"Eska!" Valen shouts desperately. He rushes to her crumpled form, his hands trembling as he leans over her. "Eska, you have to stay awake! You're bleeding out!" His voice wavers, panic creeping into his usually composed tone.
Eska groans, her eyes fluttering weakly as she struggles to focus.
Blood pools beneath her, staining the cracked ground a deep crimson. Her breathing is shallow, her body trembling from the strain. Valen presses his hands against the cut, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it's clear she's fading fast.
"Stay with me!" he snaps. "You can't go down like this, not after all that!" He looks up briefly, glaring at Italia, who stands a short distance away, her blades still in hand. "You nearly got her!" his voice breaks with nervous laughter.
Italia's breath catches as Valen's words sink in, her swords lowering slightly.
Her gaze shifts back to Eska, her bloodied and battered form lying still except for faint, labored breaths. This wasn't supposed to happen. She only meant to spar, to test her strength against someone promising.
She didn't intend to push Eska to the brink of death. Her hands tighten around the hilts of her blades, then slowly release as her arms drop to her sides.
"This… wasn't what I meant to do," Italia mutters, her voice trembling slightly, disbelief etched across her face. She glances toward Athos, searching for some sort of grounding in his ever-steady demeanor.
Athos steps forward immediately, cutting off any further words before they can spill out.
"Enough. She needs help now," he says with a commanding voice. Without hesitation, he kneels beside Eska, scooping her up in his arms with surprising gentleness for someone his size.
Then, with a burst of inhuman speed, Athos sprints toward the infirmary, leaving a gust of wind in his wake. Italia watches him go, the sight of Eska's limp body in his arms burning into her mind.
The weight of what she's done pressing heavily on her chest.
Valen doesn't hesitate, immediately taking off after Athos. He sprints as fast as his legs can carry him, but it's no use—Athos is far faster, the distance between them widening with every step.
Valen's breath comes in ragged gasps as he struggles to keep up, his eyes locked on the blur of Athos ahead, carrying Eska with unrelenting speed.
Athos bursts into the infirmary, Eska's bloodied body cradled in his arms. The medics look up, startled by the sudden entrance, but their shock lasts only a moment.
"She's critical!" Athos barks. "Get to work now!"
The head medic, a stern-looking woman, steps forward, barking orders to her team.
"Clear the main table! Call the rapid response team!"
Within seconds, the room is a flurry of motion. One medic pulls out fresh linens to replace the bloodied ones from the last patient, another sets up a tray of tools and a third moves quickly to check Eska's pulse as Athos carefully lays her down on the table.
"She's lost a lot of blood," Athos continues, his voice calm.
The medics nod in unison, their hands already moving. They cut away Eska's shredded clothing to expose her wounds, assessing the deep gashes and bruising. One medic presses gauze to the long wound to staunch the bleeding, while another begins mixing a potion meant to speed up clotting and regeneration.
Athos steps back, his usually composed face showing the faintest shadow of concern as he watches them work. Behind him, Valen stumbles into the infirmary, breathless and wide-eyed, his gaze immediately locking onto Eska.
"Will she—will she be okay?" he stammers, looking between Athos and the medics.
The head medic doesn't look up as she answers curtly, "We'll do everything we can. Now step back and let us work."
With that, the room becomes a symphony of focused effort, their every movement dedicated to pulling Eska back from the brink.
***
Valen sits on a wooden bench just outside the infirmary, his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. The faint murmur of the medics inside filters through the door but it's not enough to drown out the pounding in his ears.
His leg bounces anxiously, the movement betraying his usually composed demeanor. Blood stains his gloves, his legs and the cuffs of his shirt—a vivid reminder of just how close Eska is to slipping away.
Athos stands nearby, silent and still, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall.
His usual stoic expression remains but his eyes occasionally flick toward Valen. The younger man looks more distraught than Athos has ever seen, the weight of the situation clearly eating away at him.
The sound of boots echoes down the corridor and both men glance up as Italia approaches. Her steps are hesitant, a rare uncertainty in her otherwise confident stride.
