The second trial ended on the second day, and the recruits who survived were escorted back to Ironhold. Many of whom were badly wounded, so Lucen made the new Thornefang base a temporary hospital.

He called for all the healers in Ironhold to help; he contacted every cleric in the city to save those that could be saved.

The wide hall that had only just been finished days ago was already unrecognizable. The walls, still bare stone without banners or polish, echoed with groans and muffled screams. The air was so thick with the smell of blood, charred flesh, and pungent herbs that it coated the tongue like ash.

Straw cots lay crammed together in crooked lines, each one occupied by boys and girls far too young to carry scars like these. Some clutched their sides, biting back whimpers, while others cried openly.

There were also the veterans who, despite having more injuries, did not dare make a sound. They remained silent throughout the healing as if feeling pain was shameful.

Clerics drifted between them like pale shadows, whispering prayers of mending, their voices hoarse from overuse. Wounds closed here and there with faint light, but just as many remained raw, sad, and unhealed.

Lucen, who had no idea about healing, did not bother going to the place, since he would not be able to help.

Instead, he had to prepare for the funerals of those who died. Despite their bodies being turned into ashes. He also needed to prepare to follow the final wishes of the deceased, and inform their families if they had any about their passing.

***

In one of the rooms, Veronica was being bandaged up. Once she was done, she left the room and started looking for the person who took a blow for her.

She didn't know his name, and the memory of what he looked like was a blur because of the many things that were happening at the time. Still, she wanted to see if he was alright and thank him for saving her.

She wandered through the different rooms, but she could not find the person she was looking for.

Everywhere she turned, faces blurred together in a haze of bandages and blood. The groans of recruits pressed against her ears, broken only by the low, rhythmic chant of clerics that made the air hum like distant bees.

The metallic tang of blood was so thick she could almost taste it, bitter at the back of her tongue. Smoke from incense and burned herbs curled sluggishly in the air, clinging to her hair and clothes.

More than once, she thought she had spotted him, only for the man on the cot to turn out to be someone else, someone she didn't recognize.

Her hands clenched at her sides. 'What if he didn't make it? What if I only lived because he died in my place?'

The thought made her grit her teeth, but she kept moving, pushing through the crowded hall. She would not stop searching; she had to know.

As she continued looking around, she saw a familiar figure; it was one of the recruits who was in a group with the person who saved her.

"Excuse me, can I speak to you for a second?" Veronica asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

The boy turned, bandages peeking from under his torn uniform. His eyes were tired, but he still managed a faint nod. "What is it?"

"There was someone in your group," she said evenly. "He protected me during the trial. I don't know his name, but he took the blow that should've killed me. Do you know what happened to him?"

The boy hesitated, then gave a short nod. "You mean Erwin. He's alive... Barely. I just left the room he was in."

Veronica's lips pressed into a thin line. Relief flickered for a moment, then hardened into resolve. "Where?"

The recruit blinked at her tone, then pointed toward the nearby room.

"Thank you," she said, already moving. Her chest was tight, but not with fear. Whatever condition he was in, she had to see him with her own eyes.

***

Veronica entered the room. It was near a window, where light shone upon the cot where Erwin lay.

There were different types of healers and clerics present, but they were not doing anything and seemed about ready to leave.

Veronica understood that meant one of two things: either that Erwin had been healed and was resting, or that there was nothing they could do.

"What's happening here?" Veronica asked one of the healers.

"We have done our best, but... A large part of his abdomen had been torn open. Even after closing the wound, we could not restore it to what it was. There's also a problem with the poison the monster infected him with; it's already spread too far to be healed."

While the healer was explaining what the problem was to Veronica, Erwin noticed that somebody had entered and spoke.

"Who's there?"

Veronica straightened her back at the sound of his voice. It was ragged, dry, but it carried enough strength to remind her he was still fighting.

She moved closer to his bedside, her boots clicking softly on the stone. "It's me," she said, steady but low. "The one you saved... I haven't told you my name yet, it's Veronica... Veronica Veynar."

Erwin turned his head with effort, his eyes glassy but searching. When he found her, a faint smile ghosted across his pale lips. "So you survived."

"I did," Veronica answered firmly, pulling the chair beside his cot and sitting without hesitation. "Thanks to you."

