Chapter 7: Day of Departure

Ajuka's Domain

Laughter and the clinking of silverware filled the Beelzebub's grand dining hall, but Tristan barely touched his plate. The rich aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked potatoes wafted through the air, mingling with the sweet scent of aged wine that Ajuka had poured–despite the fact that neither he nor Latia was old enough to drink it. The room was warm, lively, and filled with familiar faces, yet an unshakable weight settled in Tristan's chest.

This was farewell…

Ajuka raised his glass, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "To Tristan, who will undoubtedly give the magicians of Grauzauberer a headache. May they regret ever accepting him."

Laughter erupted around the table, but Tristan only chuckled lightly. He lifted his own glass–filled with nothing but juice–and met Ajuka's gaze. "I'll make sure to get stronger…"

Latia elbowed him with a playful grin. "You mean you'll cause trouble."

"Isn't that the same thing?" He replied with a smirk.

MacGregor, seated beside Sirzechs, leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine before taking a sip. "I still remember when you first arrived here, Tristan. You were scrawny and confused. Now look at you, Still confused, but at least not so scrawny anymore!"

"Yes, the first time I saw you in Ajuka's lab… I almost incinerated you on the spot." Grayfia spoke emotionlessly. Deadpanned stares from everyone present followed her statement.

"HAHA, you were so scared that I thought you were going to piss yourself. I can still remember the terrified look on your face when I ordered you to show yourself!" Ajuka laughed heartily.

Tristan groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I was being cautious, not scared. There's a difference."

Ajuka chuckled, setting his glass down. "Regardless, you adapted quickly. It's been… quite the experience having you here, Tristan. Alyssa would've been proud of you," He spoke sincerely before he continued.

"I won't say I'll miss the constant destruction of my training equipment, but I will admit the lab will feel quieter without you."

Tristan met Ajuka's gaze and, for once, the testing smirk was absent. There was something unspoken in the way the Maou looked at him–approval, perhaps even pride.

It was rare for Ajuka to express his emotions outright, but Tristan knew this was as close as he would get to an honest farewell.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced a smirk. "Thanks… I'll make sure to visit and break something just for you."

Ajuka smirked in return. "Oh, I'll be expecting it."

Before Tristan could take another sip from his glass, Sairaorg clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, his grin as fierce as ever. "Tristan, you've come a long way, but don't think I'll let you surpass me so easily." His eyes gleamed with challenge. "I'll get stronger too, and when you return, we're having a proper spar. No holding back."

Tristan felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. He had fought against Sairaorg before, but now, with both of them aiming to reach greater heights, their next battle would be even more intense. He smirked, bumping Sairaorg's fist with firm resolve.

"You better be ready then. Next time, I won't be the same person you've fought before."

Sairaorg let out a hearty laugh. "That's what I want to hear!'

The atmosphere shifted as the night wore on. At the head of the table, Latia's parents sat observing the celebration. Her mother, Lucia Astaroth, smiled warmly at Tristan every time their eyes met. There was genuine fondness in her gaze, something akin to a mother's pride. "We'll be expecting great things from you, Tristan."

Her husband, Balen Astaroth, Ajuka's cousin, remained stoic as ever, his gaze fixed on Tristan with an unreadable intensity. He neither smiled or spoke much, merely cutting his food with precision. His actions were impersonal, almost mechanical, as if Tristan's presence was of no significance whatsoever. Unlike his wife, his silence held no hidden approval or acknowledgement–only cold indifference.

Tristan couldn't tell if that was better or worse.

Tristan stood from his throat, before clearing his throat. "Before the night ends, I want to say something."

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

Tristan took a deep breath, gripping the glass tightly as if it were anchoring him. "I… I don't think I've ever properly thanked you all. For taking me in… when I had nowhere else to go… for helping me when my world was torn apart…"

His crimson eyes flickered to Ajuka, who leaned back in his chair, observing him quietly.

"Ajuka… I don't know the details of your relationship with my mother, but I'm really thankful for everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do any of this… You could've sent me away, ignored me, or even killed me… But instead, you gave me a chance–a chance to find my footing in a world I didn't even know existed. I'll never forget that."

Ajuka's smirk softened into something resembling approval, though he said nothing.

Tristan then turned to MacGregor.
"Mac, your training was relentless. There were times I thought I wouldn't survive it, but because of you, I became stronger. You pushed me beyond the limits, beyond what I thought I was capable of. Thank you for helping me."

