Al-Hariri Medical Center remained one of the most stable facilities in New Tashmir. Despite the dangers beyond the walls, it functioned with near pre-Chaos efficiency. Thanks to fortified defenses and the unwavering efforts of skilled healers, the hospital continued to provide care like a thread of normalcy in a fractured world.
As Zashirmiq moved through the clean, brightly lit corridors, his thoughts blurred into noise. The faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, a stark contrast to the blood and dust outside the walls. Doctors and nurses moved with calm precision, their faces tired but focused. They were professionals shaped by crisis, used to triaging injuries that would have been unthinkable two decades ago.
He barely registered the soft announcements, the footsteps, or the gentle hum of medical equipment. His mind could only hold one thought: Amina.
When he reached her room, he paused, breath caught.
She lay motionless on the bed. Her skin had lost its usual warm tone, and her eyes, always fierce and alive, remained closed. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sign that she still fought. Tubes ran from her arms. Monitors blinked quietly beside her.
Zashirmiq stepped closer, the weight in his chest sinking deeper.
She had always been a force: untouchable, bold, defiant. Seeing her like this, fragile and still, shook something deep inside him.
Fathima, seventeen and fierce beyond her years, stood at the doorway with clenched fists and bloodstained sleeves. A close friend to both Amina and Zashirmiq, she didn't speak at first. Her eyes were locked on the unconscious figure on the bed.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, voice low and shaking. "We found her outside the wall. She was fighting a Hollowed Beast alone. We took it down, but by the time we got to her, she was already collapsing."
Zashirmiq's face tightened. "She went outside the wall alone? That's not like her."
"I don't know why," Fathima whispered. "She was bleeding but still swinging like she didn't care what happened. I called for help and carried her back, but..."
Her voice broke as she turned toward Amina.
A doctor stepped closer, face drawn with fatigue. "Her Nexium is critically damaged. If it destabilizes further, her consciousness could disintegrate. She's running out of time."
Zashirmiq's voice was cold. "How long?"
"Less than a day," the doctor said. "Twenty-four hours at best."
"There's a way," Zashirmiq said, almost to himself. "Revitalization Potion. It will stabilize her Nexium."
The doctor blinked. "Yes, but that's out of reach for most. I didn't think you could aff—"
Zashirmiq didn't respond. His hand tightened around the storage ring on his finger. Ten cubic meters of space, half full now. Inside were every Essence Shard he'd saved across years of hunts, battles, and near-death scrapes.
Just enough.
Enough for his own breakthrough.
Enough to finally fixed his Damaged Nexium.
He looked at Amina's pale face, so still, too still.
Without hesitation, he made his choice.
"Take the Shards. Do whatever it takes to save her."
The doctor's eyes widened as he inspected the storage ring. "You've saved enough. But these were meant for your Nexium restoration, weren't they? Are you sure?"
Zashirmiq nodded without flinching. "I'm sure. Save her. She matters more."
The doctor gave a solemn nod. "Understood. We'll begin the procedure immediately."
As the medical team rushed off, the weight of Zashirmiq's decision sank in. Years of grinding, and painstaking restraint—gone in an instant. His shot at evolving, sacrificed.
But he would make the same choice again. Without hesitation.
He sat alone in the sterile waiting room, silence pressing down like stone. Amina's laughter echoed in his memory, bright, warm, defiant. She had always shielded him. Her courage, her stubborn fire, had been his constant in a crumbling world.
Time blurred. Eventually, the doctor returned, vial in hand, a small smile on his lips.
"She'll be fine. Her Nexium will stabilize in a few hours."
Relief swept over Zashirmiq like a wave. He exhaled slowly, tension draining from his shoulders. "Thank you. But don't tell her. She doesn't need to know."
The doctor paused, then gave a quiet nod. "I won't."
Zashirmiq returned to her room. Amina stirred, her lashes fluttering as her eyes opened.
"Zashirmiq?" Her voice was faint but steady.
He stepped closer, taking her hand. "I'm here. You're safe now. Just rest."
She tried to sit up, grimacing. "I remember fighting, then darkness."
"You passed out," he said gently. "Minor injuries. They patched you up."
Her gaze lingered on him, soft and searching. "You saved me again, didn't you?"
Zashirmiq gave a small smile. "We've always had each other's backs."
Amina's fingers tightened slightly around his. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You won't have to find out," he whispered. "Not now. Not ever."
As Amina rested, Zashirmiq's thoughts drifted back to when they were just twelve.
That night he remembered vividly, a mutated mouse beast slipped through the outer defenses, tearing into the residential zone. The children scattered in panic. His Nexium was already unstable back then, and he had frozen in place, vulnerable and terrified.
Amina hadn't hesitated.
She threw herself at the beast, flames flaring wild and uncontrolled. Her strikes were clumsy, raw, but fierce. She fought like she had something to prove. Like she wouldn't let anyone she cared about fall.
An elder eventually intervened, destroying the beast with a single blow. He scolded Amina harshly, warning her of reckless power use. But Zashirmiq never forgot the sight of her standing there, burnt, bruised, but defiant.
That moment bound them together. No promises were spoken. None were needed.
Now, watching her sleep, that same ache pressed in his chest. They never voiced their feelings, but the connection between them had only deepened with every trial.
Hours passed. The doctor returned, scanning Amina's vitals with a brief nod. "She's stabilized. Just needs rest now. You both can go home."
Zashirmiq helped her walk back, supporting her gently. At her doorstep, he guided her to bed, adjusting the covers with quiet care.
Amina's eyes met his, laced with tired warmth. "It's been a long day," she murmured. "You should sleep too. I'll be fine."
Zashirmiq shook his head. "Not until I'm sure you're okay."
"You've done more than enough already," she said gently. "Now go home and rest, just for tonight."
He hesitated, torn. "Alright. But I'll be back tomorrow. Promise me you'll rest."
"I will," she said, her smile faint but sincere. "We have a lot ahead of us."
Zashirmiq left Amina's home and returned to his own next door. The day had taken everything from him: his savings, his strength, his calm. As the door shut behind him, silence settled like a heavy fog.
He sat down, head in his hands, trying to steady his thoughts.
Then, without warning, a soft chime echoed in his mind.
"System initializing. Gift pack ready to be claimed."
He straightened instantly, eyes sharp, heart pounding.
And then she appeared.
A figure slowly took form before him: tall, graceful, unmistakably feminine. Yet her entire body was cloaked in shifting veils of shadow and silver light, concealing her face, her features, even the edges of her presence. She stood without speaking, her form both surreal and soothing, as if reality bent to make space for her.
Zashirmiq's breath caught in his throat.
A strange warmth bloomed in his chest, a pull powerful and inexplicable. It wasn't just awe. It wasn't fear either. It was connection. Deep, immediate, and absolute. Stronger than anything he had felt, even toward Amina. But why?
He didn't know her. He couldn't even see her.
Yet something in him recognized her.
She tilted her head ever so slightly, as if observing him in return.
No words. No instructions.
Only that gaze, though he couldn't see her eyes, he felt them, as if they had always been watching.