The torrential winds began to batter her senses. Gales that drowned out even the crashing of the waves, rain that bludgeoned her skin, its cold permeating through her. As the ship drifted through the storm, the crashes of thunder made her feel tiny and insignificant. It was as if the heavens danced, uncaring of those beneath them.

The storm had reached its most violent state.

Armei reached the upper deck again. A number of crewmen had already gathered, trying to hastily make repairs to everything that got damaged during the blast. In fact, most of the crew members were here.

All of them seemed agitated. Figures. The threat of an assassin on board, followed by an explosion on the upper deck, and one of the escort party’s members getting severely wounded, and worse ... with all of these happening during a storm, the stress must’ve been immense.

To the side was Nentonia, standing by the railings, and Kalaman, who seemed to be talking to her. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Armei’s mind was empty. She was tired.

Still, seeing that made her upset.

Her grip on her staff was weak, but she held it nonetheless, and walked towards them. They noticed her slow approach, and turned to face her.

“Remina died,” Armei spoke.

Neither of them had any substantial reaction. Nentonia’s eyes widened just a bit. Then she looked at Kalaman, sighed, closed her eyes, and said a simple, “I see. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“...Is that all you have to say? Weren’t the two of you close?”

Nentonia nodded. “We are. It’s a bit sad that we can’t see each other anymore, though, but I’m sure she’s happy, wherever she is now.”

“She’s dead. She isn’t anywhere anymore.”

“Maybe, but I’d like to believe she is.” Nentonia began walking to the center of the deck, her hands behind her back as she took playful steps. She didn’t seem affected by Remina’s death at all.

In Armei’s adventures, she learned something.

Evil isn’t malice, or hatred, or selfishness. Evil was, at its core, indifference. And somehow, Evil has managed to disguise itself and infect a party of heroes.

She was poison, a cancer that had grown too large.

At that moment, another figure stepped out from the lower deck, covered in blood. It was Jarvarax, holding a spear, the red liquid on it dripping on the floor. Some of the crew noticed his appearance, and screamed, catching everyone’s attention.

“Jarvarax?” Armei weakly called out. “What did you...?”

“I killed the assassin,” he replied, then turned to the crew with cold eyes. “Your captain is gone.”

The crew froze upon hearing those words. Then, they erupted. They shouted at Jarvarax, demanding him to explain what he meant. Jarvarax stood there calmly and looked up at the skies in peace.

Armei’s mind couldn’t keep up with all this chaos. She knew Jarvarax doubted the crew from the beginning, but she didn’t think he’d actually go and kill Nahar, not this far in. After all, wasn’t it obvious that Nentonia was the assassin? She was the most suspicious one from the start.

As the pandemonium escalated, Kalaman began walking towards the stairs. He passed by Jarvarax, who said to him, “apologies that I took this long. We do not need to worry anymore, Kalaman. It’s over.”

After hearing that, Kalaman stopped just as he was about to reach the stairs. And he stood there, unmoving. Then, ever so slightly, as if taking a breath, he raised his head.

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Kalaman unsheathed his blade.

And in the next instant, that same blade carved its way through Jarvarax’s chest.

Splatters of blood, along with tiny bits of flesh, scales, and bone, erupted from Jarvarax’s chest from the sheer force of the thrust. Jarvarax had no idea what happened. The attack was too fast, too silent. A perfect thrust, designed to kill. The dragonborn looked down upon his chest, and upon seeing the sword emerging from where his heart should be, said nothing. Blood formed in his mouth, so perhaps he wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

Kalaman roughly and violently removed the blade from his comrade’s body, his blade now tarnished by a disgusting shade of dark red, and Jarvarax slumped to the ground, making a heavy thud.

By now, the entire crew was in severe panic. They saw the man they hired to protect them kill one of his own. The storms drowned out their screams.

And Armei?

She stood there, dazed.

She had no idea what she was looking at anymore. She wanted to call out to him, to ask him what he was doing. Her words clogged at her throat, so much that it hurt. Still, she begged for every bit of strength to return, anything at all, just so she could say his name.

“...K-Ka—”

Blink.

Armei blinked, and Kalaman was right in front of her.

Armei had forgotten just how fast Kalaman Kampus was. No, it wasn’t that. She’d taken his speed for granted. It was a deadly weapon that tore their enemies to pieces. She just never took any precaution in having to face it herself.

No, even if Kalaman had walked slowly, she wouldn’t have been able to do anything.

So, when he swung his blade, all she could do was watch as her right arm was removed from her torso.

She lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her right arm—rather, the place that used to connect to her right arm—was searing hot. Just that. Hot. It took a while for the pain to fully register, and by then, she was screaming in agony, rolling violently on the ground, hoping that it would distract from the pain, even by just a little.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!

It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts!

None of this is real. None of this can be real.

When will she wake up?

Armei waited. She waited, and waited. But the rains did not stop. The crew member’s screams didn’t either. She saw Kalaman’s figure, which she had always admired in battle, dancing in the storm as he slaughtered them all. Some of them tried to fight back. Few of them managed to land a small hit or two. All of them fell. Powerless was a gross understatement.

The pain was still there. She urged her only remaining arm to move. She probed her pockets, searching for something, anything.

She felt something cold. Glass. A vial of red liquid. The only one she had. She pulled it out. But who should she use it on? Jarvarax? No, he was impaled through the heart. By now, he should already be…

Then, the only option is to use it on herself, right? If she drank it, she could at least close up the wound and keep fighting.

Fight who?

Kalaman?

But she can’t.

Besides, this potion was meant for him.

But he’s the enemy.

Why?

Why was Kalaman the enemy? That doesn’t make sense.

Even after all I did for him, why did this happen?

“...Ah.”

Armei’s heartstrings tugged. Finally, she realized. She was a fool.

She thought she’d given up. Kalaman would never look her way, but she thought she’d be fine as long as she could stay by his side and support him. She thought that was all she needed.

She was a fool. In her dying moments, her shell has collapsed, and through the reflection of herself from her own pool of blood beneath her, she finally saw her own face.

All she even wanted was for him to look her way. Everything she did was for that alone. As long as she could be useful to him, as long as she was the first thing he saw when he needed help...

One day, he’ll see all I’ve done for him.

Then surely, he’ll look at me.

“...Kh. Urgh...”

He didn’t hesitate when he sliced her arm off, did he? Not even in the slightest.

Armei had already forgotten about the pain from her arm, but she couldn’t stop crying. But she couldn’t even scream anymore. Her throat choked if she tried to even say anything. All she could do was lie there, in her own blood, and faintly whimper like an abandoned dog.

Thunder crashed.

A figure’s shadow enveloped her.

Nentonia Brava, the cleric. The outsider. The traitor. The invader. She stood there, beholding the carnage in front of her with nothing but a blank expression. All of this was her fault. She probably charmed Kalaman. He wouldn’t have done all this otherwise. If only she wasn’t here. If only she was gone, then Kalaman would be free. He’d be at peace.

Then surely...

She opened her eyes, wet with tears, and saw her own arm in front of her, still holding her staff.

She dropped the potion, letting it roll off the ship and fall into the raging waters. Armei reached out and grabbed the staff. She lifted it, weak as her body may be, and pointed it at the cleric. She gathered as much mana as she could. One last spell, imbued with all her feelings, to end this hellish nightmare once and for all.

Surely...

She heard his familiar footsteps approach.

And the world spun around.