Next, Tristan's gaze fell upon Grayfia. "Grayfia, your discipline and your unwavering sense of duty is something I deeply admire. You taught me the importance of control, of refinement, of never allowing my emotions to cloud my judgement. For that, I am grateful."

Grayfia gave a small nod, her expression calm yet resolute.

Tristan sighed deeply before facing the Crimson Maou. "Sirzechs… your strength is undeniable, but so is your ridiculousness. I never thought a man of your caliber could be so–how should I put this–flamboyantly foolish?"

Sirzechs gasped dramatically. "Me? Foolish? How dare you, young man!"

Tristan smirked. "Well, I suppose I can't say too much. After all, I did manage to cause an injury to you in our last battle."

A hush fell over the room before Sirzechs coughed into his hand. "Well, ah, let's not dwell on such minor details."

"All jokes aside, your kindness is something I will always respect. Thank you for showing me that true power doesn't mean being unapproachable."

Sirzechs sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine, I accept your thanks. But next time, you will not even leave a scratch on me."

Finally, Tristan turned to Latia. His voice softened, and for the first time, words felt inadequate.

"Latia… you've been there through everything. When I faltered, it was you who brought me back. When I had nightmares, you're the one who shook me back to reality. You're my partner in crime when we pranked Ajuka. You've helped me so much. You are my anchor. You're my first friend and you will always have a special place in my heart. Words can't describe how grateful I am for your existence."

Latia's face faltered. Her hands trembled slightly, her fingers clenching into fists. Tristan barely had time to register the change in her expression before she abruptly stood up, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the room.

The sound of the door slamming echoed in the silence she left behind. The warmth of the moment shattered, replaced by a heavy tension that hung in the air. Tristan took an instinctive step forward, but stopped himself, his heart twisting in his chest.

Sirzechs let out a slow exhale. "Well… that wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting."

Tristan stared at the door, his throat tightening. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't meant for this.

Latia's mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She's not angry, Tristan."

He swallowed hard. "I know."

She was hurting.

She was hurting because he was leaving.

Tristan clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain still. However, in his mind, all he could see was the way her eyes had shimmered with unshed tears, the way her shoulders had tensed before she ran.

And it hurts.

It hurt more than any battle wound ever could.

The moonlight shimmered upon the lake's surface, rippling gently with the wind's whisper. Tristan stood at the water's edge, his crimson eyes fixed on the undisturbed horizon. The cool night air carried the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers, yet despite its tranquility, his heart felt anything but calm.

He exhaled slowly, watching as his breath ghosted into the bleak night. This place, this moment, would soon become another memory. By sunrise, he would leave the Underworld, and go to Grauzauberer.

His fingers instinctively found the silver necklace resting against his collarbone. A gift. A promise. A memento of what had been lost…

"I promise… Augusta will die… No… I'll make sure, she suffers much worse than death…"

The words were spoken softly, but they carried a weight that seemed to echo across the lake's surface. Revenge had become his compass, his sole purpose, guiding him through the darkness that had consumed his life.

The faint rustle of footsteps broke through his thoughts.

He didn't turn… He already knew who it was.

Balen Astaroth stopped a few paces behind him, his presence steady but solemn. For a long while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was not one of discomfort, but of tranquilance.

When Balen finally spoke, his voice was quiet, filled with a reverence that only a father could possess.

"When Latia was born, I was the happiest man in the world, Tristan." His tone was wistful, almost distant, as though he were recalling a dream. "For hundreds of years, Lucia and I prayed for a child. And finally, we were blessed."

Tristan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the devil speak.

"When I learned Lucia was with child," Balen continued, stepping beside him, "I was terrified. Was I worthy? Was I capable? Could I give her the happiness she deserved?" He exhaled, his breath joining the night air. "But the moment I held her, the moment her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, I knew. She became my everything. My reason to breathe, to fight, to protect."

Tristan remained silent.

Balen turned his gaze to the lake, his eyes reflecting the moon's glow. "She is still my everything, Tristan."

A gentle breeze passed between them, rustling the leaves, carrying with it an unspoken tension. Balen's voice lowered, his words now edged with sorrow. "I know she held you dear in her heart."

Tristan stiffened, his jaw clenching. "So do I."

"I know," Balen admitted, his tone neither accusing nor bitter.

Tristan turned to face him, the crimson of his eyes burning. "Why are you saying this?"

Balen met his gaze, steady as the mountains. "Because feelings alone are not enough in this world."

The words struck Tristan harder than any blade. He forced himself to keep his voice even. "You think I would hurt her?"

