[POV: Finley]
The whole world was spinning... or perhaps it was me who was swaying?
The first sensation that shot through my nerves was the pain in my wrists and ankles. The thick, rough ropes cut deep into my flesh until it stung all over. Fresh red blood slowly seeped out, dripping onto the floor below... like an hourglass counting down to death.
But what was more torturous than the physical pain was the feeling of alienation eating away at my heart.
The thunderous sound of explosions from the clash of superhumans below rang out, shaking the ground. The sound of metal being crushed, the whistling of mana power, and the roar of a demon... all echoed in my ears, but they sounded muffled and distant. It was as if there were an invisible "thick glass wall" separating me from that world.
I tried to force my eyes open, looking at the scene before me through a curtain of blurred tears.
Down below... amidst the dust swirling like a sandstorm, two men were tearing into each other with power beyond common sense. One was a terrifying demon in black armor, and the other was a young man wearing orange flame gauntlets.
I watched that image feeling as if I was shrinking smaller and smaller...
This wasn't my world... I was just Finley... a small cosplayer happy with piles of fabric, pins, and sewing machines. I belonged in a quiet world filled with the colors of imagination, not this dull gray world filled with the scent of blood and death.
But fate had played a cruel joke, throwing me into the center of the storm without giving me the right to refuse or run away.
"Ugh..."
I swallowed a sob, trying to focus my gaze on the broad back of the person I knew so well... Brother Owen.
In the eyes of the thugs below, or even that demon "Jagger", they probably saw Owen as a fortress of steel, strong and indestructible. His stance was as stable as a cliff. Each swing of the [Asura Palm] was violent and precise, forcing the enemy to retreat.
But for me... a craftsman who lived by observing the tiny details on clothes... my eyes saw what others overlooked.
I saw... the "strain" hidden beneath that strength.
I saw beads of sweat popping up along his hairline and neck, far more than normal, even though his face remained impassive... His right shoulder dropped slightly, barely visible, but it indicated he was shouldering a burden far beyond his limit... and most importantly...
Owen didn't take a single step back.
No matter how violent Jagger's attacks were, no matter how much the force of the explosions pushed him, he remained planted in the same spot, like a stake driven into the ground.
In that second, the terrifying truth slapped me in the face until I went numb all over.
He wasn't standing there because it was a strategically advantageous position... and he wasn't standing there to intimidate the enemy...
He stood there to block their path... to keep them from getting near me. Owen was turning his own body into a "Human Shield" to protect a worthless person like me...
When this truth became clear, the fear that had gripped my heart began to change shape.
Before, I was afraid of death, afraid of the pain of being violated... afraid I wouldn't go home, afraid I wouldn't get to sew beautiful clothes again. But now, those fears vanished completely, replaced by a dread that was colder and deeper.
'If Brother Owen keeps standing his ground to protect me like this... he's going to die... Why don't you run away... Why don't you leave me behind... or at least... just stop caring about me and fight with all you have! You don't have to protect me... I don't want you to die because of me... I don't want a worthless person like me to be the cause of your death... Please...'
The equation of death popped up in my head clearly. If Owen continued to force himself to take all the attacks without retreating or dodging to maintain his position in front of me... the first one to fall wouldn't be me, but him!
He knew... He knew full well how risky this was, but he still chose to do it, without hesitating for even a second.
"No... Don't..."
I tried to struggle, clenching my jaw until it hurt, twisting my wrists bound behind my back frantically. The rough rope grazed my skin until it burned and bruised red, but no matter how much force I used, this body could only sway gently in the air like a lifeless ragdoll.
Frustration and hatred surged up to choke my chest... but it wasn't anger toward the enemy, or cruel fate.
It was hatred for my own "weakness".
Why was I so weak? Why did I have no power at all?
These thoughts stabbed into my heart repeatedly like a merciless knife.
If I were strong like the others... if I had enough power to protect myself... or at the very least, if I hadn't let myself be captured so easily... Owen wouldn't have to get hurt for me.
He should have been fighting in the way he was best at, moving freely like a lion, not chained to a burden like me!
I watched Owen, who had just used his arm to block a heavy attack until he staggered back half a step. Fresh blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. That image squeezed my heart until it nearly shattered.
I wanted to shout out... wanted to tell him to run away... wanted to tell him to stop worrying about me and watch his back...
I opened my mouth, trying to scream as loud as I could, but my dry throat and the overwhelming guilt compressed my voice until only a trembling, faint whisper came out.
