“Aisha.”
The sound of her name, spoken softly but firmly, startled her from her spiraling thoughts. Her gaze, which had been fixed blankly on the floor, lifted slowly. She turned, her body moving almost mechanically, to face the source of the voice.
A shadowed figure stood at the far end of the tent, partially obscured by the dim light and heavy fabric walls. But even in the darkness, she recognized the outline of the armor he wore—the Spartan armor. The same armor she had seen earlier, watching silently as the flames consumed the woods.
That voice…
Aisha froze at the sound. She had never heard such a deep, velvety voice before, but something in its resonance stirred a distant, almost forgotten memory. It was as though a string within her heart had been gently plucked, vibrating with a familiarity she couldn’t place. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Before her stood a man. His curly black hair was slicked back, gleaming under the soft light, and his piercing icy blue eyes locked onto hers. The intensity of his gaze was so cold, it sent shivers down her spine, as if his mere look could encase her in ice. Yet, beneath the coldness, there was something unsettlingly familiar.
He smiled—a small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips.
“Ha…” The sound escaped Aisha’s lips before she even realized it, a strange mix of disbelief and shock. Her mouth hung open slightly, her breath caught in her throat. His face, his voice, even that fleeting smile—it was all different. And yet, that smile. That smile reminded her of someone. Someone who had once smiled at her in just that way.
Her heart stuttered, her lips trembled, and her wide eyes shimmered with uncertainty.
It couldn’t be him.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into the soft fabric of the tablecloth beneath her, as if grounding herself in reality. Her gaze never wavered from his face. She studied every detail with painstaking precision, searching for proof, some unmistakable sign that it wasn’t merely a cruel illusion. But the more she looked, the more her heart screamed the truth she wasn’t ready to believe.
Deep inside, she already knew. The moment he had called her name, the moment he smiled, that hope she had buried long ago resurfaced like a tidal wave. But she was terrified—terrified that this was just another one of the countless dreams she had suffered through since his supposed death. Another nightmare that would leave her shattered when she awoke.
“It’s been a while, Aisha.”
His voice was clearer this time, steady and unmistakable.
Aisha’s breath hitched in her chest, and in that instant, her body moved on its own. She surged forward, leaping over the table without a second thought, and crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce embrace. “I-it’s really you?! Na… Nathan?!”
She clung to him desperately, as if he might vanish if she let go. Her face pressed into his chest, the cold metal of his armor beneath her cheek, but she didn’t care. Her shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked her body, her tears spilling freely, dampening the smooth surface of his armor. Each tear felt like a release, years of pent-up pain and longing finally pouring out.
Nathan’s arms circled her gently, pulling her closer with a tenderness that broke the final dam of her resistance. “Yes, it’s me,” he whispered softly, his breath warm against her hair.
As he hugged her, Nathan had a weird face berating himself for having revealed himself yet seeing Aisha crying relieved as if she felt alive again, he didn’t regret.
°°°°°°
A few minutes earlier.
I couldn’t get close to his tent.
I had been circling the encampment for what felt like hours, my steps measured and cautious, each passing minute sending spikes of frustration through my veins. Every now and then, I cast fleeting glances toward Agamemnon’s main tent, where the figure of the ruthless king loomed like a dark shadow within. It was the perfect moment.
Agamemnon was there, and Astynome—she was so close, just within reach. But standing in the way were two grim-faced guards, their spears gleaming dully in the campfire light, positioned at the tent’s entrance like impenetrable sentinels.
They weren’t there to guard the king. No. Their job was to prevent anyone, especially Astynome, from slipping away unnoticed.
I continued to pace, my mind racing, trying to conjure a plan. Running into the vast desert with Astynome, with an entire army at my back, seemed like a death sentence. The heat of the day had already surrendered to the chilling winds of night, the air cold enough to cut through armor, but none of that concerned me now. Every solution I thought of led to the same conclusion—escape was impossible.
The guards began to eye me suspiciously as I passed them for the third time, their expressions darkening with each circuit I made. I couldn’t risk drawing their attention any longer. With a sigh, I peeled away from the tent and retreated toward one of the fire pits scattered throughout the camp. I settled down in front of the flames, allowing the heat to wash over me, warming my cold, stiff fingers.
The fire crackled softly, the only comfort in this desolate place. The night’s chill seemed to seep into my very bones, and for a brief moment, the temptation to close my eyes and surrender to sleep tugged at me.
But then, something made me tense. A sudden shift in the atmosphere, a presence. I felt a gaze on me—sharp, penetrating. My eyes shot upward, and for a fleeting moment, my breath caught in my throat.
It was her.
