The battlefield was dead.
Not silent—dead.
The kind of dead that comes after a storm meant to erase everything it touches.
Trees were turned inside out, hollowed from the root. Stones were cracked, scattered as if kicked apart by giants. The ground itself looked carved open by the claws of a monster no mortal should have awakened.
At the center of it all lay Yeshwanth.
His limbs were limp, sprawled awkwardly across broken soil. His breathing was shallow, barely there. The after-effects of Psychological Enmity—that forbidden burst of power—still clung to him like a dark fog. The crimson aura that once flared like wildfire was now a faint, poisonous ember eating away at his nerves.
Lucia knelt beside him, hair dirtied by dust and sweat, palms pressed to his chest. Her frost-pale cheeks were streaked with tears she didn't even notice falling.
"Yeshwanth… don't do this," she whispered, voice trembling.
"You fought too hard. Idiot… you always push yourself too far."
Tim staggered over, one arm wrapped around his abdomen where makeshift bandages soaked through with blood. He exhaled shakily.
"He's not healing," Tim muttered, jaw clenched. "Whatever that skill of his was… it shattered him from the inside out."
Lucia wiped her tears and forced her voice steady. "If he doesn't wake up soon… he may never—"
A sound cut her off.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Not any mortal noise.
It was a ringing, soft at first—like the hum of stars colliding far away.
The trees nearest them trembled. The air flickered. Then the sky itself bent, rippling like a curtain pulled aside by invisible hands.
A single strand of golden light leaked through the darkness.
Lucia froze.
"…Tim. Did you see that?"
Before Tim could answer, the light grew—swelling, stretching, until it became a pillar of brilliance that bathed the ruined ground. The wind shifted unnaturally, bending toward it as though pulled by gravity itself.
And then she appeared.
Descending like a tear slipping from heaven's eye.
She wore no armor, no royal cloak, nothing arrogant or flashy. Just a simple white dress that shimmered with celestial fragments. Her long hair flowed like liquid gold laced with silver. Her eyes glowed softly, deeper than dawn, older than memory.
Lucia's breath caught.
"Who… who is that beauty…?"
The woman touched the ground lightly, her feet barely leaving impressions on the dirt. The battlefield calmed instantly—as though even destruction bowed to her presence.
Tim whispered hoarsely, "…I'm not hallucinating, right?"
Lucia didn't answer. She couldn't.
Because the woman's gaze fell on Yeshwanth—
And everything inside her softened.
Her expression melted into a look Lucia had never seen before. Not from mortals. Not from gods.
A lover's relief.
A soulmate's ache.
She rushed to him, kneeling at his side, brushing the dirt from his cheek with trembling fingers.
"My darling…" she whispered.
Lucia's eyes widened. "Darling…?"
Finally, the woman turned toward them, her voice carrying a calm resonance that felt too flawless to exist.
"I am Nila," she said. "His soulmate."
Lucia felt her heart jerk. The word hit like lightning.
"Soul…mate? You mean the soulmate? The one who—"
"Yes," Nila cut in gently. "The one destined for him. The one who carries half his soul."
Tim whistled under his breath. "Well, damn."
Nila ignored him. She placed both hands over Yeshwanth's chest. The golden light from her palms wove into his body, slithering through broken veins and torn nerves.
The dark aura of Psychological Enmity hissed in her presence, recoiling like a cornered beast.
Lucia stepped back without meaning to.
The power she radiated wasn't overwhelming. It wasn't violent.
It was clean. Pure. Refined to a level no mortal mage could touch even in dreams.
"Nila…" Lucia whispered, unable to tear her eyes away. "Can you… heal him?"
"Yes," Nila replied, not looking up. "Because I must."
The Soulmate's Healing
Nila reached into a small satchel at her waist and revealed a glass vial glowing with pale blue liquid. The mana inside it pulsed gently, beating in sync with her heart.
"This potion," she said, "is made from divine source water and stabilizing mana. It will suppress the destructive aftershocks of his Enmity."
She uncorked the vial, letting the scent—sweet, like morning dew—spill into the air.
"Lucia," she said, voice soft but commanding, "I need your help."
Lucia blinked rapidly. "M-me? But I'm not—"
"You know his pulse," Nila replied. "You fought beside him. When I guide, you follow. No hesitation."
Lucia inhaled sharply, wiped her eyes, and nodded. "Yes."
Nila lifted Yeshwanth slightly and pressed the vial to his lips.
Lucia steadied his jaw.
