Chapter 56: Aftermath Relief
Dillon was in his own bed, katana across his knees, still unsheathed. He hadn’t moved since they’d returned. His Cloud Serpent’s absence was palpable as the silence where there should have been crackling static was empty.
"She took the shrapnel for me," Dillon said when Nathan entered. His voice was flat, stripped of its usual theatrical energy. "Saw the bat coming. Moved before I could. Wrapped around me. Took the hit." He ran a thumb along the blade’s edge. "I haven’t even given her a name yet. Been with me since my first climb, and I never named her. And she still..."
"She’s a summon," Nathan said quietly. "She doesn’t need a name to know you care."
Dillon looked up. His eyes were hollow. "How do you do it, Cross? Watch them shatter and keep going?"
Nathan thought of green light. Of Mirko’s voice cutting out. Of the cold moment when his summon mark burned and there was nothing he could do.
"You just do," he said. "Because stopping isn’t an option."
Dillon held his gaze for a moment. Then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay."
---
Elise was in the common room, a cup of cold tea untouched before her. The Tower of Ash visible through the window. She didn’t turn when Nathan approached.
"I miscalculated the heat’s effect on the Frost Golem," she said without preamble. "The ice mass decreases exponentially above a certain threshold—I knew that. I didn’t apply it. If I’d conserved more mana on Floors 6 through 8, it would have been larger on Floor 9. It could have intercepted the third centipede before it reached Mirko."
"Elise."
"And the [Mana Shield] layering—I timed them correctly, but the heat was degrading them faster than anticipated. A half-second adjustment would have held the barriers longer. Mirko wouldn’t have been exposed. It was a simple calculation error, and it cost us—"
"Elise." Nathan sat across from her. "This wasn’t your fault."
"I know." She met his eyes. Steady. Unblinking. But beneath it, a flicker of frustration, of grief, of the same aching weight they were all carrying. "But I’m going to do better next time."
Nathan almost smiled. Of course. Processing loss by planning improvements. So fundamentally Elise.
"We all will," he said.
---
Evening fell. The party gathered in the common room, drawn together by habit and need. Marta brought bowls of stew without being asked. The AC unit hummed quietly in the corner, blowing cool air that was a welcome relief after hours of volcanic heat. A small comfort. It helped.
The fire crackled. The Tower of Ash was a faint glow on the horizon. Nathan sat at the head of the table, his party around him. Garrett, hollow-eyed but steadier. Dillon, katana finally sheathed, humor absent but attention sharp. Elise, composed and calculating, her cold tea replaced with fresh.
Kuro sat on Nathan’s shoulder in bunny form, a silent black sentinel.
"We’re returning to the capital tomorrow," Nathan said. "Seven days before we can re-enter the Tower. We’ll use that time to recover, train, and prepare. When we come back..." He paused. "We will clear it."
The words hung in the air. Not hope. Not a wish. A statement of intent.
"What about the summons?" Garrett asked. His hand moved to his mark. "Are we really waiting seven days? I want to see Red."
"We’ll get external healing at Celestial Peak. Valerie will have resources." Nathan hesitated. "Probably. I’m sure she can spare some Heal Crystals."
Dillon nodded slowly. "My Cloud Serpent too. And Mirko..."
"She’s recovering." Nathan touched his own mark. The warmth was faint, but steadier. Stronger. He could feel her presence solidifying, rebuilding piece by piece. "She’ll be back."
Elise set down her teacup. "The Frost Golem needs time to regenerate. A few days within the mark will suffice."
"Then we all have work to do." Nathan looked around the table—at Garrett’s quiet determination, at Dillon’s slow-returning focus, at Elise’s calculated resolve. At Kuro, steady and silent on his shoulder. "This loss doesn’t define us. What we do next does."
Garrett raised his mug of matcha. "To coming back stronger."
The party raised theirs. "To coming back stronger."
They drank. Outside, the Tower of Ash gleamed against the night sky, waiting.
---
The inn was quiet. Dillon and Garrett had fallen asleep in their beds, the day’s exhaustion finally claiming them. Nathan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The wooden beams were old, dark with age, crisscrossing above him like the corridors of a Tower.
Kuro was a small black shape on the pillow beside him, her breathing slow and steady. She hadn’t spoken much since the extraction. Nathan knew she was processing but he also knew she’d been the last one standing. The only summon who hadn’t shattered. He didn’t know what that felt like.
He touched his summon mark. The warmth pulsed faintly beneath his fingers.
And then, so quiet he almost missed it...
’Master...’
Nathan’s breath caught. "Mirko?"
’Still here.’ Her voice was distant, fragile, like a radio signal from far away. But unmistakably her. ’Recovering. Don’t worry.’
"I’m not worried. I’m just..." He exhaled, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "I’m glad you’re okay."
’I am a Knight.’ Even through the distortion, he could hear the pride, the same fierce, dramatic pride she’d had since the day he summoned her. ’Knights do not shatter easily. This is temporary.’
A pause. Then, with the faintest echo of her usual smugness:
’Also... when I return... I expect carrots.’
Nathan blinked. In the darkness, a smile tugged at his mouth, the first real smile since the extraction. "I don’t think summons need to eat."
’Yes, but... I find myself... craving carrots.’
"Alright." Nathan’s voice was quiet, warm. "All the carrots you want."
’Good. That is... acceptable.’
The warmth in the mark pulsed once—stronger now, steadier—and then settled into a slow, rhythmic glow. Still recovering. Still fragile. But she was there. She was herself.
Nathan closed his eyes. The inn creaked softly around him. Outside, the Tower of Ash gleamed against the stars, still standing, still uncleared. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, Mirko’s voice was back in his head, and that was enough.
Tomorrow, the capital. Tomorrow, the climb back toward strength.
But tonight, in the quiet of Ashwick, Nathan allowed himself a single moment of relief.
They had lost. But they were still standing.
And that was enough to start from.
