A Dagger's Grudge

January 12 4005 3:31PM

Light and Claire lock eyes, standing back-to-back, their weapons drawn and ready for battle. They find themselves encircled by the silent and eerie presence of the white-clad Black Scar bandits in the frigid winter forest. The barren trees and snowy ground create a stark and chilling backdrop as the overwhelming force of about two hundred bandits closes in, their sole objective clear—to eliminate Light and Claire mercilessly.

As Light's sweat beads trickle down his face, the grim reality of the situation sets in. In this unforgiving open field of the forest, safety becomes an elusive concept. The droplet falls, meeting the grassy ground below, marking the beginning of the impending danger. With ruthless determination, the bandits seize the opportunity and surge forward, their intentions clear as day—to eliminate Light and Claire without mercy. The air is filled with a palpable tension as the clash between survival and impending doom looms ever closer.

With a swift and decisive movement, Light grips Claire's sword firmly, channeling his focus and resolve. Ignoring the chaos that surrounds them, he charges headlong into the onslaught of bandits, his determination cutting through the air like a blade. In perfect synchrony, Claire stands her ground, her bow poised with a flurry of arrows ready to be unleashed. Time seems to slow as she releases arrow after arrow, each finding its mark with deadly precision. The clash between Light's relentless swordplay and Claire's expert archery creates a symphony of combat, a dance of survival amidst the chaos.

Despite the bandits' intentions to end their lives, Light and Claire held a different purpose in the midst of the battle. They fought not to take lives, but to preserve them, recognizing that even those who commit harmful acts are still whether human, elf, or dwarves or any kinds of race, they are still people not mindless monsters. With every swing of Light's sword and every arrow released by Claire, their aim was to disable and incapacitate rather than to deliver fatal blows.

With a swift leap, Light soared through the air, his body propelled by sheer determination. He descended upon the first group of bandits, his eyes gleaming with unwavering resolve. The setting sun cast a warm glow upon Claire's sword, grasped firmly in Light's hand, as if infused with his unyielding spirit.

In a display of controlled fury, Light unleashed his art, -Rage Ascension-. The air crackled with anticipation as his blade sliced through the space, each slash executed with precision and purpose. The initial strikes collided with the bandits' weapons, causing a resounding clash, while the subsequent slashes targeted their arms, inflicting a searing pain that sent them reeling.

Light's intent was clear—he aimed to incapacitate, not annihilate. His strikes, while forceful, were tempered by a deep understanding that even those who had strayed could still find redemption. Each blow conveyed a message of pain and consequence, urging the bandits to reconsider their path of violence.

As the bandits crumpled to the ground, their arms throbbing with pain, Light stood tall amidst the chaos. His expression remained resolute, yet a flicker of compassion danced in his eyes. The battle transcended mere survival or defeating the enemy; it became a testament to his unwavering belief in the transformative power that resides within every individual, no matter how lost they may appear.

Amidst the fray, Light's attention shifted to the commanding bandit, one of the supposed adventurers who had orchestrated the trap. Despite the clash of swords and the intensity of the fight, Light's stoic nature remained unshaken. With a calm yet piercing gaze, he confronted the bandit, seeking the truth behind their attack.

In the midst of exchanging blows, Light posed a simple yet profound question, his voice steady and unwavering, "So, what's the real reason for attacking?"

The commanding bandit, caught off guard by Light's composure, could not help but feel a tinge of admiration for his adversary. With a grudging respect, he replied, "To eliminate the threat posed by you and her... It's all part of our upcoming plan."

With his skillful swordsmanship and unwavering resolve, Light continued to engage in the fierce battle. Channeling his inner strength, he unleashed his stellar art, -Swift Judgment-, delivering a powerful and precise slash that sent the commanding bandit staggering backward. Seizing the moment, Light swiftly turned his attention to the oncoming wave of bandits.

As the commanding bandit urged his comrades forward, Light's determination burned brighter than ever. With calculated movements and swift strikes, he held back the onslaught, his sword becoming a blur of steel in the midst of the chaos. Each swing was a testament to his unwavering resolve and unyielding spirit.

The bandits, driven by their leader's command, charged forward with a mix of determination and fear. However, Light met their aggression head-on, skillfully parrying their attacks and delivering well-placed strikes that sent them reeling. His movements were fluid and precise, a dance of combat that showcased his mastery over the blade.