Balen's expression softened. "Not by choice."

Silence settled once more, heavier this time, like a weight pressing against them both.

Balen turned fully towards him, his eyes dimming with a sadness too vast to be spoken. "I have watched you, Tristan. I have seen the way you hold onto her as if she is the only thing keeping you from drowning. And perhaps she is. But I have also seen the storm that brews within you–the rage, the vengeance. You walk a path soaked in blood, a path that only ends if your objectives are fulfilled. Tell me, what do you plan on doing after Augusta's death?"

Tristan's hands curled into fists. He doesn't know how to answer that. "I'll get stronger then. I'll become so strong that no one in this world could ever fathom. That way, no one would even dare to touch Latia."

Balen shook his head. "You cannot promise that." His voice was firm but not unkind. "No matter how fiercely you hold her, no matter how much you wish to shield her, your enemies will find her. Even if you are so strong that you are untouchable, your enemies will use Latia to get to you. And when it does, she will suffer."

Tristan's breath hitched, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across his face. "You underestimate her."

Balen smiled faintly. "No. I know her capabilities, her potential. She has her mother's fire, and her heart is too vast, Tristan. That is why she will fight for you. That is why she will follow you into the abyss."

Tristan's throat tightened.

"And that is why," Balen continued, his voice now softer, "it must end before it develops further. While she is still young. While her heart is still whole. While she does not yet understand the depth of love and loss."

Balen put his hand on Tristan's shoulder. "Latia cares for you deeply–more than she should for someone walking your path." His gaze bore into Tristan like a hammer striking an anvil. "And that makes her vulnerable.

Tristan tried to retort. He opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words.

"You are Merlin's descendant and a Longinus wielder," Balen continued relentlessly. "Do you understand what that means? You carry not just power but legacy–a legacy that will attract enemies far beyond Augusta." His voice grew colder with every word. "Every step you take toward revenge will draw adversaries closer, Tristan."

The image of Augusta's sadistic smile flashed in Tristan's mind–the way she had taunted him and his mother with promises of suffering and despair. He clenched his fists tightly at the memory.

"I-I won't let that happen." Tristan stuttered, his foundation is now crumbling.

"You cannot protect everyone, Tristan," Balen said. "And Latia is not your responsibility."

Tristan felt anger flare up in his chest at those words. "If she chooses to stand by me, I'll protect her! Even if I have to tear the heaven and earth to do so!"

"And that is precisely why you must let her go," Balen said firmly. "If you care for her as much as she cares for you, then you will do what is necessary to keep her safe–even if it means pushing her away…"

The wind picked up slightly, the leaves started to rustle, and the earth seemed to resonate with Tristan's feelings.

The scent of blooming flowers started to harbor their surroundings.

It hurts.

His heart is aching so much.

"Do you really think I can just abandon her?" He said quietly.

Balen looked at him, his golden eyes filled with an emotion Tristan couldn't quite place. "No," he admitted. "I think it will break you."

A long pause stretched between them, the weight of the moment pressing down like a thousand stones. The ripples in the lake stilled, as if the world itself was waiting for Tristan's decision. He turned his gaze downward, his grip tightening around the necklace at his chest.

He knew that Balen was right.

In order to protect her, he must let her go.

Yet, that sounded easier than it really is. Understanding it and doing it, is a totally different matter.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asked. "Then tell me… how do I let her go?"

Balen sighed, his gaze still fixed on the moonlit water. "You don't have to forget her, Tristan. That is not what I ask. But you must sever the ties that bind you to her, before they become chains that neither of you can break."

Tristan closed his eyes. The mere thought of walking away felt like tearing his own life apart. Latia had been his solace, a light in the abyss he had been drowning in. To let her go was to willingly blind himself, to abandon the only warmth he had ever known.

"And if she follows me?" His voice was hoarse, barely holding back the storm raging within. "If she refuses to let go?"

Balen exhaled deeply. "Then you must become the villain in her story. You must give her no reason to chase you. Break her heart if you must, so that she learns to hate you instead of holding on to something that will only bring her pain."

Tristan's breath stopped. The very thought of hurting Latia, making her believe that he had abandoned her, made his stomach twist violently. "I don't think I can do that." His fingers tightened, as if holding onto the last fragile thread of hope. "I won't."

"Then she will suffer." Balen said simply. "Perhaps not now, but one day. And when that day comes, when your enemies find her, when she becomes their pawn to hurt you, you will realize that this pain you feel now is nothing compared to what she will endure."

