“Why are you standing there all alone? Rinoa, are you feeling alright?”

  Fitran asked gently, though there was an undercurrent of concern in his voice. He strode along the wooden corridor of the Atlantis field clinic, shadows from the spiraled trees dancing around him. The night crept in, and the dim glow of magic lamps cast a faint light among the refugee tents. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, while the protective spells seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the right moment to spring to life. As he caught sight of the worry etched on the face of the girl with crimson hair, Fitran felt a tremor in his heart.

  Rinoa turned, startled, nearly letting the potion box she held slip from her grasp. “Fi-Fitran! I’m sorry… I didn’t notice you were here.”

  Fitran responded with a warm smile, though a hint of tension lingered beneath. He moved closer, just a single table separating them, making the distance feel smaller. “You look exhausted. Is all this weight coming from those patients?”

  Rinoa bit her lip, looking down as if trying to evade the heavier topic. “It’s not entirely about the patients, but… there are some things I’ve heard.”

  Fitran raised an eyebrow, his voice softly revealing genuine interest. “What have you heard?”

  Rinoa stared at the floor, appearing hesitant. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “People are saying… you often walk at night with Arthuria. And… they’ve seen Irithya near you. Everyone’s talking about you, whispering behind your back.”

  Fitran paused for a moment, a small chuckle escaping him as he took in the absurdity of the situation. “People really have vivid imaginations, don’t they? Arthuria just needs some time to herself, away from all that pressure—while Irithya… she just wants to know who you are. Do you feel bothered by any of this?”

  Rinoa clutched her notebook tightly, her cheeks flushed. “I’m not sure… I just sense something off. Sometimes, it scares me. I know my role here is merely as a helper, not a knight or a royal heir. But I want to mean something, especially to you…”

  Fitran stepped closer, his voice dropping to a gentle whisper as he carefully chose his words. “Listen, Rinoa, you are so much more than just ‘merely’. In this dark world, your smile can cast a sliver of light, even if just for a moment. I often feel isolated, yet your presence comforts me and dispels that loneliness.”

  Rinoa's breath hitched as her gaze locked onto Fitran’s, clear uncertainty and curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Are you for real? I… I worry that when everyone else is around you, I might fade into the background. Like I'm just a shadow that makes you forget I exist.”

  Fitran clenched his jaw, a faint smile flickering on his lips, as if concealing an inner tension. “If I ever forget you, slap me awake, alright? Or brew me a poison for my food—just make sure it's the kind that truly erases my memory, not just dulls my senses.”

  Rinoa let out a small laugh, the atmosphere between them slightly awkward yet charged with their shared honesty. “I won’t let you slip away like that, Fitran. It won’t be that easy.”

  But suddenly, a rumble shattered the silence, casting a dark shadow over the northern perimeter of the camp. A minor explosion was followed by screams of terror, a red aura of magic flaring like hellfire beneath the twisted trees.

  Fitran’s demeanor immediately shifted to serious, his eyes ablaze with focus, revealing a sharp instinct. “Stay here, Rinoa. I need to see what’s happening.”

  Rinoa tugged at Fitran's arm, anxiety etching her features. “No! Let me come with you! They need help; you can’t face this alone!”

  They sprinted toward the chaos, unease shadowing their every move. A few soldiers of Atlantis lay sprawled on the ground, helpless in the face of the wild creature—a spiraling ghoul, a remnant of a soul experiment that had long since ceased to be understood, tearing through the fragile barrier of magic that protected them.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Fitran lifted the Voidlight, a slender sword radiating with a blend of citrine brightness and darkness, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility settle upon him once more. Rinoa crouched behind the shadows, gathering her courage to concoct a healing elixir, sensing the unspoken burden weighing heavily on their hearts.

  “Don’t let that ghoul near the medical tent!” Fitran shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos with a sense of urgency, each word erupting with force as if casting a spell against the cruel reality that haunted them.

  The ghoul leaped towards him, its tongue flickering like shadows reaching out. Surrounded by encroaching darkness, Fitran swung his sword swiftly. This moment felt pivotal—despite the venomous sting burning his arm, he shattered the creature in two, blood spilling from the jagged wound cutting across his skin.