Her gaze shifts between the infirmary door and Valen, guilt written across her face. She stops a few feet away, taking a deep breath before speaking.
"Valen," she says quietly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "I—I didn't mean for this to happen. I don't know what came over me. I didn't know she had…" Her words falter, and she looks down, her fists clenching at her sides. "I didn't know she'd push me like that. I'm sorry."
Valen lifts his head, his face pale and drawn.
His eyes, a mix of anger and grief boiling beneath the surface. "Sorry?" he snaps, his voice low but trembling with emotion. "You nearly killed her, Italia! You said it was just a test, just a sparring session!"
Italia flinches at his words, taking a small step back. "I didn't mean—"
"Then what did you mean?" Valen cuts her off, standing now, his frustration spilling over. "Did you think it would be fun to break her down like that? Was it a game to you? She could've died at your hands!"
His voice cracks and for a moment, it seems like he might say more, but he stops himself, his fists trembling.
Athos's brows furrow slightly as he watches Valen, his gaze shifting to Italia. He's seen Valen angry before, but this—this is different. It's not just anger.
It's fear, desperation and something deeper, something personal. Valen's reaction is striking in its intensity and for the first time, Athos realizes just how much Eska means to him.
Italia notices it too. Her usual confidence is completely absent now, replaced by a rare vulnerability as she looks at Valen. The realization finally dawning on her.
"I—I didn't know," she says again, though this time meaning something entirely different.
She glances toward Athos, but he remains silent, his focus still on Valen.
Valen exhales sharply, his anger fading into exhaustion. He sinks back onto the bench, his head in his hands once more. "Just… don't talk to me right now," he mutters, his voice barely audible.
Italia hesitates, her guilt growing heavier but she nods and steps away, leaving him to wrestle with his emotions in the quiet corridor.
***
Eska's eyes flutter open, met with an oppressive void of darkness, the kind that swallows everything whole. The faint metallic scent of blood mingling with the sterile tang of antiseptics in the air.
Her body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and pain. As she tries to sit up, a sharp, searing ache in her ribs forces her back down. The silence around her is deafening, broken only by the faint sound of her shallow breaths.
She reaches out with trembling fingers, brushing against something cold and metallic—a tray, perhaps—The faint clatter echoes in the void.
"Marina?" Eska calls out, her voice trembling as it echoes through the suffocating darkness.
"She really did a number on you," Marina's voice replies, her voice reverberating in the void. "Even here, you're still wounded."
"What happened?" Her voice quiet, almost dreading the answer.
"That Italia woman destroyed you in a single swing," Marina replies. "Just as you were about to land a blow. Seems her instincts kicked in, and she couldn't hold back."
"Hold back?" Eska scoffs. "You call all that holding back?"
"Yes," Marina replies without hesitation. "She could have finished you anytime she wanted. She was toying with you, testing you. What she didn't expect was that final burst of yours."
Eska falls silent, her thoughts heavy. After a moment, Marina's voice cuts through the quiet. "What's wrong? You're not usually this quiet."
"How am I supposed to even fight someone like that?" Eska finally asks, her voice carrying a hint of despair.
"You can't compare yourself to someone who's had decades to refine their skills,"
"Why not?" Eska retorts bitterly. "You had me fight a whole Thaxil Queen with the whole 'try or die' speech."
"That was different," Marina says firmly. "You had the skill to hold your ground against the queen. You just don't push yourself enough. If you'd used that blood technique of yours, you could've won."
"The swirly one?" Eska mutters. "It takes so much effort. I can control a strand a few feet long, but when I have to multitask with multiple spikes or split it, it gets… messy."
"Then you need to practice controlling your blood," Marina replies bluntly.
"If I live through this," Eska says with a weak laugh.
"You will," Marina states with unwavering confidence. "I won't let you die. I can keep your body alive long enough for the medics to do their work. I can't use your blood to heal you, but I can stop you from fading completely. Besides, you can't leave your 'boyfriend' in the state he's in right now. The poor thing looks like he's dying from stress."
Eska groans softly, rolling her eyes. "He's not my boyfriend…" she mutters.