"You don’t look too well watching your comrades risk themselves like that, Miss Clara." Jix appeared at her side without anyone even noticing his presence. He had been doing this with Marcus, but never had anyone gotten as close as he just did.

I must be just worried about those two.

"Mind if I stay here for a bit?" The old man stepped closer to the edge and looked down. "Quite a reasonable height. Living up here must feel pretty safe, I bet it’s normal to feel powerful from up here."

"Being high up gives you no power at all, it only shows that you’re at a disadvantage in the terrain and can’t control the others." Her answer was always the same. Once, she had heard the exact same response. "I can’t do anything to help either of them. No one can."

Jix rested his hands on his cane. The fight unfolding was crucial for Clara. A promise that Dante and Marcus could lose and everything would be taken away made her anxious, more than any other loss. If they lost, they would be slaughtered and never have any kind of support again.

A loss like that reminded her of Marcus getting beaten by Antton, taking hits from both James in the hospital years ago. That day, her friend's face had turned pale. It took him weeks to recover mentally.

The mind was always the most affected.

"And why do you think they need help, Miss Clara?" Jix remained still, his body motionless as he watched Marcus and Dante argue over the heavy shot that had hit Degol's back. "Do you know what the greatest pleasure of having powerful allies is? It’s being able to trust them with your eyes closed. Even if Kappz is a ruined city, look around. The people are waiting for their return, but their eyes are filled with fear. Can you feel it?"

Clara could. Trembling hands, anxious faces, the younger ones hiding behind their caretakers. Even the recent newcomers didn’t seem that confident. Clara realized that just standing there, doing nothing, wasn’t helping those frightened faces either.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" Jix asked.

"I’d like that, please."

Jix met her gaze.

"The most elegant and grand rule about trust comes from those who stand behind the men who take risks. Men like Marcus, inspired by his own story, fear nothing when risking everything so that the future may be better than the present. And men like Dante—him, you should thank God for. Listen to your intuition about what you’re seeing, and act accordingly. A general is present on the battlefield through spirit, not actions."

Clara hadn’t expected his words to be so sincere and direct. Being one of the recent residents, she had no idea he was this wise. However, she also knew he was the one helping Dante with some kind of training.

The higher you rise, the more people will be inspired by your actions.

Her mother’s voice was always filled with love, but she had lost her to a senseless war. Clara didn’t want to take sides, not like Yuna had before. Her mother had lost everything by trusting the wrong people, yet she never stopped believing in her purpose.

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"It’s not just those two who need your words, Clara," Jix said, breaking her train of thought. "All of them do. Be firm, but let your heart guide your words."

Clara clenched her fist and took a deep breath.

"Dante, Marcus." Her voice echoed through the silence of the night, reaching every spectator around her. "This is our home, not theirs, not Antton’s. We’re waiting for you to return, so don’t lose."

Jix approved her words with a sincere smile.

The children were the first to shout, then the elders followed. The entire building where Clara lived erupted into cheers of support. No one wanted to lose, no one wanted to give up what they had gained or built.

Meliah or Degol? Even if it were a King from another world, they wouldn’t back down here.

"Leave it to me."

Dante raised his hand, waving warmly. Clara loved when he did that. It was thoughtful, welcoming, and confident. That was the trust Jix was talking about. No matter the risks they faced, Dante always smiled.

Do I need to smile more?

When Meliah appeared, both arms transformed into blades, Dante was still turning toward the building. However, before the two blades could descend, the old man’s hand grabbed his neck, the impact throwing him three steps back, choking.

Holding his throat was impossible with blade-shaped hands. Meliah tried to speak, but when he finally swallowed properly, Dante was already in front of him. His arm was pulled back, and an elbow strike hit his chin. Before he could break free, an open palm struck his face, sending him stumbling back.

The day Clara saw Dante send a Felroz flying with a punch, her perception of strength had shifted slightly. Injured, an old man hesitated not even for a second to break the line between thought and action.

A single punch was always enough to take down a Felroz, but knowing his ability was purely physical, she understood well that right there, in the middle of the street, his smile was not just for Marcus beside him, but for everyone watching—to show that none of this was truly dangerous.

Strong allies gave you the chance to see the world from another perspective. One that Clara was almost certain had countless possibilities for growth.

"Hope is a damn word that sparks optimism and faith in the worst places." Clara didn’t care if Jix or Simone heard her thoughts. "I’m tired of always having to hide from the same problems. I don’t want to hide anymore. The Felroz are the least of our worries because we can hide from them."

"The real danger has always been humans," Jix completed for her. "I know this story, Miss Clara. To never be betrayed, you must always be suspicious. But how much of your heart lies in trust, and how much of your soul lingers in disbelief? If you allow me, I’d like to be here, to listen to you and talk about what you do. Even as old as I am, I believe I can still help with advice."

Clara looked at him.

"I’d rather see first if I can trust you. Then, we can talk."

Jix kept smiling, not replying.

Clara needed to learn not to be afraid while respecting the history that repeated itself.

"Trust with your eyes open and doubt with your eyes closed." Clara leaned against the low terrace wall. "Trust…"

Marcus dodged an uppercut from Degol, stepped back twice, and aimed the ISE carbine. The impact shattered part of the stone armor on his shoulder, but as he turned, both pistols hit his chest.

Degol stumbled back nearly two meters, staggering, but when he tried to move, another shot hit his leg, forcing him to kneel. The moment he lifted his head, Marcus kicked his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

She never expected the gunman to have gotten this fast. Clara didn’t want to lose anymore. She didn’t want to just regret the choices they made or hear Marcus cursing himself at night over everything that had happened.

This wasn’t the life she wanted to live. It wasn’t what her mother would have wanted for her.

How do you have hope in this shitty place?

"Finish it, Marcus." Clara gripped the edge of the rooftop tighter. "Finish that bastard."

Degol got up and attempted a straight punch. Marcus used his pistol and shot through his stone fingers. Another shattered crust, and Jones stepped back, groaning in pain. Marcus quickly stepped forward, slammed the butt of his gun against his temple, and pushed him away with three well-placed shots to his stomach.

Before Degol could recover, the tip of the ISE was pressed just below his forehead, right between his eyes.

"No hesitation, motherfucker," Marcus said, pulling the trigger once more.