Sora found himself in a dimly lit room, where the faint sound of brush on paper filled the silence. As he looked closer, he saw someone hunched over, carefully sketg a portrait—his portrait.

  The artist paused, gnced up at him, and he realized he was looking into his own face. The version of himself across from him tio draturing every detail with a astonishing accuracy.

  Once fihe other Sora stood up, pg the portrait on a nearby support. Sora stepped closer to exami, feeling an odd sense of distance from the face staring back at him. This version of himself looked hopeful and i, with a faint smile that hi youth and y.

  This was his appearance before the world ged...

  Suddenly, the se shifted, and Sora found himself standing in a valley, his heart pounding as he watched Enzo and Lara fall in slow motion. They reached out to him, eyes wide with terror, as life drained from their bodies.

  He wao scream, to run to them, but he was rooted to the spot, powerless to ge their fate. Then he felt a sharp pain in his bad turned, only to see Rachel, betrayal etched across her face as she withdrew the bde.

  Blood spttered onto the portrait, marking it with crimson streaks before being absorbed by the paper, and the once-clear smile faded, repced by a grim determination.

  The innoce was gone, and Sora in the portrait seemed to have aged ten years in an instant. His once-youthful expression now had grief and revenge written all over it. The face looking back at him was slightly colder, as if the kihat onhabited it had been scorched away.

  Yet, in this darkness, new figures entered his life. Hiyoko, the little Piou, was sleeping in his arms one night in the cold forest he was training in. He helped his parents find their smile again. And Kara appeared, and with her came a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. Her gentle smile radiated a healing light, and he felt his ow soften, the bitterness easing as he remembered her kindness. The man in the portrait reflected this ge; his cold expression softened, and the fai hint of a smile began to return, bringing back a sembnce of the youth he’d lost.

  But then the grouh him shifted, and enemies surrounded him. He stood alone, his staff at the ready, and with a deadly precisioched himself cutting them all down.

  Blood sprayed around him, coating the valley in crimson. Sarsha appeared , her tear-streaked face meeting his gaze as he delivered the final blow. Her blood, like that of the others, spttered across the portrait.

  trol over his body slowly returned ...

  As he turned back to the image, he saw the sting marks of his as.

  Most of the blood faded, absorbed into the paper, but a few drops remained, staining the portrait. The smile in his refle dimmed once more, the weight of his siched into his face.

  Blood covered his hands, and a thin stream trickled from his nose. His stance was more powerful, exuding strength, but also a chilliat that hadn’t been there before. This was a man who’d been fed in battle, no longer just a warrior but a haunted figure, carrying the marks of every life he’d taken, every friend he’d lost.

  Sora did not like the portrait he was seeing. This was not him. He remembered ated every life he took, and it was always by y. This was unfair, he ortrayed as someone cold, but he was not that guy... Was he?

  The artist turo him, as if waiting for him to do more things to know how to portray him iure...

  Sora’s eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his chest.

  For a moment, he y still, staring at the dim ceiling above him, the images from his dream lingering like ghostly shadows. He could still feel the weight of his staff in his hands, the warm blood spttering against his face, and the st look in Sarsha’s eyes, frozen in his mind.

  He sat up slowly, his breaths uneven. He gnced down at his hands. But they were , shaking slightly as he ched them into fists.

  The room around him was quiet, a trast to the chaos in his dream. Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest, the echoes of guilt reverberating in the silence.

  The dream had felt so real. The loss, the betrayal, the blood—it was all too vivid, reminding him of the things he couldn’t outrun, the choices he’d made and the people he’d left behind.

  After a few moments, he exhaled slowly, the chill of the early m air brushing against his face, grounding him.

  He sat up, f himself to focus on the present. He o move on. With new weight on his shoulders, and hidden scars no one could see.

  Sora used the messagiure in his friend list and was about to send a quick greeting to Kara.

  Surprised at himself, he thought, 'Since when did I start expeg her presence? we be sidered real friends now?'

