"Is that the [Sword of Desire]?" Alice asked, her gaze lingering on the weapon in his hand.
"Yeah." Unknown's response was short, yet there was no attempt to hide the truth. Alice had caught a glimpse of it earlier, and now, she couldn't help but stare at the blade, its faint glow reflecting the dim light of the abyss.
"It... doesn't look that strong," she commented, frowning slightly.
"Fighting isn't its only function," Unknown replied cryptically, his voice steady, revealing little of his thoughts.
Without another word, he activated [Flying Spear], and in a fluid motion, he propelled himself upward, swiftly climbing the sides of the abyss with an ease that made Alice's breath catch in her throat.
His speed was almost unreal, leaving her staring in awe. She couldn't fathom how he moved with such precision and force.
'...He's gone now...' Alice thought, her heart heavy as she watched him disappear upward.
He had left her behind, yet the knowledge that he was out there—climbing, moving, relentlessly pursuing his goal—was strangely reassuring.
She looked around, taking in the surroundings.
The tension in the air had lifted. She didn't sense any immediate danger. It seemed that Unknown had already dealt with whatever monsters might have been lurking nearby before taking a rest.
'Please, everyone, be safe,' she silently prayed. The words felt fragile, like they might break under the weight of her guilt. But despite everything, despite all her failures, a small part of her still clung to that hope.
She wanted to believe that her comrades were okay, that no one else had to die because of her mistakes. The thought of losing anyone else, of failing them as she had failed so many before, was almost unbearable.
'Pincer sacrificed his arm to save me.'
'Claw died helping me block the attack.'
'They still have siblings at home.'
'Robert too, he even has a wife outside, yet he sacrificed himself to finish off the Hydra.'
'Why? It should have died, why is it still alive?'
The weight of the loss pressed down on Alice's chest, suffocating her. The memories of her comrades—Pincer, Claw, Robert—all of them, flashed through her mind.
Each face was a reminder of the sacrifices they made, the lives they gave up to help her, to fight alongside her.
And she had failed them.
She failed.
"Ahh, uawwahh, huwawh…"
Alice cried.
The sobs wracked her body, sharp and agonizing. Each breath was a struggle.
Alice's body trembled as she let herself break, finally allowing herself to feel the full weight of her comrades' deaths. Their sacrifices, their lives, were all lost because of her decisions, and her failures.
"It's all my fault," she gasped between sobs, each word like a sharp blade in her chest. "If I were stronger, if I were smarter, if I were more careful..."
The thoughts tangled in her mind, the endless cycle of "what ifs" and "maybe"s. She could barely finish the thought before it twisted in her mind.
"Maybe... Maybe they would still be alive."
But no matter how many times she whispered those words to herself, it didn't change anything.
The truth was undeniable. They were gone, and no amount of guilt, no amount of tears, could bring them back. She was left with nothing but empty grief.
"Everyone, I'm sorry," her voice cracked, hoarse and broken, as the weight of the words hung heavy in the air. "I'm truly sorry."
Her tears flowed freely, and for a moment, it felt as though there was no end to the sorrow inside her. She cried until the last drop was gone, but the emptiness remained.
The sorrow, the guilt, the weight of everything, clung to her like a heavy burden that she couldn't shake, no matter how hard she tried.
Even though she had been a soldier, even though she had faced death countless times, the loss still tore through her every time. The weight of it was crushing, and for a moment, Alice wanted to give up—to just let the darkness consume her, to let go of everything.
But there was still a flicker of hope, a small ember that refused to die.
Maybe, just maybe, her comrades had escaped, or the Hydra had been finished off.
She couldn't let go of that hope—not yet.
She had to know.
"Don't cry too much, salt is hard to come by."
The voice was unexpectedly close, cutting through the heavy silence that had fallen over the camp. Alice's breath caught in her throat, and she wiped her eyes quickly, startled to realize how long she had been crying.
Unknown had appeared without her noticing, his presence almost ghostlike as he approached.
He must have seen her tears. But instead of his usual cold demeanor, he remained silent for a long moment, sitting near the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face. He didn't say anything else, just let her sobs fill the space between them, as if he didn't know how to respond—or perhaps, didn't want to.
Then, as the weight of her grief seemed to settle, her voice broke through the tension once more.
"...So, how are they? What happened to them?"
Alice's heart skipped a beat, and she tried to lean forward despite the pain.
Anxiety bubbled inside her. The way he said it, with that quiet pause, made her dread the answer. She wanted to hear the truth, but the uncertainty gnawed at her.
"They're still alive, but..." He trailed off, leaving the rest hanging in the air like a heavy burden.
Alice's pulse quickened. The 'but' made her heart race, her chest tightening. She couldn't take it, couldn't wait any longer to know the outcome. She hated that feeling—the not-knowing, the torment of the space between each word he spoke.
"What happened? Tell me!" she urged, her voice rising in desperation. She hated how weak she sounded, but the fear of losing them was too much to bear.
"They've been trapped in crystal-like structures and the Hydra... it's evolved. It's stronger now." Unknown's words were blunt, matter-of-fact, but they carried the weight of a harsh reality.
