CHAPTER XXXV
Elisa's sobs had reached a point where none of us could bear it anymore. Her pain, her hunger — it wasn't just her own. It had become ours. Every cry she let out was a crack in our hearts, and we knew something had to be done.
That's when Alex finally brought the bus to a slow halt in front of a large, abandoned house — the kind that might've once been beautiful, but now stood like a forgotten ghost of the past.
He turned to us and said firmly,
> "Looka, come with me. We'll check this place. Maybe we can find food, water — anything useful. And we don't have time to waste. Our weapons are nearly blunt, and the shotgun's out of bullets. This isn't the time to sit and wait — this is the time to act."
Looka, ever loyal, nodded without hesitation.
> "Alright. I'll come."
But before he could even step away, Elisa — weak, trembling, yet still holding onto a thread of emotion — grabbed his hand tightly.
Her voice cracked as she whispered,
> "In these final moments… don't leave me.
If I must die… let it be with your hand in mine."
Her words silenced the entire bus.
Looka knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her frail frame, tears forming in his eyes.
> "Nothing's going to happen to you, Elisa. I promise. You're not going anywhere. I'll bring back food. Just hold on a little longer."
But she clung to him even tighter. Her voice was no longer pleading — it was desperate, raw, terrified.
> "Please… don't go.
Stay with me.
I don't want to let go of your hand anymore."
She was begging — not for food, not for water — but for love. For presence. For the person she needed most to stay.
Seeing her like that… none of us could look away.
Alex, standing near the front of the bus, saw the heartbreak in her eyes — and the conflict in Looka's. So he spoke up, his voice calm but decisive.
> "Looka, stay. She needs you right now. I'll go alone."
But before he could leave, I stood up — my body still aching from everything I'd been through, but my spirit refusing to sit still.
> "No. This is dangerous. You shouldn't go alone.
I'm coming with you."
Alex turned sharply to face me.
> "Sam… you're still recovering. You can barely stand for long. Please… just rest a little more. We need you strong for what's coming."
Before I could argue further, Mon's voice came from behind.
> "Then let me go. I'll come with you."
But Alex shook his head almost immediately.
> "Mon… you're not trained with a sword. And without shotgun ammo, your inexperience could cost us. I'm not making that mistake."
There was a pause. And then a new voice entered.
Aliyana.
Steady. Brave.
> "I'll go."
Alex looked at her, surprised.
> "Are you sure?"
She nodded, her voice unwavering.
> "I'm sure. I can do this."
Then Blue stood up as well.
> "I'm going too. I won't let the two of you go alone."
Of everyone here, Blue and Aliyana were among the strongest when it came to hand-to-hand and blade combat. They had seen death before. And they knew how to fight it back.
Alex hesitated for a moment — then nodded.
> "Alright. Let's move."
Mahi, moved by the bravery in the air, stood up as well — clearly wanting to join.
But Aarvi grabbed her wrist and shook her head gently.
> "No… not you.
Not this time. Please."
And so, the three chosen warriors — Alex, Blue, and Aliyana — stepped forward.
Each of them grabbed their blades, checking the edges, adjusting their grips. Right before stepping out, I noticed something strange.
Blue reached into her bag, took something out, and quickly hid it inside her uniform.
I couldn't see what it was — a weapon? A note? Something else entirely?
But whatever it was… she didn't want us to know.
She moved quickly, not giving anyone a chance to ask, and was the first to step off the bus.
Aliyana followed, her eyes sharp, alert. Alex took the lead as they began walking in silence — every footstep calculated, quiet, deliberate.
Toward that house.
That dark, empty place that now held a small spark of hope.
Or danger.
Or both.
Inside the bus, we watched them disappear through the tall grass, their silhouettes growing smaller with every step.
And though no one said it aloud, we were all thinking the same thing:
> "Will they come back?"
We didn't know.
But we hoped.
We had to hope.
Because that's all we had left.
"The Sword of the Past"
The moment Alex, Aliyana, and Blue stepped inside the house — the silence shattered.
A scream.
Loud. Terrifying.
So raw… so filled with agony, it didn't sound human anymore.
The sound pierced the air like a blade through flesh — and in that one moment, we all froze.
Every heart inside the bus skipped a beat. Every soul was shaken.
It wasn't just fear — it was dread. That primal kind of fear that crawls under your skin and grips your bones. The kind that doesn't let go.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong inside that house.
And for the first time… my broken body, covered in bruises, stopped feeling like the enemy.
Because the pain in my ribs, my spine, my limbs — it didn't compare to the ache now pulsing in my chest…
> The fear of losing them.
I couldn't sit still anymore.
They needed help.
They needed me.
I didn't wait for permission. I didn't wait for reason.
I grabbed my bag — and I reached in… for the sword.
The one I had buried deep. Hidden. Preserved. Protected.
