I moved through Oakenford's burning streets, as I scoured and hunted down what remained of Drakmoor's forces.

  The screams had mostly died down now, replaced by the crackle of fire and the occasional crash of collapsing timber.

  I couldn't help the rage and hatred I felt toward Drakmoor. They burned and destroyed the town just because they wanted to. Drakmoor could have kidnapped Emil silently, and no one would have known.

  But no. They had to burn and destroy the town. Not just Oakenford, but Millbrook too. They'd condemned hundreds of innocent people to death.

  Near the baker's quarter, I found three soldiers cornering a family. The parents shielded their children while the knights advanced with drawn swords. The father held a broken chair leg like a weapon, his hands shaking. The mother clutched two small children to her chest, their faces buried in her dress.

  My tendrils struck first, shooting out from my back like spears. One knight managed a strangled cry before my claws found his throat. The others fell in seconds, their armor useless against my strikes. Blood pooled on the stone street, mixing with ash and soot.

  The family pressed against the wall, eyes wide with terror. But not at the dead soldiers sprawled at their feet. But at me.

  "Monster," the woman whispered, pulling her children closer.

  I said nothing. She wasn't wrong, after all. I looked down at my clawed hands, still dripping with blood. The black armor covered most of my body, tendrils writhing from my back like living things. What else would they call me?

  I turned and walked away, leaving them to their fear.

  Block by block, I eliminated every Drakmoor soldier I could find.

  I moved like a shadow through the burning streets, listening for the sounds of fighting, of screaming, of soldiers shouting orders. Each time I found them, I struck without warning. Some were looting homes. Others were chasing down fleeing townspeople. A few were just standing in the streets, watching the town burn with satisfied grins.

  Some fought back. Others ran. None lived.

  With each kill, I felt less. The weight of murder, the horror of becoming this thing. It all faded into oblivion. My hands moved without thought now, my tendrils striking with efficiency. I'd stopped counting after the twentieth body. Or was it the thirtieth?

  While I killed what seemed like the last of the knights, I felt a presence behind me.

  I turned slowly, tendrils raised and ready to strike.

  It was Nicholaus, standing now despite his injuries. There was a fresh bandage on his left arm where he'd lost it during the fight earlier with Gorvain. His face was pale, covered in dirt and dried blood, but his eyes were clear and steady. He held no weapon. Just stood there, studying me.

  I stared at him for a moment. I was conflicted about whether I should show my face.

  After all, they didn't know it was me.

  "It's you, Demecillo, isn't it?" Nicholaus said suddenly.

  My mind raced. How could he possibly know?

  How?

  “I know it's you Demecillo…”

  I hesitated for another moment, then I shifted Virel to reveal my face while the rest of me remained covered in its armor. The organic plating peeled back from my features like petals opening.

  "How did you know?" I asked.

  He let out a weary sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. The movement made him look older somehow, more tired than I'd ever seen him.

  "I..." He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting mine again. "I'm able to see mana. It's an ability I was born with."

  "I see." The words came out flat, neutral. I wasn't sure what else to say. Though I was curious, what did my mana look like to him?

  Silence fell between us, but I could feel Nicholaus studying me, his expression unreadable.

  "What are you?" he asked finally, his voice quiet. "Is this... is this your ability?"

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  I turned silent. Of course, I had no plans on explaining my ability to him. Still, it meant that ability holders were more widespread than I thought.

  Alfern had explained back then that one out of every thousand people were ability holders. He'd also explained that some abilities could be inherited from their parents, while some were completely unique to an individual. Nicholaus's mana sight was probably one of those rare gifts, passed down through his bloodline or manifested on its own.

  Perhaps seeing me not answering, Nicholaus decided to change the topic.

  He cleared his throat softly.

  "Thank you… Thank you for saving me and this town. If you hadn't come when you did..." He trailed off, looking around at the burning buildings, the bodies in the streets.

  "There wouldn't be anything left to save."

  I followed his gaze. Oakenford was destroyed, yes. But people were alive. Families were alive.

  Homes could be rebuilt. Life was only lived once.

  "I did what I had to," I said.

  "And I am grateful." He winced as he gripped his arm, or where it was supposed to be. His hand hovered over the bandaged stump, fingers trembling slightly before he forced them to still despite the pain.

  I didn't know what to say after that. What comfort could I offer someone who'd lost a limb? Sorry seemed inadequate. At least you're alive felt cruel.

  Before I could find the words, a voice called out.

  "Vera?"

