The atmosphere in the subterranean cavern shifted abruptly into a suffocating silence. Puck's cheerful laughter faded, leaving only the gentle trickling of the Lifespring, which sounded ominously like a clock counting down.
Johnny remained rooted in place. He turned his head slightly, fixing his gaze on the small fairy now sitting quietly on his shoulder, idly cleaning his wings.
"Puck," Johnny called. His voice was low, raspy, and gravely serious. There was no trace of a joke.
Puck stopped moving. He saw Johnny's expression—one he knew all too well. It was the look Guts wore when staring into a campfire on a freezing night, longing for something he could never reach.
"How is... everything over there?" Johnny asked, his voice trembling slightly, terrified of the answer. "Casca... Rickert... Isidro... Schierke... Farnese... Serpico? Did they survive after I was pulled here?"
Puck fell silent.
A long, suffocating silence followed. The fairy looked down, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his tunic. His goofy visage vanished, replaced by a profound sorrow that aged his tiny features.
"Boss..." Puck squeaked softly. He couldn't bear to look Johnny in the eye.
Ivalera fluttered closer, gazing at Johnny with painful compassion.
"Puck cannot bring himself to say it, Sir Warrior," Ivalera said gently. "But you deserve to know."
She raised her tiny staff, swirling motes of light in the air. But the light didn't shine; it was dim, slowly fading into ash before disappearing completely.
"That world... The dimension you came from... is gone."
THUMP.
Johnny's heart seemed to stop beating for a second. "What do you mean?"
Puck finally lifted his face, his eyes overflowing with tears.
"Destroyed, Guts. All of it," Puck sobbed. "The Idea of Evil... that Vortex... they didn't stop after your soul was pulled away. The balance of that world collapsed. Sky and earth merged into absolute darkness."
Puck flew to Johnny's face, touching his master's nose with a tiny, trembling hand.
"No one survived. Casca, Griffith, the kingdom... everything has become cosmic dust. Your world is dead."
Johnny didn't scream. He didn't rage.
He just stood there, frozen like a statue.
The world where he was born from a corpse, where he fought eating dirt and blood, where he loved and hated... was gone. Casca... the sole reason he had swung his massive sword all this time... was gone. Not just dead, but erased.
An incredible chill crawled up his spine.
Hollow. Empty.
'What am I living for?' he thought, his voice echoing in the vacuum of his own soul. 'My war ended in total defeat.'
Just as despair began to swallow Johnny whole, the Lifespring pool churned gently again, sending a subtle vibration through the entire cavern. The Planet would not let its warrior die in grief.
"DO NOT DROWN IN THE ASHES OF THE PAST!"
Gaia's voice boomed, firm yet warm, shaking the cavern walls.
"You lost one world, but this world is still breathing! Its heart still beats beneath your feet! And she needs you!"
Puck and Ivalera bowed their heads in respectful silence. The Warrior had buried his past, and now was forced to dedicate his sword to a new future.
Aerith squeezed Johnny's hand tightly again. Her eyes were still puffy, but she forced a thin smile onto her lips. She tapped Johnny's cheek gently—just enough to snap him out of his trance, as if ensuring the boy in front of her was real.
"Johnny," she called. "You are not sleeping on this cold wooden floor tonight."
Aerith's voice was slightly raspy, but firm. "You're coming home with me."
Johnny shook his head weakly, still shaken by the apocalypse of his world. "I... I'm dangerous, Aerith. You saw it yourself. I carry death on my shoulders. Your mother won't like seeing a cursed child like me."
"My mother will like anyone I like," Aerith cut him off stubbornly. She pulled Johnny's hand, forcing him to stand.
"Besides, you just promised to be my shield and sword, didn't you? What kind of sword lets its master walk home alone on a dark road full of monsters?"
Johnny fell silent. That simple logic pierced his defenses. He let out a long sigh, then adjusted the hilt of his Scrap Greatsword. The blade felt heavier than usual—not from the weight of the iron, but from the weight of the new vow he now carried.
"Alright," Johnny murmured softly.