With a sigh of relief, Saryntha muttered, "So, he's down," her sword slipping from her bloodied hand, lying beside the celestial. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the pain from her injuries consumed her. Each inhale grew more bored. She clung to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, she might survive a little longer—but could she, with wounds like these?

  She forced a bitter smile, realizing her legs were pinned beneath the massive weight of the tree. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t call for help. And even if someone came, who would answer for a failure like her? A weakling who couldn't even complete the final task.

  "Am I the only one who fails?" The thought lingered like an iron weight in her chest. "Why does hope always vanish the moment it arrives? Why can’t I be acknowledged?" As those tears rolled down to the ground, soaking it. "They were right. I shouldn't have joined this school. Did this make me any better than a commoner? Rather, it made me even more pathetic." As she looked at the vast sky, "I couldn't save anyone’s face in the end."

  A small realization crept in, bitter and cold. "Wasn't he right? Don't I deserve this? I've never been a good person. I couldn’t help anyone in return, couldn’t even stand tall. Just a coward. Is that all I am?"

  Her breath grew more erratic as the bleeding worsened. She couldn’t think clearly anymore. Her vision blurred.

  She tried to speak, her voice barely a whisper, "I was still invisible."

  The silence felt unnatural, oppressive, as if the world itself had paused to mock her helplessness. The sunlight scorched her skin, gring down on her pinned leg where blood soaked into the dirt. Even the warmth of the light felt distant and indifferent. Sarn’s chest tightened. She was alone again—not because others left her, but because she couldn’t belong. If only she had been more noticeable, a bit more talkative, maybe things would have been different. But that wasn’t who she was.

  Her childhood fshed through her mind—always the one left behind, the one forgotten. She had tried to change, hadn’t she? She thought joining the Celestial Knights would finally make her someone worth noticing. But even now, after everything she’d gone through, it ended like every other time: alone, powerless, and drowning in her failures. She wished she had been disqualified before the group task; at least then she wouldn’t have had to face the bitter reality of being excluded. But now, that chance was gone. Completely.

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes. The blowing wind made her untied, shuffled hair cover her face. The warmth of the sunlight faded into the growing coldness in her chest.

  All the participants had returned—except Sarn. Rowan scanned the crowd, eyes darting, heart quickening. The moment her absence registered, it struck like a thundercp. "Sarn... that idiot. She's always left alone."

  Without a second thought, he stormed toward the healer. "Sophy. I need a minute. Sarn hasn’t come back. I think something’s happened."

  Sophy raised an eyebrow. “Her? You may be right. She’s… too naive. That girl…” Rowan’s breathing was shallow now. “We shouldn’t waste a moment.”

  He snatched the map from the table, eyes tracing frantic paths. His finger nded on a marked spot. “Here. That’s where her group was sent.” Sophy nodded grimly. No hesitation.

  They moved fast—silent isnd, open sky, a gnawing silence between them. Every silence was echoing the possible horrible outcome. The air was wrong. Heavy. Cold, despite the sun.

  Rowan’s senses were on fire. If she was out here, alone—no, he couldn’t even think it. His throat felt like sand. Then—a scent. Metallic. Sharp. Sophy halted. “Do you smell that?” Rowan froze. His eyes widened.

  They followed the trail, each step louder than the st.

  Then they saw it.

  Sarn, lying beside a Celestial. Both unmoving. Both soaked in blood. The ground was soaked with their blood, almost like a pool. Rowan stumbled back. His pulse exploded in his ears. Sophy's voice cracked. “How… how did this happen?” She rushed to Sarn’s side. Checked the pulse. Faint. Fading.

  “She’s lost too much blood. Her body’s shutting down. No healer could save her like this…” Her hand slid to her pocket, gripping a small bde. She looked at the Celestial. “He’s alive. But not for long. We’ll end him before—”

  “Wait!” Rowan snapped. “What about Sarn? H... how long does she have?” Sophy didn’t look up. “Can't tell... maybe her soul can slip away any moment…” Even though Sophy didn't want to notice, Rowan's desperation was clear. He failed to hide it. For this reason, maybe she stopped before saying more undeniable signs of death approaching.

  Rowan's mind was searching for possible ways to save her. Finally, a resolution came, his mind racing as he stood tall, facing Sophy. His breath was heavy, his voice steady, though his heart was anything but. The weight of the situation hung in the air like an oppressive fog.

  Rowan, with a firm voice: "I know it failed before, but this is different. We can make it work this time. The Celestial’s still breathing... there’s still a chance for Sarn."