The world was unraveling, the seams of reality fraying with each breath you took. It was as though the air itself had turned to poison, thick with the weight of cursed energy—your cursed energy. But it was not your own anymore. It no longer obeyed you, no longer bowed to your will. Instead, it rebelled, twisting and warping into something monstrous, something beyond you.

The creatures you had once commanded, the curses that had fought by your side, now turned against you with feral, unrelenting hunger. A centipede-like beast, its body an unnatural mass of writhing limbs, lunged first, mandibles snapping as it struck. The pain was sharp and immediate, fangs burying deep into your side, the warmth of blood seeping through your uniform.

You staggered. The world tilted. And yet—there was no time to process the agony, no moment of respite. A skeletal figure, its hollowed-out eyes devoid of thought, came next, clawed fingers aiming for your throat.

And then—a clash of steel.

A blur of motion. A shield before you.Masachiro.

His sword sang through the air, slicing the centipede's grotesque form in half, its remains crumbling into cursed ash. His stance was sharp, honed through years of battle, and yet—his eyes. His eyes were filled with something else entirely.

Something beyond fear.

"Kid—!" His voice was gruff, breathless, but there was no hesitation in the way he moved, no hesitation in the way he fought. Another curse lunged. He met it head-on. Another came. He cut it down.

But there were too many.And they were yours.

Every single curse that once knelt before you, every spirit you had bound to your will—was now coming to tear you apart.

Your own power was killing you.And Masachiro—he was standing in the way.

"STOP!" Your voice cracked, raw with desperation. Your hands clawed at your temples, your mind screaming, the energy inside you too much, too unstable, too wrong.

But the curses did not listen.They could not.And Masachiro—he fought anyway.

He fought like a man possessed, like a man who knew that death was inevitable and yet still chose to defy it. His blade cut through monstrous flesh, through limbs and bone and cursed energy—but for every beast he felled, another took its place.

For every wound he inflicted, he took one in return.A claw tore into his side.He didn't stop.A second, through his shoulder.He kept going.But he was slowing.

You saw it in the way his stance faltered, the way his breath hitched in his chest, the way his fingers trembled as he readjusted his grip on his weapon. His body was breaking, but he refused to stop, refused to turn away—

Because he had promised.

"After returning, I won't let you guys touch that kid."

But he would not return.

Because even as he fought, his body could only endure so much.And then—it happened.A reptilian curse, larger than the rest, struck.

Masachiro moved, but he was too slow. His body could no longer keep up with the demands of battle, his muscles screaming in exhaustion, his wounds dragging him down. The creature's fangs found purchase—and this time, he fell.

The world seemed to slow as he hit the ground.

The impact sent dust spiraling into the air, the dull thud of his body too quiet, too final. He let out a choked, gurgling gasp, his fingers twitching against the dirt, blood pooling beneath him in a dark, spreading stain.

And still—he turned his head toward you.His expression was not one of fear.Not of regret.But of acceptance.

A small, tired smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, even as crimson stained his teeth. "Oi..." His voice was weak, frayed at the edges, barely a breath. "You're... crying too much, kid..."

You hadn't noticed.

Hadn't realized that your own tears were streaming down your face, that your hands trembled as they reached toward him, as though you could somehow undo this.

He exhaled, slow and shaky, his gaze turning distant. But even as the light began to leave his eyes, he still reached for you.

His fingers, calloused from years of wielding a blade, found your hair.And he ruffled it.Gentle.Like a father.Like the father he wasn't, but had chosen to be. "I failed, you deserved better"

And then—his fingers stilled.His breath hitched.Stopped.

Your body froze.

The world faded, the battle, the curses, the chaos—all of it disappeared. There was only him.

And the silence he left behind.

Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms, and something deep, primal, and broken erupted from your throat. A sob, a scream, something in between—you didn't even know.

Because he was gone.Because he had stayed.And because of that—he had died.

And then—the curses turned back to you.But you didn't care.Not anymore.Because the only person who ever stayed, who ever saw you as more than a weapon—was gone.

Masachiro inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering open.The pain was gone.The exhaustion, the wounds, the weight—all of it had vanished.

He was standing in an open field, one that stretched endlessly beneath a white sky. It was quiet. Peaceful. The kind of peace he had long since forgotten.

And then—he saw her.

A small figure, standing just a few feet away.

She was just as he remembered her.Bright eyes. Innocent smile.

His daughter.

His breath hitched, his body moving on instinct. His knees hit the ground before he could stop them, arms outstretched, and she laughed as she ran into his embrace.

He held her.For the first time in years.For the first time since losing her.His hands trembled as they curled around her small frame, as he buried his face in her hair, as if she might disappear if he let go.

And yet—

Even as he held his daughter, even as he felt whole for the first time in what felt like an eternity—

There was still someone else on his mind, not his daughter.

But the girl he had left behind.

Alone.

Still fighting.And Masachiro could only hope—somehow, somehow—she would survive this too.

CHAPTER COMPLETED 

A/n : to anyone I've hurted through this chapter. I'm repenting for my sins really.