Chapter 276

The dawn following Olivas’s defeat signalled the fifth of the promised seven days of death.

A somber, bruised purple stained the eastern horizon, battling feebly against the encroaching ashen clouds that once again gathered overhead.

They weren't merely weather; they were a pall, a tangible marker of the city’s torment, as if the very sky itself acknowledged the grim cessation of the previous night’s temporary ceasefire.

But this morning, unlike the chaotic skirmishes of days past, the city was unnervingly silent.

No distant cries, no clashes of steel, no ominous rumbles from the cultists’ disrupted the quiet.

For the weary guards who maintained their vigilant watch in various districts, scanning the desolate streets for any enemy movement, the stillness was almost disappointingly calm.

Yet, this quiet did nothing to alleviate the suffocating tension that clung to every brick and soul within the besieged metropolis.

An eerie, palpable hush lay over the entire city, a breath held collectively before an inevitable scream.

In the sprawling expanse of Central Park, Gareth stood, his broad shoulders squared, his gaze fixed on the city walls that loomed in the distance, dark silhouettes against the bruised sky. Around him, a mélange of battle-hardened adventurers and displaced citizens huddled, the latter having found refuge in the park after their homes were consumed by the ceaseless conflict. Gareth cracked his neck, the sharp pop echoing faintly in the unnatural quiet.

“You’ve been remarkably quiet, evilus,” he rumbled, his voice a low growl of anticipation.

“Ever since last night, not a single peep out of you.”

A small voice, hesitant and slightly tinged with a lingering vulnerability, broke the silence beside him.

“Have they… given up?” Ais tilted her head, her fair hair shimmering in the dim light, her eyes. Last night had been a brutal assault on her psyche, forcing her to confront the vivid nightmares from the past.

First was Alfia, who reminded her of heroes from the past and her father, then there was Draco in his rampaging draconic form, reminding her of the monster that killed them.

“Of course not, dear,” Riveria said softly, her slender fingers gently stroking Ais’s head.

The high elf had spent much of the time since the battle tending to Ais, calming her trembling spirit.

There had been moments when the vividness of Ais’s terror had necessitated a gentle, calming sleep, induced by Riveria’s precise touch.

“They’re just watching us. They still have full control of those walls.” Riveria’s gaze swept across the imposing fortifications, her keen elven eyes missing nothing.

Then, she closed them, focusing, her long, pointed ears twitching almost imperceptibly as they sifted through the city’s hushed symphony.

“If anything,” she continued, a subtle shift in her tone, “most of the noise is coming from outside the city.”

Gareth nodded, a grim understanding spreading across his face.

“Yes, they’re getting ready. There’s a storm on the way; that’s for sure.”

As the seasoned first-class adventurers exchanged these cryptic, weighty observations, the inexperienced Ais struggled to keep pace, her mind reeling from the past and grappling with the unknown future.

Riveria opened her eyes, their emerald depths reflecting a resolute calm.

“Ais,” she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

“Get ready.”

“Ready?” Ais whispered, a knot tightening in her stomach.

“Yes. The final battle approaches.”

Riveria’s gaze lifted, not to the walls, but to the ashen sky, as if addressing her words not just to Ais, but to every weary soul within the city.

“Whatever you can do, whatever there is left to do, make sure it’s done today.”

The declaration hung in the air, a stark, undeniable truth.

………………………………………………………………………….

Far across the city, nestled amidst a quiet district, stood the Astraea Familia home, affectionately known as the Stardust Garden.

Its usually vibrant flower beds, though still meticulously tended, seemed muted under the oppressive sky.

A single figure, cloaked against the morning chill, approached the grand wooden door of the mansion.

She raised a hand, her movement deliberate, and knocked.

The sound, though soft, seemed to reverberate in the pervasive silence.

“Excuse me,” she called out, her voice clear despite a faint tremor, “is Leon here?”

Noin answered the door.

Her eyes widened slightly in recognition, and a moment later she led the visitor into the main parlor.

There, seated near a window, Ryuu’s face, lit up with a flash of raw surprise upon seeing the visitor.

“Adi?” Ryuu breathed, the name a fragile whisper.

Immediately, a cold wave of guilt washed over Ryuu, an icy current that tightened around her heart as she vividly recalled her previous actions, her flight from responsibility.

Adi, observing the sudden shift in Ryuu’s demeanor, allowed a faint, amused smile to touch her lips.

“Cat got your tongue, Ryuu? You haven’t come to see me once since… then.”

There was a playful lilt in her tone, but a deeper current of unspoken emotion flowed beneath it.

Ryuu felt a surge of acute embarrassment, her cheeks flushing.

The memory of her past actions stung with fresh intensity.

She had abandoned the search for her friend, convinced that Adi had perished in the devastating explosion at the evilus base.

Instead of remaining calm, instead of seeking clarity, she had spiraled into an emotional rampage, lashing out at Shakti, blaming everyone but herself.

She had run through the city like a desperate fool, picked a senseless fight with a child, and ultimately, found herself captured by none other than the evilus leader.

Looking back, her path had been a trail of chaos and self-sabotage, causing all sorts of trouble for those around her.

