The maid spoke again.
Her voice didn't rise.
Didn't sharpen.
It didn't need to.
"If you were to meet him now," she said calmly, eyes resting on Aldric without judgment, "in your **current condition**—you would be killed instantly."
Aldric stiffened.
Blood magic twitched around his fingers, flaring in reflex before he forced it down. His eyes narrowed—not in fear, but in something darker: offense, challenge.
"…You got a death wish saying that to my face?" he growled.
The maid didn't react.
"Even at full strength," she continued evenly, unfazed by the pressure rolling off him, "the outcome would remain the same."
Her words landed heavy. Final.
Lyriana's wings tightened behind her. She didn't interrupt—but her gaze sharpened, watching Aldric closely now, ready.
Aldric laughed. A low, humorless sound.
"…You're saying I don't stand a chance," he said, tilting his head. "Against him."
"I am stating a fact," the maid replied. "Not an insult."
Aldric took a step forward. The ground beneath his boot cracked faintly.
"You better explain," he said, voice tight, controlled only by sheer will. "Because I've killed stronger things—stronger than me. I've watched knights, paladins, monsters—"
"—And that is precisely why you would die," the maid interrupted gently.
Her eyes met his. Clear. Cold. Certain.
"You fight on instinct, rage, and endurance," she said. "You burn yourself to keep moving forward. You regenerate. You adapt."
She paused.
"He does not fight like that."
Aldric's jaw clenched.
"He plans," the maid continued. "He prepares exits before he enters. He never commits more than necessary. And when he chooses to engage fully…"
Her gaze sharpened by a fraction.
"…it is only when victory is already assured."
Silence followed. The forest seemed smaller somehow.
Lyriana spoke quietly. "So this wasn't a retreat."
"No," the maid said. "It was a transition."
Aldric exhaled slowly through his nose. "…That bastard," he muttered. "Always one step ahead."
He looked away, fists clenched at his sides, blood magic restless but restrained. For the first time since the fighting began, there was no immediate target for his fury—nowhere to direct it. That unsettled him more than any enemy.
"So what," he said finally. "You expect me to just sit tight?"
"No," the maid replied. "I expect you to **survive**."
He shot her a sharp look.
She continued, unbothered. "Even in a fair fight, you would still meet your end. The difference between you and him is worlds apart. Even if there were more of you, the result would remain the same."
Aldric scoffed. "Wasn't planning on living long anyway."
Lyriana's head snapped toward him. "Don't say that, you idiot."
He didn't look at her. He went still.
"…Tch," he muttered again, quieter this time.
Lyriana stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You heard her. This ends *for now*."
He finally looked at her.
Saw the children again.
Saw what she was protecting.
Saw what *he* almost walked away from.
"…Damn it," he breathed.
The maid folded her hands. "The enemy has withdrawn," she said. "Your objective has shifted. Protect what remains. Prepare for what comes next."
Aldric straightened slowly. The fury didn't vanish—but it cooled, compressing into something denser. Sharper.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll wait."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"But when I see him again," he added quietly, "it won't be like this."
The maid inclined her head once. "That would not be wise."
Lyriana let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
The night closed in around them—not peaceful, but momentarily still.
Aldric clicked his tongue. The sound sharp in the quiet.
"…You know," he said, turning his head just enough to glance at the maid from the corner of his eye, "the way you talk is seriously starting to piss me off."
The maid didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't defend herself. She simply waited.
Aldric scoffed, irritation creeping back into his voice. "Always so calm. So damn certain. Like you're reading from a book about how I'm going to die." He flexed his fingers, blood magic rippling once beneath his skin before settling. "Makes a guy want to prove you wrong… out of spite."
Lyriana shot him a warning look. "Aldric."
"What?" he snapped back, then exhaled and waved a hand. "I'm not saying I'm going to charge off right now."
His gaze returned to the maid, sharper this time. "But don't think for a second I like being talked down to."
The maid inclined her head—just slightly. "It is not my intention to provoke you. Only to ensure you remain alive."
Aldric barked out a short laugh. "Yeah? Funny way of doing it. Makes me wonder why."
She met his gaze again, unflinching. "You being alive does more good than you think. You are like another shield protecting both the young master and young miss."
That earned her a low growl. "…Tch. Figures."
Lyriana stepped between them subtly, wings easing just enough to break the tension. "Enough," she said. "We've lost too much already."
Aldric looked at her, then at the children in her arms. The edge in him dulled.
"…Fine," he muttered. "I'll swallow it. For now."
He turned away, staring into the dark forest where the enemy had vanished, jaw tightening once more.
"But don't get it twisted," he added over his shoulder, voice low and dangerous. "Next time I see him, I won't be the same bastard you're warning about."
The maid watched him in silence. Then, quietly, she replied, "That is the only reason you may survive."
Aldric snorted. "See? That. That right there—Annoying."
Lyriana sighed. The night pressed in again—heavy, watchful.
And somewhere, far away, something was already moving.