My Grim Reaper Class: I can kill anything.

The horse walked slowly along the southern path.

Nathan mounted in front with the twisted posture his wounds allowed. His left arm hanging without strength. His right flank with the tight bandage Liaraen had applied using the herbs from the shelter kit. The two broken ribs sent him a sharp pang every time the horse stepped on a stone in the path.

Liaraen walked beside him.

On foot.

With the lineage sword sheathed at her belt. With her left hand holding the horse's reins. With her right hand occasionally resting on Nathan's thigh when the path tilted and he threatened to fall off the animal's back.

During the first twenty minutes neither spoke.

The forest around the path was silent. The evening birds had begun their routine calls but without the intensity of full day. The insects buzzed with less activity. The air cooled with the specific quality of late autumn.

Nathan looked at the path ahead.

With his eyes half-closed.

With his breathing controlled at the slow rhythm his body allowed without triggering more pain in his ribs.

And at twenty minutes, when the horse descended a small step in the terrain and Nathan felt the sharp pang for the third consecutive time, he let out a grunt.

Liaraen turned.

"Nathan."

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine."

"I'm advancing. It's different."

Liaraen looked at him for a moment.

Then she stopped the horse with her left hand.

"Let's stop for a moment."

"Sprout."

"Nathan. Get down. Sit. Breathe. Then we continue."

Nathan was going to argue.

He didn't have the energy to argue.

He nodded.

Liaraen helped him down from the horse. Nathan braced his weight on her right arm so as not to collapse when he put his feet on the ground. His right leg, with the twenty-centimeter cut on the thigh, buckled slightly before he stabilized it.

He sat on a flat stone at the edge of the path.

Liaraen tied the horse to a nearby tree.

She sat beside him.

Silence for nearly two minutes.

Then Nathan spoke.

With a low voice.

"Sprout."

"Yes."

"The children."

Liaraen went still.

Then she nodded slowly.

"I know."

"Two of the four you killed yourself."

"Yes."

"How are you with that?"

Liaraen thought for a few seconds.

Then she spoke with a calm but honest voice.

"I'm not okay. But I'm functional. I'm going to process it over the coming months. It's probably going to come back in dreams. It's probably going to appear at random moments when I'm doing ordinary things. And I'm going to have to learn to live with it."

"Sprout."

"Nathan. I didn't have a choice. The children were moving as Yorel's puppets. If I didn't stop them, they were going to kill someone or themselves. I chose the option that ended the movement with the least possible damage given the circumstances."

"I know."

"You know but you feel guilt for me."

"Yes."

Liaraen looked at him.

With her pale green eyes with the calibrated warmth Nathan had seen in her over the past few months only in specific moments.

"Nathan."

"Yes."

"Don't carry my part. I carry it. You already have yours. The twenty adults. The alpha. Yorel. And the weight of having made the decision to withdraw from the settlement the first time with the intention of returning with the right solution and having failed to save them anyway. That's enough for one person. Don't carry mine on top of it."

Nathan looked at her.

For a full moment.

Then he nodded.

"Alright, Sprout."

"Alright."

Silence again.

Nathan looked at the path. The evening light filtered between the trees with the specific orange color. The long shadows of the trunks stretched across the road. And in the forest's silence, with the horse grazing nearby and Liaraen beside him, Nathan felt something he hadn't felt over the past two days.

Calm.

Not joyful. Not triumphant. Heavy calm. The kind that belongs to someone who has finished something difficult and hasn't yet had time to process the cost.

After another five minutes, Nathan spoke again.

"Sprout."

"Yes."

"Can you walk a little more?"

"I can."

"Let's advance until we find a clearing where we can camp. I'd rather not sleep on the path."

"Alright."

Liaraen helped him up. She gave him support to mount the horse. And the horse resumed the slow path south.

---

They found a small clearing approximately an hour's walk away.

Beside a small stream that descended along a gentle slope. With enough open space to build a campfire and for the horse to rest without being crowded. And with the trees around forming a visual barrier that kept the clearing from being visible from the path.

Liaraen helped Nathan down from the horse.

She sat him against the large trunk of a tree at the clearing's edge.

Then, with the calm efficiency of someone who'd learned to do this during the journey to Aelthoren, she began setting up camp.

She gathered firewood. Lit a small campfire with the flint from the shelter kit. Took out the remaining provisions from the horse. Prepared a small pot with stream water to boil the medicinal herbs Yorel had left before the revelation.

Nathan watched her from the trunk.

With his eyes half-closed.

With slow breathing.

And with the silent thought that over the past months he'd learned to trust Liaraen in ways he hadn't anticipated when she was just the girl rescued from a Greywall warehouse.

Liaraen returned to his side with a warm damp cloth.

She knelt.

"Nathan."

"Yes."

"I'm going to check the flank bandage. If it's too soaked, it needs to be changed before the blood dries and sticks to the wound."

"Alright."

Liaraen lifted Nathan's shirt carefully. The bandage was considerably soaked at the lower edge. The blood had penetrated to the second layer.

"Yes. It needs changing."

"Alright."

Liaraen worked with steady hands. She peeled off the old bandage carefully so as not to reopen the wound. Cleaned the edge with the warm damp cloth. Applied more herbs from those she'd brought from the kit. And wrapped a new bandage around the torso with the proper pressure.

Throughout the process Nathan watched her.

Without speaking.

When Liaraen finished, she sat beside him against the same trunk.

With her shoulder lightly touching Nathan's shoulder.

"Sprout."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

"Nathan."

"Thank you for everything. For the fight. For the wounds. For the cuts they gave you for protecting me. For bringing me this far. For taking care of me now."

Liaraen glanced at him.

Then she spoke with a calm voice.

"Nathan. When my uncles offered me guardianship under them, I chose you. This is the part that comes with that choice. Don't thank me for what is a consequence of my own decision."

"Alright."

Silence.

Then Nathan added, with an even lower voice.

"Sprout."

"Yes."

"If it had been the other way around. If you were the one almost collapsing after killing something high A-Rank. If I were the one taking care of you now. Would you have accepted the help without asking yourself if you deserved to put the weight on someone else?"

Liaraen thought for a moment.

Then she spoke honestly.

"No. Probably not. I would have tried to do everything alone because aristocratic instruction trained me not to put the weight of my care on anyone. And I probably would have hurt myself more by trying."

"So accept it now."

"I accept it."

"And I accept yours."

Liaraen smiled slightly.

"Alright."

Silence again.

The fire crackled beside them. The small flames illuminated the clearing with the warm light of nightfall. The stream water kept flowing with the constant sound in the background. And the two of them remained leaning against the trunk, one beside the other, shoulders touching, watching the fire without speaking for nearly ten full minutes.