Her gaze fell upon Adi’s missing arm, the empty sleeve of her cloak pinned neatly.

Ryuu’s throat tightened, words catching like sharp shards.

She tried to speak, but only a strangled sound escaped.

“I… I am sorry,” she managed to squeeze out, her voice barely audible, thick with remorse.

Adi sighed, a soft expulsion of breath that carried a hint of weary patience.

“Silly girl. Why are you apologizing?”

There was a light, almost melancholic chuckle from her.

“If anything, I should be the one apologizing. My naive sentiments, my foolish belief, nearly cost me my life, putting my sister and my friends through unimaginable emotional turmoil.”

She waved the stump of her arm, a gesture that was both self-deprecating and starkly practical.

“I…” Ryuu tried again, desperate to articulate the depth of her regret, but Adi silenced her with a firm, albeit gentle, hand gesture.

“Don’t apologize for my mistake,” Adi interrupted, her voice now carrying a subtle edge of annoyance, not directed at Ryuu, but at the situation, at the past, at herself.

It had been difficult enough, she reflected, dealing with her own crushing guilt these past few days, watching from the sidelines while everyone else fought to defend the city.

The raw, visceral feeling of coming so close to death, the stark cruelty of the world, and the bitter realization of her own misguided actions had crippled her, keeping her from the fray.

Now that she had finally mustered the courage and resolve to step forward again, to consider a return to her life as an adventurer, she absolutely refused to relapse into that debilitating state of self-pity or allow Ryuu’s misplaced apologies to drag her back.

Adi’s unexpected outburst caused Ryuu to shrink back slightly, momentarily stunned by the subtle but deep change in her friend.

She had wanted to tell Adi about the path of justice she had painstakingly found for herself, a path illuminated, ironically, by Adi’s own words in the past.

But now, to hear Adi dismiss those very words which had saved her as “naive” was a quite the shock.

“Anyway, Ryuu,” Adi said, her voice softening, clearly recognizing the shift in atmosphere and wishing to steer them away from the thorny path of mutual self-recrimination.

“I came here to fulfill my promise.”

“Promise?” Ryuu questioned, confusion clouding her expressive eyes.

She honestly couldn't recall any particular promises exchanged between them recently.

“Here, Ryuu, take this,” Adi said, reaching into her cloak and handing Ryuu a large, elegantly carved wooden box hanging from her back.

Ryuu took it, her fingers brushing the smooth, polished surface, and slowly opened the lid. Inside, nestled on a large silken cloth, was a perfectly preserved branch, its bark a rich, ancient brown, the wood still radiating a faint, ethereal green glow.

“What? Is this… a holy tree branch?!” Ryuu looked up at her, amazed, her disbelief evident.

Adi nodded, a soft, melancholy smile playing on her lips.

“From the forest, where you were born. It was among those black-market goods we confiscated during my familia’s investigation just prior to the Great Conflict. You know, the case I told you about. Then the war started, and there was never a good chance to return it to you… so I’m doing it now.”

Adi’s gaze lingered on the branch.

“It’s unlikely we’ll be able to return it to your village anytime soon,” she continued.

“So, will you take them instead?”

Ryuu faltered, wavering at Adi’s, heartfelt offer.

“Me? B-but I abandoned that place. I don’t have the right to—” she began, wanting to refuse, feeling unworthy.

“Please take it, Ryuu,” Adi pleaded, stepping closer, her single hand reaching out to gently touch Ryuu’s arm.

“It’s the only way I have left to help you as a friend. As you can see, I can’t really fight by your side for a while.” Adi’s gaze briefly, almost imperceptibly, flickered down to her missing dominant hand, a stark reminder of her limitations.

Going into battle, wielding a weapon with an unfamiliar arm, would only make her a liability, something Shakti had drilled into her with much clarity over the past few days.

“I want you to live, Ryuu. I want my friend to live,” Adi said, her expression now explicitly sad, yet determined.

“I know that you will always rush to the forefront of battle, that it’s in your nature to fight for what’s right. At least with this, you can do much more, and come back alive.”

Ryuu was silent, her long, delicate ears quivering ever so slightly.

Not because she was still wondering whether or not to accept, but because she was desperately trying to keep the raw surge of emotion from creeping into her voice.

She stared at the glowing branch, a tangible piece of her lost home, a gift of hope from a friend she almost lost.

“…Thank you,” she said at last, her voice soft but firm, and she reached out, her fingers closing around the branch, accepting the offering.

As her hand enveloped it, the holy tree branch within the box pulsed with a brighter, warmer light, as if in recognition of the newly re-established link between the girl and her ancestral soil.

“That was all I came for,” Adi said, a faint, bittersweet smile on her face, hiding various complex emotions that threatened to burst forth.

“Good-bye for now.”

With that, she turned swiftly, heading for the door, as if the quiet solemnity of the moment was too much to bear.

But Ryuu, newfound resolve coursing through her veins, stood up from her chair and followed. In the hallway, her voice, clear and strong, resonated after her departing friend.

“Adi…” Ryuu called out, her heart swelling with a promise.

“I will be waiting for you.”

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