Amidst the clash of steel, Light's voice echoed with authority, commanding respect and caution. "What are you waiting for? Go!" yelled the commanding bandit, attempting to rally his subordinates. But Light's presence alone was enough to instill hesitation in their hearts.

With each bandit he incapacitated, Light sent a clear message: he would not be defeated, and he would not allow his convictions to waver. His unwavering determination radiated from every fiber of his being, inspiring a sense of awe and respect even in the midst of battle.

As the bandits faltered under Light's relentless assault, their initial bravado began to waver. The clash of swords echoed through the air, accompanied by the heavy breaths of combatants. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if witnessing the unwavering spirit of one man who fought not only for his own survival but also to prove that compassion and understanding could triumph over darkness.

In this chaotic dance of blades, Light stood firm, embodying the essence of resilience and justice. With each bandit that fell, his emotionless desire only grew stronger.

In her steady position, Claire displayed remarkable agility and precision. As the groups of bandits advanced towards her, she swiftly notched her arrows and released them with unparalleled accuracy, aiming for their shoulders. The impact of the arrows knocked the bandits off balance, sending them stumbling backward.

With remarkable dexterity, Claire deftly grabbed more arrows from her quiver, seamlessly reloading her bow as she continued to fire. Her movements were fluid, a testament to her years of training and experience. As the last group of bandits closed in, daggers glinting in the dim light, Claire anticipated their attacks with keen instincts.

As a bandit lunged at her, dagger raised, Claire reacted with lightning speed. She gracefully ducked under the attack, simultaneously delivering a powerful kick to the bandit's legs. The force of her kick sent him sprawling to the ground, incapacitated.

Seizing the opportunity, Claire swiftly slid backward, creating distance between herself and the remaining bandits. With her back pressed against the rough forest floor, she gathered her focus, preparing to unleash her art.

Summoning her mastery over precision and timing, Claire unleashed her stellar art, -Precision Strike-. With a calculated and devastating blow, she struck the final bandits in the second group, hitting their vulnerable spots with lethal accuracy. The impact of her attack was swift and precise, leaving the bandits incapacitated and disarmed.

Claire's skills and quick thinking had turned the tide of the battle in their favor. With each arrow she released and every precise strike she executed, she showcased her unparalleled marksmanship and her ability to swiftly neutralize threats.

The forest echoed with the sound of arrows whistling through the air and the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Claire's grace and precision in combat were a testament to her unwavering dedication to her craft. In the midst of the chaos, her focus remained unwavering, ensuring that each shot found its mark and every strike was executed flawlessly.

With the second group of bandits incapacitated, the swarm of attackers had been significantly diminished. Claire's contribution to the battle was immeasurable, her skills complementing Light's emotionless desire as they fought side by side against overwhelming odds.

In the midst of darkness, another vivid and haunting flashback grips Claire's consciousness. The wind whispers through the engulfed darkness, carrying echoes of an unknown perspective. Blinking through the haze, Claire finds herself transported to a clean, peaceful street. Beside her walks a tall man, his hand clasped firmly around the perspective of a young girl. The child's face radiates innocence and joy, her smile lighting up the scene.

But in an instant, the tranquility is shattered by the deafening sounds of exploding bombs and the heart-wrenching sight of falling debris. The perspective shifts, immersing Claire in a state of shock. She gasps for breath, her world spinning, mirroring the same terrified perspective from her previous flashback. In the midst of devastation, they instinctively replicate the actions portrayed in her previous traumatic memory.

Within a city consumed by flames and engulfed in chaos, Claire bears witness to the horrifying aftermath of an attack. Her own hand throbs with pain and her body trembles with fear. Standing nearby is the young man with yellow hair, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the pandemonium. His urgent voice pierces through the chaos, guiding Claire to stand up, urging her to move forward. Disoriented and overwhelmed, she clings to the young man's outstretched hand, finding solace in his determination.

Tears stream down Claire's face as she voices her desperate plea to survive, her voice trembling with raw fear. Guided by the young man's unwavering resolve, she is led through the shattered remnants of the city, her sobs echoing through the desolation. Despite her overwhelming fright, the presence of the young boy provides a fragile sense of comfort in the midst of the turmoil.