Across the flickering firelight, Aisha’s gaze met mine. My heart pounded in my chest. It felt as though years had passed since I had last seen her, and in those moments, time seemed to freeze. She had changed—grown even more beautiful, if such a thing were possible.
Her delicate features were now framed by a quiet maturity, but her expression remained as unreadable as ever, like a marble statue carved with divine precision. Stoic. Unshakable.
Did she recognize me?
Nine months. Nine long months had passed since I’d seen her. And yet, standing there, I couldn’t shake the hope—maybe foolish hope—that she would remember me. Had I been so arrogant to think my presence, my LUCK, had left any lasting impression on her?
I quickly averted my gaze, breaking the moment, and hurriedly stood up. I had to leave before she followed me, before questions were asked, before my presence in the camp aroused suspicion. Being alone like this, without purpose, already made me look guilty. I needed to stay focused on the mission—to find Astynome and escape back to Troy. Time was running out.
I wandered the camp again, skirting the edges of the tents, my senses heightened, but soon something strange happened. A familiar ripple brushed against my awareness—Aisha’s mana. That distinct electric pulse of her lightning magic. My body tensed. Why was she using magic here?
Could it be?
A deep sense of dread settled in my stomach. Without wasting another second, I followed the trail, moving swiftly through the camp. The closer I got, the more the tension coiled within me, and my instincts screamed that something was wrong.
Finally, I reached a tent. The scene before me made my blood run cold.
Three men stood at the entrance, laughing raucously, their cruel voices dripping with malice.
“Ahaha! Ajax is gonna break her!”
“Fuck it, I wanted to have her first!” another growled, his voice filled with venomous lust.
“It’s Ajax, you idiot. Do you want to die?” the third man sneered, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry, though… we’ll have our sweet time after he’s done, hehe.”
My eyes grew cold, the kind of cold that comes from a deep, simmering rage. I could piece together the scene easily enough. Whatever was happening in that tent, it wasn’t hard to imagine. The muffled sounds, the cruel laughter of the men, and worst of all—Aisha’s faint, struggling voice.
All reason within me evaporated. That deep hatred, the kind that had boiled inside me just like when I was summoned to Tenebria filled with only hatred toward the Divine Knights, started to surge back with a vengeance. It had managed to diminish -quite a lot when I met Akane and Ayaka, their presence soothing the anger that had once consumed me. But this?
This brought it all crashing back, and I didn’t care about the consequences anymore.
Without thinking, I moved, my steps heavy with intent. The only thought in my mind was to kill the man inside, whoever he was. No mercy. No hesitation. Just raw, unfiltered violence and in the most cruel way possible.
But before I could act, something stopped me in my tracks.
Screams pierced the air—loud, sharp cries that were quickly silenced. I froze, and blood splattered just outside the tent’s entrance. My gaze darted to the source of the chaos, and there she was. A woman with a veil of long, black hair tied in a ponytail, moving with deadly grace. My breath caught in my throat as a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I recognized her immediately.
Sienna.
She slipped into the tent before I could react, and I silently positioned myself behind the thick fabric. I listened closely, waiting. Moments passed, and the sounds from within told me what I needed to know. Sienna had intervened just in time, driving the bastard away before he could go any further. Aisha had been saved, but instead of relief, the air inside the tent was thick with tension.
A bitter argument followed.
“Were you even trying to escape, Aisha?”
“You’ve faced worse, Aisha. Why didn’t you fight back? Why let yourself get to that point?”
Sienna’s frustration was high, and her words echoed in the space between them, but what caught my attention more than anything was Aisha’s silence.
She didn’t respond. Not a single word.
Why wasn’t she fighting back? Why wasn’t she retorting like she used to? I’d known Aisha for long enough to know that silence wasn’t like her. It felt wrong. So wrong.
Something was terribly off.
It was as if she had given up—like she was just existing, not living. Just… drifting. And seeing her like that, broken and downcast, pained me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
This wasn’t the Aisha I knew, the fierce girl who would stand her ground no matter what despite being silent.
I carefully peeked inside the tent. There she was, sitting with her head bowed, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. Her face was drawn, her expression hollow. And seeing her like that—it seemed really pricking my heart.
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to rush in and pull her into my arms, consequences be damned. My heart screamed at me to do something, to help her, to let her know that I was there. But something held me back. Maybe it was guilt, maybe fear or just because it wasn’t the right time yet…
But she never forgot about me.
I started to turn away, to leave before I made things worse. But then I heard it—a soft, broken whisper.
“N…Nathan…”
Her voice was barely audible, a pained mumble echoed, damaged, but unmistakable.
I froze, my body going rigid. My mind raced, but there was no hesitation in my movements. Without another thought, I spun on my heel, throwing the tent flap open as I stepped inside.
“Aisha.”
Her name slipped from my lips before I could stop it.