A Unsatisfactory conclusion

Pulling her pink-haired comrade forcefully, Cristal and Hellas continue to move further away. Already more than 100 trees are between them and Sol.

"Why are we going? We should be helping him." Hellas decides to not yell, still, the sound makes the nearby smaller nightlife animals scurry away. Cristal stops, still holding Hellas's sleeves tightly.

"Why did you want to stay? The beast is clearly strong in the dark and we whilst resourceful are not truly suited to such combat." Cristal asks releasing her grip and leaning against one of the many trees. Her mace lightens dimly, like a faraway sun.

"To increase our chances. To show that we're in this together. To keep an eye on him." Hellas responds listing all the different reasons he can think of off the top of his head. The three fingers he has raised and the others that he's preparing to raise signal confidence in his arguments. Not interested in a long-drawn-out discussion Cristal intervenes when only three fingers are raised.

"For one, us being there would not increase our chances. We would only heighten our chances if we faced other creatures who struggle in the dark. Secondly showing that we're in this together and keeping an eye on him are conflicting statements showing trust and distrust. We are actually showing more trust in the fact that we let him do this alone."

"What if he snaps? He has done it before whilst we weren't there. When he was acting solo. What then? Do we leave him behind? Did we help another monster?" Hellas continues to pour every question he can think of, no longer out of logic or worry about his companion. His voice is overrun with a familiar emotion that nearly shakes his voice, something that wouldn't be caught by someone unfamiliar with him. He holds his necklace tightly, the red rose necklace hidden underneath the palm of one of his hands. His eyes cannot help but look slightly downward toward it.

"Hellas..." Cristal tries to respond, seeing one of her companions shaken, one of her closest friends. The thing she would call family if one ever were to ask. Before she responds she basks in her memories.

'How did it ever come to this? Why did I end up as a leader? Why did she have to die? And why... Why did he betray us?' Cristal heightens her hand as other memories fill her mind. Her time as a paladin and her lifelong goal of serving the church and Asariel. The happiness she felt when she was accepted as a trainee and the rage and sadness she felt when she tore off the badge. How Sodagar took her away from the Central Holy Empire and how the red haired woman found her on that rainy day. How her attitude and smile brought more light than anything she herself could wield. 'Asariel why did you ever punish someone so pure? Was it our fault, was it to make us suffer? Did we wrong you?' She asks herself before the hand she had raised smacks her across the face. The pain brings her back to reality, even if it's more somber than the experienced past.

"He might be. He might be an even worse monster. But I have decided to trust him, just like you all seem to have. We shouldn't insult his wishes and struggles with our paranoia. No, Fia would be disgraced with that." The name spoken by Cristal evokes a physical reaction from Hellas. The grip on his necklace is so tight that veins are visible on his forearms. Cristal on the other hand continues to speak, her logic once again in full control. "instead let's show him faith. Let's show him that we believe his words not as supervisors but as equals. To put our trust in his control and desire, out of our reach." Cristal ends her speech almost as if she spoke a prayer and continues onward to the deserter camp. To deal with those apparently alive. Hellas quickly joins her, taking the lead as he sees and hears Cristal slightly deviating off track.

***

It didn't take long for the pair to find the camp, it was shattered and groaning, and painful moans are still audible. Many of the deserters are immobile, simply waiting for death to catch them. Torches were being carried by those still alive, those who were lucky enough that the beast had run off in the middle of its massacre. Torn corpses are piled in the center, even higher than the makeshift tents.

Next to the pile of corpses stands a man with a well-taken care of beard and black hair. In his early thirties at most, a figure with the many gazes of the other deserters upon him. He stands silently watching the piled corpses. Until another figure approaches, running to the man.

"Did you find him?" The man staring at the corpses asks the approaching clearly lower-ranked deserter. The difference in armor is comparable to a knight and a squire.

"He... He's dead sir Krystan... Sir Salex is dead." The younger boy says, holding back tears.

"..."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" A maddening laughter escapes the man standing before the corpses. The leader of whatever remains of this pathetic group of thugs and murderers. His eyes fixate on the pile of corpses as he laughs. The others around him move away slightly. The sight of a man laughing before the dead is perhaps even more discomforting than the death itself.

"Salex! Tyr! It seems I was the fool! HAHAHA!" Krystan speaks still unable to stop laughing. "I thought I had it figured out. This world and its true rulers! Ignoring your simpleminded sentiments! Hahaha! Now, look at me! A fool! A jester! Hahahahaha!" Krystan takes out his arm sword, something made of iron, stained but still effective. "You know what sun bitch! I refuse your schemes! Your judgment!" The man yells as he opens his mouth widely and puts his iron arm sword through it. Gurgling on his own blood before he down forward, impaling the sword even deeper.