If anyone ever told you that love makes you stronger, they're lying. It makes you stupid. Beautifully, catastrophically stupid. Because right now, I'm kneeling in the dirt, trying to stuff Yan's soul back into his body with sheer emotional determination and a half-broken magic core.
"Come on, you stubborn disaster," I muttered, pressing my glowing hands to his chest. "Don't you dare die on me. I am not explaining this to the system again."
Yan didn't respond. Which, for someone who never shuts up about 'fate' and 'duty,' feels deeply unfair. His skin was pale, his breathing ragged. The mark across his collarbone pulses weakly, like a dying ember.
And me? I was barely holding myself together. My vision kept flickering, my veins burning with molten light.
[Host vitality at 14%. Continued energy output will result in termination.]
"Termination, huh?" I laughed, voice trembling. "That's your fancy way of saying 'you'll die,' right? Real comforting."
