Three days passed.
Arin lost count of how many times he had walked the corridor to Lina's room. How many times he had sat in the same chair, held the same hand, watched the same slow rise and fall of her chest. He ate when Maya brought food. He slept when his body gave out. The rest of the time, he stayed.
The sword was still on his back. He hadn't taken it off. He wasn't sure he could.
Hana came and went. She sat with him in silence, her psionic sense stretched thin, monitoring the gap that was slowly shrinking. She reported her findings to Adanna, then reported them again to Arin.
"It's getting smaller," she said on the second day.
"How much?"
"A little. Not much. But it's moving."
On the third day, Adanna confirmed it.
"Her vitals are more stable. The fluctuations are less frequent. She's responding to the treatment."
She looked at Arin.
"She's fighting."
Arin nodded. He didn't speak. He couldn't.
Ren found him in the corridor that evening.
The lights were low. The facility was quiet. Arin stood with his back against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes on the door to Lina's room.
Ren stopped beside him. He didn't speak at first. He just stood there, his katana at his hip, his presence steady.
"You should rest," Ren said.
"I've been resting."
"You've been sitting in a chair, holding her hand. That's not rest."
Arin didn't answer.
Ren was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke again, his voice lower.
"You're thinking about the man you killed."
Arin's jaw tightened.
"Yes."
"It doesn't get easier."
"Does it ever feel right?"
Ren was silent for a long moment. He looked down the corridor, at the grey light filtering through the window at the end.
"No," he said finally. "It never feels right. But that doesn't mean it was wrong."
Arin turned to face him.
"He was going to kill us, Ren. All of us. I saw it in his eyes. He wasn't going to let us walk out of there."
"I know."
"Then why do I feel like I'm the one who did something wrong?"
Ren met his eyes.
"Because you're human. Because you're not a killer. Because taking a life, even when it's necessary, leaves something behind. A weight." He paused. "You carry it. You don't forget it. But you don't let it stop you."
Arin's hands were fists at his sides.
"What if I can't carry it?"
Ren's voice was calm, almost cold.
"Then you learn. Because if you hadn't done what you did, we wouldn't be standing here. Adanna wouldn't be in that room, helping your sister. Lina wouldn't have a chance." He stepped closer. "You protected us. You protected her. That's what matters."
"And his life?"
"His life was already gone." Ren's voice was flat. "He made his choice when he decided to build that arena. When he decided to trap people. When he decided to kill anyone who stood in his way."
He looked at Arin.
"In this world, there's only one rule. Kill or be killed. No one cares about your reasons. No one cares about your guilt. The only thing that matters is whether you're alive to protect the people you love."
He paused.
"A dead man can't protect anyone."
Arin stared at him.
Ren didn't look away.
"You did what you had to do. Now you live with it. And you keep fighting."
He turned and walked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the silence.
Arin stood alone, his back against the wall, the weight of Ren's words pressing against his chest.
He touched the crystal at his neck.
It was warm.
He walked back to Lina's room.
The room was the same. White walls. White sheets. The machines hummed their quiet rhythm.
Adanna had just finished another treatment. She stood by the window, her back to the room, her hands clasped behind her.
"She's improving," she said without turning. "Slowly. But improving."
"How slow?"
"She might not wake up for weeks. Maybe longer."
Arin sat in the chair beside the bed. He took Lina's hand.
"I'll wait."
Adanna nodded. She left the room.
Arin sat in silence.
He watched Lina's face. The slow rise and fall of her chest. The faint marks on her arms, fading day by day.
"You're getting better," he said quietly. "Adanna says you're fighting. I know you are."
He held her hand tighter.
"Ren told me something tonight. About protecting the people you love. About doing what you have to do." He paused. "I don't know if he's right. I don't know if killing someone can ever be the right thing."
He looked at her face.
"But I know I couldn't let him hurt you. I couldn't let him hurt any of you."
Her fingers moved.
Just a little. Just a squeeze.
Arin froze.
He looked at her hand. At his hand. At the way her fingers had curled around his.
"Lina?"
No response. Her breathing didn't change. Her face was still.
But her hand was still holding his.
He didn't let go.
He didn't call for Adanna. He didn't move. He just sat there, her fingers wrapped around his, and waited.
The monitor beeped. Slow. Steady.
But something had changed.