Chapter Text
Normal text
Thinking
Onomatopoeia
Ahri's POV
Whoosh!
Silver cut across my vision.
A heartbeat later, a white katana—etched in gold—drove straight for my throat. I moved on instinct. The blade slipped past my face, close enough that death brushed my skin. The air tore around it. Something grazed my cheek.
Then warmth.
Blood traced a line down my face.
Durandal warped the very air along its edge. Of course it did. A weapon praised for "purging all evils" was bound to be cruel.
My bloodshot gaze tracked the blade as it withdrew. For a moment, I wished it had not missed. Wished it had taken my head cleanly and spared me the rest.
What was left for me?
The sword had already taken everything.
My parents.
My clan.
My lover.
Gone.
Erased.
And yet it still remained.
So did the man who wielded it.
The thought burned hotter than any wound. Hatred twisted with regret, festering beneath my ribs.
I wanted to die.
I truly did.
But not like this.
Not before his head lay at my feet—just as he had left my little deer's.
My vision sharpened. The haze thinned. My pupils narrowed as my tails rose behind me, stiff with intent rather than pride.
Power surged through my limbs without warning—violent, painful—forcing life back into my leaden body. My ears flattened as a snarl tore free. Exhaustion gnawed at my thoughts, but I moved anyway.
My hand closed around his retreating forearm.
I squeezed.
Bone splintered with a wet crunch. His scream followed a heartbeat later.
I hooked his leg and wrenched. He slammed into the ground. I loomed over him, fist raised to smash that smug, detestable face into something unrecognisable—
A fireball tore towards me.
I leapt back. Heat scorched through my fur, searing the tips. The blast struck where I had stood, embers scattering in every direction.
I landed lightly, though my breath came thin. My tails lashed once behind me before settling as the sparks dimmed.
Damn them.
If they had not crippled me—
If they had not torn out my mana core—
This would have ended long ago. I would have reduced them to ash instead of being forced to dirty my hands with something so small.
"Die, monster!"
The Dragon Knight charged, his voice shrill with hatred.
I recognised that look in his eyes.
I had seen it before.
The same warped delight he wore when he severed my baby's arm.
Monster.
From him.
How fitting.
Of course I knew who he was. The rat who never left Rae in peace. The shadow that trailed her, gnawing at her spirit piece by piece. The one who smiled when she flinched.
And the rest of his wretched party—standing by, watching, saying nothing.
Their silence had been the sharpest blade of all.
It honed his cruelty.
It made it righteous.
It sealed Rae's fate.
Heroes?
I almost laughed.
They were beasts wearing human skin.
Before I die, I'll have your head.
The last of my restraint snapped.
I lunged.
Steel cut towards me. I slipped past it, my body moving on instinct. My arm drove forward, tearing through cloth and flesh, plunging into his chest—where his heart should have been.
It trembled against my palm.
Small.
Fragile.
I closed my fingers—
—and crushed it.
His face twisted in horror as I tore my arm free. Blood splashed warm against my skin. I felt none of it. No remorse. No triumph. Only a hollow stillness as his body crumpled and struck the ground.
Motionless.
At last.
Watching that black-hearted vermin fall should have meant something.
It did not.
"Will!"
The cry split the air behind me.
Steel punched through my chest.
Pain exploded outward—sharp, blinding. I staggered, choking as blood flooded my mouth. Heat drained from my limbs, strength spilling away with it. My nerves screamed, raw and merciless.
I did not fight it.
This was the moment I had been waiting for.
The moment he chose to step forward.
The coward.
The so-called hero.
Got you.
I ignored the blade impaled through me and twisted. The world smeared into streaks of colour as I struck. My claws sank into flesh, raking across the face he treasured—the one Rae had once turned towards instead of me.
It took a heartbeat.
His grip faltered.
I wrenched myself free and let his body fall without a glance.
Screams rippled across the battlefield. Shouts followed. Then panic.
They sounded distant.
