She was not merely beautiful. To use a word like that to describe her was crude, but everything had limits, and human language was no exception. It could not express the totality of feeling, of human experience, no matter how hard one tried.

Even if it were possible, Desmond was not looking at a human being.

She was much more than that.

Or maybe not, maybe she was just that. Maybe she was more human than all of them. In harmony with the world and nature around her. She was dressed from head to toe in white. The moonlight accompanied her, and the air blowing through the forest, and even the sound of the animals echoing in the darkness seemed like a welcome to her.

And, on the other side of that pure expression of humanity, was Laura. In the darkness, as black as her heart. With a face twisted by anger that didn't look like that of a human being.

With the sole intention of using her for her own purposes, of violating the pure beauty of her savior.

And yet she was still able to look at herself and think she was doing the right thing? Maybe because from time to time she was kind, like sparing Amy's and Christina's lives, the teachers' and nurses' lives, even Jacob's.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why she could live deluding herself.

He didn't understand her.

But he didn't need to, he didn't want to.

He just wanted to watch her die. It was what she deserved. For wanting to get her dirty hands on her, she had to suffer and die.

"It is not wise to ignore me," said Laura.

"There is nothing to talk about. This is not a conversation, but a simple transaction. Let Desmond and those girls go, and I will give myself up willingly."

She had come here for him, but, in spite of everything, she was also going to exchange her life for two people who meant nothing to her.

No, precisely because she had come for him, because he cared about them, she would save them.

His savior was an immortal woman.

No matter how many times they killed her, or how they did it, she would come back to life again and again. But that didn't mean she wasn't risking her life ending anyway, here and now. If she was captured by the Empire, it was possible she might never escape.

Not certain, but possible, and that was a lot to gamble with for a person who couldn't die, even if she wanted to.

An eternity of suffering.

Endless agony. Being treated as if she wasn't even human until she herself forgot that she actually was.

And he... he was just going to stand here, watching?

He felt sick. Sick and weak, in more ways than one.

"How charming," Laura replied, then turned her head, her eyes falling on him. "Bring the boy here."

The men holding him hesitated, but soon obeyed the order, dragging him to the side of the abomination that wanted to take everything he had. And, perhaps even worse, everything he could have.

"Yes. You must be very happy, seeing that there's someone who cares so much about you, eh? But that's a lie, Desmond. The only thing she cares about is what you can do for her."

What did she think she was going to accomplish with that?

Laura said she understood him, but clearly, she didn't. How could she possibly tear down a faith and loyalty he'd been building up for a decade with a few words?

With a bunch of lies to boot. He didn't know what that harpy had in store, but it couldn't be more than that.

And even if it was, what reason did he have to believe her?

None, of course. How foolish of her.

"Shut your mouth," his savior said. He supposed that to others in his position that would have made them worry for no reason. But weak though he was, he wasn't that kind of person.

"Your greatest wish is to live forever by her side," Laura continued, ignoring her completely. "The only thing the Witch wants, however, is to die, even if she has to do it by passing the "curse" she is so desperately trying to get rid of on to someone else. Innocent kids, like you, who accept the contract."

Desmond felt...

"I see," he said simply and calmly, his expression not changing, his eyelids not even twitching.

"Is that all you're going to say? Don't you believe me? In that case, ask her. Come on, let's go. She can't lie to you."

Relieved. That's how he felt.

Oh, and amused at his enemy's stupidity and desperation. She really hadn't understood anything about him at all. It would have been better if she had kept her mouth shut, because it had backfired on her.

"I believe you. It's just that you were wrong about me. You thought I'd feel betrayed, that I'd turn my back on her. But why should I? Now I understand why she pulled me out of that hell that day. Because I alone was saved while so many others died around me. I am not special. Anyone would have done it. I feel as if..."

Since that day ten years ago, he had wished for a few things, but intensely.

To be reunited with his savior someday. And if he couldn't, at least see her again. And if he couldn't, at least live his life in a way that would make her proud of him, if only she knew.

And also know why, quite simply.

That had been the second most important thing, after seeing her smile again. So many people had died that day. She had passed by so many people in agony, pleading, begging for help.

Or for their children. For someone to take their children and get them out of there.