He chuckled, a weak sound that ended in a cough. Black flecks stained the cloth at his side. "Hehe, it wasn't anything much. You saved more people than me..."

Veronica shook her head. "Don't belittle yourself. If you hadn't stepped in, I'd be ash right now. That's the truth."

Erwin's breath rattled as he tried to laugh again. "I just did the same thing as you... I didn't understand it at the time, but my feet moved on their own. I don't know if it was my instincts or something else, but my mind kept on screaming that I needed to save you... I guess that was the right move."

Seeing how weak Erwin had become, Veronica bit her lip, anger and frustration burning in her chest. She refused to let him fade without hearing it from her.

"I need to say this."

She stood, her shadow falling across his cot, and bent her head in a rare gesture of respect.

"Thank you, Erwin. You didn't just save me... You gave me the chance to keep on moving forward."

For a moment, silence. Then Erwin's fingers twitched against the sheets, his gaze softening as he took her in.

"Heh, I guess this was a good adventure." Erwin, who was lying down, looked at the ceiling, but his eyes seemed like they were looking much further away.

"It was a short adventure, but for a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of my dream coming true..."

He saw himself as a knight of Thornefang, fighting alongside everyone. They went on grand adventures, saving people, his name alongside everyone else's were being sung and praised by the people.

Erwin's face suddenly distorted, and he could no longer hold back as tears slid down his face. Veronica was stunned by the sight and did not know what to do.

"... I'm sorry... I at least wanted to die with dignity, but I just can't... The dream I wanted to achieve was so close. I simply got a glimpse of it and now it's over... I wanted to see more... I wanted to go on more grand adventures..."

Erwin's body shuddered as another cough wracked him, scarlet flecks staining his lips. His voice was hoarse, but his eyes burned with all the fire his body could no longer hold. Still, he continued to speak what was on his mind.

"I wanted to become a knight… To protect people… To stand on the battlefield with pride. To have me, Erwin Krun, be part of a story worth telling… A story that would be remembered." His voice broke, tears slipping down his face.

His voice cracked, and tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. "But instead… all I have is this glimpse. Just a taste of the dream, and now it's slipping away."

"My dream... The deities are so cruel... To show me just a tiny peek... Only for them to take it away... I don't want to die... I don't want to die... When I'm so close to making my dream a reality..."

Veronica's nails bit into her palms. For a moment, she said nothing, the weight of his words pressing down on her chest. Then she leaned forward, her voice cutting like tempered steel.

"Your dream doesn't end here, Erwin! You saved me. That act alone will be remembered, because I will remember. I will tell tales of your bravery... And I swear I'll carry your dream forward, no matter what."

Veronica grabbed hold of Erwin's now weak hands and looked him in the eye. "I will have the grandest adventures, I will protect a lot of people, and I will become a great knight! So that when we meet once again in Varkun's hall of heroes, I will tell you of the epic tale that your dream had lived on with me!"

Erwin's trembling hand tightened faintly around hers, a flicker of strength returning to his grip. His eyes, clouded with pain moments before, now shimmered with something else, relief.

It was as if he could see a distant future where Veronica became a splendid knight and did all the things he wanted to do...

"Then... That dream... I can see it fulfilled with you..." He whispered, his lips curling into the faintest smile. "Thank you... Veronica... For making me dream anew..."

His chest rose with a ragged, shallow breath, then another, each one smaller than the last. The light from the window caught in his eyes as the final breath slipped from him, and then there was only stillness. His hand, once trembling, slid from her grip. The faint smile remained, frozen in peace.

Veronica clenched her fist so tightly that blood started to flow out. She closed her eyes for a brief moment before speaking.

"May Lady Velmira guide your soul to Lord Varkun's Hall of Heroes, where you may forever be honored... There we will meet again, at the end of my own adventure... So we may dine and drink... My friend..."

She placed his hand gently upon his chest, then stood tall. Her eyes, red but unyielding, burned with the weight of the vow she had made. She would not falter; she could not falter. She was now living not only for herself, but for the deceased Erwin.

The clerics had already left. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the curtains. Veronica stood alone with the weight of the dead, and the weight of the promise she now carried.

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