Alice felt as though the ground beneath her was slipping away. Her comrades—Pincer, Claw, Silvie, Robert—frozen in some unnatural state, trapped in crystal.
And the Hydra, that monstrous creature they had fought so hard to defeat, had only grown more dangerous. She wanted to scream, to rage against the cruel fate they were facing.
'You only care about the Hydra, don't you, you bastard?' The thought surged through her mind, sharp and bitter, but she swallowed it. This wasn't the time for accusations. She couldn't afford to antagonize him—she needed his help.
"So, is there any way to save them?" Alice asked, her voice breaking slightly but firm in its resolve.
Unknown paused, his face unreadable, his eyes hidden behind the shadow of his fade hair. For a moment, there was only the crackling of the fire between them. Then, he spoke.
"Not sure. First, we have to kill the Hydra."
Alice's heart dropped at the grim news. It felt like everything rested on this fight—her comrades, their survival, and the very hope of getting out of this alive. But then Unknown added, almost as an afterthought, "But it's a pity, it's gotten much stronger."
He extended his arm, the fabric of his sleeve soaked with fresh blood despite his enhanced self-healing. Alice's gaze flickered to the dark, jagged marks on his arm, where the blood had started to pool despite the visible efforts of his body to heal.
The sight sent a shiver down her spine. The Hydra had become a real threat, capable of inflicting injury even on someone like him. It had evolved, and if it could pierce through his thick black armor, she didn't know how they'd stand a chance.
Unknown sighed, his gaze drifting to the fire, his eyes dark and hollow, showing nothing but coldness. His voice remained distant as he addressed Alice, but he didn't meet her gaze. "Are you hungry?"
Alice hesitated, her body aching from the exhaustion and the weight of her emotions. She had wanted to refuse, but deep down, she knew her body needed sustenance. The hunger gnawed at her. "Yes," she replied softly, the word coming out in a breathless whisper.
"I see..." Unknown's voice softened slightly as he gave her the smallest hint of a smile—barely noticeable, but it was there. Without another word, he began preparing a meal, moving with surprising efficiency.
The smell was rich and savory, filling the air around her. Alice's stomach growled loudly, betraying her hunger, but she found she couldn't summon the strength to even sit up.
The food looked delicious, far more elaborate than anything she had expected. Yet, Alice was too weak to move, too drained from the recent events to even sit up properly.
"By the way, how long was I unconscious?" Alice asked, trying to shift her focus away from her weariness and onto something she could control.
"Long enough for the Hydra to fully recover and evolve," Unknown answered nonchalantly, as though it was nothing of great importance.
That didn't help her gauge the time. Was it hours? Days? She couldn't tell, but it was clear that a lot had happened during her unconsciousness, and she hadn't been part of it.
Her mind spun with the weight of that. What had she missed? How much time had been lost?
"So during that time, you took care of me?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost tentative.
It felt strange to ask such a personal question, to admit how vulnerable she had been. But she needed to know. She needed to understand what he had done for her.
"Yeah," Unknown replied simply, his tone unchanged, as if it was no big deal. His eyes were still fixed on the fire, not once glancing at her as he prepared the meal.
Alice blinked, caught off guard by his casual response. Her cheeks flushed with a strange warmth, and she quickly averted her gaze. She hadn't expected him to be so... indifferent.
But then again, she didn't really know what she expected from him.
She looked at him, her feelings tangled—confused by the situation, by the unexpected kindness that had been shown.
It didn't make sense, but in this strange, uncertain moment, she allowed herself to feel a small flicker of gratitude.
Unknown, for his part, showed no emotion. His face was still impassive, and if he felt anything about her blush, he didn't show it.
'Is it because I'm not attractive enough?'
'Why is he so indifferent?'
'Maybe he's not normal.'
Alice's troubled thoughts swirled in her mind as she continued to watch him. She couldn't help it, though, even as he went about preparing the meal, his movements quick and efficient. Even though Unknown wasn't looking at her, she felt his awareness. He always knew.
"Stop staring," he said bluntly, his voice carrying that familiar coldness.
Before she could protest, he moved closer, holding a plate of food. "Ah, I can feed myself!" she quickly retorted, trying to regain some sense of dignity.
"Don't push it. Your scars might tear open," Unknown responded flatly, dismissing her attempt.
Alice's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She didn't want to admit it, but the truth was, she was too weak to protest. Her body ached from the injuries, and the pain had left her too exhausted to refuse the help he was offering, no matter how humiliating it felt.
Without waiting for her to argue further, Unknown gently adjusted her body, propping her up so she could sit up a little. He placed the plate near her mouth, and despite her internal protest, she couldn't resist the hunger any longer. The smell of the food was too tempting.
'Oh no, I'm being fed like a child.'
'This is so humiliating.'
'But what can I do? Should I refuse and starve?'
'But I have to admit, he's really a good cook. I wonder what's in this dish.'
She didn't say anything, just silently eating. Her stomach growled, desperate for sustenance, and she couldn't bring herself to stop. One bowl, then another, until there was nothing left.
Her mind tried to focus on the taste, the texture of the food, but she couldn't escape the discomfort of the situation.
"..."
