FORZA
There was no rain around me anymore. The storm had long since vanished from my immediate surroundings, chased away by the altitude I'd reached. The clouds that once raged with thunder and downpour were now nothing more than distant shadows beneath me, swirling and screaming, yet unable to touch me. I was above it all—high, even by my standards—adrift in the vast openness of the sky, where the winds howled without apology and the air grew thinner with every breath.
It should've been suffocating, but I didn't mind. Not the cold. Not the pressure. Not even the biting wind that gnawed at my skin. Up here, the sun had finally broken through. Its light spilt across my armour and cheekbones, offering a warmth that clashed violently with the storm below. And maybe that contradiction—serenity above chaos—was exactly what kept me frozen in place.
I knew Lucius was still down there. Fighting the Chimaera. Alone.
The same Chimaera we hadn't expected to encounter us first this deep into the territory, her territory. A beast not just terrifying in presence, but a former alpha. SS-ranked. The kind of threat you study in survival manuals—not something you fight alone unless you've got a death wish. There was no possible way he could last more than a few minutes on his own, not against something like that.
And yet... knowing all that, I hadn't moved.
I told myself I needed time to stabilise my flight. That my senses were still disoriented from the sudden ascent. That the wind currents at this height were too strong to cast properly. But they were just pathetic, lame and 'don't make any sense' excuses. Thin, pathetic excuses that I clung to because deep down, something in me had frozen—and not from the cold.
I tried again, commanding my body to dive, to cut through the clouds and return to the battle. But my limbs hesitated. My magic stuttered. My mind flooded with memories and reasons and doubts, all crashing into each other like the storms below. I wasn't afraid of the beast—I had faced worse. No, it wasn't the Chimaera that terrified me. It was the feeling I couldn't shake, the one that whispered that this was my fault. That Lucius was down there alone because I'd made the wrong call. Because I'd dragged him into this.
I gripped my staff tighter, its familiar hum vibrating against my palm. The wind element within it responded to me like it always had—loyal, constant—but I didn't summon a single spell. I just hovered there, wrapped in sunlight, warm and miserable.
It was supposed to be a simple mission. I had extended my senses farther than ever before, pushing wind mana to its limits, weaving it into the atmosphere so I could feel everything across a wider range. And it worked... for a moment. I detected more mana signatures than I thought possible. But by doing that, I gave away my own position. I made myself vulnerable.
The moment I sensed something odd for a split second, which now I'm sure was a Chimaera, it sensed me too.
Had I chosen a cloaked sensory scan—more limited in range but masked in presence—none of this would've happened. But I wanted more. I needed to cover more ground. To be useful. To prove that I could do something right on my own.
And now... Lucius was paying for that choice.
The worst part? He didn't even know why.
He didn't know what I was really chasing—what obsession had slowly dug its claws into me over the years. In his mind, I was just another lost girl trying to prove her worth after being abandoned by her parents. That's what he thought this was all about.
And honestly? I couldn't even blame him. That's the part he knows. That's the part I let him see.
But the truth... the real reason I've pushed myself so far... is buried beneath a dozen locked doors even I'm afraid to open.
Because half a truth is more dangerous than none at all.
And I had left him to fight with only half the picture.
Lucius—always so composed, so focused in the thick of chaos—was probably not even blaming me. That was just who he was. Right now, as the battle between him and the Chimaera raged on in the middle of that swampy wasteland, his mind was likely clear, locked onto survival and instinct, onto the next movement, the next strike. He'd have no room to waste on thoughts of betrayal or abandonment. Not when every second could determine his future... or his end.
Still, I couldn't ignore what I knew. His odds were low. He was an S-rank, true—a level most would kill to reach—but it wasn't enough. Not against that. Not today. He had lost an eye, too—an irreplaceable wound. A permanent sacrifice. One that would follow him like a shadow for the rest of his life, if he even lived through this. And that future, that survival... it now rested on the decision I was about to make.
So what was it? What was I still afraid of?
The question echoed through my head like a slap, bouncing off the walls of every excuse I'd hidden behind. Because the truth? I could descend right now. I could summon the full fury of my magic and hammer that Chimaera with a barrage it couldn't hope to defend against. And Lucius would back me up. Together, we'd stand a chance. A real one.
So why was I still up here? I questioned myself for the thousandth time.
"Calm down. Breathe in," I whispered aloud, the words shaky but honest, at the very least.
My breaths were shallow. Too fast. It was starting to affect my flight, my mana control. I knew this feeling—panic. Self-doubt. And I hated it. I wasn't like Lucius. I wasn't built for direct combat or sudden death duels. But that didn't mean I was weak. I was trained. I was ranked. I was wielding a devastating affinity that could reshape the battlefield. I was more than just a scholar, more than a researcher in love with theories and history. This—this moment was my battlefield too. One I had prepared for, one I had earned. This is my second nature, one I'm proud to possess and flaunt.
And deep down, I knew the truth.
Years ago, I'd held my brother in these very arms as the life faded from his eyes. I had been powerless. Magicless. Barely even human in the face of death's cruelty. I had begged for another chance to save him, or someone else, a form of pathetic compensation, never to feel that helpless again.
Well... here it was, no longer a pathetic way of compensation for my brother's life.
Another chance. Another life hanging by a thread. And this time, I was no longer helpless. I was the wind. I was the storm. And I would not let him die as well. Not on my watch, no, I cannot, and will not allow that.
My grip on the staff tightened instinctively, the air around me roaring to life in response. My manifested wings crackled with fresh energy, the armour wrapping around my body humming with an intensity I hadn't felt in years. Then it happened—subtle, but unmistakable. A new layer of magic began to form, an ethereal crown of wind and light settling upon my forehead. The crown I had once worn with pride. The symbol of who I was... and who I refused to forget.
I opened my eyes fully, searching within myself for any final trace of fear or hesitation. Anything that might cripple me in the seconds of a battle to come. But there was nothing left. No fear. No excuses. Just resolve.
My body began to fall, not in surrender, but in purpose.
The wind screamed around me, guiding my descent like a loyal guardian. The sunlight caught the edge of my armour one final time, blessing me with its golden warmth before I plunged into the thick, churning clouds below.
No more waiting. No more doubt.
I was coming, Lucius.
And this time, I wouldn't be a powerless spectator. A fool hoping, begging, praying the Almighty for a miracle that never comes.