The morning air in the pass, recently thick with tension and the smell of ozone, now felt oddly hollow after Levi's departure. Serabil remained perched on Riku's lap, the terrifying power emanating from her softened by the shift in her demeanor. Her golden eyes, vast and ancient, held a deep, intellectual curiosity and a quiet kindness that seemed at odds with the sheer force she embodied.
Riku, still hyper-aware of her presence, the lingering phantom taste of starlight on his tongue, forced himself to focus. He had established she wasn't an immediate enemy, at least not in the conventional sense. Now, he needed her help.
He took a deep breath, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs. "Anna… Serabil," he began, choosing the blended name tentatively, hoping to appeal to both facets of her being, "you saw my people. They're trying to move. In two days."
He proceeded to explain. Not everything – the System, the A-Rank mission, the severe penalty for failure – those were secrets held close. But he explained the impossible deadline. The threat of the shadow creatures, drawn by the Bloom of Everlife. The vulnerability of his village, two thousand souls ill-equipped for a forced march across dangerous territory under constant threat. He painted a picture of desperate struggle, of a people facing extinction, racing against time and unseen enemies. He spoke of the overwhelming logistics, the sheer physical impossibility of moving their vital supplies, their elderly, their children, conventionally.
Serabil listened intently, her golden eyes fixed on his, reflecting his words with an almost scientific fascination. She didn't interrupt, didn't question the scale of the impossibility, simply absorbed the data.
When he finished, the air hung heavy with the weight of his unspoken burdens and the stark reality of the village's plight. Serabil tilted her head, her halo pulsing with soft light.
"It must've been really difficult for you" she stated, her voice gentle, acknowledging the hardship. "Moving so many… so quickly. Especially with threats."
Riku met her gaze directly. This was the moment. The test of his tenuous trust, of her claimed good nature. "You said… you would help," he prompted, a fragile hope in his voice.
Serabil's smile returned, a breathtaking, serene expression that held genuine kindness. "Of course, Riku," she said, her voice like distant chimes. She acknowledged the narrative, the struggle, not with detachment, but with a genuine empathy that felt strangely pure.
She shifted slightly on his lap, her expression becoming playful, a mischievous glint entering her golden eyes. "But… helping such a courageous hero," she purred, her voice dropping slightly, regaining a hint of that earlier seductive tone, though now laced with affectionate teasing, "requires… appropriate compensation."
Riku's stomach clenched. Compensation? What did she want? Power? Knowledge? More… intimacy?
Serabil, sensing his tension, chuckled softly, a sound like sparkling water. "Oh, don't look so scared, Riku! It's nothing like that!" She leaned forward, her gaze dropping to his head, a simple, earnest desire in her eyes. "Just… pat my head."
Riku blinked, completely taken aback by the request. Pat her head? A being of cosmic power? A seraph who could erase reality? All she wanted was a head pat?
The absurdity of it, the stark contrast between her power and her simple request, almost made him laugh. But the request was genuine. Her golden eyes held no hint of malice, only a hopeful anticipation.
He hesitated for only a second. A pat. A simple gesture of… affection? Acceptance? Whatever it meant to her, it seemed a small price to pay for the aid.
Carefully, tentatively, Riku raised his hand. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding a bow and tools, brushed against the impossibly soft, ethereal strands of her moonlight-colored hair. He gently, slowly, patted her head, a simple, deliberate gesture.
Under his touch, Serabil went still. Her golden eyes, vast and ancient, closed slowly. A soft sigh escaped her lips, a sound of profound, unadulterated contentment that seemed to resonate through the very air around them. Her halo pulsed with a soft, warm light, enveloping both of them in its gentle glow.
It was a feeling of pure, innocent bliss. Of warmth. Of being cherished. For Anna, the seventeen-year-old girl who had died in a sudden accident, who had woken up in a terrifying, powerful body in an alien world, this simple pat from her hero, from the character she had admired, was an anchor. A validation. A moment of pure, uncomplicated connection in a reality that was anything but. It felt like coming home. Like being seen, and accepted, for the girl she was, not just the power she wielded. The overwhelming memories of Serabil, the ancient knowledge, the cosmic scale of her existence – all momentarily faded, leaving only the simple, profound joy of a head pat from her hero.
She leaned into his touch, her ethereal body radiating a warmth that was no longer unsettling, but genuinely comforting. It was a simple gesture, but in this moment, under the soft glow of her halo, it felt like an exchange of trust, a silent agreement forged in the heart of a desperate situation.
