Elion was back.
The pain was gone, but the wound in his mind remained.
He chuckled—grinning wildly.
He stared at his hands. They were so… clean. No blood, no exposed flesh. It felt alien.
No, don't remove them. You're going to need them for what you've got planned.
He laughed—hard. Too hard, in fact. This was just too damn funny.
"Eli, what are you—?" Eshrod started.
He stepped toward her and pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shhh. Everything will be alright," he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Then he turned his head slowly toward Lumos.
"What did you find out?" he asked, letting Eshrod go.
"Find what?" Lumos asked, confusion written on his face.
"Look at the runes on your body. I'm sure you got a love letter."
"What the hell are you saying? Have you gone insane?" the sharp bastard accused Elion.
But that wasn't the time to do that.
Ugh, I don't want to deal with you.
In a flash—faster than thought—Elion drew his sword and severed Joart's head in one strike.
The group froze.
He saw Ironman move out of the corner of his eye.
Still smiling, Elion caught Joart's head by the hair and flung it in Talom's direction.
"Boo." He grinned. "Before you go throwing yourself at me and die pitifully, Ironman, know this: that bastard murdered Hela's boyfriend. And most of the people in your group, really."
"What kind of bullshit are you spouting?!" Talom roared, his voice raw with emotion and his sword ready to draw the madman's blood.
Elion dropped to the ground and rolled like a deranged mime, stopping at Lumos's feet.
Talom struck—but only cleaved through Joart's airborne head, which Elion had tossed while dropping down.
"Blah blah, time loop, blah blah, I remember and you don't," Elion mocked. "Now fuck off before I make you share Sharp Bastard's fate."
He climbed Lumos like a cat, eyeing him with manic glee. Then dusted himself off.
"So, what's new?" he asked, already digging through the sorcerer's pockets. "Ah, right—Farha, Catch."
He tossed her the amulet.
"Now you can talk. I know, emotional moment and all, but we've got bigger fish to fry."
Lumos blinked, finally shaking himself from his shock.
"What is this all about, Elion?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
Elion explained all about the time loop, but he omitted the details about the High Lord.
His explanation was pretty lackluster, resembling more the crazy rambling of a madman.
But the runes on Lumos's skin told their own story.
So he found another human? Interesting.
Talom had cooled—slightly—but he still watched Elion like one might a wild animal.
"Well," the young cook finished, "that's about it. If you'll excuse me, I've got a date with a shadowy edgelord."
He was about to leave when Farha grabbed his wrist.
"You're not going anywhere," she said. She was still getting used to the amulet, but now, she could talk.
"Oh, don't worry, princess," Elion replied. "I'll be back. I've just got a score to settle."
She tightened her grip—just enough to hurt.
"You're not going, Elion."
He tilted his head, meeting her eyes.
"You're not okay," she said, clenching her jaw. "Something… happened. This isn't you."
"Not okay?" he scoffed. "I'm perfectly okay, pretty face. Never been better."
No one looked convinced.
"Just tell us what happened. You can't keep going like this."
He stared into her crimson eyes for a moment longer.
"You want me to have a therapy session here?" Elion asked, looking genuinely horrified. "You'd have to turn me into a pickle first."
Farha blinked.
"…What?"
My boundless, perfect sense of humor transcends reality itself. You wouldn't understand.
"Nothing," he mumbled. "I'll… tell you next time."
"There is no next time," Farha said. "Not for us."
Elion's muscles tensed—but he didn't pull away.
He sighed.
"…Alright. But you won't talk me out of taking that twisted lady's head and serving it on a platter."
She stared at him a moment longer before releasing his hand.
Elion sat down, then decided it wasn't comfortable enough, so he rolled on his back, staring at the sky.
"Now what?" he asked, sounding like a bratty kid.
"What happened?" Farha asked softly.
"You keep asking what happened, but the real question is what didn't happen," Elion replied. "I've been gutted and beheaded more times than I could count, I've been flayed and mutilated by a mad butcher, I've been cursed to suffer pain beyond what pain should even allow. But it didn't break me. I crawled out of hell and now I want to go back. Back to take the head of Satan herself."
"From where I'm standing, it did break you," she said, her beautiful face heartbreakingly sad.
"It didn't," he snapped. "I can see it. I'm the one with the fancy eye power, remember?"
But even his voice betrayed him—cracks showing in his confidence.
Farha didn't press further. She just looked at him. Really looked at him.
"Elion… you can't face her. Not now," Lumos said.
"Why?!" He shot upright. "I can defeat her now, I'm sure I—"
"We have another lead. You don't have to throw yourself into the fire again."
"I do. If only for me."
"You said you'd talk to us next time. You can also delay your killing spree for another loop."
Elion stared at the sorcerer, unsure of what to say.
They're really pissing me off. Should I… kill them? It won't matter anyway, right?
His eyes narrowed, then widened in horror.
What the hell am I thinking?!
The thought itself crushed him like a vice. After a moment, he sighed.
"I'll come with you," he said. "But know this." He raised one finger. "I won't give up the chase. Next time—"
"We'll get there when next time comes," Lumos cut in.
Elion raised a brow, smiling faintly.
"Alright, Dad Lumos."
"Please don't call me tha—"
"I know. But we can't all get what we want, as you've just proven."
With that, Lumos became the de facto leader. Elion followed behind lazily, whistling a cheerful tune.
"Can you stop?" Talom growled, still rattled.
"No," the young cook replied dryly, not even sparing him a glance.
He picked up the pace to avoid walking near him.
I hate those looks he's giving me... it's creeping me out.
Elion scanned his body with his power for the hundredth time. Everything was back to normal. Still, it didn't feel normal.
The day passed quickly. They camped in a clearing Lumos had scouted—safe if the new runes were to be trusted.
It was peaceful. Moonlight filtered through the leaves.
That evening, Elion caught Farha sneaking glances his way. She didn't speak to him, but her face held unease.
Is she… scared of me?
The thought hit him harder than he expected.
Through all the loops, she was always there for him. She never betrayed him either, the thought that she might now be scared of him… of what he had become, made him reconsider.
Am I really better this way?
He shook his head.
Just sleep. Don't overthink it. It'll all loop again anyway.
The grass was softer than the wooden chair in that interrogation room, a lot more comfortable.
The next morning, they reached the forest's edge, where a woman sat on a log, lazily poking a fire with a stick, her face bored and unimpressed.
When she heard them approaching, she snapped to attention.
"Hey, Lumos. Been waiting for you!" she called, smirking.
Her language was Terask, but Elion understood it as if it were his own. Just like when Kellta used translation runes—an intrinsic, eerie understanding.
"Hi, Keill," Lumos said. "Sorry for the delay. We had a small hiccup."
He sounded like they knew each other.
Wait, how does she know him already?
This was supposed to be their first meeting of the loop.