[Masha's POV]
My question hung in the air between us, fragile and desperate. "Dante… will we ever go home?"
He didn't answer right away. He simply stared into the bonfire, the flames dancing in his dark, unreadable eyes. The silence stretched, each second amplifying the crushing weight of my fear. I had been the student council president. I was supposed to be composed, to be a pillar of strength. But in this dark, bloody forest, I was just a scared girl, clinging to a fading photograph of a life that felt a million worlds away.
When he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of any warmth, as cold and final as a closing tomb. "There's no way home, Masha. Not for now."
The words struck me with a physical force. I felt the air leave my lungs, the last embers of hope turning to ash in my chest.
"Derek's final piece of information was about the wish," he continued, his tone purely analytical, as if discussing a tactical problem. "The Goddess will grant a blessing to the first survivor. A wish. But Derek specifically said we can't wish to go home. That means it's one of the forbidden wishes, a rule even she cannot or will not break. It's a fundamental limitation of this world."
My face, which had been turned towards him with a desperate hope, fell. I was speechless. The final door had just been slammed shut and locked. We were trapped. Not just in this forest, but in this entire, brutal reality. The fight, the killing, the Bone Dragon… it wasn't a trial to be overcome. It was just the violent entrance exam to a new kind of prison.
He must have seen the despair on my face, because he added, "But why not make this world our new home?"
I looked up, startled. "What are you saying?"
"Like I said," he stated, his logic as sharp and unyielding as a shard of glass. "We can make it our home. We don't have to be slaves or soldiers. With the power we are accumulating, with the intelligence we possess, we can carve out a piece of it for ourselves. We can rule it. We can live happily."
The word 'happily' sounded so alien coming from him, so utterly devoid of the emotion it was meant to represent. I stared at him, trying to comprehend the mind behind those eyes. He saw this world as a set of variables, a problem to be solved. He saw kingdoms as territories to be conquered, and happiness as a state of ultimate control.
"That's not what a home is," I said, my voice barely a whisper. The words felt weak, sentimental, a relic from a world of comfort and safety. "A home isn't something you rule. It's… it's where your family is waiting for you. It's a place where you share moments, where you laugh, where you feel safe. It's where your loved ones are. It's not about power."
He tilted his head, a gesture of genuine, intellectual curiosity. "How can I know what that feels like," he said, his voice flat, without a trace of self-pity, "when I don't even have parents?"
I flinched as if he had struck me. The statement was so simple, so direct, it cut through all my arguments. I looked into his eyes then, truly looked. They weren't sad. They weren't bitter. They were voids. They were the eyes of someone who had looked out at the world his entire life from behind a wall of glass, observing emotions and connections he could analyze but never truly feel. They were the eyes of a person utterly and completely alone.
My own grief and fear seemed to shrink in the face of that profound emptiness. I moved from the log I was on and sat on the ground beside him, a silent offering of proximity.
"Do you know who they were?" I asked softly. "Your parents?"
"No," he replied, his gaze returning to the fire. "Never seen them. I grew up in an orphanage. The only thing I heard, from some of the older staff, was that they left me on the steps because I was a mistake. An accident they wanted to erase."
He said it with the same detachment he would use to describe the stats of a goblin. There was no pain in his voice, only the cold recitation of a fact. And that, somehow, was more heartbreaking than any tears could ever be. He had processed the core tragedy of his existence as simple data. He wasn't a son; he was a rounding error.
"Dante," I said, my voice thick with an emotion I couldn't name. It was pity, but it was also a deep, aching respect for the sheer strength of will it must have taken to survive that kind of emptiness. "You're not alone now. You have us. You have me, and Eric, and Jin, and the others. We're… we're your team. We'll be there with you."
He didn't respond, but I felt him listen.
"And talking about others," I continued, a small, sad smile touching my lips. "There's Erica."
At the mention of her name, I saw the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Confusion? Annoyance? I couldn't be sure.
"I don't know what happened to her when you collapsed," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But it was like watching a switch flip. The shy, quiet girl who used to hide behind me is gone. In her place is… something else. Something fierce. Whenever it's for you, she becomes insane. She's like a tsundere from one of the mangas Neil used to read, but without the cute part. It's a terrifying, unhinged devotion. I saw it in her eyes tonight. She would go on a rampage for you. She would kill anyone, even one of us, if she thought they were a threat to you."
I leaned in a little closer, my voice dropping. "When you were unconscious, she held you. She never left your side. She looked at you not like a leader, but like you were the only thing in the universe that mattered. The shy girl is a mask she wears, Dante. Underneath it, she's a valkyrie, a warrior forged in your shadow, and her only loyalty is to you."
I let the silence sit for a moment before finishing. "You are special to her, Dante. In a way that I don't think even she understands yet. So whatever you think about your past, whatever you believe about being a mistake… don't forget that now, in this world, there will always be someone waiting for you. You are not alone anymore."