Nemsus lunged.


    But Nero was already moving.


    No hesitation—his body reacted before his mind even caught up. His hand shot forward, fingers twisting as shadows warped around him.


    "Absence."


    For a split second, Nemsus'' fist hit nothing but air.


    Then—


    Crack!


    A fist slammed into his face, snapping his head sideways.


    "When the hell are you going to grow up, you little bastard?!" Nero''s voice was raw, a snarl ripped straight from his throat. Another punch came, harder this time, and he screamed as it landed. "We''re in the middle of nowhere—everything out there wants to kill us, and here you are, throwing a tantrum because I saved your pathetic life!"


    His knuckles burned from the impact. His breathing was ragged, fury pulsing through his veins like fire. He pulled back to hit again—


    But something was wrong.


    Nemsus barely flinched.


    The first punch? Nothing. The second? Even less.


    Nero was a Mage. Nemsus was an Ascendant.


    And Nero had forgotten.


    A cold realization hit as Nemsus'' hand shot out like a viper, gripping Nero’s cloak in an iron grip.


    Before Nero could react, the other arm caught him too.


    Then—


    Nemsus turned, slamming Nero into the ground with crushing force.


    The impact rattled his bones, knocking the air from his lungs. He gasped, choking.


    But it wasn’t over.


    Nemsus moved like a beast unleashed.


    He dropped onto Nero, a knee pinning him down. His fists hammered down—again, again, again.


    The world blurred.


    "I''m going to kill you!"


    Nero tasted blood. His vision flickered—white, then red, then nothing.


    Seconds.


    That’s all it took.


    And just as Nemsus pulled back, ready to strike again—


    Shhhk.


    A blade.


    Cold steel kissed his throat. A thin line of blood bloomed where the sword pressed against his skin.


    "Touch him one more time—"


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Delilah’s voice was like death.


    "—and you''ll lose your head."


    Silence.


    Nemsus’ breath hitched. Slowly, he turned his head.


    And then—he froze.


    Her eyes.


    It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even fury.


    It was something worse.


    Her gaze was cold. Still. Completely unreadable. But there was something behind it—something terrifying, something so absolute that a chill ran down Nemsus'' spine.


    She was waiting.


    Waiting for the smallest excuse.


    The smallest twitch.


    The smallest reason—


    To cut.


    His.


    Head.


    Off.


    Nemsus swallowed. His fists stayed clenched, his whole body thrumming with rage and adrenaline.


    Then—he exhaled sharply and let go of Nero.


    The second he moved away, Delilah didn’t lower her sword.


    Not yet.


    Nearby, Lunia sat curled up against the cave wall, arms wrapped tightly around herself, trembling violently. Her wide, terrified eyes darted between them, her body shuddering with every breath.


    And then, finally—Nemsus looked at Nero again.


    Blood dripped from his lips. His mouth was torn, split open. His face was swollen and battered.


    But his eyes—his damn eyes—were still open.


    Empty.


    But Awake.


    He closed them


    He didn’t speak.


    Didn’t fight back.


    Just… silent.


    Something twisted in Nemsus’ chest.


    He turned away.


    Without another word, he walked toward Lunia, sat beside her, and buried his face in his hands.


    No sound.


    No movement.


    Just silence.


    Delilah''s breath hitched as she looked at her brother.


    Her hands trembled slightly, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The rage she had wielded like a blade moments ago was gone—replaced by something raw, something she couldn’t quite hold back.


    Her eyes glistened.


    Nero she whisperd


    She reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his broken face. A faint glow of mana spread from her palm—soft, warm—as she tried to heal him.


    "don’t move." Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with worry.


    But as she worked, Nero’s eyes snapped open.


    Sharp. Focused. Colder than steel.


    His jaw clenched. He took a slow, shuddering breath, and when he spoke, it hurt.


    Every word felt like knives dragging through his torn lips, like fire spreading through his ribs.


    "I had to do it." His voice was cold. Steady. Unshaken despite the pain.


    "If it wasn’t him, it would’ve been all of us."


    A sharp breath. His lungs protested. His mouth burned. But he kept going.


    "I don’t give a shit about your morals."


    He exhaled slowly, his vision flickering as pain throbbed through his skull. But his gaze never wavered from Nemsus.


    "If you they ever put me or Delilah in danger again..."


    His bloodied lips curled slightly. Something bitter. Something almost sad beneath the ice in his voice.


    "I’ll kill you too."


    Another breath. He swallowed back the pain.


    "Stop your stupid anger, or you two are on your own."


    Silence.


    "You have until tomorrow."


    Delilah’s hands had frozen in place. Her face—once controlled, once hardened—shifted completely.


    Her eyes widened.


    She knew what Nemsus meant to him.


    His only friend.


    This wasn’t just Nero speaking.


    This was final.


    Her fingers curled against his cheek, the warmth of her healing still lingering. But the tightness in her throat wouldn’t go away.


    Nemsus didn’t speak.


    Didn’t move.


    He had a choice to make.


    If he took Nero’s hand, everything would go back to normal.


    If he didn’t…


    He looked down at Lunia, still clinging to his clothes.


    They couldn’t survive alone—not here, not in a Red Zone.


    No supplies. No knowledge. Nothing.


    As his breathing steadied and the haze of rage faded, he forced himself to think. To go through everything that had happened.


    And he understood.


    He hated it.


    But he understood.


    Nero had done what needed to be done. Nemsus didn’t like it—didn’t want to accept it—but his anger had nearly cost him everything. If he had killed Nero just now, he wouldn’t be sitting here.


    Delilah would have cut his head off.


    Unlike Nero, she didn’t give a damn about him. Or anyone else. Not anymore.


    Not since Viser died.


    She was back to caring about one thing: her brother.


    Nemsus slowly lifted his head, looking at her again.


    She was still healing Nero, her mana working fast—his face was already beginning to return to normal. Her expression was tense, filled with worry as she focused on her brother.


    But then—


    She looked at him.


    And everything changed.


    Her eyes sharpened. Cold.


    Like she was still ready to cut him in half.


    Nemsus swallowed, lowering his gaze again.


    He had no choice.


    Like it or not, things had to go back to normal.


    Nero was still his friend.


    And without him—without her—he wouldn’t survive.


    Neither would Lunia.


    He exhaled slowly, letting out a quiet breath through his mouth, and waited for them to finish the healing.