For the first time in his life, Edrin Vale did something truly remarkable.
He did not immediately collapse after a fight.
Instead, he stood there.
Breathing heavily. Shaking slightly. Questioning all of his life choices—but still standing.
"…I think I deserve a moment," he said.
Lyra glanced at him. "Take it."
Edrin nodded, then sat down anyway. "I took it more efficiently."
Lyra didn't argue.
The clearing was quiet again, but it felt different now. Not peaceful—just temporarily empty, like something had stepped away but might return at any moment.
Edrin stared at his hands.
"They're still shaking," he said.
"They will," Lyra replied.
"I'm not used to this."
"To what?"
"…Winning."
Lyra was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "Get used to surviving first."
Edrin considered that. "That feels more achievable."
A faint breeze moved through the trees, carrying distant voices.
Edrin frowned. "That's… not wind."
Lyra turned slightly, listening.
Voices.
Multiple.
Getting closer.
Edrin groaned. "Please tell me that's not more Invaders."
"It's not," Lyra said.
"Good."
"It's worse."
Edrin blinked. "Worse?"
Moments later, the villagers returned.
Not just a few this time.
Dozens.
Word had spread.
Fast.
"There he is!" someone called.
"That's the one who defeated three of them!" another said.
Edrin pointed at Lyra. "Again—she helped."
"No, you did it!" a villager insisted.
"We saw the light!"
"You struck the core!"
Edrin stood very still, as if sudden movement might make them go away.
It did not.
They gathered around him, eyes wide with awe and excitement.
Edrin leaned slightly toward Lyra. "I preferred the monsters."
"I told you," she said calmly.
"I thought you were exaggerating."
"I rarely exaggerate."
One of the villagers stepped forward. "You really are the chosen one."
Edrin opened his mouth.
Then paused.
For once, he didn't immediately deny it.
Instead, he hesitated.
"…I'm trying," he said.
The crowd fell quiet.
It wasn't the confident declaration they expected.
But it was honest.
Lyra glanced at him, surprised.
Edrin rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted. "Most of this is still… accidental."
A few villagers exchanged looks.
"But," he continued, "I'm getting better."
Lyra allowed the faintest nod.
"And if these things keep coming," Edrin added, glancing toward the forest, "then I guess I'll keep trying to stop them."
Silence lingered for a moment—
Then someone clapped.
Another followed.
Soon, the entire group erupted into cheers.
Edrin flinched. "That's louder than necessary."
"You'll get used to it," Lyra said.
"I sincerely hope not."
The villagers began talking all at once—asking questions, offering praise, telling exaggerated versions of what they had just witnessed.
Edrin slowly stepped back.
Then another step.
Then turned—
And walked directly into a tree.
The impact echoed.
Edrin slid down slightly.
"…I take it back," he said. "Everything is normal again."
Lyra sighed. "Of course it is."
Despite everything—
The fear.
The danger.
The growing weight of expectation—
Edrin found himself laughing.
Quietly at first.
Then a little more.
"I'm still me," he said.
"Yes," Lyra replied. "Unfortunately."
Edrin smiled faintly.
"…That might be enough."
Lyra didn't respond immediately.
But she didn't disagree.
As the villagers celebrated around them, the sky above remained deceptively calm.
Too calm.
Far beyond sight, the cracks in the sky widened once more.
And something on the other side—
Was beginning to take notice.
Not just of the world.
But of him.