Part 1: The Confrontation
The shadows of the canyon had barely begun to settle when Kieran finally reached Roy. The boy was walking at his usual measured pace, his mask reflecting the fading sunlight as though it bore no trace of the chaos that had just unfolded. Dust clung to the folds of his cloak, and his sword's edge hummed faintly with residual prana.
Kieran's boots crunched on the broken stones, anger bubbling in his chest like molten fire. He stopped a few feet behind Roy, his voice low but rigid. "Why did you let them… Why did you let them die? "
Roy turned his head slightly, as if considering whether the question warranted more than a shrug. "They're not dead," he said simply. "Just hanging on for dear life. Heavy medical aid, and they'll make it."
Kieran's eyes narrowed, fists clenching involuntarily. "Hanging on for dear life? Do you even hear yourself? No one should ever be in that much pain. No one!" His voice cracked as his fury threatened to overtake him. "I told you. Stop killing. You don't get to play judge and executioner!"
Roy stopped walking, finally turning fully to face Kieran. His expression was unreadable beneath the mask. "I didn't kill them. They chose to gamble everything in an attack that could have finished me. I gave them no mercy, but I also didn't finish what they were unwilling to let go of themselves."
Kieran's jaw tightened. "You call that mercy? You just let them suffer so you could look untouchable. They risked their lives, and now they're paying the price for your so-called restraint. How can you even watch this calmly?"
Roy stepped closer, calm radiating off him like a stone in a river. "Pain doesn't mean failure, Kieran. They'll survive, but it won't be painless. And you need to understand something: if I hesitate, I die. I won't let my hesitation endanger anyone I care about."
Kieran's breathing grew erratic, the weight of Roy's words pressing down on him. "I don't care about logic! No one should have to endure that much suffering! That's not protecting anyone; that's just sAartigery!"
Roy's eyes locked onto Kieran's. "Then let me handle what I must. You don't have to understand it. You just have to trust that I know exactly what I'm doing. I fight so they live, not because it's easy, but because it's necessary."
Kieran's fists fell to his sides, trembling slightly, caught between anger and helplessness. "Necessary… So you're saying the ends justify this? That their suffering was worth it for your victory?"
Roy's voice was flat, unshaken. "It was never about victory. It's about survival. And sometimes survival looks messy, Kieran."
The canyon fell silent between them. Dust swirled like a muted storm around their feet. Kieran wanted to argue more, to scream that no one should have to endure such torment for the sake of survival, but Roy's calm, unyielding presence held him in place.
Finally, Kieran exhaled sharply, voice quieter but no less sharp. "You're impossible. You have no sense of what it means to fight for someone else if you don't even flinch at their pain."
Roy said nothing, only turned back toward the shadows, walking with the same deliberate patience that had become both infuriating and awe-inspiring. Kieran followed silently, the weight of his fury tempered by the knowledge that, for all his infuriating methods, Roy's actions kept people alive even if it was in ways that left the soul battered and raw.