  I turned. It was Aditya, her face was streaked with soot and blood, her clothes torn in several places. But she was moving, breathing, alive.

  "Aditya?" Relief flooded through me, I'd been worried about her, thought the worst when I couldn't find her during the fighting. "You're alright."

  "I'm fine. More than I can say for most." She stopped a few feet away, her eyes widening as she took in my appearance. “What is happening? Why the hell is Drakmoor attacking us?"

  "I don't know.” I kept the thing about Emil a secret. They didn't need to know that. Didn't need to know that a child prince was hidden somewhere in this town, that Drakmoor had burned everything to find him. Some truths only made things more complicated.

  Then Aditya shifted her gaze past me.

  "Lord Nicholaus?" Her voice changed, and became more formal. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you. What happened? What happened to your arm?"

  She stepped closer, her eyes fixing on the bandaged stump.

  Nicholaus straightened slightly, despite his injuries, despite the loss of his arm, he still carried himself with the bearing of someone used to command.

  "Miss Aditya," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "It's nothing to concern yourself with. A casualty of battle."

  "Forgive me," she added quickly, lowering her gaze. "I didn't mean to speak out of turn."

  Nicholaus waved his remaining hand dismissively. "No need to apologize.”

  Aditya nodded, then turned her attention back to me. I saw her scanning me. My face first, then my body, then the tendrils still coiled at my back. They shifted slightly under her scrutiny, responding to my unease.

  "So that was you," she said quietly.

  Of course, I had no idea what she meant, but I presumed she'd seen me earlier, killing the knights. I hadn't noticed her presence at the time. I'd been too focused on eliminating the remaining Drakmoor soldiers, too lost in the rhythm of violence to pay attention to who might be watching.

  Then she stepped forward and hugged me.

  The gesture caught me completely off guard.

  "Thank you," she said, her voice muffled against my shoulder.

  She kept repeating it, over and over, and then I felt her shoulders shake. She was crying.

  "Thank you for saving me."

  Slowly, carefully, I let the armor dissolve and made Virel retreat back inside. The black plating flowed away like water, disappearing into my skin. Once I was fully human again, I wrapped my arms around her and held her close.

  "It's okay," I murmured. "You're safe now."

  Aditya was one of the first friends I'd made in this world, besides Jorik.

  So I was glad she was alive. Really glad.

  We stood there for a moment longer before she pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Her face was streaked with tears, leaving clean tracks through the soot and dirt.

  "Sorry," she said, her voice thick. "I just... I thought I was going to die. There were so many of them."

  "You don't need to apologize," I said.

  She nodded, taking a shaky breath. "Right. Okay." She looked around at the burning town, at the bodies scattered in the streets. "What do we do now?"

  "We help," Nicholaus said from behind us. "There are people who need us."

  =====

  I spent the rest of the night helping Nicholaus, Aditya, and the other adventurers aid the townsfolk.

  The work was grim and exhausting. We moved through the streets, searching for survivors trapped under collapsed buildings. Every time we found someone alive, it felt like a small victory against the horror of the night. But for every survivor, we found three bodies.

  I helped move the dead, carrying them to the town square where we laid them out in rows. Men, women, children. Soldiers and civilians alike. Their faces were peaceful in death, or twisted in final agony. Some I recognized from around town.

  I also helped put out the fires to prevent more houses and buildings from being destroyed. Nicholaus took the lead on this, despite his injuries.

  He positioned himself in the street, his remaining hand raised as he channeled his mana and used water magic to douse the fires.

  There were also some adventurers who knew water magic, though not as efficient as Nicholaus. They could only manage basic spells. Small jets of water, barely enough to wet down a single wall.

  But it was better than nothing.

  By the time we finished, the sun was almost up.

  I felt exhausted. My limbs felt like lead, my eyes burned from smoke and lack of sleep. Every muscle in my body screamed for rest.

  Perhaps seeing my exhaustion, Nicholaus walked over to me.

  "You should rest," he said quietly. "You've done more than enough."

  "There's still work to do," I protested weakly.

  "And there will be tomorrow, and the day after that." He placed his remaining hand on my shoulder. "But you're no good to anyone if you collapse. Go. Sleep. You've earned it. You've more than earned it."

  I wanted to say something more, wanted to argue that I could keep going, but I was really tired. The exhaustion hit me all at once, making my vision swim. I could barely keep my eyes open.

  So I nodded.

  "Alright," I said. "Just for a few hours."

  "Take as long as you need," Nicholaus said. He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go. "We'll manage."