  Rinoa screamed in terror, “Fitran! Your arm! Are you okay?”

  Fitran fought to suppress the agony coursing through him, maintaining his focus on the looming threat. “Rinoa, behind me! I’ll—” His voice broke off as two more ghouls surged from the shadows of the trees, as if inviting the uncertainty swirling around them.

  One of the ghouls clawed at him, its talons digging deep into Fitran's shoulder, tearing flesh and bone apart, leaving behind a wound that throbbed with agony. Blood streamed forth, as if the earth itself beckoned it, but he clung to the resolve to stand tall despite the pain enveloping him.

  Rinoa fought to hold Fitran steady, desperately trying to stanch the bleeding with a strip of cloth and a healing spell she recalled. “Fitran, you have to fight! Please, don’t close your eyes! I can’t lose you now!” Her voice trembled with anxiety.

  Fitran held his breath, gripping Rinoa's shaking hand. “Just breathe… I’m here, even though this darkness keeps trying to swallow me…” His voice was rough, yet he struggled to keep his composure.

  Tears streamed down Rinoa's cheeks, her voice quivering with the weight of their emotions. “Please don’t leave me! I’ve always wanted you in my life, Fitran. Since we were children. My wish has always been simple—I want to be by your side, no matter how many choices lay ahead of us…”

  Fitran attempted a smile, though it hurt more than he expected. His voice wavered with uncertainty, “Rinoa, are you being foolish or just brave? Who will save the world if its healer is tangled up in such recklessness?”

  Rinoa managed a bittersweet smile through her tears, the light in her eyes dimming. “All I ever wanted was for you to be safe. Even if I have to deal with jealousy every moment, I wish to be the one who takes care of you until the very end…”

  Fitran lifted his sword despite his weakened state; he watched as the last ghoul approached. With one final swing, he cut through the air, his blade striking the creature with an explosive force. Blood and magic mingled, painting a horrific scene on the ground, yet a calmness gradually enveloped them, shrouding the surroundings in a profound silence.

  A few paladins stepped closer, their faces etched with uncertainty as they began to lift the injured bodies. Beside Fitran, Rinoa stood firm, holding him tightly, her hands moving gently to channel her healing spell. The blue light emanating from her palm danced with the spiraling aura radiating from Fitran’s arm, illustrating the fierce struggle between life and death that intertwined around them.

  “You… won’t leave, will you? You want to stay here, right?” Rinoa whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of hope and deep concern.

  Fitran offered a wry smile, “Not yet... as long as you’re by my side.”

  As night began to descend, Fitran lay weakly in the medical tent, the lingering scent making him nauseous. Rinoa sat beside him, her presence a shield against the encroaching darkness. Outside, soldiers exchanged tales of their bravery, some discussing the fates that awaited them, while others mocked Fitran and Rinoa, labeling them as an “enchanted” couple with a hint of sarcasm, as if love were merely a stroke of luck.

  Fitran gazed at Rinoa, his expression grave. “Rinoa, thank you. But honestly, I feel like I’m not what you need me to be. I’m sorry if my presence complicates things for you.”

  Rinoa lowered her head, gripping Fitran's hand fiercely, as if she could anchor herself to him in that moment. “What does it mean to care? If this chaotic world needs me, then I need you even more than before, especially when everything feels so uncertain.”

  Fitran looked into Rinoa's eyes, their depths reflecting a tumult of emotions. “If ever I stumble, I want you to be the reason I rise again, not the reason I fall even harder.”

  Rinoa fought to hold back her tears, trying to smile even as shadows loomed over their hearts. "I promise, there will come a day when the light breaks through again."

  Outside the tent, the faint voices of Arthuria and Irithya drifted in, weaving a tapestry of longing in the air. They whispered, tinged with jealousy—“It should be me there”—but tonight, it was only Fitran and Rinoa. Amidst the pain, fear, and a hesitant hope, a simple love blossomed, stronger than any force that could tear them apart.