"What exactly happened?"

Father Eldric's voice was calm, but I could hear the edge of urgency beneath it as he knelt beside Orion, his hands still faintly glowing from the lingering traces of healing magic.

"He was protecting Elara from a pack of wolves, Father," I said, my voice heavy. The memory of Orion's bloodied body flashed in my mind, and I clenched my fists. "It was too late by the time I got there."

Eldric's eyes darted up to meet mine, his brow furrowing. "How is Elara? Is she okay? Not injured, right?" His tone carried more worry than I'd expected, the concern of a man who cared deeply for the young ones under his protection.

"She's fine," I said quickly, shaking my head. "Just a few bruises here and there, nothing serious. Ori's the one who took it head-on." My voice cracked slightly, and I glanced down at Orion's still form. His chest was rising and falling steadily now, but the sight of him like this—it twisted something deep inside me.

"He took down one of them on his own," I added, the words leaving me in a half-whisper. "And… he injured another before collapsing."

Father Eldric's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly. "Orion… took one down?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, Father. I saw the wounds on the wolves. It was his doing."

"That explains it, then," Eldric muttered, his voice low but carrying a tone of realization. He stood slowly, his gaze fixed on Orion, his expression thoughtful, almost calculating.

"What happened, Father?" I asked, stepping closer. His words, his reaction—it stirred something in me, a curiosity tinged with unease. "What do you mean?"

Father Eldric didn't answer right away. He bent down again, carefully pulling back Orion's torn shirt to examine his body. His hand hovered over Orion's leg for a moment, then his arm, his core. His face grew darker with every passing second.

"You see the swollen muscles in his legs, his arms, and his core?" he finally said, his voice quiet but heavy with meaning.

I frowned, thinking back to the moment I'd carried Orion into the church. The unnatural swelling, the way his muscles seemed engorged, almost stretched—yes, I'd seen it.

"I do," I said, my tone more serious now. "I remember."

Father Eldric straightened, turning to face me. His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and piercing. "If I'm right," he said slowly, "Orion was using mana breath technique. His body isn't adapted for it."

The words hit me like a thunderclap.

"Mana breath technique?" I repeated, the term ringing in my ears. My heart raced as the memory of something similar surfaced.

I had seen this before. Years ago, in my younger days, one of my former party leaders had used the technique during a desperate fight. The results had been similar—swollen muscles, overstrained body, and an almost unbearable aftermath of pain.

"Father," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, "are you certain?"

Eldric nodded grimly. "Look at the signs, Darius. The mana didn't just flow through him—it surged, forcibly enhancing his strength, speed, and reflexes. But at a cost."

He gestured to Orion's battered body. "His body isn't ready for that kind of strain. It takes years of training to master mana breath without destroying yourself in the process."

I looked down at Orion, my mind racing. The torn flesh, the broken leg, the claw marks—they were all terrible, but now I understood the deeper danger. His swollen muscles weren't just from the fight—they were from his own body turning against him.

"Why would he—" I stopped myself, shaking my head. Of course I knew why.

"To protect her," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.

Eldric sighed, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. "He was willing to risk everything for Elara," he said softly, his tone full of both admiration and sadness. "But this... this could have ended far worse. If his mana core had ruptured or his body completely rejected the flow—"

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. I could see the unspoken words in his eyes.

I stared at Orion, my throat tightening.

"How do we help him recover from this?" I asked finally, my voice breaking. "How do we make sure this doesn't happen again?"

Eldric's face softened, but there was a weight in his gaze. "He'll need time. Rest. And most importantly, guidance."

He paused, looking down at Orion with a hint of something that almost felt like pride. "There's strength in him, Darius. More than I think even he realizes. But that strength needs to be tempered. Controlled. Or next time..."

He didn't finish, but I nodded. I understood.

I reached out, placing a hand gently on Orion's shoulder. His body was still warm, and his breathing, though shallow, was steady. He looked so small, so vulnerable in that moment, but Eldric was right—there was strength in him.

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And I swore to myself right then and there, I would make sure he lived long enough to see it.

"Father! Father!"

The voice echoes through the church, high-pitched and frantic. I turn toward the door as Anara rushes in, her robe trailing behind her, her face pale with panic. Elara and Aria stumble in right behind her, their small frames barely keeping up, their faces streaked with sweat and worry.

"Father! Father!" Anara calls again, her voice trembling as she hurries toward us.

"Calm down, calm down, Anara," Father Eldric says, stepping forward, his voice calm but firm. He raises a hand, trying to steady her as she approaches. "Nothing happened. It's just a small injury."

"A small injury?" Elara's voice breaks, sharp and trembling. Her face is wet with tears, and she grips the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles are white.

"It's not small! It's not small at all!" Her words tumble out between sobs, her chest heaving as she speaks. "I—I saw what happened!"

Her wide, tear-filled eyes land on Orion's still body, lying motionless on the altar. Her breathing hitches, and her face twists with fear.

"Ori…" she whispers, her voice barely audible, before it breaks into a loud wail. "Ori's dead!"

The words pierce the air like a dagger, and her sobs grow louder as she stumbles toward him, her small hands reaching out. "Ori! ORI!"

Before she can get too close, Aria steps forward and swats the back of Elara's head—not hard, but enough to jolt her.