However, tragedy strikes once again as a colossal piece of debris descends upon them, plunging them into darkness. Slowly, Claire opens her eyes, finding herself buried beneath the weight of rubble. She cries out for help, her young voice filled with desperation, but there is no one to answer her plea. Determined, she musters her strength and pushes against the debris, relying solely on her own willpower. Bruised and battered, she finally manages to stand, though her vision is blurred and her body throbs with pain.

In that moment, Claire's gaze falls upon the lifeless body of the young boy, her savior, brother. Through tear-filled eyes, she realizes that when the debris had fallen, his first instinct was to push her out of harm's way, sacrificing his own life to save hers. Overwhelmed with grief, she is unable to bring herself to rush to his side. Instead, she stumbles away, seeking refuge behind a crumbling wall. From her hiding place, she witnesses the brutal atrocities of the bandits dressed in white, their malevolence leaving an indelible mark on her fragile psyche.

Their leader, a figure cloaked in white, holds a handful of magic shards in his hand, each shimmering with a different color: blue, green, red, and yellow. With a sinister gesture, he hurls them into surrounding buildings, triggering explosions of vibrant hues. The structures crumble, and the bandits surrounding the leader collapse, consumed by the fiery chaos. In Claire's perspective, the leader stands amidst the flames, his hands raised triumphantly before becoming engulfed in the inferno.

With no other option, Claire flees from the danger, her heart pounding in her chest. She runs, leaving behind the devastation and the haunting memories. Slowly, her consciousness snaps back to the present, the weight of her tragic past still heavy upon her shoulders as she snaps back to present where she continued to battle the relentless bandits that threaten them.

"Claire!" Light's urgent call cuts through the chaos of the battle, reaching her ears with clarity.

"Yeah!" Claire responds, her voice filled with determination.

Reacting swiftly to Light's command as he ducks down, holding Claire's sword above him as she leaps from the makeshift platform. Using his strength, Light propels her into the air, her body spinning gracefully. In mid-air, Claire becomes a flurry of motion, her bowstring pulled taut as she unleashes a rapid succession of arrows towards the encroaching bandits.

Her aim is true, the arrows finding their mark with precision. They strike the shoulders and legs of the bandits, inflicting pain without causing fatal injuries. Each hit knocks the assailants back, disrupting their advance and buying Light and Claire precious moments to regroup and assess the situation.

The air is filled with the twang of bowstrings and the thud of arrows finding their targets. Claire's swift movements, combined with Light's strategic positioning, create a formidable defense against the encroaching bandits. Together, they form a synchronized dance of skill and strategy, a testament to their teamwork and shared purpose.

Amidst the flurry of arrows and the chaotic battle, Light's stoic expression remains unwavering, his focus solely on protecting Claire and neutralizing the threat before them. Claire's eyes burn with determination, her every shot infused with the memories of her tragic past, driving her to fight with unwavering resolve.

With a powerful leap, Light propels himself into the air, his body twisting gracefully as he wields Claire's sword with incredible precision. The blade slices through the air, its gleaming edge finding its mark as it connects with the commander of the Black Scar bandits. The force of the blow sends the bandit reeling backward, their grip on power momentarily shattered.

Seizing the opportunity, Light follows up with a swift and decisive uppercut, delivering a final strike that sends the bandit sprawling to the ground. The resounding impact echoes through the clearing, leaving a momentary silence in its wake.

As the dust settles, Light and Claire stand amid the aftermath of the fierce battle. The once formidable bandits now lie scattered on the ground, defeated and unconscious. The white garments of the Black Scar clan are stained with dirt and blood, symbols of their fallen strength. Surrounding Light and Claire are the remnants of their triumph, a testament to their unwavering resolve and skill.

In this surreal moment of victory, Light and Claire find themselves face to face with the last remaining bandit—the one responsible for setting the trap that had threatened their lives. The bandit's eyes dart nervously, their breaths shallow as they realize the dire consequences of their actions.

Light's gaze is unyielding, a reflection of his unwavering resolve. Claire stands by his side, her bow ready, her expression a mix of determination and caution. Together, they embody a force that cannot be underestimated.

Light advances towards the bandit, his expression devoid of emotion, gripping the bandit's hair tightly and forcefully slamming him against a nearby tree. Claire stands by his side, her presence lending an aura of support and determination.

