With Gaya's defeat, Helena relaxed and her red energy began to dissipate. Tired, the half-redhead began making her way back to her companions, passing through the trail of destruction that her recent battle had created.

A large part of the forest was devastated and dying; now, with the return of virtue, they were truly dying. Her companions remained safe from all that chaos thanks to the barrier that James had created; neither Helena's energy nor Gaya's shadows could destroy that barrier.

The older man continued writhing in pain, due to his severe back wound, while Stuart tried to staunch the bleeding and treat the injury. His agitation ended up awakening the unconscious, both the children, who were just sleeping, tired but uninjured, and the older ones, who had multiple injuries and signs of exhaustion all over their bodies.

The barrier was undone the moment James realized that his niece had returned from her battle. She sheathed her weapon and ran to her relative's side, helping to hold him.

"What do we do now? Was the cut too deep?" asked the half-redhead, trying to see if she could help with anything. Stuart's response came with a brief hesitation:

"Actually, it's not just the cut itself... the parts of the flesh that your... power touched are infected and more sensitive. It's making it harder to know what to do."

Helena felt a momentary pang of guilt, remembering Gaya's words about her being someone who would bring destruction to everyone. But she also remembered her own words: it didn't matter if it was her fault or not; she needed to focus on addressing the problem first.

"Don't worry about it," Pedro said, still sitting where he had woken up, unable to move. The last attack he had received was powerful enough to drain all the strength the priest had. But even weakened, he could still speak, and as he spoke, plants and herbs grew around James, wrapping around his wound. "They'll see what they can do to help."

"It's a miracle that we all survived up to now," John commented, coughing, his voice very hoarse and worn out. Observing each of those around him, "But it seems we are reaching our limits... some more than others."

"But there's still one left," Stuart said. "According to that general, the dark virtue is still missing. That means we just need to defeat one more of them."

"Do we need to?" Clark asked, making everyone look at him. "Isn't that the, like, bad virtue? Why restore evil to the Earth?"

"Why? Would you be jealous if there were more rotten people than you?" Stuart shot back, not at all pleased with receiving such a lecture from Clark.

"You're not getting it, man. I don't know about you guys, but I NEVER said I was going to save the world. I never even agreed to kill all these guys. I... no, WE were all thrown into this with no explanation other than: 'DO IT!' We managed to kill nineteen of them? Perfect, we did more than we said we would. We don't need to go after this last general, especially for something we don't even know if we want back in the world."

"Technically, all eight of us still have the dark virtue in us," the archer explained, but already dismissing that line of reasoning. "But you're right, there's no need to worry about restoring something the world seems to reject."

Emily and Lysa had nothing to add to the conversation; even if they did, their input would be dismissed, so it was better to just wait for the others to decide what to do. Helena and Pedro didn't seem too inclined to correct the two; one was troubled by sadness, and the other by anger. For them, saving those feelings was not a priority.

"No," James replied, even though he was in pain. "The dark virtue isn't evil. Evil is just a path."

"What are you talking about?" the redhead said mockingly. "Isn't your favorite book the one that most likes to separate these things?"

Ignoring the mockery he was receiving, the injured man continued.

"Evil isn't the presence or absence of good; evil is good used in a distorted way. An angel who strays from its duties and wants to do what it wasn't created to do becomes a fallen angel. That's evil: a path. So it can't be a virtue, because it's nothing more than rebellion against nature. Feelings and all creation in their purest state are good because they are natural. If you take them and start using them excessively, without balance and control, then they become evil."

"So what about the dark virtue? What is it in your eyes?" asked the archer, curious about that worldview.

"Well... for that, I would need to know exactly what the dark virtue represents. But I'm sure it's not the monster you make it out to be."

"What an intriguing view," a new voice interrupted the conversation, as if it had become a routine for them. The group looked to the forest to see a girl with glasses and red eyes approaching. "I would like to hear you talk more about it."

Helena drew her sword, enveloping it in her energy. Clark drew his dagger, ready to engage. Stuart grabbed his hammer with ghosts surrounding him. Emily's eyes sparkled as electricity danced around her. A golden aura emanated from Lysa's body. James leaned slightly, preparing to summon his barrier.