"You dummy!" Aria snaps, crossing her arms and puffing her cheeks in irritation. "He's not dead, stupid! Look!" She points at Orion's chest with an exaggerated motion. "See? His tummy is moving!"

Elara blinks through her tears, her sobs stopping for just a moment. She stares at Aria, her lips trembling, and then shifts her gaze to Orion's body.

"His... tummy?" she whispers, her voice thick with doubt. Her watery eyes fix on his chest, watching intently.

Sure enough, Orion's chest rises and falls, slow and steady.

Elara's face crumples again, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "Ori… Ori…" she cries, but this time it's softer, a mixture of relief and sorrow. She stumbles forward, throwing herself to her knees beside him. Her small hands hover over his arm, unsure where to touch without causing him more pain.

"I thought… I thought you were gone!" she sobs, her voice high-pitched and shaky. "I was so scared! Ori… Ori…"

Aria rolls her eyes, kneeling down beside her. "Stop crying already, Elara," she says with a huff, though her tone is more playful now.

"He's fine. He's just sleeping, like a big, lazy bear." She pokes at Orion's uninjured arm lightly. "See? He's just taking a nap."

Elara sniffles loudly, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and glances at Aria. "R-really?" she asks, her voice still trembling.

"Really," Aria says with a firm nod. "And when he wakes up, he's probably going to be super grumpy, so stop bawling and let him rest."

Elara hiccups, her tears slowing, but she doesn't move from Orion's side. She clutches his hand gently, her tiny fingers trembling.

In the meantime, Anara stands frozen a few steps away.

Her face is pale, her lips parted in shock. Her trembling hands clutch her chest as her eyes lock onto Orion. She's not crying, but the way she stares at him—like she's seeing something too terrible to process—it twists something in my chest.

"Anara," I say softly, stepping closer. "He's alive. He'll recover."

She doesn't respond, her breathing shallow. Her gaze remains fixed on her son, taking in every injury, every bloodstained bandage, every bruise. She flinches slightly as her eyes move over his broken leg, the claw marks across his chest, and the faint scars where healing magic had begun to work.

"What happened, Darius?"

Anara's voice trembles slightly as she steps closer, her eyes locked on Orion. Her gaze is heavy with worry, her lips pressed tightly together. The way she looks at me—like she's searching for answers, no matter how much they might hurt—it cuts deeper than I expect.

"It's just a small, unexpected injury while monster hunting. Nothing happened," I say, trying to sound calm and reassuring. My voice feels hollow, though, as if the weight of the moment is pressing the air from my lungs.

Anara's eyes narrow, and her brow furrows. She looks at Orion again, her hands trembling as she takes in the torn bandages, the dried blood, and the faint rise and fall of his chest. Then she turns back to me, her expression hardening.

"Do I look like a child to you, Darius?" she says sharply, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The harshness of her tone makes me flinch. It isn't loud, but there's something raw in it, something that says, Stop lying to me.

I open my mouth to respond, but I can't find the words.

"Anara!"

Father Eldric's voice rings out, firm and commanding, breaking through the tension. He steps between us, his hands raised slightly, his expression calm but stern. "Enough. This isn't the time for arguments," he says, his voice steady but carrying an edge that demands silence.

Anara presses her lips together, her shoulders tense, but she doesn't say anything.

Eldric turns to her, softening his tone, speaking like a parent to a concerned child. "He's alright. Nothing has happened that we can't handle. Darius brought him back safely."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Anara's shoulders relax, though the worry in her eyes doesn't fade.

"Now," Eldric continues, glancing between us, "take Orion home. He needs rest, and he needs someone to care for him. You can do that better than anyone."

Anara nods slowly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides before relaxing again. She sighs deeply, a mix of frustration and exhaustion, and looks at me.

"Darius," she says, her voice softer now but still carrying an edge of authority, "pick him up. Put him on my back."

I hesitate for just a moment, glancing at Orion. He looks so fragile now, so still. I feel a pang of guilt in my chest, but I push it aside. I step forward, sliding my arms carefully under him, trying not to jostle his injuries.

He's lighter than I remember, or maybe it's the weight of the moment making everything feel heavier.

Anara kneels in front of me, adjusting her posture so I can place Orion on her back. She's strong—always has been—but as I lower him onto her, I can see the faint strain in her body. Still, she doesn't complain.

"I've got you, Ori," she whispers, more to herself than to anyone else. Her voice trembles slightly, but she steadies it as she shifts to balance his weight.

Elara and Aria watch from the side, their expressions quiet and serious now. Even Aria, usually so blunt and playful, doesn't say anything as she watches Anara stand, carrying Orion with care.

Father Eldric steps forward, placing a hand gently on Anara's shoulder. "He's strong, just like his mother," he says softly. "And you're strong too. He'll heal."

Anara doesn't respond, but she nods once, her jaw tight as she adjusts Orion's weight again.

As I watch her walk toward the door, Orion's still body resting against her back, I feel a strange mix of emotions—relief that he's alive, guilt that I couldn't do more, and admiration for Anara's quiet resilience.

"Darius," Eldric says, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to him, his gaze steady. "Go with her. Make sure they're safe."

I nod without hesitation, moving to follow Anara. The church feels colder as we leave, the air heavy with unspoken words.

As we step outside into the moonlit night, I glance at Orion one last time. His face is peaceful now, his breathing steady.

You'll make it, Ori, I think to myself. You have to.