In a voice that carries an undercurrent of sincerity, Light questions the bandit about their affiliation. "Who sent you here?" he asks, his words laced with an unwavering determination to uncover the truth.

The bandit, seemingly unfazed, responds with a hint of mockery. "Isn't it obvious?" they retort, their tone filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

"Shit!" Light's stoic facade cracks slightly as he utters a curse under his breath. The weight of the bandit's revelation hangs heavily in the air, amplifying the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, Light delivers a powerful punch, striking the bandit with such force that they crumple to the ground, unconscious.

Claire, taken aback and slightly fearful, voices her confusion and concern. "Why did you do that? We could have interrogated him to find out who sent him..." Her words are filled with a genuine desire to understand Light's reasoning.

A rare glimmer of vulnerability flickers in Light's eyes as he meets Claire's gaze. His response is laden with unexpected sincerity, revealing a deeper understanding of the situation. "Because I already know who it is," he confesses, his tone reflecting a mix of determination and weariness.

Curiosity piqued, Claire seeks clarification. "Who?" she asks, her voice laced with anticipation.

Light's voice resonates with an even greater sincerity as he utters the name. "Theseus," he states, his words carrying the weight of knowledge and a profound sense of resolve.

He clenches his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white, and begins to walk away with a sense of restrained anger. His hands find solace in his pockets, as if he carries the weight of an unexplainable rage that has been suppressed for far too long.

Claire's mind races, recalling the story Light had shared about the devastating attack he and his friends endured at the hands of these very same bandits. Understanding the depth of his pent-up anger, she realizes that he has carried this burden for years.

In a chilling moment of revelation, Claire connects the dots between her own past encounter with the white-clad bandits and the black scar bandits who have now resurfaced. The realization that these bandits may have been responsible for the death of Light's sister and her brother elicits a mixture of anger and fear within her.

However, amidst this convergence of shared tragedy, a deeper understanding emerges. Both Light and Claire have suffered similar losses, both having lost siblings to the ruthless actions of these bandits. Their intentions now align, driven by the need for justice and a desire to protect others from experiencing the same pain they have endured.

As Claire retrieves her phone to alert the authorities and request assistance in dealing with the unconscious bodies of the bandits, Light plants Claire's sword firmly into the ground and walks away with a solemn determination. Claire hurriedly secures the sword back into its scabbard and rushes to catch up with him.

Unbeknownst to them, a figure concealed behind a nearby tree observes their departure, clutching a dagger in their hands. With a slightly agape mouth, the mysterious onlooker quietly retreats into the shadows, leaving behind an air of uncertainty and intrigue.

They make their way back to the academy in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Claire feels a heavy weight of awkwardness and guilt pressing upon her, as she blames herself for dragging Light into the ill-fated quest. Their footsteps imprint on the snowy ground behind them, a visual reminder of the path they have traveled together.

Upon reaching the entrance of the academy, Claire comes to an abrupt halt by Light's side. He turns to face her, his stoic expression unwavering. A few minutes pass in tense silence, with Claire anxiously rubbing her hands together. Whether it is the biting chill of the winter wind or the turmoil of guilt that plagues her, her hands move restlessly, betraying her inner unrest.

"I guess it was kind of my fault, wasn't it?" Claire's voice wavers with guilt as she looks at Light.

"For what?" Light responds, his tone tinged with mild confusion.

"For bringing you along with me," Claire admits, her guilt palpable.

"What's wrong with that?" Light's voice remains stoic, devoid of emotion.

"Look, if I hadn't brought you along, none of this would have happened... If only I hadn't insisted on going and just turned back..." Claire's voice carries a mix of regret and simmering anger towards the bandits.

"It's fine, I don't really mind... Besides, I was the one at fault for suggesting we choose another quest," Light responds, his words attempting to console Claire while maintaining his usual emotionless demeanor.

"That makes me feel a little better..." Claire's voice carries a hint of relief.

However, despite Light's unexpectedly kind words, Claire's guilt still weighs heavily on her. Without another word, she abruptly turns and rushes back to her dorm, leaving Light with a perplexed expression. He raises his hand to reach out to her but hesitates, eventually letting it fall back to his side as she disappears from his sight.

