The sun came up the next morning like it was embarrassed to show its face.
Pale yellow light leaked through smoke holes in the ceiling, catching on broken crystal shards and pooling in the black ichor that still hadn't dried. The air smelled like burnt hair and copper pennies. Every few minutes a distant groan of collapsing stone reminded everyone the Haven was still deciding whether to finish falling down.
I sat on a chunk of fallen pillar outside what used to be the eastern garden, knees pulled up, staring at nothing. My armor was half-unbuckled, one elbow guard dangling by a strap. Dried blood cracked on my knuckles every time I flexed my fingers. My dick felt raw and useless, like it had finally realized the party was over and gone home without telling anyone.
I kept replaying the same stupid thought on loop:
I killed a Titan. A literal world-ending monster. And I still feel like the same awkward fuck-up who once spent three hours rehearsing how to say "hi" to a barista.
Kaelith found me first.
She limped over, glaive used as a crutch, one side of her face swollen purple. She didn't sit. Just stood there looking down at me like I was a disappointing report card.
"You gonna sit here feeling sorry for yourself all day, or help move bodies?"
I laughed. It came out wet and ugly.
"I'm the big hero, right? Shouldn't I be giving a speech or something? 'We shall rebuild!'" I waved my hand vaguely at the wreckage. "Except I don't know how to rebuild shit. I barely know how to fold laundry."
She snorted.
"You killed the thing that just murdered most of our people in under ten minutes. That buys you some grace. Doesn't buy you a personality transplant."
She dropped down beside me anyway. Winced when her bad leg hit the ground.
"Eighty-four percent," she said quietly. "That's the number we're working with. Eighty-four percent of everyone who wasn't a Circle member or a direct combatant is gone. Kids. Gardeners. The girls who made the scented oils. The ones who used to giggle when you walked past."
I swallowed. My throat felt full of gravel.
"I should've been faster."
"You were fast enough to keep the rest of us breathing."
"Not enough."
"No," she agreed. "Not enough."
Silence stretched. Not comfortable. Just heavy.
Thorne appeared next, moving like she was still trying to sneak up on something that wasn't there anymore. Her usual smirk was missing; her silver hair was matted with dried blood and ash. She didn't say anything at first. Just sat cross-legged in front of me and started picking black ichor out from under her fingernails with a dagger.
"You look like shit," she finally said.
"Thanks. You too."
She glanced up. Eyes red-rimmed.
"I keep thinking about the girl who used to bring me tea every morning. Tiny thing. Always hummed while she poured. She was in the east wing when the Titan came through. I found… pieces."
Her voice stayed flat. Clinical. Like she was reading a grocery list.
I stared at my hands.
"I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything stupid."
Fair.
Vesper limped up last of the Circle. Whip coiled at her hip, one arm in a makeshift sling. She didn't sit. Just leaned against the broken pillar and looked out at the devastation.
"Riven's organizing burial details. Liora's helping the wounded. They're both pretending they're fine. They're not."
She tilted her head toward me.
"You planning to keep moping, or are you going to do something useful?"
I rubbed my face. Felt grit and dried blood flake off.
"I'm not a leader. I'm barely a person. I got isekai'd here, got a magic dick upgrade, fucked my way to OP status, and still managed to let most of the population get mulched."
Vesper's laugh was short and mean.
"Yeah. You're still a pathetic little Earth-boy under all the glowy bullshit. But you're our pathetic little Earth-boy. And right now that's what we've got."
She pushed off the pillar.
"So get up. Stop acting like the only one who's allowed to hurt. There's work."
I looked between them.
Kaelith, scarred and steady. Thorne, quiet and bleeding inside. Vesper, angry and honest.
They weren't waiting for inspiration. They weren't waiting for me to become someone heroic.
They were just waiting for me to move.
I stood.
Legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
"I'm not good at this," I said.
Kaelith shrugged.
"None of us are. We'll figure it out. Or we'll die trying."
Thorne finally sheathed her dagger.
"First step: stop sitting in your own filth. Second step: help Riven with the pyres before the bodies start rotting in the heat."
Vesper smirked. First real one I'd seen since yesterday.
"And third step: when you're done crying, come find me. I need to whip someone until they remember they're still alive."
I managed a weak laugh.
"Romantic."
"Shut up and move, Chosen."
I moved.
We spent the day hauling bodies.
Sorting the dead from the barely-breathing.
Stacking pyres because burial wasn't practical anymore.
Every time I lifted a small, pale frame I felt something inside me crack a little more.
But I kept lifting.
Kept carrying.
Kept breathing.
By dusk the pyres were ready.
Hundreds of them.
Silver hair glinting in the firelight like broken moonlight.
Riven lit the first one with a spear thrust that sparked violet.
The flames caught fast.
Smoke rose thick and black.
No prayers. No songs.
Just silence and the crackle of fire.
When the last pyre was burning I stood at the edge of the garden crater, watching embers drift upward like dying stars.
Liora found me there.
She didn't say anything. Just slipped her small hand into mine.
Her fingers were cold.
We stood like that until the fires began to die down.
Somewhere in the distance, deep under the Haven, something rumbled.
Not the Titan.
Something smaller.
Something still waking up.
I squeezed Liora's hand.
"We're not done," I said.
She nodded against my arm.
"I know."
The night settled over the ruins like a shroud.
But under the ash, something stubborn was still breathing.