ENG-Leriana-Limits and Responsibilities

CHAPTER 38 "Limits and Responsibilities" Silence lingers for a few seconds after the final word. Enemy. The room seems to grow smaller, denser, as if the air has suddenly become heavy. Bermen studies the map carefully, resting a large, steady hand on the table. His presence is solid, stable, like a wall that does not move. The faint glow of his orange eyes reflects concentration, not emotion. Then he lifts his gaze. Directly toward Forau. There is no reproach. No judgment. Only assessment. “I want you to describe the fight from the beginning,” he says in a deep voice. “Every movement.” Forau nods slowly. He does not protest. He does not defend himself. He simply takes a deep breath and begins. “It appeared suddenly,” he explains. “Frontal attack. No warning.” A brief pause. “It aimed to knock us down first.” Naelis listens in silence, arms crossed, without taking her eyes off the map. “Speed,” Forau continues. “High. Strength… greater than a common beast. And endurance.” He stops for a moment. He remembers. “After the first attack… it stopped.” Naelis lifts her head slightly. “It stopped?” Forau nods. “It watched us.” Silence settles again. “It was evaluating,” he adds. “Waiting to see our reaction.” Bermen exchanges a brief glance with Naelis. Both reach the same conclusion without needing words. “Pack leader,” Bermen finally says. It is not a question. It is a diagnosis. Forau nods. “Yes.” A pause. “And it wasn’t alone before.” The statement hangs in the room. Anastasia calmly clasps her hands together. “The villagers found remains,” she adds. “Smaller tracks. Dried blood. Dragged.” Naelis nods slowly. “The pack died.” A cold conclusion. Precise. Forau breathes slowly. “Now it’s alone.” The silence that follows is not uncomfortable. It is heavy. Because everyone understands what that means. Bermen looks back at Forau. This time his expression changes. It becomes more direct. More personal. “How long did you hold out after the fight?” The question is not casual. It is medical. It is tactical. Forau takes a second to respond. “Long enough.” Bermen watches him. Without blinking. Without softening his tone. “Forau.” A single word. But loaded with meaning. The mage exhales slowly. “Half an hour,” he admits. “After that, I could barely walk.” Silence falls heavily. Naelis does not react. But she records the information. Anastasia closes her eyes for a moment. As if that answer confirms something she already knew. Bermen nods slowly. There is no surprise. He expected it. “I read it in the letter,” he says calmly. “And Anastasia has told me about it for years.” The statement is not accusatory. It is factual. Then he adds, firmly: “Your condition is a real limitation.” Not a weakness. Not a failure. A reality. The distinction matters. Forau lowers his gaze for a second. Not from shame. From acceptance. “I know.” Silence returns. But this time it is not heavy. It is honest. Bermen places both hands on the table. His posture is clear. Decisive. “Then we will adjust the strategy.” Naelis nods slightly. “Correct.” Bermen points to the map. “You will not repeat a prolonged engagement.” It is not a suggestion. It is an order. Then, for the first time since the conversation began, he looks directly at Leriana. His gaze is firm. But not harsh. “You kept him alive.” The statement is simple. But direct. Leriana freezes for a second, surprised. “I only did what I had to,” she replies quietly. Naelis intervenes. “You treated physical injuries and mitigated the effects of a curse in the middle of combat.” A pause. “That is not ‘only.’” The recognition is professional. Not emotional. Leriana swallows. She does not know what to say. Bermen continues. “If we face it again,” he says, “your role will be essential.” Silence falls. Because that sentence changes something. She is no longer an apprentice. She is no longer a spectator. She is part of the team. Anastasia watches the scene in silence. Then she speaks softly. “Her mana reserve is exceptional.” Naelis turns her head toward her. “I noticed.” A pause. “She showed no signs of exhaustion.” Leriana lowers her gaze slightly. Uncertain. “I didn’t think about that…” she murmurs. Bermen nods. “That is also an advantage.” Then he looks back at Forau. “And also a responsibility.” The meaning is clear. Protect her. Guide her. Coordinate her. Forau breathes slowly. Then he lifts his gaze. “I don’t want her back on the front line.” The words come out firm. Protective. Instinctive. Leriana looks at him. And, for the first time since the conversation began, her expression changes. It becomes determined. “I do.” Silence is immediate. Everyone looks at her. Leriana holds their gaze. Without trembling. Without hesitation. “If that enemy returns,” she says calmly, “I want to be able to help.” A pause. “Not stand by and watch.” The room falls silent. Bermen watches them both. Then he exhales slowly. And nods. “Then we will train.” The decision is sealed. Simple. Firm. Inevitable. Outside, in the forest, the purple wolf remains motionless among the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Like a soldier without orders. Like a leader without a pack. Like a weapon that has not yet learned how to live without war.