Even with advance warning and perfect defense, only sheer luck would have left him half-dead from an attack that strong. By all rights, he should have been killed on the spot. Yet not only had he survived, he looked far too intact as well.

“Hey...” Unit 782 whispered.

Do-Jin had survived only because she’d thrown everything she had into shielding him. She poured in the power Dagne left behind, the force she’d just received from D’Askandar, and even the cursed energy that had once kept her undead. She staked her whole existence on keeping him alive.

“I’m... glad you’re not hurt,” he replied weakly.

At the sound of his voice, Unit 782 forced her eyes open. The first thing she did was check on his condition, even though her own body was already splintering beyond repair.

Do-Jin reached out in a rush to grab her shoulder. Cracks ripped through it with a sickening tear and chunks threatened to fall away. No matter how tight he held on, it wasn’t going to stop her from breaking apart. She had already passed the point of no return.

Unit 782 looked down at the shoulder and arm that had separated like broken plaster and said with a calm smile, “It’s fine.”

“Fine? What the fuck about this is fine?!” Do-Jin shouted, unable to control the anger bursting out of him.

She blinked in surprise at first, then smiled through the scars that lined her face. “Are you angry... for me? I think this is the first time anyone’s ever done that.”

Those were her last words, followed by a soft chuckle that slipped out. Dead, she had been nothing but a watcher of the forest. Alive, she had been nothing more than a number. Finally, the girl closed her eyes, a peaceful expression lingering on her face. Her lips held a faint smile, as if saving Do-Jin had made her genuinely happy at the end. That smile was what broke him.

He tried to hold her tighter against his chest, but her body gave way first. The corpse that had wandered the forest without rotting finally succumbed to the time it had defied all along. In the blink of an eye, she crumbled into dust.

Could something like this really be considered peace?

[The Spirit Dragon’s Legacy]

Grade: Hidden

Nua’s—

The quest message barely had time to appear before Do-Jin shoved it all aside. He couldn’t be bothered to go through all that right now. Instead, he rose in silence and looked around. In the distance, he saw Nua and Dagne slowly fading away.

Do-Jin walked toward them, toward what was left of their final moments. Nua’s head drooped low to the ground, her massive eyes locking onto him. Just from her gaze alone, he could tell that she was in her right mind again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault. But did it really have to go this far? Humans who committed sins deserve the pain they got, but these poor kids, who were only used by rotten adults, didn’t need to go through this much suffering. Even you...”

All of this was utter bullshit to Nua. From her perspective, everything that had attacked her had been nothing but enemies and executioners. There had never been room to tell who was guilty and who had only been dragged into the mess.

Of course, Do-Jin knew that. His words were swayed by his attachment to Unit 782, the girl he’d grown close to, shared meals with, and couldn’t help caring about.

“I’m sorry, child of man.” Even through the torment of her ruined body, Nua forced out an apology. The words of the spirit, in the shape of a deer, carried nothing but sincerity. “All of this was my fault, drowned in resentment until I lost my reason. If I had accepted it all and returned to nature like I should have... as you said, everyone would have suffered less, including myself, and those poor children.”

Most spirits shaped like animals carried the instinct to love the young. It was a remnant of the lives they once lived as ordinary beasts. And Nua, who had been born a deer and turned into a spirit, now realized she had turned children into wandering corpses in her forest. The recognition of it crushed her.

“The moment I lost my mind, I became something that couldn’t stop itself. But that’s just an excuse. I should have stopped. I should never have ignored the terrified cries begging for mercy.”

Do-Jin bit down hard on his lip as he watched Nua drowning in self-reproach. In the end, the real villains had been the greedy bastards who had pulled the strings. Unit 782. The other children trapped in the same hell. Even Dagne and Nua. In the end, they were all victims.

“Fuck...” Do-Jin muttered as he rubbed his eyes, a heavy sigh breaking from him.

Through the haze of her fading strength, Nua blinked heavily and managed to say, “Even if it’s too late, thank you for stopping me.”

“You’ve had enough. Rest now,” Do-Jin replied with some difficulty.

“Not yet,” she answered softly. “I have to return my ruined homeland to the way it was before I leave.”

From her body, blades of grass began to sprout. They stretched and spread, piercing deep into the cracked and barren earth. Bit by bit, the forest started to change. As the land healed, Nua’s body rotted away in turn, dissolving as though she were truly merging back into the forest itself.

“So that’s it. She doesn’t even spare me a glance until the very end. Petty deer,” Dagne muttered.

Do-Jin turned his head toward the fading wolf. Unlike Nua’s voice, which still carried some presence, the words echoing from Dagne were drained of all strength.

“From Nua’s perspective, you were one of the culprits too,” Do-Jin said flatly.

“That’s true. But I didn’t have a choice. I could have broken free from that binding anytime I wanted... but the children would’ve died on the spot.”

