Throughout her life, from her birth among the Clans, her modest upbringing, her years of rebellion, and the period in which she drifted closer to the life of bandits, Maereth had always carried a quiet but persistent dissatisfaction.
Her life had never truly been her own. It was the culmination of generations before her, stretching back to the peasant farms of a Lord's estate. They had all pooled their hopes and resources into a single vision: that one day, she would rise, enter the Golden City, and perhaps even marry into the ranks of the Lords.
And yet, she had failed.
Many of her childhood friends now lived comfortable, successful lives. Most of them had forgotten her entirely. On the rare occasions she returned home before leaving for the forests, she would lie.
"Yes, I'll be moving to the Golden City any day now," she would say. "They've already offered me a place to live and work."
They would raise their glasses to her. Call her the pride of the family. Tell stories of the generations who had sacrificed for her future.
And she would smile, and nod.
Then one night, she vanished into the forests.
"Haven't you eaten yet?" a passenger asked her aboard the ship.
Maereth sat still, shivering. She had not yet processed what she had seen Ashar do over the past few nights. Her eyes remained wide, frozen in quiet shock.
"Please, have something. You look like you might faint."
He handed her an apple and a flask of water.
"Thank you," she said, accepting them without hesitation, not even questioning their safety.
"Where are you coming from?"
"The Eastern Forests of the Central Realm."
The man laughed lightly.
"So you're from the Base Dimension? I've only heard stories. That's where the Great Healer is said to live, right?"
"I suppose so. I've only ever heard stories myself."
"Everyone knows the tale. Some Axiom master travelling the world, healing the sick and the blind, never revealing who they are."
Maereth remembered Kareth speaking of the Great Healer, how passionately he would describe him, how he believed such a person must have loved humanity deeply.
To her, it had always felt distant. Unreal.
"And you?" she asked. "Where are you from?"
"Nowhere," the man replied. "I just travel."
"Why?"
"I like seeing new places. New people. It fascinates me. Doesn't it fascinate you?"
"No," she said. "Not really."
"That's disappointing."
As she stared out into the shifting landscapes beyond time and space, her thoughts drifted back.
She was sitting once again with Kareth in the forests, deep into the night while the rest of the Granite Compact slept.
"It's a nice story about the Healer, isn't it, Maereth?" he said.
"It's a bit cheesy," she replied.
"Why?"
"All that talk about loving people… it feels excessive."
"Without a story like that, Maereth, there is nothing. We are nothing more than the animals who hunt and feast on their own kind for survival. We have a lot to learn from people like the Great Healer."
"We don't live like innocent children," she said. "We're here in these forests for a reason. We've hurt people. People have hurt us. Only a fool walks among others with love in their heart."
"Then maybe you don't understand what love is."
"Love is love. Don't overcomplicate it."
"It was love that brought existence into being," Kareth said. "And it is also love that makes someone kill for another. Are those the same thing?"
Maereth hesitated.
"No… I suppose not."
"Love isn't the passionate, burning obsession people sing about," he continued. "It is something quieter. Something enduring."
"How can it be quiet?" she asked. "Isn't it supposed to be the most powerful force there is?"
"People are like keys on a piano. To love one intensely is to reject another. That is not the way. True love is seeing the whole song of humanity, the lonely, the joyful, the broken, the cruel, and accepting them as they are. Only then can you begin to understand what the Healer might have felt."
Maereth had no answer.
She wanted to reject what he was saying, but she couldn't. It stirred something buried deep within her, something she had long forgotten.
How many people had felt that same quiet moment? That strange realisation that, despite everything, they still loved the world?
"But it's easy to speak like that," Kareth said. "Living it is something else entirely. Could you hold onto that love through betrayal, through humiliation, through disappointment? Could you continue to help people, even then?"
Maereth returned to the present, looking back at the passenger.
"You look better now," he said. "Like something has passed."
"Yes," she smiled faintly. "I suppose it has."
"And your friend? The one you arrived with?"
Her smile faded.
She looked down. Her body tightened.
"I… I don't know," she said quietly.
At the back of the ship, Ashar paced slowly, observing everything.
There were guards, likely Second Tier. If he intended to "save" everyone aboard, it would have to be done instantly. One decisive strike.
But how?
He was still only First Tier.
There were ways to defeat structured opponents, automated Second Tier constructs like the Faceless Soldiers, whose movements could be studied and predicted. That was how the Shadow Clan had survived against them.
But living fighters were different. Those who could think freely, adapt, improvise, they were far more dangerous.
Creativity in combat was what made someone truly lethal.
"Are you going to give up, Ashar?" the Old Man's voice echoed.
Ashar activated the Eye of Sophia.
He saw the Old Man walking, laughing. Behind him trailed countless figures in chains, broken, weeping. The sheer number of them unsettled even him. How many were there? Hundreds? Thousands? How many had he taken?
"I will not abandon my mission," Ashar said. "And not because of you."
"Of course," the Old Man grinned. "Kill them all, Ashar. Save them from themselves."
His smile widened.
"That is the love you will offer the world."