"How did I lose?… damn it… a bunch of girls beat me… wait…" Líria blinked, her breath uneven. "I'm not dead?"
"Kearlin." Bruno's voice was calm, but firm.
"Bruno, I think someone's waking up."
"Didn't take as long as I thought."
Líria's vision was still a blur. The sunlight bled into the throbbing pain in her chest. When the shapes finally cleared, only he was there.
"We couldn't talk directly before… but now there's no one to interrupt." Bruno spoke, seated in front of her, his eyes fixed on hers.
"So this is how it's going to be, huh?" She tried to force a smile, but fear leaked through. "Where are the others?"
"Far away from your screams. So don't even try."
She turned her head, seeing only the ruined forest, the stench of burnt wood clinging to the air.
"Let's start with the questions."
"Don't mess with me, idiot…" Líria spat the words with forced rage. "That pretty face of yours doesn't fool me. I'm going to die anyway."
"Either way…" Bruno leaned in, his tone low, almost a whisper. "But you ask yourself… the same pain. The same regret. To live off nothing but a guess… is that really worth clinging to this crumb of hope?"
That voice… that calm. She recoiled without meaning to.
"Tell me… do you think you'll have any mercy?"
Líria swallowed hard. She didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she wouldn't.
"Where's your brother? The so-called 'Soul Founder'." Nothing. Bruno's voice cut through the silence. "Pathetic. Tell me… is your heart in the right place?"
She averted her gaze, escaping. All she saw was ash, broken branches, a torn piece of sky.
Bruno's tone never changed, but his words carried weight:
"How long do you think that determination of yours will last? First… a small entry. Shall we start with a broken finger? Or do you prefer something else? I'm open to choices."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Until her mask of bravado shattered.
"STOP! STOP, PLEASE!" Líria screamed, her voice ripping apart. "I didn't do anything! I just got here! None of the souls, none of my brother's nonsense! Please… believe me!"
Tears streaked down her ash-stained face.
"Then… don't do to me… the things you did— or used to do—before…"
"Kick me."
"What?" Líria's eyes widened, confused.
"Go on."
Bruno crouched, near her leg. A weak kick came, hesitant, almost without strength.
He stayed silent for a few seconds. His gaze pierced into hers, tense, uncomfortable.
"Okay." His voice came out steady, almost serene. "I believe you."
"You see?" Líria ventured, as if clinging to a sliver of hope.
"Yes." A faint smile touched his lips. But it quickly darkened. "Except… like you said: all roads lead to Rome."
"What…?" Her heart raced.
Bruno's hand rose slowly, firm as a sentence. The smile returned— but now it was cold, merciless.
"Flamma parva."
BOOM.
The explosion thundered like a muffled storm. Heat flared, lighting the charred forest for a heartbeat. When the smoke cleared, Líria's head was gone.
Her body toppled sideways, limp, like a puppet with cut strings.
Bruno rose, staring at the smoldering corpse. The red glow in his eyes showed no rage, no pleasure. Only certainty.
A whisper escaped his lips, too low for anyone else to hear:
"There will be no mercy for those who choose the wrong flame."
He turned, leaving the silence of death behind.
Two silhouettes were visible in the distance.
"Huh… what was that?" Seralyn tried to make sense of the noise.
"Nothing." Bruno glanced back. "Probably a self-destruction spell."
"She really does love her brother."
"And you, are you okay?" Tila asked.
"I'm fine. That explosion was nothing."
"That's not what I meant."
Silence stretched, broken only by the crackle of burned leaves and branches underfoot.
"I've always been this way." Bruno finally said. His voice was deep, weary.
Seralyn shot him a quick glance, reading between the lines. "So you never got used to… what you carry."
Bruno kept his eyes ahead, his breath steady. "Maybe not. But it's not the only thing that drives me."
Tila, with her hammer resting on her shoulder, drew a deep breath, stepping around a charred trunk. "I know why I'm here. Every time I leave this forest, I think of my village. Of what my family expects of me… of what I can still become."
Seralyn sighed, fingers brushing the blade at her hip, as if feeling the weight of her own choices. "And me? I try… not to become darker than I already am. Every step I take, every life I try to save, it's so I don't lose the person I want to be."
Bruno glanced at them, the silence heavy with things left unsaid. "And me… I just want a little peace. And maybe… to find myself again along the way."
Tila gave him a brief look, as if she could see the truth behind his simple words. "Yeah… we fight for what we want, even if we don't really know how to get there."
Seralyn managed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Exactly. We fight not to forget. And to try being better—don't blame yourself for those explosive bastards."
