Back to Asuna and Kirito's side, the two had arrived at the residence of the Viscount.
The hallway stretched endlessly, the dim glow of dying torches casting their shadows onto the stone walls.
Each step Kirito took echoed heavily, like the pounding of a heart racing within his chest. Asuna followed closely behind, her hand unconsciously tightening around the hilt of her rapier.
Outside, the cries of men and the clash of steel rolled in like a dark tide, each moment a reminder that the Dark Elf army was faltering.
The surviving soldiers trembled not only from their wounds, but from a faith on the verge of collapse, as though they had been abandoned by their very leaders.
Kirito stopped before the office door of Viscount Yofilis. Taking a deep breath, he knocked three times, the sound reverberating through the silence.
The door creaked open, revealing a cold, dim chamber filled with the faint scent of old paper and damp wood.
Yofilis sat there, motionless like a statue. A long scar cut across his eye, catching the faint light, his face still hidden beneath his hood.
He looked up, but his gaze betrayed no emotion.
"Viscount," Kirito began, his voice steady but low. "The Fallen Elves will breach the gates within hours. Without leadership, the army will fall apart. You may be the only one who can give them hope."
Yofilis remained silent, his cold eyes drifting over the letter of introduction Kirito placed upon the desk, bearing the seal of the Dark Elven Commander, acknowledging the deeds of two young Plaedem who had risked their lives to protect his people.
Yet he did not move, did not utter a word, as though the survival of the fortress no longer concerned him.
The atmosphere grew suffocating.
Asuna stepped forward, her voice sharp yet pleading, "You know what the soldiers out there are thinking. They are afraid, they are losing faith. But if you show yourself, if they see you...they will fight again. You don't need to say much, you only need to stand with them."
Her eyes burned crimson in the torchlight spilling from the corridor. "Please, if you abandon them now… everything you once protected will fall. Not only the fortress, but the very honor of the Dark Elves."
Yofilis tilted his head slightly, as though shaken by her words, but still remained silent, his heavy hand resting on the hilt of an old, dust-covered sword.
Kirito glanced at Asuna, then stepped forward once more, his dark eyes glowing in the shadows. "We are not Dark Elves, but we fought beside them.
We saw the despair in the soldiers' eyes. They don't need a hero, they need someone to make them believe they are not abandoned."
His voice lowered, like an oath, "You may be the only one who can save them. But if you will not step outside… then we will. And when that happens, you will lose the only chance to hold their hearts."
The silence deepened, broken only by the distant clash of weapons. In that moment, Yofilis lowered his head, the shadows hiding his expression, though his shoulders trembled faintly.
His veined hand tightened around the sword's hilt, long unused, his knuckles straining white.
He turned his gaze toward the window. Though it was morning, the darkness of battle had swallowed the view outside.
Beneath the fortress, flames roared, and the cries of soldiers echoed.
Inside him rose a panic, fear of losing the stronghold that had sheltered his life, and fear of the stares of men who would see the face ruined by his scar.
"Lord Yofilis…" Kirito pressed forward, his voice urgent, almost trembling in frustration at the man's indifference. "We know you cannot stand under the light. But you don't need to go outside, you don't need to raise your sword. All you must do… is give an order. Just one word, to let the soldiers know they are not abandoned."
Yofilis raised his head, a strange gleam flashing in his eyes. He stared intently at the two young Plaedem, lips tightening before he spoke:
"Why?"
The sound was both commanding and hoarse, carrying decades of buried anguish.
Yofilis sank into the heavy chair, his hand still gripping the sword's hilt, his voice growing harsher, weighted with the tone of interrogation.
"Why must you help us?"
He leaned forward, his hood falling back, revealing part of a face torn by a long scar.
The candlelight cast shadows that twisted the scars into something fierce, distorted.
"You are outsiders. You can leave at any time. So in the end…" his voice was heavy as iron, each word struck like a hammer, "…what do you want from us?"
Yofilis' dark red eyes bore into Kirito and Asuna.
Behind them lay not only suspicion, but the terror of betrayal once more, a fear that had gnawed at his heart through years of isolation.
Kirito stood frozen, silent to the point he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in the oppressive chamber.
