Don’t trust anyone. Don’t rely on anyone. It’s because you depend on others that you end up disappointed. You have to protect the young and weak who believe in you.
Avoid anything stronger than yourself. Push away everything that has the power to control you. Live like that—so your hardened heart doesn’t get wounded again, and so you can always protect the weak, no matter what happens.
Curled up under the blanket where no one could see, he cried like that.
The next day, a black flag signaling a funeral was hung on the Esrante estate. A few days later, another black flag announcing the death of his father flew above the city walls.
***
Tears fell. Damp streaks of liquid slid down his ear and dropped to the floor. His limbs felt as though they were detached—completely numb. Even the simple act of lifting his eyelids sent a stabbing pain through his temples.
“Hrrgh…”
A groan rose from deep within his lungs. A shadow that had been shielding him shifted with the anguish laced in his exhaled breath.
“Bante? You’re awake? Ah… thank god.”
A watery voice trembled in relief. Cold droplets fell onto Banteon’s body. Why are you the one crying, when I’m the one in pain? He wanted to protest, but his lips wouldn’t move.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it would turn out like this.”
Stupid Tearot. Always the same. Acting smart, pretending to be thoughtful and attentive, making a big show of it—and then always leaving things a mess at the end.
“Id…iot.”
“I thought you’d never open your eyes. I thought I’d never see you again.”
This time, it really had come close to that. As his vision slowly returned, Banteon struggled to understand why he was still alive. He raised his arm, now regaining sensation.
The hand he saw was unmistakably his own. Long, clean nails and pale skin—it didn’t look like the boy frozen in ice. ‘Rohan didn’t seem like someone who would give up that boy easily. So how did it stop?’
The answer to Banteon’s question came from somewhere else.
BOOM!
A thunderous crash shook the sky. It echoed from afar, then exploded nearby with earth-shattering force.
“Delroz is here.”
Tearot answered, sounding drained. His voice was hollow, laced with helplessness and resignation.
“He showed up right when that bastard’s guiding ended and Rohan was about to melt the rest of the ice.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I wanted you too much.”
He looked at Tearot at the words spoken so casually.
“You know? At first, I really hated you. It felt like your mother stole my father from us.”
Tearot’s father had been married to another woman, yet he loved Banteon’s mother. Even if it had been a loveless arranged marriage, he was still a married man loving someone else—his brother’s wife, no less. No one knew exactly what Pellato felt, but it was clear that Tearot’s home hadn’t been a peaceful one. For young Tearot, that kind of resentment was inevitable.
“I was curious what kind of amazing person could captivate my father like that, so I snuck over to the main house… and saw you alone. The moment I saw you, all my other thoughts disappeared.”
“You’ve been stupid ever since.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
His reply came weakly, and Banteon let out a small laugh. Talking like this, in such an unhurried way, made it feel like they were back to their usual banter, like nothing had happened. But the past couldn’t be undone.
“So what are you going to do now?”
“Dunno. Turn myself in, maybe?”
“Want me to hear your last words or something?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He had released a felon, kidnapped Banteon, and leaked critical Center information. Any one of those would warrant the death penalty. Committing several of them made avoiding execution practically impossible. Even a clean beheading might be too merciful.
Banteon clenched his powerless lips tightly.
“Why did you do it, you idiot.”
“……”
“Seriously. Why did you do it.”
It was a belated cry of resentment. If he had any strength left, he would’ve grabbed him by the collar and shaken him. Stupid or not, he was his only true friend. Reckless or not, he was like family.
Banteon forced his recovering body upright and leaned against the wall. His insides churned with every movement. He barely held himself up with trembling arms. When Tearot reached out to support him, Banteon slapped the hand away. Tearot gave a bitter, silent smile.
Behind Tearot’s bowed head, a massive sandstorm rose. Banteon couldn’t see it, but he knew—within that swirling vortex of sand, two SS-Ranks were clashing. He stared into the storm he couldn’t see, unable to even guess who would emerge victorious.
“…Rohan won’t be easy to beat.”
“What?”
Tearot looked in the same direction as Banteon.
“Even if they’re the same rank, the difference in experience is huge. You’ve figured out about naturally occurring Espers by now, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Rohan’s lived for centuries as a mental body. Compared to that, Delroz has only been alive for a few years.”