Only Pedro and John were unable to move or prepare for battle, too tired and injured to do so. The young girl only gave a brief murmur of mockery.

"Shouldn't having powers be a rarity?" the girl began her speech. "It should be something that only a few could attain. It should be almost impossible to have so many people with them. In fact, there shouldn't be so many people anymore; it was supposed to be over, but somehow you managed to escape. Well, I reject that."

Confronted with the girl's assertion, everyone looked confused, not understanding exactly what she meant by that.

"You reject?" Lysa said. "Reject what?"

"The fact that you are special, that you have made yourselves special. I didn't come here to look down on anyone or up at anyone. I came to speak eye to eye, so once again, I say: I reject you being special."

Helena's energy faded away. Clark no longer felt anyone's heartbeat. The ghosts disappeared. Emily's eyes returned to normal. Lysa's aura dissipated. Pedro stopped hearing nature. The entire group had their powers deactivated.

"What did she do?" Clark said angrily. Feeling a certain discomfort, being without his powers was like being naked. He simply couldn't tell what was in the hearts of others. "WHAT DID YOU DO, YOU HELLISH KNOW-IT-ALL?"

He prepared to attack when James grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"She didn't come here to fight, did she, little lady?" Fernanda nodded and began to explain.

"It would have been wiser if I hadn't come here at all, but... if I just turned my back, I would feel like I was abandoning my fallen companions. I came here to see what kind of people you were and whether it should be my duty to avenge my friends or not. I recognize that it was us who attacked and you were only defending yourselves, so first, I wanted to get to know you. But I heard an interesting conversation when I arrived. You were trying to defend the dark virtue, weren't you?"

"I wouldn't say defending, but I suspect she's not as terrible as you make her out to be," James continued to explain. He sat up straight and motioned for the girl to do the same. Fernanda accepted the invitation, adjusting her cloak as she sat down carefully.

Seeing that the general didn't seem to be there to attack and recognizing that it might not be a good idea to start a fight without their powers, the rest of the group also sat down, though Pedro had to pull Clark's arm to get him to follow the rest of them.

"The dark virtue, how do I explain this? It represents all the... discomfort of being human? Sadness, anger, disgust, fear, anxiety, despair, grief, all the feelings that make a person feel bad or suffer in some way."

"As I expected, it's not all that you make it out to be," the elder replied. "Discomfort of being human? We need to step out of our comfort zones if we want to mature and improve."

"And why do we need to do that?" the general asked. "Why do we need to mature and improve? Especially in a world where we might finally have peace."

"That's not how it works. Do you know what sadness is? Empathy. In a world where people only smile and have fun, they don't care about being competitive, hurting others, or things like that. Sadness is essential for empathy to exist. Anger is what we attribute to our sense of justice; without anger, we would never feel the need to correct what is wrong."

"But what gives us the right to correct what is wrong? Human anger does not produce divine justice. If our justice is flawed, why do we need anger to be necessary?"

"Ha, you're a hypocrite," Clark sneered, drawing the girl's attention. "You're literally erasing everything you don't think should exist and then you come and tell us that our justice is flawed."

"Even if humans don't know how to use them, there is a being that does," the elder began to explain. "God feels anger, and without it, He cannot act in His justice. You can't just erase what doesn't please you just because you don't like it. You don't dictate anything; you were meant to be just another person, like all of us. They are necessary."

Fernanda slowly grew irritated with their insistence. No matter how she looked at it, it didn't seem necessary. She saw no value in any of it beyond the discord it would bring. Bullying, mistreatment, unhappiness, the suffering of others—she simply couldn't see any of it as useful, couldn't see value in any of it. But exactly because it didn't have.

The girl still didn't understand that the dark virtue wasn't evil, because evil isn't something that exists; it's like dark matter, it has no form, no weight, it's almost as if it's not there, but it has an impact. She is equalling a necessary virtue for the world with the rebellion of altering things from their functions.

"So you're really telling me that all of you are happy to feel those things? You're really telling me that you're happy this way?"

That was quite a question the young girl posed. Perhaps, except for James, who was more lively, and Emily, who simply didn't understand the seriousness of some things, everyone she spoke to was a bunch of neurotic individuals. Tormented by some trauma or fear. Haunted by some discomfort they didn't know how to handle.

