Rescue In The Long Night
The air inside the warehouse-turned-infirmary was a miasma of blood, sweat, and cheap alcohol used for sterilization. Five healers—three from the refugees and two from Idia's gang moved between the rows of cots with the sluggish movements of the nearly drowned. Their hands glowed with dim flickering light, the Lumite energy sputtering like dying candles.
"No more magic," an elderly healer hissed, stumbling as she tried to close a gash on a militiaman's thigh. "My veins feel like they're full of sand. If I cast one more [Lesser Heal], my heart will stop."
Idia sat on a crate near the entrance, her broken leg splinted with table legs and wrapped in torn sheets. A healer had managed to knit the bone back together enough to bear weight, but the muscles were still a tapestry of bruising. She gritted her teeth as she tightened the straps on her boot.
"Save your mana for the criticals," Idia ordered, her voice rough. She looked over at Old Man Jerry, who was lying on a cot nearby, his chest heavily bandaged. The massive foreman looked deflated, his skin grey. "How's the old man?"
"Stabilized," the healer replied, wiping sweat from her brow. "Internal bleeding stopped. But he won't be swinging that hammer anytime soon."
Idia nodded, We're running on fumes. If they hit us again now, we're done.
Suddenly, the warehouse doors creaked open. A gust of cold wind blew in, carrying the scent of frost.
Every head turned. Their weapons were raised at the direction.
A figure stepped into the light. He wore the robes of an Eclipse Priest, but instead of the usual indigo, his were trimmed with white fur, and frost crystals clung to the fabric.
"Don't shoot!"
Hearing that, Idia's eyes widened. "Stanley?"
"Took you long enough to notice," the 'Priest' pulling back his hood to reveal a young man with pale skin and white hair—classic signs of a Cryomancer lineage. Behind him, a stream of civilians began to shuffle in: men, women, children, all covered in mine dust but alive.
"Stanley!" Idia limped forward and embracing her lieutenant. "You crazy bastard! I thought you were dead or converted!"
"Almost got caught twice," Stanley laughed, his breath puffing in cold clouds. "Turns out, if you freeze water into a fancy shape and mutter nonsense about 'eternal cold,' these cultists will believe anything. I've been masquerading as 'High Priest Frostbite Edward' or some shit for three days."
"The civilians?" Idia asked, looking at the ragged group.
"Mine Pit Seven," Stanley reported, his expression sobering. "We broke them out during the chaos. Listen, Boss. The mines are in revolt. The prisoners are fighting back with pickaxes and shovels. Estella pulled almost every Enforcer and Thrall to the surface to hunt for... well, whatever pissed her off."
"That would be Asep," Idia muttered.
"Right. And there's more," Stanley continued, pointing east. "Big boom-booms over at the East Gate. I saw flashes on the horizon. Someone's knocking on the front door, and they're knocking really hard."
Idia's golden eyes flared with renewed hope. "Castalia. The diversion."
She turned to Adeline, who was coordinating the food distribution for the new arrivals.
"It's happening," Idia said. "The East Gate is under attack. Estella is distracted chasing Asep. The mines are rebelling. This is it. The window is open."
Adeline nodded and grabbed her crossbow. "Then we don't wait. We link up with the miners, secure the civilians, and get ready to punch out."
____
-West District - The Labyrinth-
"Crazy bitch. Crazy bitch. Absolutely, undeniably, batshit crazy bitch."
Asep vaulted over a low wall, narrowly missing a splatter of violet energy that dissolved the stone where his foot had been a second ago. He landed in a roll, coming up sprinting without breaking stride.
"Hah! I see you!"
Estella's voice floated through the air, melodic and terrifyingly close. She wasn't running. She was gliding, hovering a few inches off the ground, drifting through walls and obstacles like a vengeful ghost.
Asep pumped his legs, his lungs burning. He'd been running in circles around the West District for what felt like hours, leading the High Overseer on a merry chase through every alley, ruin, and sewer pipe he could find.
"This is not how I imagined being wanted by a beautiful woman!" Asep wheezed, ducking under a clothesline. "Usually there's dinner first! Or at least a drink!"
Space distorted with a loud boom to his left, imploding a fruit cart into a singularity of wood splinters and rotten apples.
