061. The Aftermath

Jalu’s movement was swift and precise, every muscle in his body fueling the strike. But just as his hand closed around the girl's neck, his gaze locked onto her bright blue eyes. In that split second, his entire form froze, the momentum of his attack evaporating as though it had never existed.
In those eyes, he saw something he hadn't expected—a flicker of fear. The same fear he had seen once before, during his battle with Liriénka. A fear that could only belong to a living being. His breath hitched. The cold certainty he had carried moments ago began to waver.
Jalu staggered back, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He collapsed against a nearby stone, the cool surface offering little comfort as pain coursed through his body. With a flick of his wrist, he discarded the broken piece of Nadezhda's tail, letting it clatter to the ground beside him. His hand instinctively moved to his wound, pressing down in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips, raw and broken. His blood-stained hands trembled as he stared at them, crimson staining his skin—a grim reminder of his mortality. The irony wasn’t lost on him. For all his strength, all his skill, there he was, wounded, poisoned by something beyond flesh and bone.
Jalu sat slumped, his back leaning to a boulder, locking eyes with Nadezhda, whose broken form lying motionless a few steps away. Despite everything, she had been a formidable opponent. His breath hitched, and the laughter grew darker, almost mocking. The thrill of battle, the struggle for survival—it was a game, one he might not win. But at least, the fight was over.
"What are you?" the man asked in the Eldest Tongue, holding back the pain. "You seem to be a living being like me."
The girl looked at Jalu for a moment before opening her mouth and saying, "I don't understand your words."
"You can speak Russian!" exclaimed the unaware man. "How did you learn the language? What are you?" he repeated his question in Russian.
"Why did you destroy my home?" Instead of answering, Nadezhda countered with a sharp question. The girl's voice showed no signs of pain or weakness. In stark contrast to her battered body, she sounded remarkably calm.
"I didn’t destroy it. In fact, I’ve just arrived here from another country," Jalu replied honestly.
Although the girl's expression remained unchanged, he could discern her surprise through the clenching of her mouth.
"My father sacrificed himself to destroy whatever was hidden beneath this place," the man continued. "And I know him well. He would never carelessly wipe out anyone or anything that wasn’t a real threat. Every move he made was always carefully calculated. That’s why I need to know what drove him to make that sacrifice."
Nadezhda's mouth opened as if she was about to speak. However, she closed it again and remained silent. Jalu's words were accurate. Nadezhda was not ignorant. She knew that sooner or later her father's ambition would bring calamity to the very existence of Vorshkony.
"Sorry, I didn’t realize you were alive," Jalu said, his voice apologetic. "I attacked because I thought you were just a robot."
"I am human," Nadezhda replied, her tone flat. "Or at least, I was."
"Look," Jalu interrupted, urgency creeping into his voice. "You’re going to keep living. I’d love to hear your story and satisfy my curiosity, but I don’t have much time. Technically, I’ve won this fight. So, whether you like it or not, you’re going to listen to my story—until I die!"
Without waiting for Nadezhda's approval, Jalu began to talk about his father. The young man held nothing back in his story. He honestly expressed his admiration, affection, frustration, and regret that came when it was too late. Jalu no longer held back his grief. He cried.
Nadezhda just stared at the man in silence. She had also recently lost her father and her entire kin. But the girl could discern that Jalu's pain ran deeper than hers. The vorshk knew what it felt like to be left in regret. She remembered what she felt on the day her mother died.
Watching Jalu, a strong man, cry for the same feelings she had experienced centuries ago, warmth began to flow into her heart which had long been as cold as the metal composing her skeletal frame. And for the first time in decades, she felt completely humane.
"If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll come back as the most terrifying ghost and haunt you forever!" Jalu threatened through his sobs.
"You could say I’m already a ghost, trapped in an artificial body," Nadezhda finally spoke after a long silence.
"In that case, I’ll be the first ghost to haunt another ghost!" Jalu shot back, his voice trembling with a hint of humor.
Nadezhda chuckled softly at his threat.
"It feels good to finally get everything off my chest," Jalu admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I feel bad for damaging your body. I just hope you’ll find a way to keep living like a human... and maybe laugh freely in the days to come."
The girl looked at Jalu with a scrutinizing gaze. Then, her lips moved to form a smile. A sweet smile if only half of her face was not torn, displaying her eerie black metal skull.
"You are the strangest man I have ever met," she commented.
"Well, at least I don't have a long tail made of metal," Jalu retorted, grimacing in pain.
Nadezhda chuckled again. Her gaze softened as she looked at the man.
"If only I could idolize my father like you," she said. "What—"
The girl's words caught in her throat, suffocated by the horrifying sight unfolding before her. Jalu's head, once filled with vitality, now hung limp and feeble. His body teetered precariously, descending in slow-motion until it succumbed to the merciless pull of gravity, collapsing onto his side against the unforgiving ground. His eyes, once vibrant with life, were now sealed shut, surrendering to an eternal darkness.
Nadezhda sat frozen like a broken mannequin, her gaze fixed on the seemingly lifeless form before her. Jalu had been the first human with whom she felt comfortable conversing as herself. Panic clawed at the edges of her being, etching fear across the undamaged side of her face. Every fiber of her being screamed to move, but her limbs betrayed her. In a desperate plea for salvation, she unleashed a primal scream—the haunting cry of one who had lost everything.