Quincy couldn't stay still. Her wings twitched in restless bursts as she paced the outer halls of the coliseum, every motion betraying how close she was to flying out herself. The arena had been morphed into a fortress by her magic—stone and metal reshaped into thick, defensive walls and towers, with a vast dome of fused metals sealing what was once an open roof. The space was secure but suffocating, the air dense with unease.
"You should stop worrying so much," Even said as he walked beside her, his steps sluggish from exhaustion. He gave her a faint, tired look before adding, "They're strong. We've all seen them fight. They'll be okay." He didn't quite believe it himself, but he forced the words out anyway.
"I know," Quincy muttered, pausing mid-step. "But this… this is such a disaster. Demons invading like this? It feels like something out of a story." She turned to him with unease still tightening her voice. "How's everyone else holding up?"
Even rubbed the back of his neck before answering, "They're alright. On edge, but alright." He gestured faintly as he spoke, referring to Lia, Dirk, Drack, Larkin, and Elsa. They couldn't afford to send everyone out. Someone had to defend the coliseum in case the demons reached them, especially since Quincy's magic didn't extend beyond the arena's bounds due to an equivalent exchange she made.
"A few more people made it in from the outside too," Even added, hoping to ease her mind a little. "So some are getting to safety."
"That's good… as good as it can be," Quincy replied under her breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. She clicked her tongue, frustration edging into her tone. "Just what happened to that damn door upstairs?" Her eyes lifted sharply toward ceiling. "If that thing could open, you'd be healed and fine by now."
Even raised a brow. "How is it stuck, anyway? I didn't think there was a lock from the inside."
Quincy let out an irritated breath and gave a helpless shrug. "I don't know. That's the problem—it doesn't make sense. It shouldn't even be able to lock from the inside, or jam somehow, and even if it was, it shouldn't be that hard to open. It feels like something's blocking it, and the door's too damn strong to break through since I had it made that way."
Before Even could reply, a shout echoed from down the hall. "Hey! They came back! The ones that went outside— they came back!"
Both their heads snapped toward the voice as a staff member ran up to them, breathless.
"They did?" Quincy stepped forward immediately. "Hurry and bring us to them."
The man nodded and turned on his heel, leading them quickly through the corridor. Quincy and Even followed, their pace fast and heavy with anticipation until they reached the ground floor.
What Quincy saw first filled her with relief—so many new faces had made it back. Nearly sixty guards stood gathered, worn, battered but alive. Among them she spotted the guard commander, Xain, Clara, Annabel, Edluar, Ulrich, Amos, Zee, Mae, and Calvinel. For a moment, her chest loosened with that sight—only for the feeling to die when her gaze fell on Bryanard, his armor battered nearly beyond recognition, and Lexy carrying Zeva's unconscious, tear-streaked body. The absence of Gurion and Hittag struck her immediately, her relief fading into cold dread.
She quickly surged forward to check Zeva, her wings snapping tight against her back. Zeva's face was pale, her expression twisted in pain even in unconsciousness. Quincy's breath caught before she turned sharply toward a nearby staff member. "Quickly, take her to the medics!" she ordered, her voice tight with urgency. She gently lifted Zeva from Lexy's arms, careful not to jostle her, and passed her into the staff member's waiting hold. He gave a quick nod before hurrying off, moving with the cautious speed of someone afraid to make things worse.
Turning back, Quincy's eyes swept across the group. "What happened? Where are Gurion and Hittag?" she demanded, her tone cracking under the strain. Her gaze locked onto Bryanard next. "Why does your armor look crushed?" she pressed, then turned toward Lexy. "What happened to Zeva?"
Her breathing grew uneven, quick and shallow despite not needing to breathe at all. The tension in her voice bled through each word, her control slipping.
"Please, calm down, Quincy," Even said quietly, stepping beside her and placing a tired hand on her shoulder. She turned to him, ready to argue, but he lifted his other hand, stopping her. "Look at them," he said simply.
Confused, she glanced back at the group—and froze. Her breath hitched as she saw them properly this time. Nearly everyone stood slumped with exhaustion, their faces drawn and pale, eyes dull with fatigue. Yet, even through that weariness, every single one of them looked worried—not for themselves, but for her.
Quincy blinked, her throat tightening. Slowly, she lifted her hands. "Sorry... sorry, don't—don't worry about me, please," she said, her voice trembling faintly. "I'll calm down. Just... please, explain everything that happened."