"I mean, sure, it's nice to be desired!" Asep yelled over his shoulder, drifting around a corner like a rally car. "Ego boost and all that! But I prefer my relationships without the threat of genetic experimentation and forced breeding!"
"Do not be shy, my precious specimen!" Estella cooed at him, drifting through the wall of a building Asep had just run around. "Your endurance is magnificent! Your genes must be exquisite! Imagine the children we could create! Perfect beings! Unshackled by Lumite!"
"Lady, you're moving way too fast!" Asep scrambled up a pile of rubble, parkouring onto a rooftop. "We haven't even held hands yet! At least buy me a pack of cigarettes first!"
He reached the edge of the roof and looked down. A twenty-foot drop into a narrow alleyway filled with trash.
"Dead end?" Estella's voice came from right behind him.
Asep spun around. She was floating there, ten feet away, her teal eyes glowing with that terrifying mix of lust and scientific curiosity. She raised a hand, fingers curling.
"Caught you."
Asep grinned, reaching into his pocket.
"Nah. Just waiting for the bus."
He pulled the pin on his last Smoke Bomb and dropped it at his feet.
*FWOOMPH.*
"Again?!" Estella shrieked in annoyance.
By the time she waved the smoke away, the roof was empty. But in the distance, towards the western ridge, a horn sounded. A deep, resonant blast that cut through the night.
And then, the sound of thundering hooves.
Asep, currently halfway down a drainpipe, looked towards the sound and let out a breathless laugh.
"Timing, Stark. Your timing is impeccable."
_______
-Renjiran Mountain Pass - Approaching the West Gate of Roake-
The ground trembled beneath the stampede.
120 riders surged down the slope like an avalanche of muscle and steel, the claws of their mounts tearing deep furrows into the hardpacked earth. The narrow pass had widened into a killing field—a stretch of barren, rocky ground littered with the rusted remnants of abandoned mining equipment and corpses too old to identify.
Stark leaned forward in his saddle, his armored mount bellowing a guttural screech as it devoured the distance. The vibrations of the charge resonated through his bones, the sounds of hundreds of clawed feet synchronizing into a violent drumbeat.
The Four-Winged Raven swooped down from the sky, its iridescent feathers catching the faint moonlight. It glided beside him, matching the breakneck speed with terrifying grace.
"Stark. Status." Zachary's voice filtered through the familiar, distorted by the rushing wind.
"We are hitting the funnel!" Stark shouted, "The outer perimeter is in sight! I can see the lights of the western district burning!"
"Good," Zachary replied, his voice calm amidst the static. "The main force is in position at the East Gate. Sylvanne is primed. We launch the diversion on my mark. Once we start, I want you to reinforce the resistance and wait for Orwella and the Avalon Knights to come. They're preparing the wagons and will further reinforce the supply line."
There was a pause, then the sound of steel being drawn on the other end of the connection.
"Sylvanne. Light the sky."
-East Gate of Roake - The Coalition Main Force-
Thousands of torches flickered in the darkness below the imposing stone walls of Roake's main entrance. The Coalition force , a patchwork army of mercenaries, bandits, beastkin warriors, and desperate militiamen stretched across the valley floor.
At the front, Sylvanne stood atop a siege tower, her massive cleaver-like greatsword resting casually on her shoulder. She grinned, her crimson eyes alight with manic joy.
"Alright, you beautiful bastards!" she roared, her voice carrying over the murmuring ranks. "The Boss says it's party time! Let's show these freaks how we say hello!"
She pointed her blade at the gate.
"Loose!"
Behind her, a battery of trebuchets and crude catapults groaned as their counterweights dropped.
Instantly, dozens of projectiles soared into the night sky. But these weren't just rocks. They were barrels of oil, bundles of fireworks, and bales of straw soaked in pitch.
They arched over the walls and smashed into the city beyond.
Explosions of fire and color erupted across the East District. Fireworks screamed and corkscrewed through the air, painting the sky in violent shades of red, green, and gold. Oil fires blossomed like hellish flowers, illuminating the panicked cultists on the ramparts.
"Erik! Break the door! Corgan, you and the other bandits loot anything valuable! Others! Show them your anger!" Sylvanne yelled, leaping from the siege tower toward the wall. "CHARGE!"
