The battlefield was still burning when Draven's breath began to shake.

All around them, the dead lay piled over one another — men of the North and Central both. The world was quiet now, too quiet, except for the sound of steel trembling in his grasp. His sword — his pride — quivered like a frightened thing as blood dripped down its length, falling into the dirt that once held grass, now a field of ruin.

Draven's eyes, red and wild, locked on the man before him. Noah stood still, unmoving even as the smoke curled around them like ghosts. His blazer, still draped over his shoulders, fluttered faintly in the rising wind.

Something inside Draven finally broke.

His jaw clenched, the blade in his hand trembling until it slipped from his grip, striking the ground with a dull clang.

"Damn you…" he whispered, the words quaking as they escaped his throat.

He lifted his hands blood-slicked, shaking and with a surge of mana, crimson liquid began to rise from the ground, swirling up his arms like a living tide. Blood hardened, taking shape crystal gauntlets forming over his fists. They shimmered with the faint light of his divine mana, beautiful and terrifying.

And then he lunged.

The first punch connected square into Noah's jaw, the impact cracking the air like thunder. The gauntlet shattered on contact, splintering into fragments that scattered like shards of ruby glass.

Noah staggered, but he didn't retaliate and didn't even raise his arm to defend.

Another gauntlet formed instantly, liquid blood snaking once more around Draven's hands before freezing into hard crystal. He struck again. And again.

"Why—!"

A punch to the gut. The crystal burst apart, crimson dust scattering.

"Why did you leave Ravenwood?!"

Another blow. Noah reeled but didn't fall.

"You were supposed to stand with us! Not—" his voice cracked mid-sentence as he swung, "—not against us!"

Draven's knuckles bled through the cracks in the gauntlets. The crystals were forming faster now, each new one thicker, darker, as if mirroring the chaos inside him.

"Was this your plan all along?! To fight your own home?! To betray everything...

gods I know how an asshole you can be...but this...isn't this a bit too much?!" His voice shook, growing hoarse with fury and heartbreak.

Noah stayed silent, taking each strike without flinching. His face bruised, blood dripping down the side of his mouth.

"What kind of psycho are you, Noah?!" Draven roared

"You—" *CRACK!

"You were—" *CRACK!

"...the one I looked up to!"

Draven's blows slowed, becoming heavier, more desperate.

"I wanted to surpass you… every damn day I told myself I'd be better than you… that one day you'd see me not as some commoner, but as your equal."

A stronger gauntlet — twice the thickness — formed around his right fist, mana veins glowing faintly beneath its translucent surface. He clenched it so hard the crystal began to fissure even before the punch landed.

"And even when you were the biggest asshole in the academy—"

Draven swung the impact echoed through the plains.

"Even when you acted like no one mattered—"

Another blow, crystal cracking.

"You were still my rival, Noah...

...moreso a...companion."

He drew back his fist for one final strike, his entire arm trembling with the effort. His voice broke completely as the gauntlet began to hum from the overload of mana.

"Look at us, Noah… we're still just eighteen," he whispered, his eyes glimmering with tears.

"Eighteen-year-old idiots fighting in some war against nations…"

The last punch landed like a hammer, shaking Noah's entire frame.

The gauntlet exploded into shards that rained around them like falling stars.

Draven staggered, panting, looking at the man who refused to fall.

"None of us has even graduated..."

"But I'll take it as you quit," he muttered bitterly.

Noah swayed on his feet.

He met Draven's glare, eyes steady, voice quiet but carrying through the smoke.

"This is my role..."

Draven froze.

"This..."

Noah continued, voice steady despite the exhaustion threading through it.

"All of this...it has to happen...

For this world to change.

For this tragedy to end."

He stepped forward, each step slow, deliberate. His shadow stretched long under the dim light of burning wreckage.

"And for me..." Noah said, his voice softening.

"...to finally save you."

Draven stared at him, chest heaving, his breath coming out in uneven bursts.

He took a step forward, fist drawn back ...but then he stopped.

His hand hovered midair, mere inches from Noah's face.

The blood around his fist began to tremble.

The crystal gauntlet, which moments ago gleamed like hardened resolve, suddenly cracked — softly at first, then splintered completely

It shattered into dust before it even made contact.

Draven stood there, frozen.

His body shook as the anger drained out of him, leaving only emptiness.

Slowly, his arms fell to his sides. His eyes lost their fire.

He looked past Noah, past the wreckage, past everything, up toward the smoke-stained sky.

The battlefield was silent.

The once-mighty amd youngest holy knight kf the St.Edlred Church and a soldier in the Central-Southern Alliance stood there, his chest rising and falling as if every breath hurt.

Finally, with a trembling hand, Draven reached up to his armor

He unclasped the white chest plate ...the symbol of his rank, his pride and let it fall. The metal struck the dirt with a dull thud.

Beneath it, his shirt clung to his form — a simple white turtleneck.

The color made him seem painfully human again, no longer the radiant knight the world adored, but just an exhausted young man standing in the ruins of his ideals.

He lifted his gaze, meeting Noah's once more.

For a long, silent moment, neither spoke.

Noah stood still.

Draven's lips trembled words dying before they could form.

There was nothing left to say.

He crouched, slowly, and picked up his sword from where it had fallen earlier.

The blade's edge was chipped, its reflection dull.

For a heartbeat, it looked like he might drop it again. But he didn't.

He simply stood there, the weapon hanging loosely from his hand, his eyes never leaving Noah.

The flames around them hissed, embers drifting like dying fireflies.