To Survive A Harem System - Lucas Owens' Edition

45.5 EXTRA - DONE AND DUSTED.

Dissipating, dissolving into the air, I let go of the scythe in my hands. Returning to my unaltered form, my crescent moon returns to its original shape around my wrist.

[Echo]... I was not expecting to wield that power this soon. [The Knight], reliable of a form as ever. To think it was my first...

Mother is safe and sound. She walks to the bus to tend her wounds, not even glancing back on the lifeless corpse of her own blood.

Looking over to the side, Lucas slumps over on a tree. Shrapnel and broken pieces of the Firebolt X were scattered all over the place.

Before I could get there, my sister already got to him first.

"You stupid idiot...!" She softly murmured under her breath as she started tending to his wounds.

Some of the bike shrapnel was lodged into Lucas' body. He has many injuries, but he will live. As Elaina pulls out the metal pieces, she doesn't notice that his wounds have already healed a considerable amount. The bleeding had already stopped when she webs a cast around his broken arm.

For an angel, he's recovering much quicker than any regular one like that fledgling. A Nephilim like him were told to be powerful monsters as the legends say. "Harbingers of Doomsday" they used to call them.

Looking from the side, I watched as my sister carried him back to the bus. Next to the vehicle, the big hunk of metal rested against the frame of the bus along with its wielder.

The shark quivered in a secluded corner, away from the focus of the other students. Slowly slumping over, he shrivels down to a ball. A protective shield that blocks the outside.

Heading over, I notice his hands shaking and sweating. No. His entire body shivered as he clung onto himself as if he'd his own body.

I raised my hand towards him.

He jumped as the sight of my hand entered his slumped view. His eyes darted straight towards my face...

His eyes, swelling with tears, showed fear of which only warriors haunted by war would have.

No. This was no warrior. Right in this moment, this was a child in a battlefield.

Nails digging deep into his arms shed blood. The muscles developed through years of training are turned to mere cosmetics. Heavy, panicked breathing remain the only sound he made. Constricted pupils blinded by fear...

I heard the child was afraid of spiders.

It'd be best to leave him alone.

Turning away, I spot the angel tending to her weapon.

Approaching her next, I see her sharpening the her-sized blade. With a whetstone, she slides it across the entire blade in one repeated motion.

"That weapon..." I remarked. "Didn't they teach you how to maintain a holy weapon?"

"Huh?" She raised her eyebrow. "Oh. It's you, John."

"You were a trainee, weren't you?" I asked. "Before the war and the whole God dying thing."

"...Yeah." She answered, her hands gripping the handle of her weapon as she reminisced of before the War of Heavenly End. (Historians gave it such a bland title... What were they thinking calling it the "Angel-Demon War"?)

 "You're sharpening it wrong." I stated, pointing at the blade. "At this rate, it won't even be able to cut paper, let alone an enemy."

"No wonder you were still a trainee even before the war. You don't even know how to properly maintain it." I teased her further.