With a roar that shook the mountains, the Coalition surged forward.
______
-West District-
Stark heard the explosions echo from the other side of the city. He also saw the distant sky light up with an artificial dawn.
"Whatever that was, it sounds loud!" Karl yelled from his right, grinning maniacally as he leveled his spear. "Meathead is excited!"
His raptor mount squeaked and snapped its jaws at the air, clearly sharing its rider's enthusiasm.
"The West Gate is just ahead!" Karl pointed with his spear tip. Through the gloom, the outline of a sturdy wooden gate reinforced with iron bands loomed. Torches flickered on the walls, and startled shouts erupted from the cultist sentries.
"Brace for impact!" Karl screamed.
Stark didn't slow down. He didn't signal a halt. Instead, he raised his lance.
"Lancers! Wedge formation! Target the gate!"
The company shifted fluidly, forming a sharp chevron behind him. The tips of their lances lowered in unison, a forest of steel aimed at the wood.
"For Ardenia! For the Fallen!" Stark roared.
"OYAAAAAH!"
The mountbeasts shrieked.
A volley of arrows flew from the walls, pinging harmlessly off the heavy plate of the vanguard or missing entirely in the darkness. The cultists were disorganized, panicked by the sudden assault from their blind spot.
The moment of impact was cataclysmic, Stark's mount slammed into the gate first, its armored skull acting as a battering ram. Wood splintered. Iron groaned. The sheer kinetic energy of a multi-ton beast moving at full gallop was too much for the aged timbers.
Behind him, Karl and the others slammed into the breach.
With a shriek of tearing metal, the West Gate exploded inward.
Shards of wood flew like shrapnel. The gate collapsed, crushing two unfortunate cultists beneath it. The cavalry poured into the breach like water bursting through a dam, trampling everything in their path.
"Push through! Don't stop!" Stark commanded, skewering a cultist with his lance and discarding the body with a flick of his wrist while his giant mount stomped them. "Find the resistance! Look for the warehouse!"
They thundered down the main avenue of the West District, cutting down confused patrols and scattering cultists like leaves in a storm. The sudden violence of their arrival was absolute.
"Whoo-hoo!" Karl laughed, swinging his spear in wide arcs, knocking zealots off their feet. "I love the smell of breached gates in the evening!"
______
The sudden collapse of the West Gate sent a shockwave through the cultist ranks. The disciplined fury of the resistance had been one thing, they're a persistent nuisance like a thorn in the foot. But a breach? An armored cavalry charge thundering down their backs? That was a knife to the throat.
Horns blared, panicked and discordant.
"Cavalry! From the rear!"
"Regroup! Form up at the intersection! Hold the line!"
The cultist Enforcers, realizing their flank was exposed to a stampede of angry raptor-mounts, abandoned their assault on the resistance barricades with desperate haste. They pulled back, shouting orders to drag the lumbering Thralls into a defensive phalanx blocking the main avenue. The pressure on Adeline's exhausted fighters evaporated in an instant, replaced by the chaotic din of the cultists scrambling to avoid being trampled.
____
Meanwhile, deeper in the twisted maze of the West District's older ruins, Asep skidded to a halt.
He was in what used to be a town square, now little more than a cratered expanse surrounded by the skeletal remains of three-story tenements. The ground was littered with rubble, broken carts, and the detritus of a dying city. It was a dead end.
Or a perfect stage.
He turned around, putting his back against a crumbling stone fountain that had long since run dry. He bent over, hands on his knees, and panting theatrically.
"Okay... okay... you win!" he wheezed while holding a hand up. "I surrender! Whatever you call it here!"
Estella floated into the square a moment later. She didn't look tired. She barely looked ruffled, save for a smudge of soot on her cheek from the smoke bomb. Her teal eyes scanned the area, checking for any possible traps or dirty tricks Asep had, before settling on him with a predatory delight.
"Surrender?" She descended slowly, her feet touching the ground with a soft tap. "So soon? I was just beginning to enjoy the chase, my little mouse."
"Yeah, well, my cardio isn't what it used to be," Asep straightened up, wiping sweat from his brow. He leaned casually against the fountain, crossing his arms, though his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "And honestly? You're stubborn. And fast. And kinda terrifying."
