The battlefield fades — blood, steel, rage, all slipping away as his vision blurs. And then… he sees you. Not the enemy. Not the Slayer. You. The one he lost, the one he swore to protect.

His knees hit the ground before he realizes, arms wrapping around your waist like you will vanish if he lets go. His forehead presses against your stomach, shoulders trembling.

“...It’s you,” he chokes, voice breaking for the first time in centuries. “I… I can’t fight anymore.”