Silence after a defeat is not empty.
It weighs.
I was sitting against the stone wall of the improvised shelter, feeling the cold cut through my torn clothes and reach my back. Every part of my body seemed to remember, with irritating precision, just how useless I had been in that fight.
We ran.
It didn't matter how many times I repeated it in my head, trying to justify it as strategy. The truth was simple. If we had stayed a few more seconds, no one here would still be breathing.
I closed my eyes for a moment, but the image of the Sixth General returned instantly. The relaxed way he moved. The complete absence of urgency. The look that said, without words, that he wasn't even trying.
That wasn't a battle.
It was a clear warning of where we stood in the food chain.
The soft sound of mana being manipulated made me open my eyes. Elara was sitting a few meters ahead, holding a small crystal in her hands. The glow was faint and irregular, nearly failing.
"You're going to make it worse," I said.
She took a deep breath before answering.
"I'm just organizing what's left."
I knew that tone. It always came with stubbornness and guilt. Elara never liked admitting limits, especially when she felt she had failed.
"You've already done enough," I said.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were far too tired for someone her age.
"It wasn't enough."
I didn't answer. Because deep down, I felt the same.
A little farther away, Liriel was sitting on a broken crate, a bottle in her hand. She wasn't drinking. She was just slowly swirling the liquid, watching it as if it were more interesting than anything around her.
"That was humiliating," she said, not looking at anyone in particular.
"It was necessary," I replied.
She gave a light laugh. A short, humorless one.
"Don't confuse survival with dignity."
I knew that had hit something deeper in her. Liriel didn't deal well with limits—least of all with the idea of retreating before someone who wasn't a greater deity.
"He wasn't on our level," I said.
"No," she replied. "We're the ones who aren't on his."
Silence spread again.
Vespera was leaning near the shelter entrance, sitting on the ground with her legs stretched out. One of her horns had a small chip, and dried blood marked part of her shoulder. Unlike usual, she wasn't smiling. Not teasing. Just watching the outside, far too alert.
"Is he going to hunt us?" I asked.
She tilted her head slightly before answering.
"Maybe. But not now."
"How do you know?"
"Because he didn't need to finish the job," she said. "He wanted us to run."
That sentence lodged itself in my mind like a splinter.
If that was true, then the Sixth General didn't see us as a threat. He saw us as something growing. Something that didn't yet deserve to be eliminated.
That was worse than hatred.
The sound of footsteps echoed outside, and soon a few familiar figures appeared. The master of the elven guild came first, his face serious, showing neither reproach nor praise.
"You survived," he said.
"Barely," I replied.
He nodded.
"Barely is more than many manage."
There was a brief pause before he continued.
"The retreat was the right decision. But don't fool yourselves. Next time, running will not be an option."
I knew that. We all did.
When he walked away to speak with other leaders, I felt the weight of responsibility settle on me again. Not as a hero. Not as a chosen one. Just as someone caught in the middle of something far too big to ignore.
I stood up slowly, feeling my body protest, and took a deep breath.
"We can't face him like that again," I said.
Liriel glanced at me sideways.
"You're stating the obvious."
"I'm saying we won't win by force," I continued. "Or by luck."
Elara closed the mana crystal in her hand.
"Then we need to change."
Vespera finally smiled. A small smile, different from her usual one.
"Training, then?"
I nodded.
It wasn't a heroic idea. It wasn't exciting. But it was the only one that made sense.
"We'll get stronger," I said. "The right way."
Liriel sighed.
"I hate it when you talk like this is simple."
"It's not simple," I replied. "But it's necessary."
For a moment, no one said anything. We just stayed there, feeling the weight of what was coming.
I knew that path would be costly. Pain. Time. Sacrifices. Maybe things I wasn't ready to lose yet.
But I also knew one thing.
The next time I looked at the Sixth General, it wouldn't be from below.
And that promise, even unspoken, was what kept me standing.