Bruno drew in a long breath, feeling the weight of the road ahead, but also the lightness of their company. "I don't blame myself anymore. So we move on… one step at a time. No matter how heavy the path."
Silence returned, this time more comfortable. Each carried their own desires, subtle as shadows at dusk, yet present in every step. And somehow, together, they still moved forward— or so the universe wanted them to believe.
The forest still held the smell of ash and damp earth. The trees, charred in places, cast broken shadows under the moonlight. It was in that cutting silence that a voice burst out:
"You! I know you had something to do with his death!"
The heavy hammer in her hands seemed an extension of pure fury.
Bruno didn't reply. His eyes reflected only her anger and the weak flames of distant torches. His silence only fed the dwarf's rage.
"Speak!" she advanced. "What is your purpose here?!"
The hammer crashed down like thunder, cracking the soil, throwing dust. Bruno slid aside, body weary but precise. He said nothing. Only watched.
She roared, swinging the weapon in a devastating arc. He raised his blade, the clash ringing through the woods. Sparks flew. Her strength was brute, explosive; his, calm and inevitable.
She kept striking, each blow more desperate than the last. Bruno dodged, blocked, redirected. His feet barely touched the ground. It was as if the forest itself shifted with him, the air parting in his wake.
"Why won't you fight me for real?!" she shouted, breath ragged, frustration burning in her eyes.
He stood still for a moment, observing. Then he stepped forward. Just one step.
The weight of it made her falter.
She tried a vertical strike, all her strength poured into it. The hammer split the ground— but not him. Bruno was already at her side, and with a simple twist of his sword, forced her weapon down, unbalancing her.
Her body hit the damp leaves. Sweat ran down her face, her breathing ragged, her eyes full of hatred… and doubt.
Bruno leveled the blade at her neck. Silence fell again.
She bit her lip, too drained to lift the hammer.
"Why… don't you just kill me?" her voice broke in gasps.
He didn't answer right away. His gaze pierced through her, heavy, unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper carried by the wind:
"Because I'm tired of carrying the dead, child."
She trembled, startled by the coldness— and the weight— of his words. He stepped back, blade still steady, but with no intent to strike.
The wind rose, carrying ash into the air. She breathed deep, trying to steady herself.
The wind rose again, lifting ash from the ground. dwarf breathed deep, still shaken from the clash.
"Tell me the truth…" she began, but faltered.
"Easy. Calm down." Bruno cut in, his voice low, weary, almost impatient. "Let's take a breath and start over."
"Yeah, this is getting boring already." Seralyn stretched against a fallen tree, arms crossed, bored. Yet her eyes never left Bruno's blade at the dwarf's throat.
dwarf clenched her jaw. "Who are you?"
"NO." Tila stepped in, firm, hammer resting on her shoulder. "First: who are you? You attack us out of nowhere and then demand answers? Get real."
Bruno let out a heavy sigh, almost a mocking laugh. "Actually, she only attacked me… but yeah, you're right." He rolled his eyes, tilting the blade subtly against the dwarf's skin. "Can you two go? I want a word with the crazy dwarf here."
"Hey!" dwarf snapped, pride wounded deeper than flesh.
Seralyn leaned forward, her lazy tone dripping with venom:
"You do realize the sword is still at your throat, don't you?"
dwarf swallowed hard.
"But sure." Seralyn added, stepping back a few paces, as if washing her hands of the mess. "I just want to rest. You enjoy handling the boring stuff, Bruno."
Bruno didn't answer. He kept his gaze locked on the dwarf, blade steady, calm heavier than any threat.
Tila exchanged a glance with Seralyn, shook her head, muttering:
"You two are going to drive me insane."
And then, the silence fell heavy again, broken only by the distant whisper of wind through the scorched branches.
Bruno straightened, still catching his breath, his sword steady in hand.
"Let's start at the beginning." His voice was deep, weary, but steady. His Black eyes never left the dwarf.
She didn't answer at once. Her fingers trembled, but hatred outweighed fear. She tried to keep her chin high, refusing to yield. For a few moments she pretended to ignore his gaze— but at last, she turned.
Her face was a mixture of pain and rancor.
"I am Anaalyn, daughter of Drogmar Ironfist, the greatest warrior of the dwarves."
The words cut the air like blades.
She drew a breath, her eyes narrowing in pure fury.
"And I believe you… killed my father."
Bruno didn't move. No reaction but the faint arch of an eyebrow.
Anaalyn's jaw tightened, chest heaving.
"You are Bruno. The great survivor of the Iron Wolf Guild."
The last words fell like an accusation, heavy, echoing, spat like a curse.
The silence that followed was even more suffocating than before.