She clenched her side where the monster had pierced her earlier. She looked tired, but she had more than just the pain to worry about.
Amy, who had vanished before her eyes, now stood right in front of her.
Gilly felt a strange movement around her wound. When she looked, it was closing up. Just seconds later, there was no sign of the injury at all.
For the first time, she finally understood why people had always looked at her as an outcast back in Genesis.
Her regeneration ability was exceptional—so fast that anyone watching might mistake her for something immortal.
Memories of her life in Genesis made sense now: why the Exploration Faction kept her so close after capturing her, and why her stay in the lab had been different from the others after her mother died.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Amy stepping closer.
"Master told me to keep this secret," Amy said softly. "Now that you've seen it... I wonder if I should let you live."
She smiled, but to Gilly, that smile only brought fear. Gilly stepped back, gripping her sword tightly.
This wasn't the kind, sweet Amy she remembered.
Dark fog began to spill from Amy's backpack. It grew, swirling upward until it stood about nine feet tall, casting a heavy shadow over Amy.
Amy's eyes glowed as she cranked the gears on her book. She glanced back at Gilly, smiling again.
"Don't feel bad. You just have to pay the price for seeing me."
A barrier shimmered into place, sealing the space around them. The morning sun had begun to rise, its warmth spilling into the forest—but to Gilly, none of it reached her.
All she felt was a single question in her heart.
Since her mother's death, her life had been nothing but misfortune. She felt her will to fight slipping away.
Then bright eyes shone within the fog, and a massive black dragon emerged, turning its head to look around. Finally, its gaze fell on Gilly, quietly observing her.
To Gilly's shock, the dragon spoke.
"You seem really strange, young girl."
Amy tilted her head toward the dragon. "Strange?" she repeated, looking back at Gilly.
Her eyes shifted to a deep purple, and layered magic circles bloomed in front of them. Amy turned back to the dragon.
"I don't think it matters. I don't really want to kill her—I'd feel bad. That's why I called you," she giggled, sounding almost playful.
"Very well," the dragon replied.
It released its aura, and the pressure crashed down on Gilly like a mountain. She dropped to her knees, coughing up blood, breath ragged as panic surged through her.
It felt like death had finally come to visit.
Then, from somewhere deep inside her, a familiar voice whispered. It carried a warmth she hadn't felt in years, and her memories stirred.
A memory surfaced—of someone singing the same song Ephini had once sung. At first, the face had always been hidden, but now, clear as day, she saw it: someone older who looked like her.
Someone she cherished more than anyone.
Tears streamed down Gilly's face as she cried out.
"Mom… Mom… is that you?"
No answer came, only silence.
Amy and the dragon could only watch, confused, as Gilly wept like someone whose deepest wish had just been granted.
The dragon narrowed his gaze, sensing something odd: this child carried three distinct souls within her.
Pain throbbed inside his head, and then a voice echoed in his mind:
"Spare this child, offspring of Darkone."
Surprise flashed in the dragon's eyes. The only one who knew he was an offspring was Amy—and he'd never told anyone. Yet this voice knew.
"And why should I spare her?" he thought back. He felt no reason to do so.
A brief silence followed, then the voice returned—older this time, but unmistakably related to the first.
"If you don't… I will kill you."
The voice was soft, but its words carried weight. Images flashed before the dragon's eyes: Gilly overflowing with overwhelming power, the forest humming with each of her steps; Amy brutally killed by Gilly's hand; himself, injured and running for his life—until he encountered another dragonoid he had never seen.
When the vision faded, the voice spoke again:
"What do you think? A fair deal, right?"
The dragon exhaled, then dissolved into dark mist, returning to Amy's backpack.
Amy felt something too—a strange presence—but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't listen in on the silent conversation.
She lowered her barrier, gave Gilly one last glance, and giggled.
"Please don't tell anyone about me," she said softly. "I hope we can be friends."
She cranked the gears on her book, and in the next moment, she was gone.
Warm sunlight finally touched Gilly's skin. She wasn't confused that she was still alive; instead, she felt an unexpected gratitude.
Then a voice echoed in her mind again—different this time.
"Don't worry, Gilly, you're safe now."
She didn't recognize it, but she cried out desperately:
"Mom… where is Mom?"
Pain filled her words, but the voice replied gently:
"Unfortunately, I can't answer that. But if you truly want to know… you'll have to be patient."
Then the voice faded, and silence returned.
Gilly knew no more answers would come. She also knew her limits—and that she needed strength.
She sat under a tree and let herself cry, just for a few minutes.
When her tears dried, she wiped her face, her resolve firm.
With determination to report what had happened to the cadets, she stood and made her way back toward Elnor.
---
As she ran through the forest, Gilly replayed the events that had just unfolded. One thing had become painfully clear: she was not alone. And strangely, that knowledge gave her enough comfort to keep moving forward.
She finally saw the clearing of the training grounds ahead, dotted with a few familiar faces. Zin, who caught sight of her, looked surprised. She was battered and breathing heavily.
"Did she get into a fight and abandon the mission?" he wondered, noticing the shaken look on her face.
But it was clear from her eyes that she had much more to tell than a simple skirmish.