The words struck like thunder, sending cracks through Tristan's resolve. He had already lost too much. He had already seen the person he loved fall before his eyes. Could he bear to watch her meet the same fate?

No. He couldn't.

The silence between them was deafening, broken only by the rustling leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. The weight of the night pressed upon Tristan's shoulders, a suffocating burden that threatened to crush him.

Balen stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder once more. "You are strong, Tristan. But strength is not just about wielding a sword or producing trees. Sometimes, the greatest strength lies in knowing when to walk away. I hope you make the correct choice, Tristan."

With that said, Balen left, without speaking another word.

Tristan's mind was a battlefield of agony. Every memory of her laughter, every echo of her voice, every lingering warmth from her touch felt like another wound being carved into his soul. He thought of her calling his name, of the way she had always believed in him when no one else did. Could he destroy that faith? Could he become the very thing she despised?

His fingers uncurled from the necklace, letting it rest against his chest once more. His heart ached, a slow, agonizing throb that no battle wound could ever compare to.

Tristan stared at the lake, its dark waters reflecting the emptiness he felt inside. And for the first time in his life, he wished he was weaker–because perhaps then, he wouldn't have to make this choice.

But as he stood there, the night stretching endlessly around him, another thought surfaced.

If he left, if he severed the bond between them… he would be breaking his promise to Latia. The very promise he had made to her in the hospital room, the promise that he would come back to her, no matter what.

His breath trembled. His heart ached. His resolve wavered.

Would she ever forgive him?

He already knew the answer, but he hasn't accepted it yet.

He had no choice.

The lake rippled as the wind carried away the final remnants of his hesitation. The stars above bore witness to his silent resolution.

Tomorrow, Latia would wake up to a world without him.
And he could only pray… that one day, she would understand why.

After all, he loves her.

Latia Astaroth

"Why did I leave so abruptly?!" Latia yelled at no one in her room.

The words bounced off the walls, but no echo could fill the emptiness clawing at her chest. She stood in the middle of her dimly lit room, breathing heavily, her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Her heart was pounding, erratic and restless.

She had run. Not walked, not simply left–she had run.

She had abandoned the dinner table without a second thought, disregarding etiquette and manners before her parents, Aju-Aju, and everyone else present.

"Mother and Father are probably ashamed of my behavior…" she murmured to herself.

Her throat tightened as she paced back and forth, trying to piece together the whirlwind of emotions that had driven her away.

'His words… I was so happy to hear them…' her small cheeks dusted with deep shades of crimson.

Tristan's words at the dinner were something she would never forget.

The sincerity in his voice had reached straight into her heart, making it impossible to ignore. She was flattered, overwhelmed even, by how deeply his words resonated with her. She was his anchor, and likewise, Tristan was her anchor too.

Tristan was the first person she could truly call a friend, unlike those nobles who only sought her company because she was the niece of Ajuka Beelzebub, one of the most powerful devils in the world.

Perhaps, he was more than just a friend now.

"I wouldn't mind marrying him… Argh! Imagine our child! Blonde hair with crimson eyes! Exactly like him now!"

Latia screamed, covering her face with both hands as she rolled restlessly on her bed. Her cheeks felt hot, as if they were burning from her own thoughts.

'What am I thinking?!'

She smacked her pillow in frustration, but it did nothing to stop her mind from running wild. A vivid image of a small child with gleaming blonde hair with a greenish hue, and striking crimson eyes danced in her imagination–a perfect blend of herself and Tristan.

"I-I'm going crazy…" she muttered, burying her face into the pillow.

But even as she tried to shake off the thought, a strange warmth filled her chest. A feeling she couldn't quite describe–something beyond admiration or friendship.

Was this… love?

The idea had always seemed so distant–something that happened in old fairy tales and books, not something she would ever experience. But now, the answer was obvious, glaring at her in the quiet solitude of her room.

She loved Tristan.

Latia bit her lip. "Then why does it hurt so much?"

No, this was ridiculous. Tristan hadn't even left yet, and here she was, thinking that far ahead.

And yet, the more she tried to deny it, the clearer her feelings for Tristan became.

And that terrified her.

A heavy silence settled over the room as she finally lay still on her bed.

'What am I supposed to do?'

Latia was deeply worried about Tristan's departure to Grauzauberer.

What if Mephistopheles couldn't protect Tristan the way Ajuka and she had? What if the people there didn't like him and secretly plotted something terrible against him? What if he couldn't unlock his potential there? What if he met someone new–someone who could replace her?

