The corridor in front of Ivene's room was left silent—only to echo with the muffled sound of sniffles from her room. Between the sniffles, soon a clacking sound of footsteps emerged. The steps were rhythmic, but they slowed down as they came near Ivene's room, and then, they stopped. Just before the room.

The man took a deep breath before getting in front of the door that was still left open. Waiting for a second, he entered the room. "I am Vencil. I was on the expedition with, Anthor."

"Tell me the truth. Exactly what happened there." Ivene said. Her voice was hoarse, barely audible among her child's cry.

"Hm?"

Veins tensed in her neck. Her mind was already racing and every single one of them was forcing her to repeat. And she did. Louder than before, "Tell me, why Anthor didn't come back."

Vencil's eyes flickered. The realisation he'd have to restate the nightmare he had been praying to forget. Cold sweat flowed from the side of his forehead, as he was forced to remember it all. The blood that was shed, the screams that were heard, the helplessness they felt after not being able to use magic. It all flooded his mind, as he retold the tragedy he'd been pleading to forget.

He remembered it all, but Ivene wasn't interested in it. All she wanted to know was what happened to Anthor. Her body tensed, and she started bending forward as Vencil got closer to the end of the report.

"...And after Wiksel took the artefact from my hand and closed the portal." Tears slipped from his eyes as added the last detail, "And Anthor couldn't get in it." In shame, he hid his face with hand. Behind the mask, a low sound of sniffles could be heard.

Ivene couldn't help but let her tears flow in a narrow stream. Her lips twitched, collecting last bit of energy she had left, she asked, "Why...are you not going back? To get Anthor?"

From behind his mask, a voice came in shock, "Huh?" His eyes reddened. "A-are you saying that even after listening to the report?"

"But how...how can you all leave Anthor? How?!"

"How?" Vencil asked, eyes furrowed in surprise. His voice got louder with each words, "Didn't you listen, magic doesn't work there? No matter what. We'll only die just for the sake of one person!"

Ivene faltered from her bed and barely walked to Vencil just to collapse on him. She gripped him in support as she said, "Please..." her eyes overflowing with tears, "please...I'm begging you. Get me my Anthor...."

To Ivene, the request she was pleading for was the love for her husband. But for Vencil, it was nothing but an absurd request that enraged him. He threw Ivene back. The sudden push made Ivene fell, only to be helped by Ceres—her friend who she had discarded. She shook herself from her support and slumped on her bed. Looking at the helplessness of Ivene, Crof and Venet glared at Vencil, and exclaimed together, "Hey!"

He glared back in the eyes staring at him. "What?! Don't you get it? Magic doesn't work there. We couldn't do anything but let our teammates die!"

His breaths were gasps filled with rage. "Do you even know how it feels to run in desperation while hearing your teammates' ear piercing scream for help? Do you even understand?"

He stopped, catching his breath before continuing, "Yes! So you wanna save Anthor, right? I'll get you the artefact. So...who wanna go?" He looked in everyone’s eyes and pointed his finger as he exclaimed, "You? You. You?!....yaaa...YOU!"

Echo of his words in the room was followed by his sniffles. Shimmering eyes of others made his rage vanish. He sobbed, "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm leaving." With his last words, rubbing his tears, he walked out of the room.