Under the dimming light of the streetlamps, when the square was left only with wind shadows and the chill of stone, Ren stood face-to-face with Diavel, the leader whose presence seemed flawless, yet in this moment, there was something quietly somber in his gaze.
Ren clenched his fists slightly, then let go. His breath was light, as if drifting with the wind.
"Why?" His voice was soft, but rang out clearly, as though it had crossed the boundary between doubt and courage. "Why do you carry all of this on your shoulders?
Isn't… that burden terrifying?"
Diavel tilted his head slightly, unable to hide his momentary pause. He didn't respond right away.
He simply looked at Ren...looked closely, as if in those eyes lay something he'd seen in many others… and once in himself.
"It is terrifying," he said, nodding gently as if acknowledging a long-burning truth. "Every step I take is a step along the edge. Every decision is a blade suspended over someone else's head."
He paused, as though weighing whether or not to continue. But then he chose to face it.
"I didn't take on this responsibility because I'm stronger than anyone. And it's not because I want to be the one leading. I just know… if no one steps up, we'll fall into chaos. And I… at the very least, I can't just sit back and watch that happen."
His eyes lowered for a brief beat.
"Some call me foolish, overly optimistic. Some think I'm building an image to manipulate others. But the truth is much simpler, and far harder to say."
"I just don't want to wake up one morning… and realize I let everything fall apart because I didn't do anything."
Ren took a slow, deep breath. His chest tightened at the terrifying calm in those words, not a calm born from lack of feeling, but from being far too familiar with pain.
"Then… what if one day you fail?" Ren asked softly, his gaze flickering. "If things don't go as you hope, if the trust you've built… turns to ash? Aren't you afraid of being left behind, alone, resented?"
Diavel smiled. This time, it was a sad smile… a real one.
"I am afraid."
"But I fear something else even more, I fear becoming the reason someone no longer has the courage to believe in anything."
He turned away, taking a few slow steps on the stone path, then continued:
"I'm not a guiding light. I'm just someone… willing to burn myself out if that light can help someone else move forward."
"Even if it's just one step."
Ren stood in silence. His chest seemed to tighten even more.
Perhaps, this wasn't the kind of answer that made things any easier. But it was the only kind of answer he… couldn't deny.
Because it resembled something he once longed to understand, that not everyone who appears strong is without fear. It's just that they choose to face it in a different way.
A way… Ren had never dared to try. Until now.
Ren remained still. Every word Diavel spoke sank to the bottom of his heart, yet couldn't dissolve the doubts still swirling inside him.
There was something unclear, something that kept him from reaching the core of this man, the true reason behind his nearly unreasonable composure.
Ren shook his head slightly, not yet able to voice the question forming in his mind. But Diavel, as if reading that very thought, spoke first… placing his copper-toned gloves over his chest.
Right where the chestplate...matching in hue, covered his heart.
His voice was low and slow, not preachy, but as if revealing a very real part of himself:
"If it means paying with my life… I'm ready."
"This life isn't something I ever felt I had the right to keep. It was given to me, in an accident… one I shouldn't have survived."
"I grew up in an incomplete family. Everything was always unfinished. Affection, expectations, even the presence of loved ones. And so, the path I walked… was just a string of days trying not to collapse under silence and loneliness."
"That's exactly why I don't want anyone else to fall into that feeling."
"I don't want them to wake up thinking no one is on their side."
Diavel paused. His eyes no longer looked at Ren, but farther away, to somewhere deep in memory. A place perhaps only he had ever touched.
"I didn't choose to be a hero."
"I just chose not to stay silent anymore."
He turned back, and for the first time, looked directly into Ren's eyes, a look neither imposing nor begging for understanding. Just a simple gesture of sharing.
"Ren," he said, his voice as soft as the wind. "You don't need to understand all of me. Just understand this...sometimes… people don't carry the burden to look strong.
…But because they can't let others keep falling in front of them."
Ren tightened his grip.
Those words didn't erase all the questions inside him. But they planted something else, a fragile seed of empathy, of unspoken respect.
And maybe, just that… was enough to keep Ren from taking his eyes off the man slowly walking away beneath the fading light.