But she had ignored those pleas, which were like the sound of tormented souls in the burning depths of the Empire. And she had walked past and over countless corpses that were people that she could have saved in his place.

More important people, who had more to lose, than a child whose life had just begun.

So he had been wracked with guilt, thinking of all that had been lost that day to save him. But now, he felt as though....

"A weight has been lifted off my shoulders," he finished, and his lips drew into a small smile.

There was silence.

"Boy, you're out of your mind. But she'll have no qualms about using your twisted mentality against you. She will use you and throw you away. She will never grant your deepest wish."

His savior had looked away. But, when he sought her out, she looked into his eyes without turning away. She felt ashamed. She shouldn't be.

He understood her.

Laura had said that immortality was a curse as if mocking that someone could think so. But he wouldn't want to live forever either. Not without someone to share eternity with.

Besides, even if he didn't understand her, even if he felt a little hurt, a little betrayed, for no reason....

"My life has been hers since that day. She can do whatever she wants with it. If she wants to die, then I will help her. I will do whatever it takes. "

That was the truth.

Even if it had to be by inheriting that curse, and eventually he would be left alone. Without her.

He would do it.

He had been saved to do that.

"What an adorable little lapdog you've procured for yourself," Laura said, and pressed the gun against the side of his head.

Desmond tense ed.

As if preparing to do something, to take action. But, as before, he was in no condition to do anything. As before, he had to leave everything in the hands of his savior.

"What would happen if I blew his head off? To this, possibly your only chance to pass on? The only one stupid enough to voluntarily condemn himself, for someone like you?"

"Stop it. You don't have to complicate this. Let him go and you've got me."

"From where I'm standing, things are a little more complicated. Because you see, I hold all the cards. I'm in complete control of this situation and your miserable lives. With or without your consent, you're already in my hands. How can you have the arrogance to want to give me something that's already mine?"

No, you are the arrogant one.

How can you seriously pretend to fight against someone who has the world on her side? For such an existence, in harmony with the world, the most appropriate word was... goddess, no doubt.

"What do you want? To hear me beg?" his savior asked. His goddess!

"I'm greedy. I want to take everything."

"I see. I'll make you a counteroffer. Let them go right now and I won't kill you."

"I have one too." Laura raised her hand.

Seeing the signal, the soldiers opened fire on his goddess, riddling her with bullets. She gasped, staggered back, one, two, three steps, then fell to the ground. A red carpet was spreading under her body.

And blood came out of her mouth as well. It all made a greater impression because the blood stained and spread across her pale skin, her white clothes.

An impression so strong that his legs began to tremble for reasons that had nothing to do with the weakness of his exhausted body, on the verge of collapse.

"She is immortal, nothing will happen to her, nothing will happen to her."

Part of him was seriously worried that she would die, in spite of everything, in spite of what reason told him. That's why he had felt the need to whisper that to himself. To convince himself. However, the crux of the matter was not whether she would die, she couldn't, but how long it would take for her to recover.

If it took as long as it took him, then this fight was already over.

But she... She sounded so confident. So powerful.

"Still breathing. Put a bullet in her head."

It was true. She was damaged, but not dead. Not yet. Fear had made it so he couldn't see things clearly, overlooking that, though he should have seen it right away.

A soldier slowly approached his savior, raised his gun, aiming it at her head, to finish her off.

It would be a temporary death, of course.

But he couldn't let that happen. He could not stand still. Even if he died trying, he had to stop this. Because, otherwise, the lives of the four would essentially come to an end. Essentially? No, they would truly end.

Once she was captured, none of it would be necessary. Since she had been shot down, their lives had become expendable.

"Stop it! Hold still, you maggot."

For a moment he thought he was going to break free, but his efforts went unrewarded. They overpowered him and made him bend his knees, almost knocking him to the ground. If anyone was going to stop this, it wouldn't be him.

That was what he thought. But he didn't anticipate that his savior would take care of it personally.

The woman put a hand on the soldier's leg and, for a moment, Desmond thought she was going to try to talk her way out of it. Until she set the pants on fire.

The flames spread with unnatural speed, engulfing the soldier.

Beginning to consume him.

His screams rose into the night sky. Towards the stars and beyond.