Estella tilted her head while a smile curving on her lips. "Is that a compliment?"
"Maybe," Asep said. He looked her up and down, letting his gaze linger deliberately. "I mean, look at you. Powerful. Beautiful. Crazy smart with the whole... biology experiment thing. It's... certainly a package."
Estella's eyes widened slightly. The sheer audacity and the unexpected flattery threw her off balance. She took a step closer, the violet aura around her dimming slightly.
"You... find me appealing?"
"Who wouldn't?" Asep spread his hands. "I mean, aside from the whole 'turning people into rock monsters' thing, you're quite the catch. Great hips for childbirth and uh... Great 'assets' and 'rear', if you know what I mean."
Estella blinked. A genuine blush crept up her neck. For all her madness, for all her forbidden knowledge and twisted power, she had been buried in books and rituals for decades. She wasn't used to being hit head on on. Especially not by a sweaty, sharp-tongued mercenary in the middle of a warzone.
"You speak of... propagation," she murmured, there's a hint of arousal in it. "Yes. We would create magnificent offspring. A blend of worlds. A new dawn. Our child will be able to use the power of Lumite without succumbing to Lumite Assimilation Sickness. They will revolutionize the world!"
She walked closer, now within arm's reach. Her guard was practically nonexistent, dissolved by the unexpected prospect of a willing partner in her twisted eugenics fantasy. She reached out, her fingertips brushing his chest. Asep saw the genuine, terrifying yearning in her eyes. She wasn't lying. She really wanted to breed a super-race with him.
"You agree then?" she whispered, leaning in. "You will join me? Submit to the Eclipse? Be mine?"
"There's a condition though," Asep said softly.
"Name it," she breathed, her face inches from his.
"You gotta tone down the 'crazy cult lady' vibe. Act normal. Like... Like a real human being. Maybe start with... I don't know, not floating everywhere? And definitely fewer speeches about eternal darkness. It's a mood killer, you see."
Hearing that, Estella laughed with a light, tinkling sound. "Is that all? Very well. For you... I can learn to walk among mortals again. We shall build a castle of bones and—"
"See? Bones. Again with the bones," Asep tutted, shaking his head. "We'll work on it."
He smiled at her. It was his best, most charming smile. The one he used to use to get free gorengan from the street vendors back home.
"But first," Asep said, his hand sliding behind his back to the satchel, "we need to warm things up. It's chilly out here."
"Oh?" Estella purred. "You are eager."
"Very."
Asep's fingers closed around a metal cylinder. The prototype he'd borrowed from Treste. The "Portable Heater." It was essentially a canister of condensed, unstable Fire Lumite with a faulty regulator valve that Treste hadn't fixed yet. Asep had jammed a fork into the valve mechanism five minutes ago.
He pulled it out and slammed it onto the rim of the fountain between them.
"Here. Let's make it hot."
He grinned. "Run."
"What—"
Asep immediately vaulted over the fountain and sprinted for the alleyway behind it, diving behind a slab of concrete.
The canister hissed violently. The red runes etched into its surface flared blindingly bright, before exploded.
BOOM!
The explosion caused the fountain disintegrated with a concussive wave of thermal force. The blast wave slammed into Estella before she could raise a barrier, throwing her backward like a ragdoll. The shockwave hit the foundations of the three-story tenement facing the square—a building already weakened by years of neglect.
The structural supports groaned, then snapped.
With a deafening roar, the entire front facade of the building sheared off. Tons of stone, brick, and timber cascaded down, burying the square and the Overseer under a mountain of debris. Dust billowed out in a choking grey cloud, swallowing everything.
Asep peered over his concrete slab and coughing. The square was gone, replaced by a jagged hill of ruin.
"That..." he wheezed, wiping dust from his face, "...ought to keep her busy for five minutes. Sorry, beautiful. You're definitely not my type. Too clingy."
He scrambled to his feet, wincing at the new bruises forming on his ribs, and turned toward the chaotic sounds of battle echoing from the main avenue.
"Time to find Stark."
_____
-West District - Main Avenue-
"Hold the line! Stand your ground!"
Stark's voice cracked with strain, his lance shattered, reduced to a jagged wooden stump in his gauntleted hand. He tossed it aside and drew his longsword.
