EPISODE 11 — THE MAN WHO DIDN'T SAVE ANYONE
Aryex didn't notice the footsteps at first.
Not because they were quiet—
but because he had stopped caring whether someone followed him.
He was kneeling near the edge of a ravine, washing blood from his hands again and again, even though the cut had already closed.
The water ran clear.
His hands didn't feel clean.
"Still scrubbing something that's already gone?"
The voice wasn't loud.
Not threatening.
Old.
Aryex froze.
Not in fear—
in irritation.
"Leave," he said without looking back.
The man didn't.
Footsteps came closer. Slow. Uneven.
A walking stick tapped stone.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
"You wash your hands like a man who thinks guilt dissolves," the stranger said.
"It doesn't."
Aryex stood up slowly.
He turned.
The man was thin. Too thin.
His clothes were worn, patched more times than they should've survived.
A long, faded coat hung off his shoulders like it once belonged to someone stronger.
His hair was white—but not from age alone.
It looked burned that way.
One eye was normal.
The other…
Clouded. Scarred. Dead.
A swordsman's eye.
"I said leave," Aryex repeated.
The man studied him. Not his face—
his posture.
The way his shoulders leaned forward.
The way his hand hovered near his side like it expected a weapon that wasn't there.
"Funny," the man said softly.
"You're alive."
Aryex's jaw tightened.
"That's not funny."
"No," the man agreed.
"It's unfortunate."
Silence fell.
Wind moved through the ravine, carrying dust and old leaves.
Aryex turned away.
"I'm not in the mood for riddles."
The man didn't argue.
Instead, he sat down on a rock like his legs had decided for him.
"You don't need a mood," he said.
"You need direction."
Aryex laughed—short and sharp.
"Everyone thinks that."
The man smiled faintly.
"And everyone's usually wrong."
Aryex faced him again, anger rising now.
"What do you want?"
The man tapped his stick against the ground once.
"I was walking," he said.
"I saw a boy carrying a corpse inside his chest."
Aryex stepped forward in a blink.
The blade of broken metal was at the man's throat.
"So," Aryex said quietly,
"you do want to die."
The man didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
He looked at the blade like it was familiar.
"Do it," he said.
Aryex's hand shook.
The man's voice stayed calm.
"If killing me makes her come back, I won't resist."
That—
That broke something.
Aryex's arm dropped.
The metal fell from his fingers, clattering uselessly against stone.
"Don't say her," Aryex whispered.
The man exhaled.
"So she's real."
Aryex's chest heaved.
"You don't know anything."
The man nodded once.
"I know failure," he said.
"I know surviving something you shouldn't have."
"I know what it's like to wake up every day and realize the world is still spinning without the person you failed."
Aryex looked at him now.
Really looked.
The scars weren't random.
They were deliberate.
Precise.
Training scars.
Sword scars.
"What's your name?" Aryex asked.
The man hesitated.
"…I stopped using it."
"That's not an answer."
The man's gaze drifted to the horizon.
"Once," he said,
"I was called Kaien."
The name sat heavy.
Aryex waited.
Kaien continued.
"I trained others to fight shadows."
"To protect villages."
"To be heroes."
His clouded eye darkened.
"I taught them how to swing a sword."
A pause.
"I didn't teach them how to survive loss."
The ravine felt colder.
"Everyone I trained is dead," Kaien said.
No drama.
No pain in his voice.
Just fact.
Aryex swallowed.
"…Then why are you still here?"
Kaien looked at him.
Because of you.
He didn't say it.
Instead:
"Because I'm a coward," he said.
"And cowards keep breathing."
Something inside Aryex shifted.
Not hope.
Recognition.
Kaien stood, joints creaking.
"I won't save you," he said.
"I won't make you strong."
"I won't promise you revenge."
He picked up the broken blade from the ground and held it out.
"But if you walk with me," Kaien said,
"I'll show you how to live long enough to regret becoming strong."
Aryex stared at the blade.
Then at Kaien's face.
"…What's the price?"
Kaien's grip tightened.
"Everything you think makes you special."
The wind howled.
Aryex closed his eyes.
Raven's face flickered—
not as she was at the end,
but as she was when she smiled without fear.
He opened his eyes.
He took the blade.
"I'm not trying to be special," he said.
Kaien's mouth curved into the smallest, saddest smile.
"Good," he replied.
"Then you might survive."
The two figures walked away from the ravine together.
One who had failed everyone.
One who believed he had failed the only one that mattered.
Somewhere far away, chains tightened again.
And the world, quietly,
leaned in to watch.