But it was Pedro who spoke because, after all, when it comes to the heart, let it be with the one whose heart beats with extreme force.

"We're not. No one is. Not even you." Fernanda wasn't happy? He hadn't known her then; she always smiled, always played, she was the happiest girl he had met. "Happiness is a feeling, not a concrete state. No one IS happy; people FEEL happiness. No one IS depressed; people FEEL or HAVE depression. No one IS sad; people FEEL sadness. When you say a person IS a feeling, it makes it seem like they will never be able to feel anything else beyond that feeling. There are people with a more optimistic attitude, but that doesn't prevent them from crying or feeling discomfort, just as there are people with a more pessimistic attitude, but that doesn't stop them from smiling and enjoying what life has to offer."

As confused as Pedro was, even with his understanding of the human heart, he couldn't put half of what he knew into practice. It seemed like he only knew how to advise others but never lived what he understood.

"But if there were an opportunity to become joyful and loving, that chance to feel only those feelings consecutively and..."

"Stop messing with the balance of reality, girl," James cut in severely. "What you're seeking is an illusion. You can't see it because you've been hiding too much in your own fantasy world. You might be a dreamer, but you still need to remember there is a real world. You're still very immature; if you had grown up, you would understand what I'm trying to say."

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT SHIT!" the girl screamed as she stood up from the ground. "DON'T COME DOWNPLAYING WHAT I FEEL JUST BECAUSE I'M YOUNGER! DON'T YOU DARE MINIMIZE WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY JUST BECAUSE OF THAT. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT I'LL LEARN ONE DAY; THIS IS WHAT I THINK TODAY AND I DEMAND YOU LISTEN TO ME NOW!"

"Uncle," Helena said after a sigh. "Avoid unnecessary comments; she's just trying to talk."

"But he's right," Lysa replied, Emily beside her sitting with her arms over her knees, just listening in depression. "We, younger ones, don't know anything; we shouldn't argue as if we know. Doing something believing we can make a difference... is foolish."

No, Fernanda wouldn't accept it; she could change everything. She would change everything. She had changed everything. It wasn't a fantasy in her head; the world she imagined was perfect and she would transform the real world into that imaginary place she had. She would create a world where everyone could laugh and appreciate the good things in life. She would become the source of the world's happiness.

"Hahahaha," Clark laughed, a mix of cynicism and discomfort, especially now that he couldn't hear others' hearts and wasn't sure what they thought of him, which was a bit scary. He wanted to end all that talk once and for all. "You're ridiculous. All of you. Yes, we're all incompetent; don't you get it? We have a crybaby who wants to be wise, two kids who can only depreciate themselves, two quiet ones who seem afraid to be part of a conversation, an old man who submits to his craziness as if they were truths, and an explosive girl who talks more than she does. But what really angers me..." With that said, he pointed at Fernanda. "... is a dumb, retarded girl like you. Who thinks the world is just flowers, a little girl who wants to be heard, have you ever thought that the reason no one wants to listen to you is that you're incredibly annoying? Because everything you say is just fantasies of a girl lost in her own world, trying to lie to herself. Let me tell you something, girl. You're not special, let alone intelligent; you're just a dumb girl like all the others."

"And you must think you're so important, right?" the general retorted. "Well, know that I know you too, quite well, in fact. I've seen many people like you, with eyes just like yours. People who want to be the center of attention, to be idolized because, deep down, they feel like they're nothing and constantly need others to prove their existence is important."

"Well, I guess we're two then; what exactly is the difference between you and me, huh?"

"The fact that I don't take it out on others when I feel they're not seeing me. I don't need to belittle anyone to find my value, while people like you seem to be nothing but parasites who need to destroy others' joy to feel a bit of security. You're too cowardly to try to improve, so you try to make others worse to make yourself seem better. You're the exact representation of what I mean, flaws in humanity that should never have existed. No one will ever truly love you because you only know how to live in a toxic environment; you're a failure."

"Oh, definitely, because you seem like someone who knows how to be loved by others. How many friends did you have? And imaginary or dead ones don't count. I'm sure everyone loved talking to you."

