Tira found herself walking towards the library before she even realized it. The place was wrecked, though surprisingly devoid of blood. Currently, the clean up crew was helping the clean-up had been assigned the west wing and all groups had so far evidently left the place untouched.

It had not a fun experience having to be surrounded by weeping kids so early in the morning, but what else was she supposed to do? The adults had decided they'd let none of the girls handle cremating the bodies and no one had argued otherwise.

A figure rounded out from the corner when she blinked. They carried a thick stack of books, the weight of them thudded loudly as she placed them against the floor.

“Oh, hi.”

“Sariya.” Tira took off her shoes, wincing as she felt a flare of pain on her knees. Her own pain—Dias felt all fine on the other side. She barely glanced up before the little girl handed her a face mask.

Flat cardboard boxes were resting by the visitor bench, though more looked like they were slowly getting piled up by the other end of the room. The books themselves were not scattered on the ground haphazardly, instead, they were sorted into different piles clearly by either genre or alphabet, possibly both.

Knowing Sariya, she didn't doubt it was both.

Wordlessly, they worked together to pack the books as carefully as they could. Sariya started filling her in about the developments all together.

“The library wall is going to get broken down since it’s by the main entrance; they’re planning to move the infirmary down after they merge this room and the classroom next to it.”

Sariya took a small breath as she hefted a few books over to another empty space and continued, “Thankfully, nobody really got up to here, there wasn’t much to clean apart from this mess of books.”

Then she disappeared around a bookshelf, leaving Tira to help in whatever she could or wanted to and a part of her shirt peeking from behind her spot.

“The internet still isn't up yet,” Sariya said, half an hour later, when she had run out of tapes and had to cross the room to where all the supplies were pooled. “Neither are the TVs, landline, or radios. It’s all been pretty silent, no news whatsoever.”

Sariya passed Tira the new marker, then returned to her spot to tape the boxes already labeled. “There are also been some rumors that you were the one who killed the direwolves and made the barrier go up.”

“Did Ginan tell you that?” Tira finally found her voice again, her anger now mostly forgotten.

Sariya grinned, though she looked disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm in the reply, “Oh, so you’ve heard about it already, isn’t it absurd?”

Tira hummed in agreement, her full focus on making sure the books that were falling apart weren’t going to disintegrate once they were put into a box. Almost like a never-ending and stressful Tetris game. “Quite. I'd assume sooner rather than later he’s going to lose escort privileges, but none of us are going home.”

Sariya giggled at that, genuinely, with mirth lifting her cheeks so high that her eyes turned crescent. “Maybe you can get him banned from going to the kitchen.”

“That’s impossible, in every way, he’s in the cooking club, remember?”

She recalled the boy wearing an apron and serving food just last night, working so hard that he had to eat last. “It’s going to take more than just the end of the world to separate him from food.”

“Right…” Sariya smiled sadly, almost on the verge of tears, though she blinked it away quicker than Tira could have pointed it out. “The world is ending, is it?”

Instead, Tira told her the truth with a nod. The truth was the girl’s comfort, she was not going to take that away at this important time.

They continued to pack in silence, the type where a pin could fall and one would hear its echo across the expanse of the library.

Night came sooner than later, accompanied by faraway screams which were carried by a chilling, suffocating winds.

It was a such a blood-curdling scream that had those who heard it to stood immediately on their feet. The prefects, rushing out in a hurry towards the source, and them, sprinting out of the room with concern and worry. As it was, they just so happened to be the closest to the main entrance by location, and behold, across the gate were the gang members who were on patrol, all of them running towards the gate that faced the parking lot.

Had the electricity been taken away, it would have been hard for anyone to discern the situation. The street lamps worked well enough that despite the absence of the moon, those who ran to the scene could see clearly what had broken the silence.

A man, with a girl kicking and crying in his arms as he tried to drag her away from the main gate.

When the stranger realized that people were coming, a group of people at that, he dropped his hold of the little girl and tried to run away.

Judging by the distance and clarity of his figure, the gang members would have no problem running after him.

But would they catch him?

Her answer came in the slowing pace of the boys, changing their route to the girl instead.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

At least they were looking after their own people first.

