A stark, metallic clatter of utensils echoes through the vast, cold hall.
Mia and I eat our food in an absolute silence that presses down on the air. She keeps her head bent low, moving her spoon slowly, almost mechanically, but it's obvious her mind is adrift somewhere else.
It is clear—she is terrified.
I set my utensils down with a light tap and study her pale face.
"So… what are you going to do?" I ask quietly, letting the question hang in the thick silence.
She looks up at me, her hand trembling almost imperceptibly as it rests on the table.
"I don't know," she admits, her voice threadbare.
"What about the others? Are they abandoning this place?"
"Yes," she says after a deliberate, heavy pause. "Most of the workers are leaving. But my mom… she is not leaving."
"Why?" I press, the sharp edge in my voice completely unintentional.
Mia's gaze softens, though the light in her eyes flickers with a faint tremble.
"Well… Mother was born here. She has spent her whole life inside this fortress's walls. She holds a deep familiarity—and a kind of stubborn love—for this place. Father was a knight here before he died. There is no way she would ever leave."
Her lips pull into a quick, brittle smile—a clear attempt to hide her fear.
"And besides… she's the only cook left. Knights can't fight on empty stomachs, can they?"
I lean back slightly, letting out a measured exhale through my nose. The cold stone of the chair seems to amplify the gloom of the hall.
"So you are also staying with your mom?"
"Yes," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the low sounds of the hall.
Her voice quivers, and for a fleeting moment, she looks so small—so fragile and breakable—that I almost forget the occasional sharpness of her tongue.
I lean forward, planting my elbows on the rough wood of the table.
"You are scared, aren't you?"
She offers no answer. Her head dips immediately, her fingers clutching the edge of the tray until her knuckles turn stark white. The tension in her shoulders is palpable.
I sigh.
"Mia, listen closely." My tone hardens, laced with quiet, absolute certainty. "You do not have to worry about anything. Nothing will happen to you or your mother. Commander will ensure that. And as long as I am here, I will protect you myself."
Her eyes flicker up to mine—wide, uncertain—as if she is struggling to decide whether to trust the weight of my words.
"Can you really protect us?" she asks, her voice a near-silent breath.
"Mia," I say firmly, meeting her gaze head-on, "you are the only true friend Liana has. Whenever she speaks about you, she wears a wide, genuinely happy smile—one I have never once seen her give me, no matter how long I have been with her. If something happens to you, I know she will be devastated. She might even cry. And I… I cannot bear to see Liana cry. That is why I will protect you with all my strength. That is my promise to you."
Something flickers deep in her eyes—doubt, a shadow of fear, maybe even a nascent hope. She swallows hard, quickly looking away, but a faint, involuntary color creeps into her cheeks.
"Sometimes I really envy Liana, you know…" she murmurs, her voice barely an audible breath, but in the echoing hall, I catch every word.
My brows rise. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," she says quickly, a strange, knowing grin tugging at her lips. "Not telling."
Then, without another word, she picks up her spoon and begins eating the food she had been ignoring. The movement is deliberate, almost defiant.
Well… judging by her sudden appetite, she has recovered some of her spirit. In this suffocating, fear-ridden environment, sometimes all it takes is a single, small spark of hope.
I smile faintly, a genuine warmth spreading through me, and start eating too.
"Well, making impossible promises now, Kael."
Noctharion's voice rolls through my skull like the low, cold growl of thunder. My hand stops mid-air, the spoon hovering inches from my lips. The food suddenly feels tasteless.
"What do you mean impossible?" I mutter inside, my jaw instantly tightening. "For your information, I mean every word I say to her."
I force the spoon to move again, scooping another bite, chewing slowly. Outwardly, I am perfectly calm. Inwardly, my pulse hammers a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
"Kael, when the time comes, you won't even have the luxury of worrying about anyone else. When those monsters arrive, they will tear this fortress apart. Everything you know will burn. The only thing left to matter will be your life."
With every syllable, my grip on the spoon tightens until my knuckles turn bone-white and ache with the tension.
"It will be a miracle if you survive, much less save anyone. Promises mean nothing in a slaughterhouse, Kael."
"You don't have to worry about that," I hiss back at him in my mind. "That's my problem. And don't dragons honor their promises? I heard a dragon's word is its bond."
"Yes, Kael. A dragon's promise is its bond. Every word becomes iron, unbroken until death. But we do not go handing out promises to every worthless ant we see crawling beneath us."
"She's not a worthless ant," I shoot back, my eyes still fixed fiercely on the bowl before me. My mental voice feels sharper than steel, driven by rising anger. "She's Liana's friend."
"Listen to your own words, Kael."
Noctharion's tone drips with cold disdain. "Even you don't consider her a friend. She means nothing to you. You only think of protecting her because she is Liana's friend. Even now, your words betray you—it is Liana you care for, not her. If she wasn't tied to Liana, you wouldn't even bother."
The words cut deeper than any physical blade. My breath hitches, and the spoon freezes just before it touches my lips. The air feels impossibly thin.
"That's a lie," I snarl back at him in my mind, fighting to keep my face utterly blank and calm. Only the faint, traitorous tremor in my fingers betrays the storm inside.
"Is it?" Noctharion's laugh rumbles like grinding stone, cold and merciless. "You don't even believe yourself, Kael. You cling to promises because they make you feel human. But deep down… you already know the truth."
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, the faint metallic taste of blood blooming on my tongue. My jaw tightens until it aches.
"She's not just some meaningless pawn," I force the words out in my mind, my voice shaking with raw, frustrated anger. "I won't let you twist this."
"We will see," the dragon murmurs, his presence retreating into silence like a shadow coiling back into the darkest corner of my mind.
The hall around me suddenly seems quieter than before, the distant clatter of dishes now faint and muted. I resume eating, each bite feels heavy, as though the sheer weight of his final words clings to my throat, making it difficult to swallow.
After finishing my food, I part ways with Mia, who is now smiling cheerfully.
She gives me a quick wave and runs off to find her mother somewhere within the vast fortress.
I wave back, a faint smile on my lips, and head toward my room.
Three days. Only three days remain until the monster stampede arrives.
Just three days until the swarms of monsters reach this place and we are forced to fight for our very lives.
I thought I would be overcome with fear or panic, but the dominant thing I feel is a thrilling excitement.
I want to fight. I crave killing those monsters. I want to relish the metallic spray of their blood.
I reach my room, close the heavy door behind me, and sink onto the edge of my bed.
I bury my face in my hands. My entire body trembles uncontrollably with anticipation.
I try my hardest to stop the sensation, but my body refuses to listen to the order. A strange, feral grin stretches across my face.
I see it clearly—the blood, the massacre, and the darkness.
The Darkness is influencing this. Noctharion is weaving his influence into my very core. The most disturbing thing is that I am enjoying it, enjoying his company and enjoying these terrifying changes within me.
"Huuuup."
I take a deep, ragged breath to try and still my racing heart, whispering to it: only three days, just three days more, then I can finally revel in my desire.
"Hahahah—"
A weird, rasping laugh escapes my mouth, and the room grows darker and more oppressive with each passing second. Shadowy tentacles begin to writhe and wave in the air around me, visibly excited for the looming future.