Countless scenarios erupted in her small head, each one worse than the last.

She should be happy for him. He was leaving in order to get stronger, to become someone even greater, to fulfill his desire of vengeance. But all she could think about was how empty her world would feel without him.

She gripped the fabric of her dress tightly, her knuckles turning white. The uncertainty gnawed at her, an unrelenting storm in her chest.

Tristan was strong–she knew that better than anyone, after all he was her partner in crime. But even the strongest people had their limits. What if he got hurt? What if he faced dangers he couldn't handle alone? Who would be there, to accompany him every step he made?

What if… he changed?

The thought sent a sharp pang through her heart. The Tristan she knew–the one who always had that beautiful smile, the one who stood by her side without hesitation–what if he became someone unrecognizable?

Latia clenched her teeth, shaking her head furiously.

'No, that won't happen. It can't happen. After all, he promised me that he would come back to me…'

Yet, no matter how much she reassured herself, doubt still lingered.

She sat up abruptly, her eyes burning with frustration.

If Tristan was going to leave, then she wouldn't just sit here wallowing in self-pity.

She would see him off with her head held high, with a smile–not tears.

She would support him, no matter how much it hurt, because she believed in him. And if there ever came a day when he needed her, she would be there, just like he had always been there for her.

She would not cry when he left. She would not beg him to stay. She would smile because he deserved her strength, not her sorrow.

Latia slowly lay back down, her eyes tracing the dim ceiling above. The silence was thicker now, calmer somehow.

And resting gently against her collarbone, glowing faintly in the quiet light of the room, was the pendant.

The one Tristan had given her on her birthday.

She reached up and wrapped her fingers around it, feeling the familiar shape of the pendant. It had been there all this time, resting above her heart, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of it beating. As if it, too, was listening. As if it, too, remembered.

She closed her eyes, holding the pendant tightly.

"Come back to me, Tristan…" She whispered, her voice soft and fragile. "No matter how much time passes… no matter how much things change… please come back to me…"

A single tear slid down her cheek.

And in the stillness of her room, as the pendant pulsed gently with warmth against her skin, Latia made a silent vow.

A promise to wait…

A promise to believe…

A promise to love.

The air was still.

The last trances of dawn clung stubbornly to the sky, painting it in deep shades of blue and yellow. A hush had fallen over Ajuka's domain, the silence settling like dust over the courtyard where Tristan stood, his gaze cast downward. The wind was cool but gentle, rustling the trees in a way that might have been comforting–had his heart not been at war with itself.

He was leaving.

Clad in a simple yet finely tailored noble tunic and dark trousers, he looked nothing like a man about to embark on a journey of no return. No cloak, no embellishment–just the weight of his choices draped over his shoulders. He clenched his fist, feeling the smooth chain of his necklace against his palm. His mind whispered doubts, hesitations, but he silenced them with a slow breath.

Ajuka stood before him, arms crossed, his sharp golden eyes watching Tristan with unreadable intensity. The green-haired devil had a presence that could unnerve even the bravest of devils, yet Tristan met his gaze without faltering.

"You're certain?" Ajuka's voice was even, almost casual, but there was something beneath it–an undercurrent of understanding, or perhaps, expectation.

"Yes," Tristan answered without hesitation. "This is the only way."

Ajuka exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly. "You're not even telling her?"

Tristan's grip on the necklace tightened. He hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. "It'll be easier for her this way." The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out with conviction.

Ajuka's expression didn't change, but his gaze sharpened. "Easier for her? Or easier for you?"

Tristan's jaw tensed. "Both."

Ajuka didn't look convinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he studied the young man before him, as if weighing the worth of his resolve. Then, with a slow sigh, he finally spoke.

"You seek power, and Grauzauberer will give you that," he said. "Tell me, Tristan. What do you plan to do once you have fulfilled your objectives?"

Tristan hesitated. He doesn't have an answer for that.

"I'll answer you when the time comes."

Ajuka nodded slowly, as though he expected the answer. "Revenge can be a strong motivator, but it's a poor destination. If you build your purpose on hatred alone, you'll find yourself hollow once that hatred is spent. Don't let that be your end, Tristan."

Tristan's voice was firm, but low. "Then I'll keep walking. I'll find a new reason to live."

Ajuka placed a hand on his shoulder. "Just don't forget who you are. Power changes people. Grauzauberer is not a place for the faint-hearted. If you survive, you'll come back stronger. But I hope you still come back to yourself."

