Sylva dropped to her knees.
Her hands trembled violently as tears streamed endlessly down her face.
"I'm sorry…"
Her voice cracked, fragile and broken.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
She reached toward Vein's shoulder, but her hand stopped midway. It hovered there for a moment before slowly pulling back, as if even touching him was something she no longer deserved.
"I… I couldn't stop…"
Her breathing came in uneven gasps, each one heavier than the last.
"I knew it was you… but the voices… my thoughts…"
She clutched her head with both hands, her fingers digging into her hair as if trying to tear something out from within.
"I almost killed you…"
Vein lay on the ground, pressing his hand against the wound in his stomach. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words came out.
He had never seen Sylva like this before.
Not cold.
Not angry.
But broken.
Her quiet sobs grew louder, turning into desperate cries.
"I'm not weak!"
Her fist slammed into the ground.
"I can't lose!"
The wind around them began to tremble again. Not violently, but enough to make the grass sway in restless waves.
Vein stiffened.
"S-Sylva…"
He didn't know how to calm her.
And then—
a bottle flew in from the side.
THUD.
It landed right in front of Sylva.
"Elna…?"
Elna stood several meters away, her face pale and her breathing heavy.
"Release all your mana, Sylva!"
Her voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation.
"Now!"
Sylva lowered her gaze toward the bottle. It trembled in her hands as she picked it up. A label was wrapped around its neck.
Mana Absorption Suppressant.
Her fingers shook harder.
Then she nodded slowly.
"…Yes."
Her voice was weak, barely holding together.
"Yes… I know…"
She removed the cap and drank it without hesitation.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then the mana in the air began to tremble.
Not like a storm, but like something being forced out against its will.
Sylva slowly rose to her feet, tears still trailing down her cheeks. Wind coiled around her body, unstable but gathering.
She turned toward Vein.
Without saying a word, she swung her hand.
The wind lifted Vein from the ground and hurled him forward.
"Elna—!"
WHUMP.
He collided with her, and both of them fell hard onto the ground. Elna coughed, but immediately wrapped her arms around him, shielding him from the impact despite her own trembling body.
"Sorry…" Sylva whispered from afar.
Then—
the wind exploded.
Not to attack.
But to purge.
To expel.
A thin black mist began to seep from her body, like smoke being dragged out from deep within her lungs.
Elna gritted her teeth.
"We're leaving!"
She forced herself to stand, supporting Vein despite her shaking limbs.
She ran.
As far as she could.
Behind them, the sound of the wind changed.
It stretched into a long, agonizing scream, like something being torn out by its roots.
Vein turned his head once.
Sylva stood alone at the center of the storm.
Her figure looked small.
Fragile.
And yet—
she did not stop.
She did not give up.
The sound of her magic no longer felt like power.
It felt like sacrifice.
Elna kept running.
The ground trembled beneath their feet as cold air stabbed into their lungs.
And behind them—
the screaming wind continued.
Louder.
Sharper.
More painful than before.
—
Elna finally came to a stop.
Her legs nearly gave out beneath her, but she forced herself to stay upright just long enough to lower Vein carefully onto the ground. Every movement was deliberate, cautious, as if even the slightest mistake might break him further.
Her hands trembled.
"Don't pass out," she whispered.
With shaking fingers, she tore open the cloth covering his abdomen. Blood still seeped from the wound. It wasn't deep enough to kill him instantly, but it was deep enough that, left untreated, death would only be a matter of time.
Elna placed her palm gently over the injury.
"First-tier healing magic…"
A faint green light flickered into existence.
It wasn't bright.
It wasn't dramatic.
Just warm.
Mana flowed from her body in a thin, fragile stream, slow and unsteady. She clenched her teeth as the flow faltered again and again, her reserves already dangerously low.
Even so, she refused to pull her hand away.
"Don't die… please don't die…"
Vein remained silent.
He could feel the warmth spreading slowly through his skin. The sharp sting of the wound dulled bit by bit as the torn flesh began to knit itself back together.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough to stop the bleeding.
Far in the distance—
SUUUUUM—
The wind screamed.
The ground trembled beneath them as rocks collapsed and something massive tore through the hillside. It sounded as if the earth itself was being carved apart again and again.
Explosions echoed through the forest.
Invisible blades of wind sliced through the air.
Another impact followed.
Then the sound of something breaking.
Then a distant landslide.
Vein and Elna didn't move.
They couldn't.
They could only listen.
They couldn't help.
They couldn't go back.
They couldn't do anything.
Every sound pressed against their chests like a growing weight. Every explosion felt like another chance slipping away.
At last, the wound sealed enough for Elna to stop.
Her hand fell limply to the ground.
She stared toward the distant hill, her eyes trembling.
Then suddenly—
she wrapped her arms around Vein.
Her body shook violently.