Yofilis' questions were not just sharp blades, but like old scars torn open again, laying bare fear and loss.
Yet instead of turning away, Kirito drew a deep breath, his dark eyes shining in the gloom with a resolve that seemed to awaken the very room.
"We… want nothing."
His voice rang out, unwavering, without hesitation.
That firmness made the air itself tremble, like a blade striking against the walls of the viscount's heart.
Viscount Yofilis furrowed his brow slightly, his deep eye flashing with doubt, as though he could not believe that these strangers truly spoke words free of ambition.
Kirito took another step forward, his hand tightening so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"We are not here to claim rewards, nor do we need words of recognition.
We fight… only because of what we have seen with our own eyes. Your soldiers, they tremble, they are weary, yet they do not retreat.
They do not cling to rewards, nor to empty hopes. The only thing that holds them together… is the belief that you will never abandon them."
Asuna stepped forward, her voice not loud, but each word fell heavy like the toll of a bronze bell, "You ask what we want?"
She lifted her face, her hazel eyes shining bright in the flickering firelight, reflecting an unyielding faith.
"We want them to see you. To see the one they swore to follow.
We want those despairing outside to once more raise their heads high, to shout your name as they fight on.
You do not need to wield the sword at the front, nor slay the enemy yourself. Just a look, a command, a single breath of guidance… is enough to turn defeat into strength."
Asuna bowed her head slightly, her voice softening, yet carrying a heavier weight,
"You owe us nothing. But your soldiers, those who have placed their very lives in your hands, are different.
If you turn away, they will have nothing left. If you remain silent, the darkness will consume them.
But if you rise… just once, they will fight to their last breath...for you."
A heavy silence draped over the room. Only the distant clash of weapons drifted in, faint like a funeral bell.
Yofilis sat motionless, the shadows covering most of his face. But his hand on the sword's hilt trembled, the tendons and veins straining visibly.
The words of Kirito and Asuna pierced through the thick layers of doubt, stirring a memory long buried, the memory of a time when he still believed that a single call, a single look of trust, could change the fate of an entire people.
He lowered his head, his broad shoulders swaying in the dark. For a moment, even he did not know whether it was weakness… or the beginning of a decision long delayed.
"...Lead the way."
The voice broke the silence, deep and heavy, yet clear...like a blade drawn from its sheath after years of neglect.
Kirito and Asuna froze. For an instant, they thought they had misheard. They looked at each other, eyes wide with both awe and fear, as though to ask again might cause the answer to vanish into nothingness.
But then that voice rose once more, firmer this time, echoing against the cold walls:
"Lead the way. I… wish to fight alongside my soldiers."
The room seemed to tremble. Not from the clash of weapons outside, but from the surge of resolve rising from the heart of a noble thought to have long surrendered to the dark.
Asuna stammered, her voice trembling with astonishment, "But… you… aren't you unable to stand in the strong light?"
Yofilis paused, his broad shoulders quivering slightly. Then he let out a dry laugh, a sound like a wound tearing open.
He raised his hand, slowly brushing the ugly scar running down from his forehead across his left eye, his lips pressed tight.
"Light…?" He shook his head, his voice weighed down like rusted iron. "No. I suffer from no such illness. That… was only an excuse."
His fingers pressed harder against the scar, his remaining eye flashing with a complex light..shame, memory, and an unquenched fury.
"This gift…" he tilted his head slightly, letting the faint glow fall upon the grotesque scar. "…was from the one I once called my son. A traitor. The disciple I had trusted with all my being."
His voice caught for a moment, before hardening into ice, "From that day, I feared the face I bore. Feared the eyes of others.
I hid in the shadows, letting the soldiers believe I was cursed… that I could not face the light. And I left them to carry the burden, left them to doubt, left the faith of an entire people to die in silence."
He turned away, his tall back like a monument carved full of cracks, "But when I heard your words… I remembered.
My soldiers do not need a ghost hiding behind stone walls. They need someone… who dares to stand in the light, even with a face defiled."
Yofilis turned back, his deep eyes burning with the fire of battle, his voice stronger than ever, "So, lead the way..." he paused for a moment, as if weighing something, then let the words fall firmly from his lips.
"Let me, once more… stand on the battlefield with them, as their leader!"