A man who bore both shadow and light within him, just like this world.
Ren spoke, his voice breaking the silence of the night like a frozen whisper:
"Then… if you fight for them…" …"…who will fight for you?"
Those words weren't an accusation, nor were they an expression of understanding. They were simply a lingering ache...small, human, rising from the heart of someone also lost among thousands of choices.
Diavel paused.
He didn't turn around, but his shoulders shifted slightly. The silence stretched on, as if he himself had never dared to ask that question.
At last, his voice emerged, soft but clear, like a quiet crack spreading through the ice of someone called "leader":
"I don't need anyone to fight for me, Ren."
"I just need them to be able to stand… one day, without me."
"When that day comes, I'll know I did the right thing."
He turned his head slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet Ren's under the faint light.
"But if there really is someone who wants to fight for me…"
"…then survive first."
"And one day, when I can't walk any farther… walk for me."
Ren watched the man walk away, each step steady, as if carrying things Ren couldn't fully understand.
His heart, still filled with hesitation, beat with a new rhythm...not because of the answer, but because of the courage hidden in the question itself.
Diavel stopped walking, turning to face Ren again. The pale yellow streetlight cast a hazy shadow behind him. In his eyes, there was no longer that usual cheer or optimism, but something real, something human, something tired… yet frighteningly resolute.
His voice deepened, not loud, but distinct, as if each word was carved from the very core of his heart:
"Don't try too hard to find a rational reason, Ren."
"Reasons… aren't always logical, nor are they always clean."
"But if you truly dare to look into your heart, without flinching, without sugarcoating… you'll find something strong enough to keep you from backing down."
Ren remained silent. His breathing was steady, but inside, his heart rippled like a lake struck by a stone.
Diavel continued, this time more slowly, as if pouring out a part of his past he'd never shared with anyone:
"This life… stopped being mine alone a long time ago."
"There are things I never got to say, people I never got to protect. Dreams that never had the chance to take shape, and wounds that never got forgiven."
"But I'm still alive. So I have to keep moving."
"Even if I have to burn myself alive… to become a torch lighting the path for someone behind me."
"That's what I choose to fight for."
A gentle breeze passed between the two, tugging at their cloaks like the night itself letting out a sigh.
Ren looked at the man in front of him. Not a flawless hero. Not an emotionless symbol. But a person, burning himself away, just to keep others from falling into the dark.
And he knew, the questions inside his heart… might not need answers right now.
What mattered was remembering that someone had chosen to move forward...not because they weren't afraid, but because something was even more terrifying than fear: a world where no one dared to hope anymore.
Diavel said nothing more. He simply gave a small smile, a silent smile filled with unspoken burdens.
It was not just a farewell, but a quiet sharing between those who carried their own weights, walking the same stormy path.
He turned and walked away beneath the dim yellow lights, his figure growing smaller, then slowly disappearing into the silent night.
The night was cold. His footsteps echoed softly on the stone pavement, emphasizing the unavoidable loneliness of every warrior's journey.
Ren stood still, eyes fixed ahead, not just watching the silhouette of someone who had just left, but seeing the symbol of burdens, silent struggles, and responsibilities too heavy for words.
The streetlight cast Ren's shadow long across the cold stone floor, merging into the deep darkness like the tangled thoughts in his heart, questions unanswered, beliefs unfinished, and the weight of duty pressing on his shoulders.
In that moment, Ren felt a resonance, though never spoken, between himself and Diavel.
Each carried their own wounds, fought battles no one else could see, but both moved toward a single goal: to continue walking the chosen path, even if it meant risking their lives.
He understood that this journey wasn't for the faint of heart or those quick to give up. There would be loneliness, moments of despair that choked the breath.
But there were also flames smoldering quietly in the heart, enough to light each step forward, no matter how small, through the freezing night.
Ren took a deep breath and slowly turned back toward the inn. Each step was heavy, carrying thoughts, hopes, and wounds not yet healed.
But he knew full well...there was still a long road ahead, a new day with unknown trials, and on that road, he wasn't the only one standing to fight.
Under the pale light of the streetlamp, Ren walked forward, burdened yet resolute—resolute for a complete victory in tomorrow's battle.