"Why…" her voice cracked.
"Why does it have to be like this…?"
Her crying was quiet.
Not a scream.
Not a breakdown.
Just the kind of tears that had been held back for far too long.
Vein said nothing.
There were no words that could fix this.
Slowly, his trembling arm lifted and returned the embrace, holding her with the only hand he could still move.
They stayed like that.
Listening.
To the sound of Sylva's magic tearing apart the world above them.
Wind.
Explosions.
Cracking earth.
The air itself screaming as if it were being torn open.
Then—
the sound began to fade.
Slower.
Distant.
Thinner.
Until finally—
silence.
Complete silence.
No wind.
No explosions.
No screams.
Elna let out a small, broken sob.
Vein stared toward the hill.
He didn't know what awaited them there.
He didn't know if Sylva was still standing.
He didn't know if this could even be called a victory.
But for now—
they were still alive.
And that alone…
felt like a miracle too fragile to touch.
—
The silence did not break again.
There were no more screams of wind. No landslides. No explosions.
Only silence.
A silence that stretched for too long.
Vein and Elna remained holding each other, as if letting go now would invite something even worse to take its place. Elna was still trembling, her breathing uneven, her body unable to settle.
Vein could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his chest.
Neither of them spoke.
They simply endured.
Simply existed.
After a long moment, Vein drew in a slow breath.
"We have to go to Sylva," he said.
His voice was weak, but steady.
Elna slowly loosened her embrace. Her eyes were red, her expression fragile, but she gave a small nod. Carefully, she helped Vein to his feet.
His body swayed immediately, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.
Elna supported him from the side, taking part of his weight.
"Don't push yourself," she whispered.
Vein didn't respond.
They began to walk.
Slowly.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
The closer they drew to the hill, the more the world around them changed.
Trees had been cleanly severed in half—not toppled, not broken, but split with unnatural precision, as if a massive blade had passed through them. The ground was no longer even. Long cracks carved across the slope, and shattered rocks lay scattered in every direction.
The marks of violent wind spirals scarred the earth.
No leaves remained.
No shadows.
Only an open expanse of bare ground beneath the harsh midday sun.
The light poured down without mercy—hot, blinding, exposing everything.
At the center of that fractured land, Sylva lay motionless.
Her body looked… smaller.
Not like someone merely exhausted, but like something hollowed out from within.
Her cheeks had sunken inward, dark shadows pooling beneath her eyes. Her skin had turned pale gray, thin enough to appear almost translucent under the sunlight. Faint veins traced across her neck and temples like fading ink.
Vein's breath caught when he saw her hands.
Her arms no longer resembled those of the mage who had stood unshaken only moments ago. Her skin clung tightly to bone. Her knuckles protruded sharply. Her wrists were so thin it seemed impossible she had ever held a staff powerful enough to split a hill.
Her fingers were stiff.
Too long.
Too fragile.
Like dry branches that could snap at the slightest pressure.
Her chest rose and fell slowly—far too slowly.
Each breath revealed the outline of her ribs, one by one beneath skin that looked too thin to protect anything at all.
Even her shadow seemed larger than her body.
As if everything that once filled her—
everything that gave her strength, voice, power—
had been completely drained away.
What remained was only a vessel.
Empty.
Fragile.
Too light to feel real.
Vein felt afraid to touch her.
Afraid that even the gentlest contact
might break her.
Elna released her hold on him and rushed forward, dropping to her knees as she carefully lifted Sylva's head into her lap.
"Sylva…"
Her hands trembled.
"Sylva, are you okay?"
There was no answer.
Only faint breathing.
So faint it felt like it might disappear at any moment.
Vein walked closer, then slowly knelt beside them.
He said nothing.
He couldn't.
Seeing Sylva like this hurt more than the wound in his abdomen ever could.
—
The hill remained silent.
There was no wind, no screaming, no corrupted mana pressing against their minds.
The disaster had ended.
Nothing moved.
Elna still held Sylva in her lap, as if letting go would make her vanish.
Her body felt too light.
Too empty.
"Sylva…"
No response came.
Only that faint, fragile breathing.
Vein knelt beside them, his gaze fixed on Sylva's face.
Not a Second-Rank mage.
Not a member of the Sanctum.
Just a girl who had pushed herself far beyond her limits.
Vein's fingers curled into the still-warm soil.
"I don't want to lose you," he whispered.
It wasn't a vow.
Not a promise.
Just fear finally given a voice.
They had stopped the disaster.
And yet, as Vein looked at Sylva's nearly exhausted body, he understood something he didn't want to accept.
If this is victory… why does it feel like something was taken from us?
This didn't feel like a victory.
It felt like something unfinished.
Like a price that had not yet been fully paid.
And beneath the merciless midday sun—
three people sat on shattered earth.
Alive today.
With no certainty
of tomorrow.