Rikard moved first.
Or—did he?
I blinked, and the world warped again.
Rikard lunged—but hadn't yet. The distortion rippled through my mind, the image of him flashing forward an instant before his real body followed.
It was like watching two moments layered on top of each other—one happening before reality could catch up.
And I couldn't tell which one was real.
I gritted my teeth, trying to adjust, trying to force my mind to sync with what I was seeing. But it wasn't just the world—it was Rikard.
This wasn't the same Rikard I knew.
He was stronger. Faster. His sword sliced through the air like a phantom streak of silver, striking before The Mother could fully react.
She dodged, barely—but I had already seen her fail to dodge a second before it happened.
She was struggling.
She had been able to toy with us before. But now—she was being hunted.
Rikard's sword lashed out, a perfect, fluid arc—
A severed limb hit the ground.
Her other arm—gone.
The Mother shrieked, staggering back. Her once fluid, predatory movements were now erratic, desperate.
Because she knew.
If this continued—
She would die.
But, Rikard had no intention of stopping.
Not now.
Not ever.
He moved like a force of nature, silent, unrelenting, absolute.
The Mother lashed out with what remained of her, her body twisting into a desperate escape—
But she was too slow.
Rikard had already moved.
His sword was already there.
A blur of silver, a streak of motion so fast my mind barely caught it.
The Mother's head snapped back.
Then—
It rolled.
Her body hit the ground before her head did.
The cave fell silent.
It was over.
My vision snapped back to normal.
No more distortion. No more overlapping moments.
Just reality.
Rikard stood still, his sword lowered, his body rigid as he stared down at The Mother's lifeless corpse.
I swallowed, stepping toward him. "Rikard?"
Nothing.
No response.
He didn't look at me, didn't flinch, didn't breathe.
It was unsettling—too perfect, too unnatural.
I hesitated before forcing out a chuckle. "You really went all out, huh?" I nudged him with my elbow. Nothing.
He just stood there, unmoving.
Something cold twisted in my gut.
I stared at him, searching for something. Some sign that he was still him.
"Hey, maybe after this, we go to Lyria's?" I smirked, trying to provoke something, anything. "I mean, you always loved going there, right? Not for the food, obviously—" I scoffed, shaking my head. "It's because you thought Lyria was cute."
Nothing.
No reaction.
No scoff. No denial. No flustered look.
Just silence.
Just waiting.
A flicker of curiosity sparked in my mind.
"Pick up The Mother's head and bring it to me."
Rikard moved immediately.
No hesitation. No reaction. Just obedience.
He stepped forward, grabbed the severed head, and carried it back to me.
I swallowed. "Sit down."
He did.
Effortlessly. Wordlessly.
Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And that was when it truly sank in.
I had brought him back.
But not as Rikard.
Not as my best friend.
Not as the man who had fought beside me, bled beside me, laughed beside me.
I had brought him back as something else.
As a living weapon.
And nothing more.
My mind snapped back.
The cave, the blood, Rikard—gone.
Once again, I was in the dark void.
But this time—Eindva was standing right in front of me.
Her presence was even heavier now, as if the very air around her twisted under her will. Her void-like eyes bore into me, unreadable, endless.
Then, she smiled.
"How does it feel?" Her voice was smooth, honeyed. Too gentle.
"To be useful?"
Something inside me broke.
I snapped.
"This isn't what I wanted!" I roared, stepping forward, fists clenched. "This isn't what you promised!"
My voice echoed into nothing.
Eindva tilted her head slightly, a flicker of something almost like confusion crossing her too-perfect features.
She wasn't offended.
She wasn't angry.
She was puzzled.
"I granted your wishes exactly as you had hoped."
Her lips curled, her voice dipping into something almost mocking.
"To be powerful."
I fell to my knees.
Exhaustion crushed down on me, heavier than anything I had ever felt.
And then, I screamed.
A raw, guttural sound that tore from my lungs, echoing into the endless void.
"Kill me!" My voice shook, my body trembling. "Just kill me now! I have no intention of living!"
Eindva stood still, watching.
Then, she spoke.
"Is that so?"
Her voice was calm. Patient. Unmoved.
I sucked in ragged breaths, my body shaking, but she continued.
"I thought all you wanted was to stand on your own feet."
And then—my body moved.
Not by my will.
Not by my command.
I was rising.
My legs pushed me upright, my back straightened, my hands steady. I wasn't forcing myself to stand—something was making me.
But no—not something.
Me.
Eindva smiled.
"You have the capability to do that now." Her voice was almost… warm. Encouraging.
"You can achieve your own dream. So do it."
She took a slow step back, the void around her pulsing, shifting.
"And if you need me…"
She lifted a hand, as if placing something unseen on my shoulder.
"I'll always be right here, my child."
Then—
Light.
A sudden, sharp rush of awareness.
And I was back.
The cave surrounded me once more.
But this time—
Rikard was gone.
No sign of his body, no trace of his presence.
Just me.
And The Mother's head, resting in my hand.