By the time all the injured had been treated, night had fully fallen.
The smell of smoke still lingered in the air.
Mixed with blood.
"I'm tired…" Sabrina murmured, letting out a slow breath.
Her shoulders felt heavy.
Not just from overusing mana.
She lifted her gaze.
In the distance, a few houses still burned with small flames, being contained by exhausted villagers.
Others… not even that.
Some people were simply sitting on the ground.
Still.
Staring.
Unresponsive.
She turned toward Matilda.
The girl was leaning against a tree, observing the village as if it were nothing.
"How many died?"
Matilda didn't answer right away.
Her eyes slowly passed over the bodies covered with improvised cloths.
"Twenty-six villagers."
Her voice was calm.
"Fourteen adult men. Three boys."
A brief pause.
"Five women died fighting."
"…Two girls died while trying to run."
Her expression didn't change.
"Two others killed themselves."
Silence.
"To avoid being violated."
A weak wind blew, shifting the cloth covering the bodies.
Sabrina closed her eyes for a moment.
"Yeah…"
She stepped forward.
"That's the consequence of weakness."
Her voice held no anger.
No sadness.
Only certainty.
"They can only blame themselves."
Nearby, a woman cried.
She held the body of a small boy tightly against her chest.
He had died before they arrived.
Further ahead, a child sat with empty eyes beside someone already gone.
On the other side, a man tried to wipe a woman's face with a cloth.
His hands trembled so much he could barely hold it.
No one knew if it was rage… or grief.
Sabrina watched.
In silence.
Without reaction.
Moments later, hurried footsteps broke the stillness.
Arthur appeared, breathing heavily.
"Are you alright?" Sabrina asked immediately, turning to him.
This time, there was something more in her voice.
Concern.
"Yeah…," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Just tired."
He let out a humorless chuckle.
"One bastard who ran gave me more trouble than he should've."
His eyes swept across the village.
Bodies.
Fire.
People crying.
He looked away.
"And you?"
He stepped closer and took Sabrina's hand.
"I'm fine… just used too much mana," she said, leaning slightly on him.
Matilda crossed her arms.
"I already told the village chief to prepare accommodations."
Her tone cut through the air.
Cold.
"We've done more than enough."
She glanced at the villagers.
Without a trace of emotion.
"Rebuilding is their problem now."
Sabrina nodded slowly.
"Yes…"
"We have our own problems."
At that moment, the village chief approached.
His steps were hesitant.
As if he still couldn't believe he was alive.
"Hello… my name is Demitre."
His voice faltered.
He looked at the three of them.
Then at the ground.
"Thank you… very much… for saving my life."
"And the lives of the people here."
Behind him, people cried for the dead—or vented their anger on the bandits' corpses.
Demitre clenched his fists for a second.
Then steadied himself.
"I prepared a place for you to rest."
"Please… follow me."
---
A short while later, they arrived at his house.
It was one of the few still intact.
Demitre stopped at the entrance.
"I have guest rooms… and hot water for bathing."
He hesitated.
"My wife is preparing food… it would be an honor—"
"That won't be necessary."
Sabrina interrupted gently.
But firmly.
"We only need two rooms."
"We'll leave at dawn."
Demitre nodded quickly.
As if he had expected that.
"I understand…"
He forced a small smile.
"I'm sorry I can't offer more."
"You've done enough," Arthur replied.
Demitre lowered his head slightly and stepped away.
Outside, the sound of crying hadn't stopped.
---
"Let's bathe and rest," Arthur said.
He supported Sabrina carefully.
"We need to leave before sunrise."
As they climbed the stairs…
A scream echoed from outside.
Matilda was the last to go up.
She cast one last look at the village through the half-open door.
Then closed it and followed.
---
While, in one place, the night was filled with grief for the dead…
In Broto Novo village, the night passed peacefully.
Aron woke up in the morning—startled.
He couldn't move.
In an instant, all sleepiness vanished and he opened his eyes.
Once he realized he was in the room, he understood why:
Sophie was clinging to him like a koala.
Arms and legs wrapped around his body.
Warm.
Heavy.
Aron exhaled slowly.
"For a second… I thought I'd died again…" he muttered.
He tried to move.
Useless.
"Mm…?"
Sophie shifted and tightened her grip even more.
Aron froze.
…
Staring at the ceiling.
'Am I going to spend a whole month like this?'
'Does this count as imprisonment?'
He glanced sideways.
'If we were older…'
'…'
'She's not waking up anytime soon.'
'And I just wanted to read a book…'
---
The sun slowly rose over Campo Verde village.
Its light touched the burned rooftops.
The snow in the streets, stained with dried blood.
A pile of bodies still burned, releasing a heavy smell into the air.
The silence was… strange.
Sad.
Heavy.
Where there had once been laughter and life…
Now there was only emptiness.
As they came downstairs, the group found Demitre and his wife waiting.
"Good morning. I prepared breakfast," the woman said with a tired smile.
"Thank you for the hospitality, but we've already eaten and won't trouble you further. You have more important matters to deal with," Arthur replied.
"We still have things to take care of, so we'll be going."
"Please, accept this as a token of gratitude," Demitre said, offering a pouch of coins.
"No need. We helped because we could."
"We didn't do it for a reward," Arthur answered.
"You'll need that money to rebuild… and to pay for awakenings. After what happened, people will want to grow stronger," Matilda added, handing the pouch back.
"Thank you… for everything," Demitre said, emotional.
As they stepped outside, the streets were quiet.
Only a few people walked around.
Exhausted.
Broken.
Arthur sighed.
"Let's go."
"We need to move fast. Things like this will become more frequent."
The three headed north.
"Matilda, when will you receive the next report?" Sabrina asked.
"In three days. Just before we reach the city," Matilda replied.
Sabrina nodded.
"Let's go."
"We still have a long way to the next village."
…
Back in Sophie's room—
"Good morning," Aron said.
Silence.
A sigh.
"I know you're awake. Let's get up—we can't stay in bed all day."
"Nooo…"
"Just a little longer… it's so warm," Sophie murmured.
"No. You've been awake for a while, and I'm hungry."
"Fiiine…," she said reluctantly.
Aron finally freed himself.
"Freedom at last," he muttered, leaving the room.
After greeting Geovana, he went to wash up for breakfast.
Nothing unusual happened.
After breakfast, the kids came to study.
In the afternoon, they played like always.
…
On the morning of the third day—
Aron was staring at the ceiling, as he had been doing since he started sleeping with Sophie.
Then—
He froze.
Something changed.
He felt it.
Deep within his soul.
A connection.
"No… not a connection. It was restored…" he murmured.
"As if it had always been there… just waiting."
He slipped free from Sophie and slowly stood up.
Then looked north.
There was a presence.
Familiar.
And strange at the same time.
His heart started racing.
'This…'
'This has something to do with me.'
He clenched his small fists.
'What is happening?'
'Why am I feeling this?'
'And why now?'
'It's like something is calling me!'
'The worst part is… I can't go.'
'I can feel where it is… and that it needs me… but I can't do anything.'
'I'm only one year old.'
Moments later, as if responding to his thoughts, the sensation weakened.
But the presence remained.
Deep within his soul.
Proving it wasn't an illusion.
'What the hell is going on?'