Heavy footsteps crossed the withering ruins.
Leaving silence behind.
Lilya kept running.
[Quick Step]
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
Trees blurred past like shadows.
No branches blocked her path.
No roots tried to ensnare her.
Only darkness stretched endlessly before her.
And the sound of her own breathing echoed in her ears.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Since leaving the Elder Treant's remains—
not a single monster had appeared.
No goblins.
No Treants.
No movement.
Even the insects had gone silent.
As though the entire forest held its breath—
waiting.
Lilya hated this silence.
It felt wrong.
Her instincts screamed.
Her eyes remained fixed ahead as the trees grew denser.
Mist thickened.
The air turned heavier.
And then—
[Warning]
[Foreign magical element detected]
Lilya stumbled slightly.
Her eyes widened.
Her heart pounded faster.
But she did not stop.
Foreign magic.
The exact same phrase that had echoed in her ears twice while fighting the hobgoblins.
The moment she realized—
something was deeply wrong.
The moment she became certain—
someone stood behind all of this.
[Warning]
[Source of foreign magical element detected 500 meters ahead]
"...Cecilia..."
The whisper escaped her lips.
Then—
WHOOSH—!!
She accelerated.
Faster.
Sharper.
Her slender body tore through the trees like light forcing its way against the night.
[Quick Step]
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
WHOOSH—
Roots vanished beneath her feet.
Branches blurred past.
Her breathing grew heavier.
But Lilya did not care.
Not now.
Not while Cecilia's name echoed endlessly in her mind.
Cecilia.
Cecilia.
Cecilia.
Lilya kept running.
[Warning]
[Source of foreign magical element detected 200 meters ahead]
The trees began thinning.
The mist slowly faded.
The ground became barren.
No grass.
No bushes.
Only dry soil marked with countless tiny footprints.
Goblin footprints.
And then—
she saw it.
A totem.
An old wooden structure about a meter tall, carved with a grotesque grinning face. At its peak, a dull purple crystal pulsed weakly—
like a dying heart.
"...Goblin Shaman?"
The name surfaced in her thoughts before she realized it.
Lilya frowned.
"Why is it here?"