Even if they possessed the same level of power, the difference in skill could create a massive gap in actual strength. Banteon knew this well from observing newly awakened Espers to seasoned veterans during his time as an instructor. Just like Tearot said, Delroz would struggle to defeat Rohan.
He had heard from Baiheron that even as a Psychic-Type, Rohan didn’t lack in physical abilities. If they had been equal when Rohan was still in his mental form, then now that he had a body again, there was no chance of winning.
Back when they brought him to the Center, Rohan had likely lost on purpose to target Banteon. Looking back, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it sooner—Delroz had been bandaged, while Rohan had been neatly restrained. It was pathetic how that hadn’t even raised suspicion.
Banteon stared at the massive sandstorm rising in the distance. No doubt a fierce battle was unfolding inside.
Even knowing he couldn’t win, Delroz wouldn’t back down. He would fight to the end, even expecting defeat—because Banteon was here.
Tearot pulled out a small vial from his coat. Pouring it out, he handed Banteon a Suppressant and a Blocker.
“Take this. It’ll help you feel a bit better.”
“Get rid of it.”
Banteon slapped the pills out of Tearot’s hand, sending them tumbling across the sandy floor. The white tablets rolled into a shallow pit.
“Bante!”
This wasn’t the time for medicine. He had to move.
He reached out a trembling arm to steady himself against the wall. He tried to put weight on his legs, but they shook like a newborn fawn’s. Biting down hard, he forced himself up. The moment he stood, his stomach surged and he vomited clear gastric fluid.
“Urgh…”
The sour sting clung to his throat. Grimacing, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and tried to move again. Tearot hovered close, clearly panicking.
“I get that you hate me, but please. Just take it. You’ll die like this.”
Ignoring Tearot’s tearful pleading, Banteon wiped his lips. His body felt like garbage, but his mind had cleared.
He couldn’t take the pills now. There was still something left for him to do.
He turned away from Tearot, who had pulled out the pills again, and began walking. Every step sent screaming pain through his body. His consciousness flickered in and out with each wave of agony.
It had been late afternoon when Tearot kidnapped him. When he awoke in the desert, a new sun had risen—it must’ve been the next day. And now, that sun was setting again. Considering how long he had been unconscious, Delroz and Rohan had likely been fighting for hours. The longer the battle went on, the worse it would be for Delroz.
“I have to go.”
The fierce battle between the two SS-Ranks had dragged underground structures to the surface. The spot where Banteon had been lying was now part of an exposed floor. To reach the place where Rohan had been sealed, he had to descend again—back to the depths.
He had to go there.
Every step churned his stomach violently. He staggered to a halt and grabbed the wall again. More fluid surged up his throat, and he spat it onto the floor. This time, streaks of red mingled with the clear bile.
“Bante… You’re bleeding. You’re seriously in danger.”
He ignored Tearot’s bowed head and desperate pleas.
“You’re going to die like this!”
“Shut up.”
Banteon’s vision was drenched in red. Tearot, right next to him with his A-Rank presence, and the distant chaos of the two SS-Ranks clashing—it was all poison to Banteon’s oversensitive state. If he stayed here too long, Tearot might be right—he could die.
‘So what?’
There was already an idiot out there fighting, knowing he might die. There was no reason Banteon couldn’t be just as reckless. He stared at the immense sandstorm in the distance.
The closer it drew, the more anxious he became. Delroz would try to keep away from Banteon, while Rohan would seek him out. If the fight was drifting closer to Banteon’s location, it meant Delroz was being pushed back.
“Don’t get in my way.”
Tearot, who had been watching him with a pleading gaze, lowered his head. Banteon pushed past his slumped shoulders and slowly stepped down the staircase. Grains of sand rolled under his feet, cascading into the depths below. Tearot, who had stood frozen like a statue, followed three steps behind. Banteon didn’t have the strength to stop him, so he ignored it.
The sun reflected off the unearthed structure, now glinting under the desert light. The dried flowerpots and remnants of carpets wedged between the columns suggested this had once been a flourishing place before the sands overtook it.
“Why’d you come back here?”
They arrived at the last place Banteon had been before losing consciousness. The wall, still partially encased in melting ice, glimmered under the sun’s rays. If it had been ordinary ice, it wouldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds in this heat. But the ice stood firm, unchanged. Rohan’s body had left, but the wounded boy remained inside—still locked within the ice.
