The park had gone eerily quiet.
Scattered cherry blossoms lay across the grass and pond like a gentle snowfall, hiding all traces of the crimson battle that had just raged. The unnatural red veins in the water had faded, leaving only calm, ordinary ripples once more. Families in the distance continued laughing and strolling, completely unaware of how close danger had come.
Lira let out a long, shaky breath and slowly released her grip on Draven's sleeve. Her hands were still trembling slightly from adrenaline.
"We… we really beat it. That flower-faced freak is gone." She looked up at him, forcing a bright smile even though her voice cracked a little. "See? Teamwork works! I told you I'm not completely useless in a fight."
Draven stood still for a moment, scanning the area one last time with sharp, hunter-trained eyes. Only when he was certain no residual dark energy lingered did he fully sheathe the 7th Form. The black blade slid home with a soft click, but it felt heavier now — warmer, as if it had tasted something new.
"You weren't useless," he said quietly, his tone flatter than usual but carrying an undercurrent of genuine respect. He glanced at the thin cut on her cheek from the earlier petal. "You were reckless. Throwing stones at a monster… most people would have run."
Lira puffed her cheeks in that familiar cute pout, though it looked a bit forced after the fight. "Hey, I'm not 'most people.' I'm your date, remember? And dates are supposed to stick together." She reached up and gently touched the slash on his shoulder, wincing at the blood. "You're the one who got whipped by evil petals. That looked painful. Does it hurt a lot? We should get you patched up — there's a pharmacy nearby, or maybe I can—"
"It's fine," Draven cut in softly, catching her hand before she could fuss more. His fingers lingered around hers for a second longer than necessary. "I've had worse. Much worse."
Lira's expression softened, worry replacing the playful energy. She didn't pull her hand away. "That's exactly what scares me, Draven. You always say 'it's fine' even when it's not. Back there… when that whip had you, I thought—" She swallowed hard and looked away for a moment, blinking quickly. "I thought I might lose you. And the worst part is, you'd probably tell me to run and face it alone anyway."
Draven was silent. He gently tilted her chin up so she would meet his eyes. His usual emotionless mask had cracked more than usual today, revealing quiet guilt and something warmer underneath.
"…I didn't want you involved. Monsters like that… they target anything close to me. But you stayed. You fought." He paused, voice dropping even lower. "Thank you."
Lira's cheeks flushed pink, and this time it wasn't just from the adrenaline. She gave a small, shy laugh. "Wow. Two nice things in one day? First my laugh drowns out the noise, now a thank you? Careful, Shadow Slayer — I might start thinking you actually like having me around."
The corner of Draven's mouth lifted the faintest bit — almost a real smile. "Don't push it."
She giggled despite everything, the sound helping chase away the lingering tension. "Too late. I'm pushing. And next time, no more 'stay behind me' orders without a plan that includes both of us. Deal?"
Draven exhaled slowly, then nodded once. "…Deal."
They started walking slowly toward the park exit, Lira staying close enough that their arms brushed with every step. She kept glancing at his injured shoulder, clearly still worried.
"So… what was that thing, anyway? It talked about the 99 colors like it knew everything about your sword. And that cave it mentioned at the end… is that the one from the old stories? The one where seven sword users never came back?"
Draven's expression darkened slightly. He kept his voice low so no passersby could hear.
"It was a scout. Stronger than the ones yesterday — smarter, too. It wore the park's petals to blend in and mock us. As for the cave…" He hesitated, then continued. "It awakens when enough powerful blood feeds it. My sword… the 7th Form… it grows by drinking monster blood and shifting through 99 color stages. Black is only the beginning. The final color requires the Monster King's blood. That cave is supposed to unlock something when a sword that has slain the King is placed inside. No one knows what."
Lira shivered and linked her arm with his uninjured one, holding on tighter. "Sounds dangerous. Like really, really dangerous. And that monster said next time it won't come alone." She looked up at him seriously. "Draven… promise me something. If things get too big — if that cave or the Monster King starts calling — you won't shut me out completely. I know I'm not a sword user, but I can help in other ways. Research, backup, or just… being here when you come back."
Draven stopped walking for a moment and turned to face her fully. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, making her look even brighter against his all-black figure. For once, he didn't have a short, dry reply ready.
"…I'll try," he said finally, the words heavy with rare vulnerability. "But if it ever gets too dangerous, I need you to run. No arguments."
Lira smiled softly, reaching up to brush a stray petal from his raven hair. "We'll argue about that when the time comes. For now… let's get that shoulder looked at, then maybe grab something warm to drink. No monsters, no petals, just us again. Sound good?"
Draven gave the smallest nod, his dark eyes softening just a fraction. "Sound good."
As they continued walking, the 7th Form at his hip pulsed once — slow, deep, and satisfied. In its core, that faint thread of violet from the battle had settled in, hinting that the black stage was no longer quite so absolute.
Far away in the monster realm, the ancient cave rumbled louder than before. Blood had been spilled. Colors were shifting faster now.
And somewhere in the shadows, more eyes were beginning to open.
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**To be continued...**