Chapter 6 — The Weight of the Weak
The memory came quietly.
Like snow falling in a silent field.
---
Years ago.
A training ground sat behind the August family estate, surrounded by tall iron fences and neatly trimmed hedges. Wooden weapon racks lined the walls, and the ground was scarred with hundreds of sword marks from years of practice.
Two young girls stood there.
One held a sword calmly.
The other lay flat on her back in the dirt.
Elvanor August, age thirteen, stood with perfect posture. Her wooden training sword rested loosely at her side. Her breathing was steady. Controlled.
Unbothered.
Her opponent groaned and slowly sat up.
"Ugh… again?"
Elvanor tilted her head slightly.
Her older sister brushed dirt off her clothes before looking up at her.
Then—
She smiled.
"Man… Elvanor, you're so strong."
Her voice carried no bitterness.
Just admiration.
The girl stood up fully and stretched her arms.
Her name was Gloria August.
Elvanor's older sister.
Technically, Gloria should have been the stronger one. She was older by three years, after all.
But reality had never followed that expectation.
Even as a child, Elvanor had been… different.
Faster.
Sharper.
More talented.
Gloria rubbed the back of her head and laughed.
"As your older sister, I should be protecting you."
Elvanor looked at her quietly.
"But I think you'll be protecting me instead."
Gloria grinned sheepishly.
"Always remember something, okay?"
Elvanor waited.
Gloria pointed at herself dramatically.
"Value the weak."
She puffed her chest proudly.
"Because I, your glorious older sister…"
She paused for dramatic effect.
"…am E-rank weak."
Then she burst out laughing.
The kind of carefree laughter that made everything feel lighter.
Like weakness was just a joke.
Like it didn't matter.
Elvanor stared at her.
"…That's not something to be proud of."
Gloria waved her hand dismissively.
"Hey, someone's gotta represent the bottom ranks."
Then she walked over and placed a hand on Elvanor's head.
"But seriously."
Her voice softened slightly.
"The world needs strong people."
Elvanor looked up.
"And strong people should protect those who can't protect themselves."
Her hand ruffled Elvanor's hair.
"So don't forget about people like me when you become some famous hunter, okay?"
Elvanor didn't answer.
But she remembered.
---
Another memory surfaced.
Dark.
Quiet.
Night.
Elvanor stood halfway down the staircase of the August family home.
She had woken up to shouting.
Her small hands gripped the wooden railing as she listened.
Her parents' voices echoed through the living room below.
Her father's voice came first.
Cold.
Harsh.
"I told you this would happen!"
Her mother snapped back immediately.
"How can you say that?!"
"Because it's the truth!"
Elvanor's heart pounded in her chest.
She leaned forward slightly.
Her father's voice continued.
"She was weak!"
The word echoed through the house.
"Going into that dungeon raid was suicide from the start!"
Her mother's voice trembled with anger.
"You're her father!"
"And I warned her!"
"You put those ideas in her head!"
Silence followed.
Then her mother spoke again.
Quieter.
But sharper.
"You kept telling her to prove herself."
"To stop being the weak one."
"You made her believe she had to become stronger to be worthy."
Her voice broke slightly.
"And now she's crippled."
Elvanor's breath caught.
Crippled.
Her mind immediately thought of Gloria.
Her older sister had gone on a dungeon raid earlier that week.
Her father's voice lowered.
"…Weak people shouldn't try to act strong."
Something shattered inside Elvanor that night.
She slowly climbed the stairs back to her room.
Her thoughts spun endlessly.
Her sister.
Gloria.
Weak.
Crippled.
Because she tried to prove something.
Because someone made her believe she had to.
That night, Elvanor made a decision.
A simple one.
If the weak were punished for trying to stand…
Then the strong had a duty.
She would protect them.
No matter what.
---
The memory faded.
Reality returned.
Elvanor stood silently in front of a small apartment building.
The bandages around her arms peeked from beneath her coat sleeves.
The raid had ended yesterday.
Doctors had treated her wounds.
But physical injuries were easier to handle.
The other thing…
The ache in her chest.
That one remained.
In her hands, she held a small bouquet of flowers.
Simple white lilies.
Lucas Dilihavia's address had been easy to find.
Hunter records contained family contact information.
Now she stood in front of his door.
Her knuckles hovered near the wood.
For the first time in years…
Elvanor hesitated.
Then she knocked.
Footsteps echoed from inside.
Light.
Quick.
The door swung open.
A woman stood there.
Mid-twenties.
Dark hair tied loosely.
Tired eyes.
But her expression was bright.
She was already smiling.
"Lucas! You idiot, you—"
The words stopped.
Her smile froze.
Because the person standing outside wasn't Lucas.
It was a tall woman in white, holding flowers.
The woman blinked.
"…Oh."
She forced a small laugh.
"Sorry, I thought you were my brother."
Her smile returned slightly.
"He's not home right now."
Elvanor looked at her.
This must be Sarah Dilihavia.
The older sister.
The one Lucas worked so hard to support.
Elvanor's throat felt tight.
She had delivered many death notifications before.
Hunters died often.
It was part of the job.
But this one…
"…Are you Sarah Dilihavia?"
Sarah nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Elvanor extended the flowers.
"…My name is Elvanor August."
Recognition flashed across Sarah's face immediately.
"The Ice Saint?"
Her smile became slightly confused.
"What are you doing here?"
Silence hung in the doorway.
Elvanor had faced dragons.
Dungeon kings.
Mythic threats.
Yet somehow—
This moment felt harder.
"…Your brother," she said quietly.
"He participated in yesterday's dungeon raid."
Sarah nodded slowly.
"Yes, he told us."
A pause.
Then Elvanor forced the words out.
"…He didn't survive."
The smile vanished.
Instantly.
Like someone had erased it from existence.
For a moment, Sarah simply stared at her.
Then the meaning reached her.
Her hands began trembling.
"No."
The word escaped softly.
"No…"
Her knees gave out.
She collapsed to the floor.
Not crying.
Not screaming.
Just…
Broken.
The sound of something hitting the floor echoed inside the apartment.
Another voice shouted.
"Sarah?!"
Footsteps rushed toward the door.
A younger girl appeared.
Anya Dilihavia.
She stopped instantly when she saw the scene.
Her sister on the floor.
A stranger holding flowers.
No explanation was needed.
Anya grabbed the nearby table.
Her hand tightened around the edge.
Like the world had suddenly tilted sideways.
Her breathing became uneven.
"…No…"
The word barely escaped her lips.
Elvanor stood there silently.
Watching.
Understanding something she had never fully grasped before.
The difference between family love…
And family expectations.
Her father had expected strength.
Expected glory.
Expected success.
But this family…
They had simply loved Lucas.
Weak or strong.
It hadn't mattered.
And now—
That love had been torn away.
Elvanor felt the ache in her chest deepen.
For the first time since the raid…
She understood something clearly.
Lucas Dilihavia had not sacrificed himself for the world.
He had sacrificed himself…
For people like this.
And somehow…
That made his death feel even heavier.
The end.....