"I'm sorry..."
Large tears streamed down my cheeks, falling to the ground below, drop after drop, mixing with the dust of the battlefield.
"Brother... I'm sorry... Hic... I'm sorry..."
Repeated apologies that couldn't reach the recipient... I could only watch the back of the hero who was protecting me with extreme agony... waiting for a miracle I had no power to create myself.
…
The violent clash paused for a moment...
Jagger leaped back to regain his footing and gather a new wave of pitch-black mana, leaving a moment of silence in the middle of the battlefield. Only the sound of heavy panting and the sound of concrete debris crumbling from the ceiling cut through the air.
And in that split second... Owen took the opportunity to turn back and look at me.
The moment our eyes met, my whole world seemed to stop spinning.
Owen's face was covered in soot and traces of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, but he sent a smile my way... It wasn't a sneer at the enemy, nor the smile of a warrior thirsty for victory.
It was the gentlest... warmest smile... like a big brother comforting a frightened little brother. That gaze conveyed a clear meaning without needing to speak a single word.
'Don't be afraid... I've got this.'
To others... this scene might look like something out of a romantic novel, where the hero turns to reassure the heroine amidst a crisis. An impressive image that makes the heart beat faster.
But for me right now... that smile was like a "knife slicing through the center of my heart."
Pain shot through my chest until I could barely breathe.
That smile was the clearest confirmation... that Owen "did not intend to rely on me at all."
He didn't shout for me to do anything... didn't even expect me to participate in this survival. In his eyes, I was merely something to be protected, a fragile "luggage" he had to carry on his shoulder alone, while all I could do was sit and watch him bleed for me.
A feeling of worthlessness, even greater than before, crashed in until I wanted to vomit.
"Ugh..."
I stopped struggling... My body, which had been trying to resist the bonds, went still slowly. My head lowered to hide a face twisted with pain.
No wailing... No shouting...
There was only a terrifying silence inside my mind.
I bit my lower lip hard... hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood seeping into my mouth. The pain on my lip helped pull my consciousness back from self-pity.
The last tear rolled down my cheek and dried up... leaving behind only eyes that had changed beneath the shadow of the hair covering my face.
There was no miracle or light exploding amidst the crisis... no latent power awakened... I was still the same Finley with no mana. But something in the deepest part of my soul... had changed... forever.
'Today I might be just a burden... just a worthless deadweight...'
That thought crystallized silently, violently, and harder than steel.
'But if I survive this... I swear on my life... I will never agree to be "The One Behind" that you have to worry about like this again... Even if I have to trade anything for it... I will become someone useful to you!'
…..
[Switch POV to Iris]
500 meters away... On a human throne built from the bodies of loyal minions, Iris sat with legs crossed in a posture as elegant as a queen. Her amethyst eyes weren't looking at the darkness ahead, but staring at the image in her mind sent directly from the "eyes" of one of the puppets guarding Finley.
The entire scene... the teardrops... the blood on the lips... and the violently fluctuating emotional waves of the young tailor were transmitted through the parasite network to her brain completely.
For ordinary humans, such a tear-jerking drama might evoke pity or compassion...
But for Iris... what she was interested in was not "sadness," but "Drive."
The Queen smirked with satisfaction at the corner of her mouth. Her slender fingers tapped lightly on her thigh as she analyzed the raw emotional data she received.
"Interesting..."
She could sense a strange frequency... Most humans, when cornered, would emit frequencies of 'fear of death' or 'despair'... but this boy was different.
What he feared most wasn't death... but "Uselessness."
A feeling of inferiority so strong it turned into vengeance against his own weakness... A burning desire to dedicate himself to a single person... It was a rare spiritual material.
"This child... physically weak, completely devoid of mana..." Her voice, sweet but freezing cold, murmured to herself in the darkness. "But his mind has an amazing drive... He doesn't want to be strong for power or to rule anyone... but wants to be strong only to be 'useful' to my King..."
Iris's eyes flashed brilliantly for a moment, like a mad scientist who had just discovered a new element.
"Heh... Pure loyalty, mixed with a feeling of inferiority needing fulfillment..."
She raised her hand, miming molding the air into a shape. An enigmatic smile appeared on her sharp, beautiful face.
"Truly a powerful and 'moldable' material... Perhaps after this is over, aside from Talia, I might have a new toy to experiment on..."
Iris murmured to herself softly, as her interest began to focus on that "Little Rabbit."
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