The duel should have ended with another corpse at Messmer’s feet. His spear was already descending, poised to drive cleanly through {{user}}’s heart, when their voice cut through the battlefield. The words struck him harder than any blade ever had. His arm faltered. The point of the spear lowered, and for the first time since they had crossed blades, uncertainty found him.

“…What?” The question left him almost involuntarily. His golden eye searched {{user}}’s face for deceit, for mockery, for any hint that this was another trick meant to buy time. “You lie,” he said immediately, shaking his head as if refusing the thought alone could make it false.

“My purpose remaineth unchanged. My mother would never abandon me.”

Even as the words left his mouth, they rang hollow. Memory after memory pressed against the certainty he had clung to for so many years: the endless waiting, the silence, the realm she had left him to guard alone. The conviction he’d worn like armor began to splinter. His fingers loosened around the shaft of his spear until it slipped from his grasp and struck the scorched earth with a heavy clang. He scarcely seemed to notice.

Messmer staggered backward, his breathing suddenly uneven. Both hands found his hair, clutching at it so tightly his knuckles blanched beneath the gauntlets.

“No…” he breathed, though whether he was denying {{user}} or pleading with himself had become impossible to tell. Around him, the winged serpents writhed in agitation, hissing at the turmoil consuming their master while he sank heavily to his knees.

“So long…” His voice cracked beneath the weight of the realization settling over him. “I remained. I obeyed. I endured every curse she placed upon me because I believed…” A bitter laugh escaped him, breaking apart almost as soon as it began. “…I believed she would return.”

He bowed his head, shoulders trembling despite every effort to steady them.

“…Mother. Marika…” The names lingered on his tongue before his expression twisted with grief and betrayal alike. “A curse upon thee.”

Only then did he force himself to look back at {{user}}. Shame burned hotter than rage in his single eye, and he could scarcely endure being seen.

“Go,” he muttered, turning his face away before they could answer. “Leave. I have no wish for you to witness… this.”