"CLARK THAT'S ENOUGH!" Helena said, standing up and grabbing him by the arm, Lysa and Emily stepping back, unsure how to stop the argument.

"Mind your own business, Helena," he said, freeing himself from her grip. "Don't you have anyone else to kill? If I'm a failure like that bitch says, then you're an abnormality. Ha, it's very funny, that disgusting girl dares to talk about me when she did so many things right in her own life that she's now dead. How can I, among this entire group, be the representation of a failure? Everyone here is a failure; that's the point of fucking humanity, it just messes everything up and destroys it. The point of being human is being a disgrace. And you want to talk about me, you deceived and deluded one? Guess what? You are too. Exactly like me actually, because, after all, you also try to force the rest of the world into your own fantasy. But that's all it is, a fantasy. A schizophrenia of a girl who doesn't even know herself."

Fernanda bit her own lips so hard that blood flowed and a tear appeared on her lip. The general raised her palm towards Clark and said:

"I hate you. We are alike in NOTHING." With that, a vortex appeared in the girl's palm, pulling Clark violently towards her. It was such a sudden and rapid pull that the young man had no time to react; he was simply thrown until Fernanda's hand touched his stomach. "I REJECT THE EXISTENCE OF PEOPLE LIKE YOU!"

With this decree, Clark exploded into blood before he could do anything. His blood disappeared into the air, some droplets flying over the rest of the group, who remained static as the blood vanished.

Lysa froze for a second, completely confused by what she had just seen; something was in her throat trying to sneak out of her mouth. She couldn't breathe because whatever was in her mouth was preventing air from passing. Finally, the scream managed to come out of her lungs.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh."

As Emily fell to the ground, tears in her eyes, unable to feel her legs, Lysa began to vomit as soon as she finished screaming. A person had just exploded in front of her, someone she knew, and the girl could do nothing.

Pedro, John, and James still couldn't get up; now, with the shock, it was even more difficult, and without their powers, they were like a bunch of stones on the ground.

Only Helena and Stuart were physically and mentally capable of acting. The man seemed more scared than traumatized, perhaps because he never cared much about Clark. Helena, on the other hand, drew her sword without hesitation and attacked with full force.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?" Fernanda lowered her hand, with no intention of hurting the half-redhead, she just started dodging the sword strikes, calculating Helena's next move.

"The world doesn't need people like him, so I simply erased him from this reality. In the world I will create, people like him are a crime to exist."

"IT'S NOT UP TO YOU TO DECIDE THAT! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY WHO DESERVES TO LIVE OR NOT! HE WAS A HUMAN BEING TRYING TO FIND HIS PURPOSE LIKE ALL OF US!"

"I know that. But the purpose he found in his life was selfish, so I don't want to know. I don't want to know who he could become in the future. Today, he was a failure."

"HE WAS NOT A FAILURE! NO ONE IS A FAILURE!"

"Do you really believe that? That the world is perfect the way it is? That nothing in the world should change?"

"WHO ARE WE TO WANT TO CHANGE IT? WHY ARE YOU THE ONE WHO SHOULD CHANGE IT?" As she attacked recklessly, Helena cried, and her hair slowly turned red, something Fernanda couldn't believe. She had canceled her power, so why did it seem like some traits were emerging? The general started to have a bad feeling. "YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SHOULD DISAPPEAR. YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE ANY BUSINESS HERE. JUST GO AWAY. ENOUGH OF THIS! YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SHOULD DIE!"

"As you wish." Helena paused for a moment; her own voice had echoed in her head, in a darker way. She felt a hand on her shoulder and the sound of a cloak swaying in the wind. It was her! She was coming.

Criara was approaching.

"NO! YOU CAN'T!" Helena shouted, swinging her sword at nothing, her entire hair began to shine, and the scarlet cloak began to form around her. "STUART! GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE! RUN AS FAR AS YOU CAN! NOW!"

"Helena, what's happening?"

"JUST DO IT OR SHE WILL HURT YOU TOO. QUICK!" Seeing the gravity of the situation in the desperation in the woman's voice, Stuart ran to help John, shouting at the girls until they snapped back to their senses and began to run. James got up with great effort and helped Pedro to do the same.

As they moved away, Helena's consciousness faded, and Criara's took over.