Without having to think further, Tira felt her legs fill with power, along with her entire body. She launched off the ground to intercept the path the man was running towards in less than a blink.

He certainly did blink, as she noted the moment his eyes opened wide upon impact on his back, sending him tumbling over the hard cold, rough pavement, before skidding onto a stop by force.

“AAARGH!”

His scream vibrated into the very ground. Tira glanced back, her heel still dug into the man's back as she searched for the kid.

Their gazes met, she asked, “Kid, do you know this man?”

The little girl shook her head as hard as a child would when adamant, her pigtails swaying with the force she put behind each shake. “I don’t know him! He—he just grabbed me! I don't—” Her refusal and pleas garbled over each other, as her body shook with tremor.

“I see.” She glanced down at the man, who had shifted his fat face sideways. “Any comment to add, mister?”

“Fuck you bitch!” The stranger spat blood leaving splatters close to her foot, which perhaps had been aimed at her face, but missed and curved to the ground instead.

“Alright.”

She stepped steadily onto the dry ground, no longer stepping on the man like one would on a plank. She saw, to the side, that Sariya had caught up with them and had immediately secured the little girl into her bosom, covering her eyes and ears.

Good.

Tira lifted her legs as the man tried to roll over, bringing it down with enough force to crack the ground and with it; his ribs. His groan sliced the air after a second impact.

Another stomp followed, this time with the force of her unpowered self.

“Please-”

She did not let him speak and kicked again.

“Pl—AAAAAAAHHHHH!”

She aimed her heel right above his ribs. The crack was satisfyingly loud to cover whatever noise he had made prior.

The man tried to catch her hand, of which she curbed the attempt before those flabby digits could even lift off the ground.

Another set of cracking and muscle tearing filled her ears and the cold night air, along with his gut-wrenching cry.

She gave a final kick to his jaw, dislocating it along with breaking his nose, before the man finally went out cold.

Tira hissed and tried her best to ignore the pain that bloomed on her foot, like fire running all the way through her heels to her spine.

She could also feel her toenails also growing, an uncomfortable sensation creeping up, considering that her socks were now torn and covered with blood, debris, dust, and other questionable yet obvious bodily fluids.

“Dias.”

He broke away from the crowd and came over silently, almost without any footsteps, appearing by her side before she even took another breath to ask.

“Can you heal him?”

“Yes.” He nodded, giving her an eager smile that hid behind it a flash of pity and sympathy directed at the one beaten up on the floor.

Dias stepped over the hole, knelt, and touched the man on his foot. With his touch, all his blooming bruises and scars vanished into thin air.

Bones cracked and re-aligned themselves, pulling the skin along to where it was before. Then, at last, his broken nose snapped back into place, cementing a full recovery.

This was a surprising display of power that Tira hadn’t asked about before, but somehow knew that he would be capable of based on her gut feeling.

She lifted her face to those who watched by, however few they were. How could she not sensed their eyes on her the entire time– their voices shackled, caged, perhaps stunned by the display of violence she had so readily displayed?

People that had known of her only by name and some other meagre hints; more who had shared their class or their club with her.

Sariya was no longer in sight, along with the little girl. Thank god for small mercies.

Armand stood at the front, his face pale, shaky when he noticed her gaze had landed on him. Donny observed coolly by his side, neutral and still. Rina had her brows drawn deep into a frown; across her face as lines of anger or frustration began to swell. It was hard to tell.

Sir Saputra was there too, a bit hard to spot behind the kids, his stony expression hard to read from the distance and the shade covering him, along with other teachers and students wearing various uniforms that she recognized as the representatives of each grade from their first meeting.

One would have assumed that they would have found what she had done appalling, and uncalled for, even if it were to be based on their interactions at the previous meeting and the distance that they kept between each other on the grounds.

The air surrounding them, however, told a different story.

“Dias.” She said his name again, this time not to call him, but to make herself clear to him and everyone else that have yet to pick their sides. “I asked you to never order me to kill another human being.”

“You did.”

“Besides that, everything else is allowed.” She said with an even voice, letting them know of her standing in the matter.

“Understood, love.”

Walking away from his bowing figure, knowing that he'd follow anyway, she passed by the group.

