The air was thick with the stench of black blood and burning wood as Elion stood still, his golden eyes fixed on the small figure in the distance.
The girl was striking in a way that made her impossible to ignore—a thin, ragged child, surrounded by the terrified faces of those she shielded, yet exuding a presence that somehow eclipsed the chaos.
Her pink hair shimmered faintly under the firelight, a stark contrast to the grime and soot covering her torn clothes. But it wasn't her appearance that truly captured Elion's attention.
It was her eyes—sharp, clean, and devoid of fear. Even as she faced the grotesque form of a lunging Dred, there was no hesitation, no despair.
Elion frowned slightly, his head tilting. His bloodied sword hung loosely at his side, the black blood dripping from its blade ignored.
How can someone like her exist?