So he had stayed chained because he was afraid the kids would die. Spirits, always the same, bound by their own damned nature.

“You don’t look like you have much time left. Got anything you want to say before you go?”

“Not really. From what I can tell, D’Askandar went ahead first, so all I can hope is that I’ll meet him in the cradle of spirits. And the children who wandered in pain through this forest will finally have their rest. I’ve done all I could.”

“For someone who says he has no regrets, your eyes are full of them.”

The wolf sounded relieved, but his expression told a different story, one full of regret and hesitation. After a long silence, Dagne finally spoke again. “Human, can I ask one favor?”

Do-Jin gave a short nod.

“That girl cared about you deeply, so much that she would rather take eternal rest than be left behind in the forest alone after you were gone. So remember that there was a child who closed her eyes in genuine happiness, simply because she was able to save you.”

Do-Jin stayed silent.

“There has to be someone. Someone to remember the children who died without even a name.”

Hearing the wolf’s final wish, Do-Jin raised his hand and laid it on the translucent beast’s massive head.

“I won’t forget. Not a damn thing.”

Dagne’s muzzle twisted upward in a smile, revealing his fangs. “It seems... it’s time for me to go,” he said, his weak voice echoing through the clearing one last time before fading into silence.

Around the same time, Nua finally breathed her last. As the two spirits returned to nature, a tremendous surge of Spirit Power erupted. The overwhelming energy acted like a gravitational pull, drawing in every last trace of power scattered throughout the forest.

“So it all comes down to this,” Do-Jin said to himself in resignation.

The hidden quest to take care of the Spirit Dragon’s egg was finally flagged as complete. EXP and Gold poured in along with the notification. The once-dead egg that had been impossible to hatch was now transformed into a Spirit Egg, marked with the note that it would eventually hatch with time. The system even stamped him with a perfect evaluation for how flawlessly he had cleared the hidden quest.

Do-Jin couldn’t bring himself to feel happy about it. What he’d lost outweighed anything he’d gained, leaving only a hollow ache that wouldn’t let go. He stood there for a long time, blankly staring at the sky, the forest, and the ground beneath his feet. Eventually, his legs carried him to the place where Unit 782 had drawn her last breath.

There was nothing left of her. She had scattered into the wind, back into the forest, up into the sky. The only trace remaining was a shattered piece of her armor. Do-Jin picked it up carefully, holding it like it might fall apart completely if he gripped too hard.

At the very least, I can give her a grave.

However, one grave would feel too lonely. She had been the one who’d said she would rather embrace death than be left alone. He couldn’t leave her like that. How many other children had suffered the same fate as the watchers of this forest?

Tegran, that bastard, had been swallowed by the torrent of power long ago. There was no one left to answer for it. So Do-Jin made more graves, however makeshift they were. In the end, graves were for the living, a small and selfish comfort for the one left behind. He built them for her and for the other children who had shared her fate, until the weight in his chest eased, even if only a little.

Some people might have called it pointless or a waste of time, but Do-Jin knew better. From bitter experience, he had learned one thing. If he did nothing, the regret would only deepen with time.

***

A full day had passed since everything ended. In that single day, the clearing which had once been the final battlefield was completely transformed for the children who had died in the forest. At measured distances, he had carved wooden crosses and planted them into the ground, each marking a simple grave. Out of all of them, he had put the most effort into the centermost one, the grave of the Watcher.

He buried her keepsakes there and raised a gravestone he had carefully carved with his own hands. He refused to write those wretched numbers with which she was labeled. After wrestling with the decision the entire time he worked, he finally finished carving the letters.

For my friend who loved warm stew.

Even after his job here was finished, he stayed there for hours in silence, trying to rein in the storm inside him. Finally, he set down the bowl and spoon she had once used.

“I’ll come by from time to time so you won’t feel too lonely.”

He traced the words “my friend” one last time, then rose to his feet. Just as he turned away with a bitter expression, a system message popped up.

[The Spirit Egg is beginning to hatch.]

His inventory snapped open automatically, and the Spirit Dragon’s egg burst into view, transforming into the hidden quest’s main reward.

Do-Jin froze, caught off guard. How is it hatching already? After only one day?

Whether he was ready or not, the egg went about its business on its own. It shook, cracked, and spilled out waves of Spirit Power. After the shell had completely shattered, something tumbled out from within.

***

A girl stirred and tried to open her eyes, but even that felt like too much effort. She had walked in darkness for so long that the light felt foreign. On top of that, she was unbearably sleepy. Maybe she could just close her eyes and rest a little longer.

That was when an unforgettable voice reached her.

“You’re... a wolf?”

Her eyes shot open on instinct. The first thing that filled her vision was someone’s face. He didn’t look gentle, but she knew better than anyone that he was kinder than anyone she had ever known.

The man she had wanted to see again, even if it meant walking forever through that endless, lightless path, was finally right in front of her.

“Do-Jin!”