Around him, the cavalry charge had bogged down. The initial shock had devastated the cultist ranks, but numbers had a quality all their own. The cultists swarmed like locusts, climbing over the bodies of their fallen, jamming spears into the flanks of the mountbeasts, dragging riders from their saddles. The massive Thralls acted as living bulldozers, shrugging off sword blows to smash through the defensive circle the mercenaries had formed.
"There's too many of them!" Karl shouted, blood streaming from a cut on his cheek. Meathead, his mount, was limping, surrounded by a pile of dead zealots. Karl swung his spear like a quarterstaff, cracking skulls with the blunt end. "Where the hell are the reinforcements?!"
"Just keep killing them!" Stark roared back, decapitating a cultist who lunged at him. "Orwella is coming! We just need to—"
Just then, a section of the defensive wall near them exploded. From the dust, a terrifying figure emerged.
It was Estella.
But she was no longer the composed, elegant Overseer. Her robes were shredded, exposing pale skin covered in cuts and bruises. Her hair was a tangled mess. The right side of her face was burned from the explosion, the skin blistering, but it regenerated until it was nothing but a mere bruise. But it was her eyes—her teal eyes—that were truly monstrous. The pupils were blown wide, consumed by a madness so profound it felt physical.
"WHERE IS HE?!" she shrieked, her voice distorted by magical power. The violet aura around her flared uncontrollably, disintegrating the rubble beneath her feet. "WHERE IS MY MATE?!"
She saw the defensive line. She raised both hands, fingers hooked into claws.
"[Spatial Rend]!"
The air screamed.
An invisible blade of distorted space slashed horizontally across the battlefield. Three mercenaries didn't even have time to scream as they were bisected at the waist, their top halves tumbling to the ground while their legs remained standing for a gruesome second, their intestines spilled out their insides to the ground, mixed with blood and shit.
The morale of the defenders shattered almost immediately.
"Monster!" someone yelled and backing away.
Estella floated over the carnage, ignoring the blood spraying onto her ruined robes. She scanned the battlefield frantically until her gaze locked onto a figure near the rear, helping a wounded militiaman.
Asep.
Her bruised face contorted into a smile that was all teeth and obsession.
"FOUND YOU!"
She blurred forward.
Asep looked up, his eyes widening. He barely had time to react.
"Oh, come on!" he yelled, raising his gauntleted arm in a futile guard. "Take a hint, lady!"
Estella closed the distance in a heartbeat and she was close to him now, probably around 50 meters. She didn't get too close because she knew Asep might have another trick up his sleeves.
Instead, she outstretched her hand forward in his direction.
"[Reverse Repulsion]"
Immediately, Asep could feel gravity pull him closer. He scrambled to stay put, digging his heel deep into the ground, but it was useless. He was flying in her direction and now suspended in the air thanks to the grappling hook he had thrown into the nearby building post.
"Come, let us get married... let's have a honeymoon! Let's make children!" Estella said in obsession. "It will be fun, I promise! We will have a hundred of them! All perfect! All mine!"
This bitch is crazy! I regret flirting with her earlier!
Asep thought with cringing face.
His hand gripped the rope tightly, his muscles screaming in protest. Adeline and the others were trying to save him by shooting Estella with crossbows, but the spatial barrier just deflected everything. He was dead meat. He was gonna end up as a dried husk in some basement.
"I do NOT consent!" Asep screamed. "Help! Stranger Danger! Police!"
Estella giggled, "Don't resist me, darling. Resistance is foreplay. We're going to have lots and lots of babies together."
Asep gritted his teeth as his hand slowly lost its grip on the rope. I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die from too much sex!
Suddenly, the sky ignited.
It wasn't the fireworks from the East Gate. It wasn't the dull violet glow of corruption.
It was pure, blinding gold.
From the first crack of dawn cresting over the mountains to the east, a single beam of light tore through the clouds. It descended with the speed of judgment, screeching like a falling star.
Then, it impacted the ground with a loud boom sound.
It struck the ground directly between Asep and Estella. The shockwave was like a physical wall of holy energy. Estella was blasted backward, her barrier shattering instantly under the overwhelming divine pressure. She tumbled through the air, crashing through a stone wall fifty feet away. Asep was thrown in the opposite direction, his rope snapping, landing hard but safely on a pile of sandbags.
