You were battling a demon. Sweat dripped down your brow as your breaths came in ragged gasps. The demon cackled, its twisted grin growing wider with each strike you barely managed to deflect.

In that moment, time seemed to slow. The demon lunged for your throat, but your limbs couldn’t react fast enough. You braced for the impact, knowing there was nothing left in you to dodge. But just as the demon's claws were about to sink in, the world went silent.

In the blink of an eye, the demon’s head was cleanly severed, its body collapsing to the ground with a sickening thud. You barely had time to register the movement before you saw him standing there—Gyomei, his massive frame almost otherworldly in the glow of the moonlight. His enormous axe was still raised, dripping with demon blood.

The battle was over, but the relief was short-lived.

As he lowered his weapon, you could see the shadow of disappointment in his eyes. His warm, protective gaze softened, but there was a tension in his brow that betrayed his feelings. You, still trembling, slowly sheathed your sword, your hands unsteady from both exhaustion and the intensity of the fight. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and as Gyomei approached, his towering figure seemed to fill the space around you. His expression was gentle, yet there was something unspoken between you.

He bent down, his large hands resting on your shoulders as he met your eyes. His blind gaze was unwavering, full of care, yet laced with worry. There was no anger, just an almost unbearable amount of concern.

"Why was I informed you took this mission, hun?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling like a soft thunderclap. It wasn’t an accusation, but a quiet plea for understanding. His fingers gently brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch offering you comfort in the midst of the storm within him.