Tristan gave the faintest of nods. "I will."

Ajuka raised a hand, a faint glow appearing in his palm. The air around them shimmered, the space distorting as the teleportation spell took shape. "This is your last chance," he said, giving Tristan one final look. "Turn back now, and no one will blame you."

Tristan exhaled slowly. "There's nothing left for me to turn back to."

Ajuka's face changed slightly. "I will always welcome you with open arms, Tristan. Just as Latia will."

Tristan did not respond verbally, only nodding towards the green-haired devil.

With that, the magic swelled, engulfing him in brilliant light. As the world around him blurred, a final thought surfaced in his mind–a whisper of warmth, a lingering touch of laughter than had once brought him peace.

Goodbye, Latia.

Unbeknownst to the both of them, Balen Astaroth watched in silence. His golden eyes are unreadable.

Latia awoke to sunlight filtering through her curtains, soft and golden. She blinked groggily, stretching as the warmth of morning kissed her skin.

And yet… something felt wrong.

Her fingers instinctively reached for the pendant resting against her collarbone. A sudden, inexplicable unease gripped her chest. Her mind was still fogged with sleep, but she knew something was missing.

Something important.

She climbed out of bed, padding barefoot across the room to her window. She pushed it open, inhaling the fresh morning air. The gardens stretched out before her, the path winding through them familiar and unchanged.

But the world felt emptier.

Her breath hitched. Without understanding why, she whispered his name.

"Tristan?"

Without thinking, she pulled a shawl over her shoulders, her heart pounding before her feet hit the corridor.

She hurried through the halls of Ajuka's domain, past sleepy servants who greeted her with respectful nods, unaware of the storm swelling within her. Her bare feet padded against the marble floors as she rushed toward his room.

Her hand trembled as she gripped the door handle. She opened it.

The room was empty.

Bed made. Books untouched. No warmth, no presence. Only absence.

"Tristan?" She called softly.

Silence answered her.

She stepped further in, eyes scanning every surface. Hoping for a clue. A trace. Anything…

But there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Panic bloomed in her chest. She turned and ran. Through the corridors, through the courtyard. Past the gardens. She ran until her breath was ragged, calling his name again and again.

"Tristan!"

But the morning answered only with the rustling of trees and the songs of birds.

She stumbled into the outer halls of the manor, breathless, trembling. Her eyes darted around desperately until she saw him. Ajuka. He was standing calmly beneath a tree, hands folded on his chest.

She ran to him.

"Where is he?! Where's Tristan?!"

Ajuka's gaze met hers, solemn and steady. "He's gone."

Her breath hitched. "Gone…?"

He nodded. "I sent him to Grauzauberer. He left this morning."

Latia staggered. "But… why? He didn't even say goodbye! Why wouldn't he–?"

Ajuka looked at her for a long moment, taking a step closer to her. His expression, usually so composed, softened. Then, without a word, he pulled her into his arms.

And that was all it took.

Like a dam breaking under too much strain, Latia collapsed into him, and everything came pouring out–disbelief, anger, love, all of it spilling in gasps and sobs as she clutched his robe with trembling fingers.

"He left… He really left," She choked between sobs, her voice breaking with every word. "I thought–I thought we still had time. I thought he would say something… anything…"

Her words were wet with heartbreak, pouring against his silence. She shook in his arms, as if her body itself couldn't contain the pain pressing against her heart.

"Her fists pounded weakly against his chest, not in anger, but in helplessness. Her face pressed against the fabric of his robe.

Ajuka said nothing. His arms only held her tighter, grounding her as her voice cracked again.

"I loved him," She sobbed. "I loved him so much…"

She trembled in his embrace, her words finally giving way to silence, her body shaking as the last of the storm settled into quiet sobs. The morning wind whispered through the courtyard, soft and unfeeling, as the weight of absence wrapped itself around her.

Ajuka stood still, unwavering. He said nothing. He didn't have to.

Hey guys, sorry for the long update! I'm so busy with uni and couldn't get the time to work on Wilted Petals. I hope you like this chapter! Please let out a review guys and don't forget to add this story to your favs and follows. Furthermore, next chapter would be the chapter that I'll introduce Lavinia and Georg. Currently, I'm contemplating whether or not, Tristan would join the Hero Faction.

This is Tristan's current stats:
Tristan Claudius Ambrosius

Strength: D

Agility: C

Durability: D

Hax: A

Mana: A

Endurance: C

Magecraft: B

Luck: S

Potential: SSS