Dust and golden light swirled in the crater.
As the debris settled, a single object stood in the center of the impact zone.
It was a standard-pole, made of white steel. And atop it, fluttering defiantly in the wind of its own arrival, was a pure white flag emblazoned with a golden chalice and stylized sword.
The crest of the Avalon Knights.
"Hah..." Stark lowered his sword, staring at the flag. "About damn time."
A moment after the pole landed, the sky opened up with righteousness.
"AVALON KNIGHTS!" A voice as clear as a crystal bell cut through the din of battle, the frequency seemingly designed to bypass the roar of violence and vibrate straight in the soul. "FORM THE PHALANX! PURGE THE DARKNESS!"
From the surrounding hill, they appeared.
Fifty knights, clad in pristine, full plate armor that seemed almost luminescent, marched down in perfect unison. Their shields, emblazoned with the crest, locked together with a resounding CLANG-CLANG-CLANG that sounded like a smith's hammer striking an anvil. They moved as a single, devastating entity of order.
At their head marched Lady Orwella.
She was magnificent. Her golden hair flowed freely behind her, catching the first rays of the sun like spun light. Her armor was less bulky than her subordinates', designed for agility, but her presence was heavier than a mountain. In her hand, she wielded a lance-like standard that doubled as a spear, the tip glowing with consecrated holy energy.
But she wasn't alone.
Beside her, matching her stride for stride, was Princess Adreana.
The Princess had shed her usual royal blues for a suit of white combat logistical armor, practical and sleek. Dawnlight sword in hand, she looked every bit the warrior queen reclaiming her kingdom. Behind them, the reinforcement of Castalia Mercenary poured into the breach.
Estella managed to get up. Now, she was visibly annoyed by the arrival of the unwanted guests into her garden of despair.
"How rude... interrupting a newlywed couple like that. Do you have no shame?"
She raised her hands, the violet aura flaring violently, corrupting the air around her. The sheer pressure of her power caused the ground to crack, purple fissures spreading toward the Knight Phalanx.
"[Abyssal Wave]!"
A massive tide of distorted, corrupted energy surged forward, threatening to swallow the knights whole.
Orwella didn't flinch. She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground.
"[Sacred Bastion]!"
The phalanx echoed her movement, bracing their shields. A dome of translucent golden light erupted from their formation, meeting the violet wave head-on.
With a looud boom, the collision shook the entire district. Light and dark clashed, sizzling and screaming as they tried to consume each other. But the golden dome held firm and uncracked.
"NOW!" Orwella shouted.
Behind the shield wall, archers from the Castalia reinforcement unleashed a volley. But these weren't ordinary arrows. They were tipped with Lumite crystals overcharged with Light mana.
They arched over the phalanx and rained down on the cultist lines. Upon impact, they exploded with blinding flashes of purifying light. The cultists screamed as the holy energy burned their corrupted skin, turning their fanaticism into panic.
"Push forward!" Adreana commanded, pointing Dawnlight toward the enemy. "Drive them back to the abyss!"
The knights advanced, their boots stomping in a terrifying rhythm.
Estella's expression twisted from annoyance to genuine concern. Even with her power, fighting against a Paladin was risky. Not because Orwella was strong—well, she was strong—but because of the incompatibility of their natures.
"This is merely a setback. It's just a setback." Estella convinced herself. "Retreat! All forces, fall back to the Sanctum! We will regroup in the deep!"
She glanced one last time at the battlefield, her eyes searching for Asep. She found him pulling a wounded mercenary to safety.
"Don't think this is over, my love," she whispered, her voice carrying to him on an unnatural wind. "I will come for you. And next time, I won't ask."
With a swirl of her tattered robes, she vanished into a distortion of space, taking the core of her Enforcers with her. The remaining cultists, leaderless and facing an unstoppable wall of holy steel, finally broke. They scattered into the ruins, fleeing like rats from a rising flood.
The battle for the West District was over.
***
"[Greater Healing]!"
Golden light poured from the hands of an Avalon medical cleric, knitting the gash on Stark's arm closed in seconds. He just grunted but didn't complain, his eyes scanning the aftermath of the carnage.