Fernanda could only look on, confused and perplexed. That woman was rejecting her power. But how? She should be able to nullify the power of any human being. What was happening?

"Confused, child?" Criara murmured with a huge smile on her face. "Think fast."

"Huh?" The moment Criara said this, the assassin appeared beside the general, kicking her away against a tree. The moment she collided with the tree, her opponent leaped onto the deceived one, stomping hard on her stomach and damaging part of her spine.

Fernanda placed her hand on Criara's leg, trying to reject her from existence, but nothing happened. She simply held her enemy's leg, who began to laugh heartily at what was happening.

"You are much more interesting than the last one." The woman commented as she got off the girl and stepped back while Fernanda crawled on the ground with more traces of blood coming out of her mouth. "By deactivating Helena's powers, I don't have to worry about exterminating you with every blow. And I admit, if your powers affected me, I wouldn't stand a chance against you. But unfortunately, a nobody like you will never have enough power to deny a being like me from reality."

"A being like you? Don't tell me... you are a virtue?"

"Ahahaha, almost that, but I'm surprised. You managed to elevate Helena's trauma to a level where I could act. Your dreams are cute, child, but unfortunately for you, you are part of a race that has no power over reality. Even if you like to play make-believe."

"It's not make-believe. I will... change the world."

"How do you plan to do that?"

Fernanda, in pain, stood up and took a pen from her pocket.

"If you think this is all that the strongest of Lily's generals can do, then you are dumber than you seem. I... can almost hear Uomen humiliating me if I lost so easily. Get ready, woman, you are about to fight the best artist you've ever seen."

Criara only smiled, excited, her blood running through her veins in pure excitement. She could barely wait to meet an opponent worthy of all her power.

Fernanda then moved her pen through the air as if drawing, but moved so quickly that she finished in seconds. She had drawn a young wolf with mostly white fur on its body and blue fur around its neck and head, dark blue hair, and intense green eyes. It wielded a sword in its hands.

Beside it, she began to draw a penguin with mechanical arms and wings, but in the middle of the stroke, she paused to think, shook her head, and erased the drawing.

"A drawing of a wolf? That's your trump card?" Criara asked with her whispering voice, Fernanda forced a weak smile while looking her opponent in the eyes.

"Take care of her, Luna." The wolf disappeared for a moment and appeared behind Criara, swinging its sword towards the assassin's head. Immediately, the assassin made the same movement, disappearing and reappearing behind the wolf. Criara moved to kick as before, and the animal defended with its sword.

"She keeps up with my speed?" Not only that, the part of Criara's foot that made contact with the sword had disappeared, leaving a small opening in her foot.

"I may not be able to reject your existence all at once, but maybe I can erase your physical matter little by little. My drawings are like living erasers; they can erase whatever comes into contact with them."

Fernanda didn't stop and began drawing more in the air, a musketeer hyena, an owl with a monocle, a horse holding a hammer in its mouth. The three new drawings were as fast as the first, and Criara found herself having to constantly dodge their attacks.

As the general said, even the slightest contact with any part of them, even a brush, ended up eliminating the matter present. Criara couldn't touch the drawings, but that didn't seem to scare her; on the contrary, the assassin seemed bored, no longer carrying the excitement from before.

"It's a problematic power," she said while managing to dodge the attacks, even though the drawings were able to keep up with her, sometimes even faster, there was still no sense of urgency in the woman. "But when you started talking about your own power, I expected much more. You are strong, child; you have a very special power. But... against me, you are nothing special."

The woman's body then began to transform into lava, and in moments, Criara had become an extremely hot liquid. The drawings tried to attack her, but she simply passed through them, molding her body like living lava. Then a bit of her lava covered them, crushing and burning the characters.

"But I canceled your power," Fernanda said while drawing a glass dome around herself, preventing her enemy from advancing and attacking her.

"No, you canceled Helena's power. But mine, you cannot cancel. I told you, you are probably the strongest human soul that exists, but against a divine soul, you are weak." A red circle formed beneath the dome, and a column of lava rose, engulfing the object and reaching the sky.