He felt that chasing after Claire would only worsen the situation, as he was not skilled at comforting others with his words. Resigned to that fact, he continued walking back to his dormitory.

As he walked, he encountered Liene, who had a shocked expression on her face. She had noticed Claire running back to her dormitory and approached Light with a sense of urgency.

"Hi, Light," Liene greeted him.

"What's up?" Light responded, his expression remaining stoic.

"Did you see Claire running off? It was quite unexpected," Liene said calmly.

"She... had some important matters to attend to," Light replied, choosing to fabricate a reason for Claire's sudden departure.

Taking the opportunity, Liene asked Light if he would accompany her for a walk, to which he reluctantly nodded in agreement. They stepped outside into the dark winter night, where the cold air embraced them. Despite the chilly weather, both Light, with his hoodie providing some protection, and Liene, with her natural elven resistance to the cold, seemed unaffected.

Elves are often depicted as having a natural resistance to extreme temperatures, including both cold and heat. This inherent resistance is typically attributed to their unique physiology and magical nature.

One possible explanation for an elf's resistance to cold is their adaptation to cold climates over generations. Elves may have evolved in regions with harsh winters, developing biological traits that enable them to withstand and thrive in low temperatures. This could include a higher metabolic rate, enhanced blood circulation, or specialized tissues that insulate their bodies against the cold.

Similarly, an elf's resistance to heat can be attributed to their connection to magic and their ability to attune themselves to different environments. Elves are often portrayed as inherently attuned to nature and the elements, including fire. Their close relationship with magical energies allows them to better regulate their body temperature and withstand extreme heat. They may possess natural fire resistance, enhanced perspiration or cooling mechanisms, or even a form of innate magical protection against heat-related harm.

More importantly, it gives them an upper advantage over most human which is the main reason of their resentment towards them

They walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the snowy ground. Liene occasionally glanced at Light, her heart filled with gratitude and a hint of admiration for his unwavering acceptance of her true identity as an elf. In a world where prejudice and mistrust toward her kind were common, Light stood out as a beacon of understanding and compassion.

She had always kept her secret closely guarded, afraid of the potential repercussions if it were to be exposed. But with Light, she felt an inexplicable sense of trust. He had never resented her for being an elf, never judged her based on her heritage. It was a rare and precious connection that she cherished deeply.

They walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the snowy ground. Liene occasionally glanced at Light.

"Is everything alright?" Liene asked, her voice gentle and concerned.

"I'm fine," Light responded curtly, his gaze fixed ahead.

"You know, sometimes it helps to talk about things," Liene suggested, her voice filled with empathy.

"I'm not much of a talker," Light replied, his tone unchanged.

Liene nodded, understanding his disposition. They continued their walk, their breath visible in the crisp night air. The peaceful stillness of the winter night seemed to wrap around them, offering a temporary respite from the troubles that weighed on their minds.

They continued their stroll through the dark, snowy plains outside the academy until they reached a solitary bench. They sat down, the chill of the winter night seeping through their clothes. Liene's voice broke the silence, her smile lacking sincerity.

"Claire is quite weird, isn't she?" she asked, her words laced with uncertainty.

Light nodded in agreement, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

Liene's curiosity got the better of her. "I don't get why you keep sticking with her."

Light fell into contemplation, his gaze drifting towards the vast expanse of the night sky. His thoughts swirled within him, elusive and complex, defying simple explanation.

Light's voice remained devoid of emotion as he shared his perplexity with Liene. "The fact that she continues to stick with me is even more confusing."

Liene mustered a small smile, her attempt to feign understanding. "That's certainly an unusual thought to think about."

Light's stoic demeanor persisted as he contemplated further. "Claire is an interesting girl to be around. While I don't necessarily seek her constant presence, there's also a part of me that doesn't mind her constantly bugging me. Even I, myself can't understand why."

Liene's somber tone went unnoticed by Light, her feelings concealed behind a mask of quiet acceptance. "I see," she murmured softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness that eluded his notice.

Gazing upwards towards the expansive night sky, Liene found solace in its vastness. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a quiet reflection of her own inner thoughts. It was a moment of introspection, a fleeting connection with the universe that enveloped them.

"You like her, don't you?" Liene asked, a genuine smile gracing her face.

