The wind howled softly across the broken encampment, carrying the scent of ash and ruin. Makeshift tents flapped weakly as night crept in, but no one slept.
Ires sat beside Zenith's unmoving form, her hand brushing against his cold, sweat-slick forehead. He had been unconscious for hours—no sign of waking, no twitch of a muscle. Just the low, slow rhythm of shallow breath.
She stared at him.
"You idiot…" she whispered. Her voice cracked. "You always rush into danger like you have nothing to lose."
The crystal floated silently above his chest, orbiting in slow, lazy circles like a predator keeping watch.
A few paces behind her, voices rose — not in whispers anymore. The survivors had gathered.
"He's the one who drew them here."
"The crystal… it's unnatural."
"He's not just a threat — he's a beacon for death!"
"That thing in his body — it's a curse!"
Ires stood, her eyes narrowing.
"He's not a curse. He's the reason we're still breathing."
The camp commander stepped forward — a stern man named Commander Jaro, his left arm still bandaged from the last raid. His face was heavy with conflict.
"You know I'm grateful to both of you," he said quietly. "But I have to protect the rest of these people. That crystal… it's dangerous. It brought the Eaters straight to our doorstep."
Ires clenched her fists. "And what do you think happens when the next wave comes and you don't have someone like him to stop it?"
Jaro looked down, guilt tightening his expression.
"We've voted. The others want him gone. If he stays, the camp won't survive the next attack. I… I tried to reason with them."
Ires's lips trembled, but her voice remained steady. "So you're just throwing him away?"
"We're giving you the choice. Either you stay… or you take him and leave."
She turned her back on him without answering.
Hours later, as dawn began to break over the horizon, Ires adjusted the makeshift cart she had fashioned out of an old merchant wagon, now patched with torn cloth and bent wheels. Zenith lay inside, still unmoving. His skin looked paler than usual.
The crystal hovered low now, its glow dimmer — but still pulsing.
As she tightened the last strap around him, readying to leave, the camp gathered silently. Eyes followed her like shadows — a mix of pity and fear.
Jaro stepped out from the crowd one last time.
"You're a good warrior, Ires. You belong here. You don't have to leave with him."
She looked back at him, her brown eyes tired but burning.
"You're wrong," she said softly. "I do."
And with that, she turned the cart around and pushed it forward — out of the camp, into the cold unknown.
No one stopped her.
No one dared.
The gate closed behind her with a finality that echoed deep in her chest.
As the rising sun crept over the horizon, painting the ruined world gold and gray, Ires walked steadily down the lonely road, Zenith's lifeless body behind her — and her mind set like iron.
She didn't know where they were going.
But she knew she would not let him face it alone.
Darkness.
Not silence—darkness.
It pulsed, alive with weight and whispers, like an ocean of ink folding endlessly over itself. Zenith stood in it — or floated — uncertain. There was no ground, no sky, only void and thunder.
Then came the storm.
A swirl of black clouds erupted before him, towering and vast, crackling with tendrils of black lightning. It churned with malevolent energy, alive, watching.
From its depths came a voice — heavy, ancient, laced with power and fury.
"You dare throw yourself to death?"
Zenith flinched. "You… you watched everything, didn't you?"
"You are bound to me. Of course I watched."
The storm coiled tighter. Lightning licked the air, forking past Zenith's shoulder. A rumble deeper than sound vibrated his bones.
"If you die, I fracture further. If I fracture further, I disappear. I will not be extinguished because of your foolish sense of heroism."
Zenith balled his fists. "So what, I was supposed to watch them die?"
"Yes."
The word echoed.
"They are insignificant. Insects scurrying from the fire. You—you are the only vessel capable of uniting the fragments. You don't risk that for insects."
Zenith's breathing grew ragged. "Those 'insects' are people. That crystal came into their world, not yours. You may be a god, but this is still my life."
The storm surged, roaring around him. Thunder cracked like war drums.
"You think this is about life? About choice?" Chaos growled. "You are mine now, Zenith. You carry a shard of my will, my essence. And if you die, that shard dies with you. If I am to be whole—if the World Eaters are to be destroyed—you must survive. Even if it means letting thousands fall."
Zenith stepped forward, unshaken by the towering mass before him.
"I'm not your puppet. If we're going to stop them… if you really want me to help you, then don't ever try to control me again. I'm not just a vessel — I'm me."
The lightning ceased.
The clouds shrank, drawing inward like a beast retreating to its den. Chaos didn't speak. But for a moment, Zenith could feel its eyes—its presence—pulling away.
Then—
"We shall see."
A flash of light split the void—
—and Zenith gasped awake.
The dream shattered like glass, replaced by dull wooden walls and the smell of earth and herbs. His vision spun, chest rising and falling in slow, painful waves. Sweat clung to his skin. He was lying on a thick bundle of cloth in a warm, dimly lit cabin.
"Zenith?"
His eyes shifted.
Ires sat beside him, arms wrapped around her knees, red-rimmed eyes blinking rapidly as tears gathered. She moved closer, hand trembling as she touched his wrist.
"You're awake," she whispered, smiling through the relief. "You're really awake."
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. Ires quickly reached for a wooden cup of water and helped him sit up just enough to sip.
After a few sips and a deep breath, his voice rasped out. "Where… are we?"
"We found an abandoned farmhouse outside the northern ridge," Ires said softly. "I pulled you here after we left the camp."
Zenith blinked slowly, the memories returning in pieces — the battle, the surge of power, the crystal's refusal to help… then Chaos taking over.
"I blacked out," he muttered. "How long?"
"Almost three days." Her eyes clouded. "You wouldn't wake up. Your body was burning like fire. I thought… I thought I'd lost you."
He looked at her for a long moment. "The camp?"
"They kicked us out," she said plainly. "Said you were dangerous. Said that thing"—she nodded toward the floating crystal, now hovering quietly in the corner of the room—"would bring more death."
She looked away, the anger barely hidden in her voice. "They forgot how you saved them. Just like that."
Zenith sighed, then glanced at the crystal. It floated innocently now, no trace of the storm that had consumed him.
"…It refused to help," he whispered.
"What?"
"I begged Chaos to save them. He didn't care. Not until I was dying."
Ires narrowed her eyes. "That thing really has a mind of its own, huh?"
"Yeah," he said. "And it's not friendly."
They sat in silence for a moment before Ires spoke again.
"I don't know what's ahead," she said. "But I do know this — I'm staying with you, Zenith. Crystal or not. God or not."
He looked at her.
And for the first time in days, he smiled faintly.
"…Thanks."
Outside, a wind stirred the trees — and somewhere, far off in the crumbling world, Chaos watched in silence.
Waiting.
Planning.
And the crystal glowed softly in the shadows.