“I did not accept the deal because I want to save everyone.” Tira said as she walked, her stride sharp and slicing to make sure they listened. She could feel their attention sticking on her skin, flowing down like ichor, suffocating the thick tension veiled air and floating doubts. “I did it because I want to live.”

She passed by the rest of them. There was nothing more to be said. Now the decision was completely in their hands.

----------------------------------------

The fifth floor auditorium was empty once more. Now that the path to the cafeteria had somewhat been cleared, the public kitchen activities would resume from its original and proper place.

She wasn't sure as to how those who were boarded up and staying in their homes were faring, but she had seen an influx of adults and kids coming over whenever meals were distributed.

Outside of that, it was painfully obvious that those who found themselves homeless around them had designated the school as their safe haven, merely based on the number of people who camped near the gates.

There was, in essence, no way to differentiate between good-hearted and bad refugees, because they all looked the same as human beings.

Tira had been uninterested in the topic before, even if she had briefly thought of it, wanting to be away from the chaos that was a power struggle and just do her best to– exist. Things as they were now hadn't been her responsibility to begin with. She had held no position of power in the school's biome before the fall of the divine trust, and she had foolishly thought that surely, the leftover protocols could have been repurposed for any situation, including their current one.

Less than a few days had passed and she was becoming increasingly aware that it was going to be impossible to distance herself away from the news and policies of the school, and the two instances that had befallen her seemed to have proven it.

A force which pulled her in without care, without any consideration on whether the one hooked onto his line would suffer or not, just like how she found herself doing so now.

She turned to see his face, still smiling gently and with his usual hint of mischief. His presence was still lighter than the air that she breathed and yet in a way, colder. Ever shifting, never settling, but consistently dependable.

“What is your plan, if you win?”

His smile didn't falter as he answered, briefly turning his gaze away to the mess still left in the grand hall. “Nothing. I will do nothing. Your lives are yours to live, I…”

Once again, their gaze met. This time it no longer felt happy, but was mired with loneliness and longing that she had witnessed once before. One she barely caught the other night.

“Nothing will bring me more happiness than to see you live and thrive, even if I can merely watch.”

She understood now. It took all of her horribly phrased and a few unrelated questions to arrive at the right and final conclusion. “You’re in love with humanity.”

His smile answered everything.

“It’s a one-sided love that might not even—ever—be returned,” Tira stated, obvious in her judgement. “They're probably clueless that all you're doing is for their sake, and even if they had a hint… They wouldn't accept it.”

Dias kept his silence.

“You’re spilling blood for something that you might not even be able to hold on to.”

“And that's the point, isn’t it?” His voice was soft, melodious, not in the taunting way he had presented himself before. “No matter who wins this game, we all will lose something. That’s why he hasn't struck us down yet and proceeded with annihilation right away; it’s more fun this way.”

“Our father in heaven is not benevolent or merciful.” He stepped forward, eyes searching for permission. She let him and did nothing as he carded his fingers across her nape and inched forward to press her silky dark locks onto his lips. “And neither can he understand love.”

All his careful handling, as if he was cradling a priceless crystal, ended as he pressed the tips of her split ends with a gentle kiss.

A speck of energy ran through her, banishing away the pain from her legs, along with the uncomfortable stickiness that stuck on her toes. Her nails, she felt, had been cut to their appropriate length once more.

She let out what had been lurking inside her mind for a long while and took another step in their dance of faith. “Miserable bastard.” She called him.

“Violent bitch.” He yipped back, looking nowhere near offended.

Dias let her hair fall back into place and stepped back, letting a soft laugh escape his lips. She let loose one chuckle and bits of a small, deliberate smile. Just a conscious tug of her lips, that was all she was going to give him for tonight.

That was all she’d allow herself to be for a brief moment.

Once the moment passed, they gave each other one last glance. She gave him a bow, right hand over her heart and her left in the air, miming where she would pinch her skirt had she been wearing one and hung her head low in a show of respect.

“Tirani Adeusa, at your service.”

He returned her gesture with the same respectful bow, his left behind his back, and eyes trained to the ground for good measure, as any good gentleman would do to keep the dignity of the lady he was faced with.

“Dias, the demi-god of death, also at your service.”