Tim held his arm.
Under Nila's mana guidance, Yeshwanth swallowed slowly—one drop at a time.
With every swallow, the crimson lines across his body—the scars of rage—dimmed.
The earth around them warmed.
The wind sighed.
Even time felt like it slowed to watch.
After a minute, Nila whispered, "Now."
Lucia took the needle-like injector attached to the vial and pierced a point near his forearm. Guided by Nila's steady hands, the remaining potion flowed into him.
Yeshwanth gasped faintly.
His fingers twitched.
His eyelids fluttered.
The darkness retreating from his veins faded into harmless smoke.
Nila exhaled with relief. "Good… he's stabilizing."
Tim let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank god…"
The ground beneath Yeshwanth glowed faintly—gold and silver mixing together, surrounding him in warmth.
Finally, his eyes opened.
Not sharply.
Not fully.
But enough.
"…Nila…?" he whispered weakly.
Lucia felt something tighten in her chest.
Nila's expression broke into a tender smile. "Yes. I'm here."
The Power Seal
Once Yeshwanth regained minimal strength, Nila reached again into her satchel—this time pulling out a ring forged from ethereal silver. A soft pale flame pulsed within its core.
Yeshwanth blinked. "What is that…?"
"My power ring," Nila explained. "It will seal the unstable half of your Psychological Enmity. You'll still access the skill—but at your command, not at your rage."
She held the ring over his chest.
A column of light shot upward, connecting ring to heart.
Yeshwanth gritted his teeth as power surged through him—hot at first, then cooling, settling, balancing.
Nila slid the ring onto his finger.
The glow faded.
The battlefield returned to stillness.
Lucia stepped forward. "He… he looks normal again."
"Yes," Nila said calmly. "Because I've locked his destructive rage away. Only he can unlock it now."
Yeshwanth's breathing steadied completely. His eyes cleared, losing the tint of madness that had clung to them minutes before.
He looked up at Nila, dazed.
"Why… are you here?"
Nila stroked his hair gently. "Because you nearly died."
Then, without hesitation, she leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
Lucia looked away. Tim pretended not to stare.
Nila whispered, "You will live. And you will return to me as my husband. The rest… will come later."
Yeshwanth flushed faintly but didn't speak.
He didn't have the strength to deny her.
And even if he did—her voice carried the weight of destiny itself.
The God of Light Appears
Suddenly, the sky split again.
But this time—
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't gentle.
It was divine.
Wings of pure radiance unfurled across the heavens.
A presence fell upon the battlefield like a second sun.
The God of Light descended.
Lucia gasped, dropping to her knees instinctively. Tim followed.
Even Yeshwanth, barely conscious, felt the pressure.
Nila stood unfazed.
The god's voice boomed softly, impossibly gentle yet powerful enough to shake mountains if it wished.
"It is time, Nila."
She nodded, rising to her feet. "I understand."
She turned to Lucia.
"Do not tell him what happened tonight," Nila instructed firmly. "Not the healing, not my arrival, not my identity. He must awaken in his own pace. Knowing too early will damage him."
Lucia swallowed hard. "…I understand."
Nila smiled faintly, grateful.
The God of Light extended a hand.
Brilliant chains of light wrapped gently around Yeshwanth, lifting him effortlessly.
"Nila, prepare," the god said.
Nila touched Yeshwanth's cheek one last time.
"My darling… I will wait for you."
The world surged with blinding radiance.
And in a flash—
They were gone.
Back on the Battlefield
Silence reclaimed the ruins.
Lucia stood numb, staring at the spot where Yeshwanth vanished.
Tim nudged her shoulder. "…You alright?"
Lucia forced a bitter smile. "That girl… she's… unbelievable."
Tim snorted. "Yeah. And he didn't even know he had a goddess-level soulmate. Lucky idiot."
Lucia's voice softened. "I just hope he doesn't carry the burden alone anymore."
They walked across the broken field. The fallen ninja leader lay unconscious, completely unaware of the divine drama that had unfolded mere feet away.
High above, in a realm untouched by mortal hands, Nila's mother clasped her hands, whispering toward the God of Light:
"Please… do not let the Lord of Realms learn of this. My daughter risks much. But she believes in him."
The divine light pulsed in acknowledgment.
Nila stood at the edge of the celestial palace, gazing down at the mortal world.
A smile tugged at her lips—soft, triumphant, unshakably certain.
"Soon, my beloved… soon you will understand everything."