Unknown stayed where he was, silent as always, watching her carefully as if making sure she didn't choke or get a stomach ache. Afterward, he handed her a water pouch to drink from. She took it without thinking, still too tired to process anything more than the immediate relief.
"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, her voice soft and unsure.
She needed something, anything to shift the focus away from herself, away from the humbling helplessness she felt. She was a soldier, trained to fight and survive, but now she was relying on him for food, for care.
"I ate already," Unknown replied, his voice flat as always.
Alice, still uncomfortable with the situation, shifted her gaze to the fire. "Is it troublesome? Taking care of a failure like me."
Unknown shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving the fire. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something in him—something softer.
His expression, usually so cold, was less guarded. There was a trace of understanding, a quiet acknowledgment.
"You just wanted everyone to live, right?" He asked, his tone lower than usual, almost thoughtful. "That much, I can understand."
His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, Alice was taken aback. His voice wasn't harsh or mocking, as she expected. There was no bitterness in it. Only something like understanding.
He sat beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, but neither of them spoke.
The heat from the fire, combined with the closeness, created an odd sense of peace in the air, one that Alice couldn't quite explain.
She couldn't let herself feel comforted by it, though.
She knew what he was capable of, what he had done. Unknown was the one who had killed her comrades, her friends. He was the enemy.
'No, what if he's just being nice to exploit me?' Alice thought, her mind refusing to accept the brief moment of calm. She couldn't allow herself to relax, not with him so near.
She couldn't trust him, not completely. Her heart hardened again with suspicion and guilt. But as much as she tried to force that distance between them, she couldn't shake the strange sense of peace she had felt just moments before.
Yes, Alice couldn't afford it.
He was her enemy.
"Hey, Leonore, why... did you kill them?" Alice asked, her voice raw with frustration. She had been holding this question back for too long, and now, with the weight of everything on her shoulders, she finally let it slip.
For a brief moment, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe surprise, maybe even something softer—but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. His usual indifference returned, his gaze hard and distant.
"The first time, they betrayed me," Unknown said, his voice steady, almost cold. "The second time, they cornered me and tried to kill me."
His words hit Alice harder than she expected. The betrayal, the cornering, the fight for survival—it all made sense in its own twisted way. He had been forced into those decisions. But she didn't want to admit it, didn't want to feel sympathy for him. Yet, the truth was hard to ignore.
"This isn't about the sword anymore," he continued, his voice lowering. "I wanted to negotiate from the start. But now it's too late. The sword has become bound to my soul, and there's no way to separate it." He paused, then added, "And I want to live. Tell me, Alice, if you were me, what would you do?"
Her throat tightened. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. If she were him... could she have done anything differently? Could she have acted with any more mercy? She wasn't even sure she could have survived in his position. The thought weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't find an answer.
"I... I don't know," she whispered, her voice trailing off. She had no right to judge him, not when she couldn't even decide what she would do in his shoes.
"...I need that sword shard to escape," Unknown added, his tone flat. "Alice, I hope you understand the situation."
His words landed on her like a stone in her chest. She understood. She understood more than she wanted to. But that didn't make it any easier to accept. The reality was that they were enemies, and the world they lived in didn't allow for much room for anything else.
He fell silent after that, and Alice's mind raced. You could help our country. The thought echoed in her head. It was so easy to think that way, so simple to believe that she could offer him something in exchange for his cooperation.
She could tell him about her mission, her country's need for his help. But then, the reality of it hit her.
'He's not a madman. He's not going to just help me because I ask him to. No one helps their enemies.'
And even if he would... would he be willing? Did she have the right to ask him for that?
She clenched her fists in frustration. 'What the hell am I supposed to do?'
The opportunity was right there in front of her, but she couldn't make a decision. The responsibility, the weight of it all, felt suffocating. I will be the one deciding everyone's future. So why can't I think of anything?
Her thoughts spiraled, and the anxiety began to drown her. She could feel her chest tightening, the pressure building.
Noticing her distress, Unknown spoke, his voice soft but still carrying that indifferent edge.
"Don't think too much."
His words didn't hold any emotion, but there was something in them that helped ease the panic swirling inside her. For a moment, she just sat there, breathing, trying to collect herself.
Then, unexpectedly, Unknown's hand rested gently on her head. It wasn't a gesture she had expected from him—so indifferent, so distant—but it was oddly comforting, like he was patting a child on the head to calm them.
"I know you have your responsibilities," he continued, his voice steady. "That's why we'll always be enemies."
His words stung, but they also made sense. There was no escaping their roles in this world. He was an enemy, and she was the soldier tasked with stopping him.
"But before that, stop overthinking and enjoy this temporary relationship," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle.
Alice didn't know what to say. She wasn't sure if she should feel grateful or suspicious, but for now, the only thing she could do was focus on recovering.
She had to heal, to become stronger—because the battles ahead wouldn't wait for her to find peace of mind.
And as she sat there, under his strange, comforting touch, she wondered what the future would really hold for them. Would they be enemies until the end?
Or could there be a path forward, a way to break the cycle of violence they were trapped in?
For now, though, all she could do was wait. Wait and hope.