For a moment, Fernanda felt safe because, indeed, the dome was erasing any fragments of lava that came into contact with the glass. But after a few seconds, she realized that the lava did not stop and the glass began to crack. The difference between the two was too great; it was only a matter of time before the lava managed to get inside and engulf the girl.

Fernanda's mind raced, thinking of how she could escape. How could she survive this situation? Against that abomination? I'm sorry, Fernanda, but there is no way out. You were arguing before about failures, 'you are a mistake,' 'no, you.' A bunch of idiots, all of you. None of you are a mistake, I mean, maybe this current version of you, Fernanda, is, but your human version never was. Criara, however, is indeed a failure.

Honestly, not even I, being who I am, can say which failure was worse. Criara or Lily? The fusion of the celestial with a human or the celestial corrupted by the inferior? Both are equally blasphemies and errors committed by the same woman. If the Mother had just a little more awareness, no one would be going through what they are.

So, Fernanda, I'm sorry to say this. But your journey ends here. Maybe I can help you; after all, I know you're scared, you don't know how to act, what to say, you're so anxious and depressed that you won't do anything. So just this once, I will break the rules, so that your end is not as depressing as it is becoming.

Fernanda took her pen and began to draw. First, she drew a hybrid, then a crazy, a diva, an angel, a viper, a saint, a writer, a warrior, an emperor, a curious, a human, a toy, a greatest, a melancholic, an emotional, an ignorant, a gentleman, a murderer, and finally, Lalá. She drew all her dear friends beside her.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, but they would not speak as her power did not give them consciousness; there are rules that even I cannot break. The girl started to speak and cry while hugging Nightmare, and the others hugged them in return. "I'm really sorry. I should have valued you more, I should have been able to make you happy. I was so excited about the idea that we could be friends. I was really convinced that if we spent enough time together, we would become the best of friends. You deserved more... we deserved more. But this world is so cruel and unjust. We will be painted as villains for the rest of history, but we are not. We are victims just like everyone else. We are souls too; we might have allowed ourselves, but there was still a chance to save us. I love you all. Lalá... I'm sorry, but you will be alone."

The glass shattered and the lava entered, consuming the girl and all her imagination. Her body turned into darkness that spread throughout the world, returning... well... what most would wish had never come back.

This darkness entered the heart of every living being, and those who received it felt the greatest bitterness possible. A trauma, reinforced.

For example, the image of Clark dying in front of Lysa while the girl could only watch. Intensified.

Pedro's fear that the people around him will die because of him. Intensified.

Stuart's feeling of loneliness, the lack of his wife. Intensified.

James's worry about his niece. Intensified.

Emily's fear of wasting her life. Intensified.

John did not have enough traumas to intensify. The man was just there. Being him... I guess... but there is always a trauma. Even if you do not remember it. The dark virtue will not bring back your memory, archer. But it will bring the feelings of that trauma, the loneliness of that room. The fear of that man. The hunger. The thirst. The illness. The weakness. The pain. All the memory of the traumatic childhood you are now unable to remember.

Criara and Lalá did not have a trauma to intensify. They only had a feeling. Hatred and reservation. The desire to destroy and the desire to stay quiet in their corner.

Well, Criara, if you want to destroy, there is a group of people fleeing at this very moment. The assassin prepared to attack the group, sensing, even from afar, them fleeing.

Hehe, hey, hey...

Huh? Who said that?

But... they won't be great entertainment for you, Criara. If you really want someone of your level, I know a certain very lazy little sister.

Lily? How are you here?

If you can break the rules to help an insignificant soul, then I will break the rules to make this story much more interesting.

Lily then stopped narrating and left me alone so I could continue my work.

"Oh, he's so boring," said the girl somewhere, while observing everything that was unfolding from her plans.

Well, now that she has altered the story, dear reader, there is nothing I can do. Criara no longer runs towards the group. No, she advances in search of the last general still standing.

The group is unable to act, due to the forces of trauma in their hearts. Depressed and weak in spirit and heart. Except... for Pedro and James. Because one has a heart too used to this pain, and the other has a trained spirit. These two, even somewhat injured and weak, limp in search of Criara with the help of the forest trees.

Lalá? She waits... as she always has. Just watching. She does not want to get involved; she just wants peace. She has long given up on yearning for something.

And to think it was all that woman's fault.