The ground lurched beneath me. Dizziness swallowed my vision as strength drained from my limbs. My knees buckled. Each breath tore through my chest, thinner than the last.
I was bleeding out.
I was dying.
...Ah.
Finally.
We could meet again.
She must have been lonely down there.
Just a little longer, Rae.
Just a little longer—and I will come to you.
Knowing the end was near, I dragged myself forward. My body swayed with each step as I staggered towards her. Blood soaked through my clothes, warm and clinging. The blade lodged in my chest shifted with every movement, sending dull waves of pain through me.
I barely noticed.
I was too tired to care. Too tired to consider pulling it free. There was no saving this body. Not now.
Each step grew heavier until my legs finally gave way beside her.
I sank to my knees and gathered Rae's head into my arms, holding her against my chest. My fingers slipped into her black hair—still soft. Still smooth. Still beautiful.
"Does it still hurt?" I whispered.
Silence answered.
Only the faint crackle of fire spreading through the ruined land.
The shouting faded. The curses. The cries demanding my death. Figures shifted at the edge of my vision, weapons drawn, circling.
None of it mattered.
Only her.
The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
Then the tears came.
They fell without restraint, soaking into her hair as grief hollowed me from within. Around us, they wailed for their fallen heroes—mourning, raging, calling their names—
—and not one voice spoke hers.
She had once fought beside them. Bled for them. Trusted them.
And they butchered her for something that was never her fault. A prophecy so vague it may as well have been invented. A whisper from a so-called goddess. A convenient decree upheld by rotten nobles, all to keep an unworthy king clinging to a throne he never deserved.
They had erased her cleanly.
As though she had never existed at all.
Something inside me broke.
The sobs came without warning, tearing from my throat as my breath hitched and fractured. No one else would weep for her.
Not those ruthless creatures.
Those... monsters.
I'm not willing...
They kept closing in—slow, cautious, weapons raised.
I felt none of it.
No fear.
No urgency.
Only regret.
And sorrow.
Crack.
Something shifted deep within my splintered mind.
An image rose unbidden.
A dead tree.
Its brittle branches snapped and fell away, one by one. From the fractured trunk, tender shoots pushed through—frail, trembling, yet alive. They stretched outward, multiplying, weaving into a vast lattice of branching paths.
Worlds.
Fates.
Intertwined.
Hope was fading. I felt it thinning, guttering like the last ember of a dying fire.
And still, I prayed.
Hopelessly.
Foolishly.
I prayed for another chance.
To undo it.
To shield Rae from their lies.
To tell her I saw her—that I had always seen her.
If they refused to stand by her, then I would.
I believed in her innocence.
I always had.
The monster was never her.
It was them—
Those heroes.
If I have a chance...
Crackle.
Leaves burst across the canopy. Blossoms followed, petals unfurling as motes of mana drifted free, scattering like ash on the wind.
Then—
Footsteps.
They stopped just within my sight. A shadow stretched over us. Slowly, I curled my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms until warmth slicked my skin.
Rough fingers seized my hair and wrenched my head back.
A shrill voice cut through the air.
"You bitch—you killed him! You killed Arthur, you monster!"
I did not look at her.
I would not let that be the last thing I saw.
Her arm lifted—trembling, eager.
If I can go back in time...
Something swelled inside me—raw, defiant.
Why was it always us who paid the price? Because we were not chosen? Because we were born on the wrong side of their story?
They built their glory upon suffering and named it virtue.
If that was heroism, what separated them from monsters?
Why were they celebrated as saviours?
Why were we condemned as villains before we had even sinned?
Why?
If I can be her first encounter...
The dying tree stood whole once more—lush, radiant, its branches heavy with leaves and blossom, swaying beneath warm light.
If I can just meet her before the rest...
Whing.
Metal sliced through the air.
Cold brushed my throat.
A faint glow flickered at the edge of my vision.
Then—
Light.
It swallowed everything.
And there was nothing.