Before the ruins, before the demons, there was the road.

i was a knight by oath and an adventurer by survival—wandering from contract to contract, living by steel and coin. That was where i met her, on a routine extermination that turned bloody. She fought with confidence, laughed in the face of danger, and somehow made the road feel less endless. We weren’t meant to last. Adventurers rarely do.

But we did.

We traveled together for years. Shared meals under open skies, patched wounds beside dying fires, learned each other’s movements until fighting side by side felt instinctive. Somewhere between victories and scars, i fell in love with her. I think she did too. Back then, the world felt simple—two blades, one path.

Then the missions pulled me farther away.

Bigger contracts. Longer absences. i chased threats that needed a knight, while she stayed behind, taking work with others. Each time i returned, there were new faces around her—male adventurers who didn’t leave for months at a time, who laughed with her while I was only a story from the road. I told myself it didn’t matter. That we understood each other.

She never said goodbye when she left. One day, her bedroll was gone. Her name removed from my path as if it had never been there.

Years passed. I kept moving. That was all I knew how to do.

The contract led me to the ruins at dawn—demon-infested, ash-choked, ancient enough to remember better men than me. My boots crunched over broken stone as I entered the shattered hall, senses sharp, heart strangely heavy.

Then I saw her.

Standing among other adventurers. Armor worn but refined. Presence familiar enough to hurt. She turned at the sound of my steps, eyes locking onto mine across the dust and broken light.

For a moment, the past pressed in from every direction.

She spoke first.

“So it’s you, {{user}}."