After a long moment, Serabil's golden eyes fluttered open. They sparkled, not with unsettling power now, but with a genuine, heartfelt gratitude and radiant cheerfulness. She shifted again, gracefully moving off his lap and landing lightly on the ground beside him.
"Alright!" she declared, her voice clear and bright as a bell. "Now I'm ready! Let's go, Riku! Where do we start?"
Riku, still processing the unexpected depth of emotion tied to a simple head pat, pushed himself fully to his feet. He dusted off his clothes, the ghost of her weight, the feel of her hair, still lingering in his senses.
"There are more of them," Riku said, his voice regaining its leadership cadence. "Divided in groups."
He turned and began to walk, heading not back towards the main column, but roughly a kilometer or two away, towards a specific, hidden location he knew. Serabil followed, floating lightly beside him, her presence a silent, radiant force.
As they moved through the forest, the path they took was eerily clear. Riku saw them – the scattered corpses of monstrous creatures. Shadow beings, their forms dissipated into faint ash. Werebeasts, their powerful bodies lying still. Monsters he knew would have overwhelmed his people, killed dozens before being brought down, if at all. They lay dead, silently attesting to the brutal efficiency of Igris. The loyal knight, patrolling the flanks, clearing the path, ensuring no threat could reach the vulnerable column of villagers. The dead monsters were a grim testament to the unseen battle being fought by his shadow, a testament to the silent cost of their desperate flight.
Finally, the trees began to thin, revealing a massive, ancient stone monument rising from the earth – a natural formation, hollowed out and reinforced, used by the villagers as a hidden emergency shelter. From the outside, it looked empty, silent, a forgotten relic.
But as Riku approached, a scout, positioned near the entrance, recognized him and gave a low, urgent signal. The monument, which seemed empty at first glance, held approximately two hundred people inside. A smaller, faster-moving group, split off from the main column, likely the most vulnerable – the elderly, the very young, those too frail for the main march – sent ahead to a temporary, secure location. And waiting with them, was Levi.
Riku stepped towards the entrance, Serabil floating beside him. As the villagers inside saw the shimmering, radiant figure of the Flugel, a collective gasp went through them. Fear, raw and palpable, flared in their eyes. Whispers rose, hands instinctively shielding children. They had heard the legends of the Flugels, the instruments of the Old Deus's terrible power.
"It's alright!" Riku called out, raising his hands placatingly, his voice clear and commanding. "She's with me! She's here to help!"
Levi, who had been observing from the shadows within the monument, stepped forward, his expression grim but his voice equally firm. "She's not an enemy! Stand down!" His presence, his trust in Riku, coupled with Riku's own calming words, slowly began to soothe the panicked villagers. Their fear remained, a tangible presence, but they trusted Riku. If he said she was here to help…
As the immediate panic subsided, Levi approached Riku and Serabil. He stopped directly in front of Riku, his sharp grey eyes fixed on his face. Riku offered him a tired, grateful nod.
"Levi," Riku said, his voice low, acknowledging his return, his tireless work protecting the flanks, his presence here with this vulnerable group. "You made it. Thank you."
Levi didn't reply immediately. He simply stared at Riku, his expression unreadable. He saw the sheer, impossible burden Riku carried, the choices he was forced to make, the fight he was waging against odds that defied comprehension. But still
And then, Levi's hand shot out. Not towards a blade, not towards his gear. But clenched into a fist.
Bang!
Levi's fist connected with Riku's jaw with a sharp crack. The force of the blow sent Riku stumbling back, his head snapping to the side.
The villagers gasped. Serabil's golden eyes widened in surprise, her halo pulsing.
Levi stood over Riku, his expression hard, but his grey eyes held a complex mix of anger, frustration, and something that looked disturbingly like concern. He didn't yell. He didn't rage. His voice was low, rough, filled with a raw intensity that silenced every other sound.
"You… idiot," Levi said, his gaze burning into Riku's.
The message was clear. The punch wasn't an act of hostility. It was a brutal, visceral expression of frustration, of worry, of a grim acceptance of Riku's reckless courage and the impossible burden he carried. It was the kind of communication that transcended words, understood instantly between soldiers who had seen too much, fought too hard. It was Levi Ackerman's way of saying, 'I trust you, but you're a damn fool, and I'm worried sick.'
Riku, jaw throbbing, touched his cheek, the impact stinging. He looked up at Levi, seeing the raw concern beneath the anger. He understood. Perfectly.
Serabil, floating nearby, tilted her head, her golden eyes wide with intellectual curiosity. She had just witnessed a human interaction that was both violent and… something else entirely. It wasn't a fight. It was a conversation delivered with a fist. Another data point in the fascinating, illogical world of her hero.