The main avenue was a mess of bodies, both cultist and mercenary, but the area was secure. The blue flags of Avalon and the banners of Castalia flew side by side above the reclaimed walls.
Asep sat heavily on a chunk of fallen masonry, allowing a medic to wrap his bruised ribs. He winced as the bandage tightened.
"Ow. Easy, doc. I need those ribs to hold my insides in."
"Stop complaining, you big baby," Idia limped over, supported by a crutch. Her leg was properly splinted now, and though she looked like she'd gone ten rounds with a meat grinder, her golden eyes were sharp. "You jumped off a roof and face-tanked a crazy lady. A few bruises are a miracle."
"Yeah, well, miracles hurt," Asep grumbled, reaching for a cigarette that still wasn't there. He sighed. "God, I miss tobacco."
His eyes caught a glimpse at the other side of the medical tent. Adeline, Brenda, and the Princess were talking. They were probably discussing the current situation and something heartwarming.
There was no sign that Adeline would look at him, though. Not that he hoped to be seen either. It was just that he felt a strange sense of distance.
Why do I think she would notice me? After all, what I do is merely just my job as a mercenary. He dismissed his own feeling.
But deep down, he knew that he wanted to be seen. He wanted to be appreciated for his hard work. However, he also knew they were nothing but strangers. Acquaintances at best.
Besides, she has suffered enough in these past few months... I shouldn't burden her more with my shitty feelings.
Suddenly, a pouch fell into his lap. And his eyes went wide almost immediately as he could sniff a familiar aroma from it.
"Yo. You look like shit, man." Karl grinned, standing beside him. "Here. A gift from a friend."
Asep picked up the pouch. His hand was trembling and he was practically tearing up.
"Is this... Where did you find it?"
"A gift from Rashid. He said he managed to smuggle some tobacco from Qurtuba. It ain't much, but it's honest work."
"Rashid... Man, remind me to kiss that desert dweller later."
Asep opened the pouch with a shaky hand, took a pinch of dry tobacco leaf, and rolled it with a paper. His hand moved fast. Like a mechanic disassembling an engine. He licked the paper, sealed it, and put the cigarette between his lips.
"Light?" Karl offered a tinderbox.
"Thanks."
Fwoosh.
Asep took a deep drag. The smoke burned his throat in the most wonderful way. His nicotine receptors in his brain fired up like a Christmas tree. The edge of pain receded. The chaos in his head quieted down for now.
"Oh yeah..." He exhaled a thick cloud of grey smoke. "That's the stuff."
"Let's drink outside. This place reeks of herbs and blood." Karl patted Asep's shoulder.
"Yeah. Sure."
_____
Adeline's gaze drifted, following his back as he left the tent.
He walked with slumped shoulders. His back was lonely. As if he was carrying the weight of the world alone.
"Are you not going to talk to him?" Adreana asked gently.
"N-Not yet. I'm..." She looked down at her own attire. Blood still stained her tunic and sweat matted her hair. "I... I look terrible."
Brenda smiled knowingly. "He doesn't strike me as a man who cares about appearance, Adeline. Besides, he seemed... rather disappointed when you didn't look at him. From what I heard, he risked his life just to see you."
Adeline blushed. "I know... It's just... After what he has done for us, saying 'thank you' seems not enough. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to him."
"Just say what's in your heart." The Princess said. "He is a simple man. I'm sure he would appreciate it."
"I... I'll try."
Adeline looked at the tent exit again. She gripped her skirt tightly.
Maybe later. She thought. When everything is over.
Just then, Roy and Mark entered the tent and went to Adeline.
"Adeline, the wagons are here. We'll move the wounded and the injured miners to Loriana. Me and the other militia will stay here."
Mark reported. "You should rest, you've been commanding the militia for nearly 36 hours straight."
"I... I can still help. I'm fine. How about the others? Old Man Jerry and Idia?"
"The old man is fine. And Idia is with Stanley. She's organized the former gangs to clean up the rubble."
Adeline nodded, satisfied with the answer. "I see..."
As if the burden on her shoulders had been lifted, Adeline staggered for a second before shaking her head.
No. I can't rest yet. There are still people who need my help.
"Alright. Let's send the wounded to the wagons."
With that, Adeline went back to work, putting aside her personal feelings for the sake of the greater good. Just like Asep did.