A blade I had only drawn once before — in the deadliest battle of my life.
That day… I had used this very sword to kill two hundred enemies.
That day, I earned a medal. A name. A place in the museum's history.
This wasn't just a weapon.
It was a legacy.
It had been gifted to me by the museum director — not for power, not for violence — but for bravery.
And ever since that day, I had vowed to never raise it again unless the world demanded it.
Now… it did.
The blade still gleamed like it did years ago — untouched by time.
Its sharpness? Unmatched.
Its weight? Heavy with memories.
I held it in my hands, and for a second, I could feel my old self — the fighter, the survivor, the warrior — awaken from deep inside me.
As I stood, gripping the hilt, a single wave of guilt washed over me.
Not because I feared battle…
But because I feared who I might become again in that battle.
I was no longer the same person who once fought for medals and headlines.
Now, I fought for people I loved.
For them.
And as that guilt settled in my chest, I turned my head slowly…
My eyes met hers.
Mon.
She was watching me.
She had been watching me from the moment the scream rang out.
She knew what I was going to do.
She saw it in my eyes. In the sword. In the way my hands trembled — not from fear, but from the weight of purpose.
Her eyes didn't stop me.
They didn't plead or panic.
Instead… they spoke.
Clear. Strong. Silent.
> "All the best."
Two simple words.
Not spoken — but felt.
And in that moment… I realized something.
Mon had always seen the real me.
Not just the broken girl. Not just the victim.
She saw the one who rose. The one who bled. The one who fought back.
And even now, she believed I could still be her.
"The Hug I Never Knew I Needed"
I walked over to Mon with a sense of quiet determination, the weight of my past mistakes pressing heavily on my chest.
Without a word, I reached for the bandages wrapped around my fractured ribs — those splints that had held me together physically while I was breaking apart emotionally — and one by one, I tore them off.
Letting them fall to the ground wasn't just about pain anymore.
It was a declaration.
A surrender.
A message.
I stood in front of her — bare, exposed, vulnerable — and looked into her eyes.
> "Mon…" I whispered, my voice trembling, "Just this once… for the last time… I want to ask you for something."
My voice cracked.
My heart raced.
And with everything inside me shattering into a thousand pieces, I said,
> "Please… hug me."
The moment those words left my lips, something in her shifted.
The mask she wore — of strength, of indifference, of quiet restraint — melted in an instant.
Tears welled in her eyes.
Her breath caught.
And then… she moved.
She didn't just hug me.
She held me like she'd found something she thought she'd lost forever.
Her arms wrapped around me tightly, not with hesitation, but with urgency — like her soul had been aching for this moment.
It wasn't just a hug.
It was a reunion.
A silent apology.
A prayer.
A confession.
And in that one embrace, I felt it all.
The love.
The pain.
The longing.
The heartbreak.
The forgiveness.
It hit me like a wave crashing through my soul — raw, overwhelming, undeniable.
And in that moment, I broke.
Because I finally understood what I had done.
I had pushed her away.
I had chosen fear over love.
Guilt over healing.
Silence over truth.
And now, standing in her arms, feeling her warmth seep into the cold parts of me — I realized…
> I was the one who had left her in the dark. And now I just wanted the light again.
Tears streamed down my face as I cupped her cheeks gently, lifting her face toward mine.
I leaned in slowly, my lips almost brushing hers — but then… I paused.
A voice inside me whispered:
> "Do you even deserve her now?"
That question echoed through me, halting my breath.
I backed away just a little — unsure, ashamed, afraid that my sins were too deep and my love too late.
But Mon… she didn't move away.
She didn't let me go.
Instead, she reached for my hands — the same hands that had once held her and then pushed her away.
She brought them to her lips and kissed them softly.
Then her fingertips traced my cheek, brushing away a tear.
And without saying a word, she leaned in… and kissed me.
First, on my cheek.
Then, on my forehead.
And finally…
On my lips.
It wasn't rushed.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't perfect.
It was real.
A kiss that held heartbreak and healing.
A kiss that tasted of love buried under layers of pain.
A kiss that whispered:
> "You may have left, but I never stopped waiting."
She kissed me like she was pouring all her unsaid words, all her quiet cries, all her longing… into that one moment.
It was the kind of kiss that hurt — because it meant something.
The kind of kiss that said:
> "Sam… come back."
> "But this time… come back for me."
> "Come back not to escape your past — but to choose your future. With me."
And in that kiss — in that one unforgettable moment — I finally realized…
She had never stopped loving me.
Not for a second.
And now…
I didn't want to ever leave her arms again.
Not even for a war.
Not even for the world.
Just… her.
Only her.
The warrior.
So, without another word… I stepped off the bus.
The sword in my hand.
My heart in my throat.
My soul burning with fire.
And only one thought in my mind:
> "No one else dies today."
To be continued…