More wolves poured from the trees—around seven, maybe more. Their glowing eyes cut through the darkness, fixed on their prey. They were fast, too fast. Ascendants.


    The situation was getting worst


    Nemsus gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on lunia. She was making it harder to move, her weight dragging against his exhausted body not just that hé was holding back Moving too fast in this cold can hert her, her face was a mess, she was Stell bleeding.


    But he was still ahead—still leading the charge. He was an Ascendant too, after all.


    Delilah and Nero were behind him, throwing whatever they can at the wolfs


    Roan, however, was barely keeping up.


    He lagged behind, every step a struggle. His injuries from the fall had already drained him, and now, with the wolves closing in, survival was slipping further from his grasp.


    Nero didn’t waste time. He hurled fireballs back at them, one after another. The flames flared bright against the night, forcing the wolves to halt.


    But this was taking his mana down in a fast rate


    They snarled, hesitating, Afraid.


    That was good. They’d probably never encountered fire before. But it wouldn’t last.


    They would figure it out soon. The moment they realized it couldn’t truly hurt them.


    “We won’t make it,” Nero thought, his mind racing. His eyes darted in every direction, searching for a solution, but nothing—nothing—would save them in time. The wolves were closing in.


    Soon, they would be upon them, and then… it would be over.


    His gaze flicked to his sister. Delilah wasn’t looking at him—she was watching Roan, struggling at the back of the group, barely keeping up. Then, slowly, she turned toward Nero.


    He reconized that expression


    He understood what she wanted to say


    No words were needed.


    He looked away from her and toward Nemsus, who was still leading the way, pushing forward.


    Nero exhaled sharply and turned back to Delilah again. “Should I do it?”


    “No,” she said without hesitation. “I will.”


    He clenched his jaw but nodded. “then Wait,” he told her, then turned his focus to Nemsus.


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    “Nemsus! Slow down!”


    Nemsus didn’t argue. He only slowed his pace, his steps growing hesitant as he fell back slightly. His breath was heavy, his muscles screaming from exhaustion, but he still turned to Nero when he spoke.


    "Give her to me."


    Nemsus hesitated. Confusion flickered in his eyes


    why?


    Just do it whould you


    Nemsus was confused about what Nero exactly wanted to do but he still gived him the girl


    Lunia whimpered, her tiny fingers clutching at Nemsus’ clothes even as she was pulled away. She was shaking—whether from pain, fear, or the bitter cold, he couldn’t tell.


    Her face was pale, her breaths shallow, her face still bleeding, her body limp in Nero’s arms who catched her


    Nero adjusted his hold, cradling her with one arm, his grip unyielding but steady. His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unwavering.


    "Endure this."


    His voice was low, steady—an order, not a comfort.


    With his free hand, Nero pressed a flame against lunia''s wounded eye. Her skin blistered instantly. A piercing scream tore through the forest, raw and agonized.


    "What the hell are you doing?!" Nemsus shouted, his voice shaking with panic.


    "Stopping the bleeding, can''t you see?"


    "You could''ve just given her to Delilah!"


    "Delilah is a mage, Nemsus, not a miracle maker. We don’t have that time!"


    Nemsus started cursing but hé didn''t pull her from him


    Delilah was in the back hurling shards of ice at the wolves, sharp as daggers, forcing them back with each strike. They were almost there triying to reach roan.


    Meanwhile, Nero pressed his hand against Lunia’s ruined face, fire searing into her flesh.


    Her screams tore through the night, raw and agonized, each wail like a dagger to the ears.


    Too loud hé thaught


    She thrashed weakly, her body instinctively trying to push away from the source of the pain, but Nero held her firm. His jaw clenched, his mind focused on one thing—stopping the bleeding.


    The acrid scent of burnt flesh filled the air, thick and suffocating. Nero grimaced and quickly channeled his Darkness mana, smothering the scent before it could spread. The last thing they needed was for the wolves to pick up the stench and grow more frenzied.


    Finally, he pulled back, his breathing heavy. He looked at the wound. It was an ugly sight—twisted, blackened skin where her left eye used to be. But it was done. The bleeding had stopped.


    Lunia''s body went limp. She had fainted.


    Nero exhaled sharply before turning to Nemsus, his expression unreadable.


    "This should be enough," he said, his voice flat, emotionless. "It''ll keep her alive for now."


    Without another word, he handed the girl back.


    Then he glanced back at Roan, a flicker of something almost like pity in his eyes before he turned away, hurling another volley of fireballs to keep the wolves at bay.


    That would give Delilah the time she needed to do what had to be done.


    Their breaths were growing heavier, exhaustion clawing at their bodies. They had been running for too long—fleeing from the village, scaling the mountains, descending into the depths of unfamiliar terrain. And now, ascendant beasts were hunting them down, relentless and unyielding.


    They weren’t in good shape mentally either. Ever since the day began, they had been in constant danger, barely given a moment to breathe.


    Nero’s gaze shifted to Delilah. She met his eyes and understood immediately.


    They were running out of time.


    She had to do it now


    Her attention turned to the weakest among them—Roan. He was barely keeping up, his steps sluggish, his face ghostly pale from blood loss. Every movement was a battle, every breath labored.


    She remembered him—remembered the day Viser brought him along. Roan had been the first kid to join them after her and Nero. A quiet boy, always keeping to himself. Viser never told them where he had found him, only that he was part of the family now.


    Delilah exhaled, steadying herself.


    She threw her sword at him—not the one she took from Victry, but her own.


    Roan caught it midair, his grip unsteady, confusion flashing across his face. Then, he


    met her eyes.


    Then, in a quiet voice, she said


    I’m sorry.