"As a person, maybe," Light responded, his tone devoid of emotion.

Liene probed further, her words laced with curiosity. "I mean, as a romantic interest... Humans can be quite complex, can't they?"

Light's expression remained unchanged, his voice still emotionless. "I'm not sure on how to answer that."

Light gazes up at the dark winter sky adorned with shimmering stars, their glow encompassing the entire Arcadia where they reside. Delicate snowflakes begin to descend from above.

"It's snowing again..." Liene remarks, her voice filled with a touch of wonder.

Light acknowledges her words with a nod. "Indeed. We should consider heading inside. It's getting late too."

Liene's smile brightens as she agrees, "You're probably right."

They both rise from the bench, their footsteps leaving imprints on the snowy path as they make their way back to the warmth of the academy. Liene, feeling a pang of sadness and realization, avoids making eye contact with Light, silently acknowledging that he cares more for Claire than her. She looks away as they approach the academy.

"Well, I'll get going now... Don't stay up too late," Liene says, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy.

"Sure," Light responds, his tone unchanged.

Liene begins walking, separating from Light, who returns to his dorm. Once he is out of sight, Liene can no longer contain her emotions. Tears stream down her face as she runs as fast as she can, unaware of her surroundings. Unexpectedly, she collides with Marcus, who looks shocked in the middle of the hallway. They both tumble to the ground.

Concerned, Marcus tries to assess the situation. "Liene? Are you alright?"

Sniffing and wiping away her tears quickly, Liene feigns composure. "Yeah, sniff, I'm... Fine."

Marcus senses her sadness and attempts to offer his support. "If there's something wrong, you can always tell me..."

"I told you, I'm fine... Sniff," Liene responds, hiding her vulnerability.

Liene remains seated, her back turned to Marcus, struggling to conceal her true feelings.

"You don't look fine," Marcus observes.

"I SAID I'M FINE, OKAY!" Liene bursts out, surprising Marcus with her outburst and causing an unexpected pang in his chest.

"Look, Marcus... If I say I'm fine... I'm fine... Sigh... Just leave me alone," Liene insists.

Liene quickly gets to her feet and rushes away, presumably heading to her dorm. Marcus stands there, stunned by Liene's words. Although he has only known her for a short time, she is his friend, and he has developed feelings for her due to her caring nature. But once again, he realizes that his trust in people has been misplaced.

"I guess I was wrong to trust people," Marcus mutters to himself.

With a mix of anger and disappointment etched on his face and a tight fist, Marcus walks off toward his dorm, revealing a side of his personality that is serious and guarded, hidden beneath his seemingly kind and courageous facade.

Meanwhile, inside Dylan and Cain's dorm, Cain finds himself unable to sleep. A sense of unease washes over him, prompting him to rise from his bed beside the sleeping Dylan. Quietly, Cain retrieves his staff, opens the intricately designed door, and steps outside into the dimly lit hallway.

Walking through the corridors in the middle of the night, his thoughts turn to Rose and her absence over the past twelve days, leaving him with an inexplicable feeling. Clutching his staff tightly, he encounters a girl with pink hair. In the darkness, he mistakes her for Rose and reaches out, grabbing her shoulder, startling her.

"Ahh! Don't kidnap me, I have no money..." the pink-haired girl exclaims, her voice filled with panic as she curls her ears in fear

"Rose?" Cain questions, hoping for confirmation.

"Who's Rose?" the pink-haired girl asks, turning around to face him, wiggling her ears.

Though her hair resembles Rose's, Cain is taken aback by the unfamiliar face. In shock, he barely has time to react before she delivers an unexpected uppercut, sending him flying before landing on the floor.

"Ow!" Cain cries out, wincing in pain.

"Oops, sorry..." the pink-haired girl apologizes, realizing her mistake wiggling her ears.

She rushes over to him, offering her help to get him back on his feet.

"You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that," the pink-haired girl advises.

"I'm sorry, I mistook you for someone else. I thought you were a friend of mine, but I guess I was wrong," Cain responds, offering an apologetic tone.

With her assistance and the support of his staff, Cain manages to stand up, allowing the girl to get a clearer look at his appearance—his yellow hair and his staff. Recognition dawns on her face.

"It's you..." the pink-haired girl utters in shock as she wiggles her tail...