  He shook his head, dismissing his thoughts, and turned his attention to Hiyoko. Through their link, he sensed her outside the room.

  'Where am I? Since when does Hiyoko wander freely? Isn't she afraid of bullies?'

  Because of her unusual appearance, people often mistook Hiyoko for a wild creature, trying to pet her or even cast spells ohough her level and power far surpassed any civilian’s, she still shrank away when surrounded by strangers.

  Sora left the room, trag his familiar. Soon, he fouanding with her head buried in a basket of fruit, her tail feathers poking up and her butt looking at the ceiling in what seemed to be a modern kit.

  He gently grabbed her by the feathers, pulling her in front of him. Her eyes widened, mouth red stained with strawberries.

  “Whose fruits are these? Didn’t I teach you not to steal?”

  Hiyoko chirped and shook her head, as if protesting. "Chirp, Chirp, Chirp!!"

  Through their bond, Sora uood her chatter, learning that the homeowners had allowed her to eat. Apparently, he and Kara were resting here as guests.

  Sing the surroundings with [Mana Eyes], Sora noticed four people in the house, and soon he heard approag footsteps. Kara appeared, dressed in an ued shade of yellow.

  “You’re awake... How are you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. What about you? How long was I out?” he replied, lying about feelier than he did.

  “Half a day,” she replied. “We’re in Kiruna. It’s not close to Treriksr?set, but it’s the safest pce we could find. General Asami gave us all three days to rest before we return to Sto.”

  “Kiruna…” Sora recalled the maps he had memorized while searg food hunting grounds, realizing how far they were from the battlefield. She must have carried me all the way here, he thought, gng at her.

  Staring at her for a few seds “Thank you, Kara. For everything.”

  Before she could respond, a couple in their early thirties ehe kit. The woman, with light hair, carried a baby in her arms, while the man, nearly two meters tall and bald, looked at Sora with a warm smile.

  “I’m Sven,” he introduced himself. “I work in a small inn in the core area. We’ve heard so much about the war these past few weeks, and you ’t imagine how grateful we are to you soldiers... Some people call you pyers, but to us, you are Soldiers, you are even Heroes. Knowing that one of the heroes behind our safety is here, in this house my father and I built, it gives us hope. Thank you fhting for us and giving us the ce to stay in our territory.”

  Sora felt a mix of emotions. After that dream, he felt dirty, and weak, but this family's happiness and their looks told him a different story. Maybe it was worth having dirty hands if he could protect people from harm.

  "Thank you for your kind words, and thank you for having us in your home".

  The woman quickly added, “o thank us! This is the least we do for our try’s heroes. Please, join us—we were just having breakfast.”

  Sora followed them, and the m passed peacefully. He watched as Kara pyed with the baby, who looked no older than one or two years. Genuine happiness shone in Kara’s eyes, a rare softhat made her seem almost carefree.

  At one point, Kara tried to hand the baby to Sora. He flinched, and she immediately noticed the fear aation in his eyes. Without missing a beat, she brushed it off, tactfully moving to stahe window with the child instead.

  Snced down at his hands, a hint of sadness in his gaze. He didn’t want to touch the baby, afraid that his newfound strength might harm the fragile little life. In his mind, his hands still felt stained—marked by the battles and lives he’d taken. Holding a child seemed too pure of an act for someone who’d known so much violence.

  During their three days in Kiruna, Kara often took Sora on walks to explore the city and its surroundings. They visited the Institute of Space Physid Lule? Uy of Teology, both of which were now iing mana and game meito their studies of Space Teology and Space Physics—fields that had shifted dramatically over the past decade.

  One day, they made their way to Luossavaara Mountain, spending the hours watg the sun rise and gradually move across the sky until it dipped below the horizon. The ndscape was breathtaking, and Sora felt a quiet peace settling over him.

  With the beauty of the sery, Kara’s steady presence, and Hiyoko fluttering nearby, Sora’s heart—so often weighed down by grief—felt like it was slowly beginning to heal, eaent spent here gently easing the pain he carried.

  mimou