He fell to the ground and rolled in the grass as if trying to put out the fire. To no avail.

And her savior stood up as if she wasn't full of bullet holes. Even covered in blood, and hidden behind the rising flames, she was so beautiful it took the breath away.

No, not beautiful. He had already said that word was not enough, not by a long shot. She was divine.

But he couldn't waste time mesmerized by her beauty in this situation. Nor the opportunity she had given them. Out of shock and horror, the grip of the two soldiers who held him had weakened.

So he slipped away. He used physical reinforcement magic to give himself enough strength to break the neck of one, concentrating magical energy and strength on one arm.

Despite that precaution, he broke his wrist and several bones in the process.

With his body that weak, any pressure he put it under would be twice as bad as under normal circumstances. That included, of course, the pressure of enduring his magic, his best weapon against the world.

But he had the strength to do what he had to do. No matter how many blows he took, he would always have it.

Perhaps that was his best weapon, after all.

The other soldier turned his gun on him. Before he could pull the trigger, Desmond kicked him in the face, slamming him hard into the side of one of the trucks that had escorted them here.

He wasn't able to kill him with that, since he couldn't risk using his magic on one of his legs, on leaving himself disabled, even if only temporarily. The risk wasn't worth it.

But the soldier had been left dizzy. With any luck, half unconscious, and soon he would be unconscious altogether.

At the very least he wasn't conscious enough to stop him from stealing his weapon.

Amy was also struggling to free herself, and had half succeeded. She was in better condition than he was, and more powerful. But, at the same time, she had more guards around her, as Laura had not ordered her to be moved forward.

Desmond helped her, blasting away. He was surrounded by people. And almost all of them were his enemies, so he didn't have to tread too carefully.

Whereas for them, a small mistake would be enough to kill one of their companions.

And, of course, the darkness of the night was a factor. That also played in their favor. It was a little less dark now than it had been a few moments ago, of course, with the burning corpse illuminating the surroundings.

Still, he...and Amy had the upper hand. Even though Christina had lost too much blood, even though she was barely conscious, he was fighting back.

Wrapping the head of the soldier who held her in shadows, choking it.

He watched his savior disappear into the trees, leaving behind only a trail of blood.

That distracted him long enough for him to get shot. Desmond fell to the ground, screaming in an embarrassing way. His hand immediately went to his wounded leg and he discovered it was still there.

There was a hole above the knee, and the bullet had gone clean through it, through and through. But that was it. He could still lean on it. He could run and fight, if necessary, just by enduring terrible pain.

It would be hard, but Desmond was used to enduring pain. He could do this.

A broken arm and a broken leg.

In other words, he was screwed. But that was no excuse for giving up. She hadn't left. She had simply effected a tactical retreat, but she would soon fall upon them again. He was sure of that.

Regardless of how she felt about him, Desmond now knew that she couldn't leave him here. That he was too valuable to be able to afford his loss.

So, if nothing else, he shouldn't let doubt take root in his heart and deceive him.

His savior was on his side. As she had said.

She was on his side and always would be.

When the soldier holding her died of suffocation, Christina fell to the ground head first. Over her wound, again.

Desmond crawled toward her, panting, grunting.

Amy was moving in the same direction, pushing away enemies by creating blocks of ice and sending them flying. Blocking bullets around them, also the bullets that were coming for them.

She was good. Prodigy was certainly the perfect way to describe her. But, even though he hadn't seen her fight much, the difference between her now having to make do with her hands and when she could make use of her sword to handle the ice was too great.

And, even if she had her sword and was in perfect condition, well rested, without a scratch, it would only be a matter of time before she was a little too slow and got shot, in the midst of so many enemies. Dozens, with no cover.

It was only a matter of time before they all died, unless something changed.

Unless someone turned the tables.

He managed, at least, to get to them. And Christina turned the tables.

She erected a barrier of shadows around them, preventing the bullets from getting through. Neither did the sound, but, to his surprise, the light did. He could see through the shadows that Christina manipulated as if they were an incredibly hard pane of glass.

She had made a big move. Forming a circle around them, shutting out all the soldiers. To do this she had had to make it so small that she couldn't even extend her arms out to the sides, not fully.