17. Weakness

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Her eyes, dimmed by the weight of memories yet glittering like scattered broken mirror pieces still reflecting light, betrayed the turmoil within her soul.

With a heavy breath, she began to speak,
"When I was seven, I always wanted  to take a stroll in the village with my father. But my requests were met with stern disagreement. Day after day, I pleaded, but each time, I was met with their resolute denials. I understood the reason behind their refusals all too well. Our village, nestled on the edge of the forest, was frequented by dangerous wild animals. Creatures that prowled the shadows, mercilessly hunting and devouring any unfortunate souls who crossed their path. Yet, my father was a skilled hunter.
One night, while my mother and younger sister sleeping soundly, I silently slipped out of our home, leaving the main door ajar in my reckless haste. And that was my heedless mistake, or in other words a feeble sin."

Our gazes intertwined, and in that fleeting moment, she deciphered the silent turmoil within my doubtful eyes. It was her gift, her innate ability to glean understanding from the depths of one's soul.

She continued, her voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resignation, "Your guess is correct. A wild boar ventured into our home through that half-open door. In the darkness of the night, it mercilessly made them its prey, leaving behind nothing but half-torn, lifeless bodies."

I found myself at a loss for words, unable to offer any semblance of comfort in the face of such unimaginable loss. After a moment of somber realization, I managed to muster the courage to speak, "It must be an unbearable burden, carrying the weight of guilt for so many years."

I never thought that the most cheerful girl carried such a heavy soul filled with undeniable guilt.

Amidst the subdued lighting of the room, Ashley's voice resonated with a sense of earnestness. "And you're misunderstanding Morgan," she began, her tone carrying a gentle yet resolute cadence. "She's not like you think she is. She had her reasons."

My response was swift and disdainful. "She's just another Nether, devoid of empathy or compassion."

Refusing to concede, she countered with quiet determination. "Everything she's doing is just for Dominick."

I argued, "What? I find that hard to believe."

She pressed on, "Dominick is her brother. She journeyed to Azura Hut not out of selfish ambition, but to imbue Dominick's harp with extraordinary powers, transforming it into a formidable shield. Morgan conceals her affection for him, fearing that exposing her weakness might make her susceptible to manipulation or cruelty, much like her brother endured. She's just pretending to be strong. She's just using her stoic demeanor as a shield to conceal her insecurities."

My doubt lingered, my expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. "If she truly cares about him, why has she never made an effort to protect him?"

"Morgan has her own methods of handling situations," she explained,  "And who's to say she hasn't protected him? She took the bait to deal with him in the game of Good Warrior, so that Felipe wouldn't hunt him down. And why do you think she's one of the top students? Morgan was once an average student, barely scraping into the top hundred ranks. She now holds a position among the top ten in every single game. She wants to become The Supreme student so that no one would dare lay a finger on her brother."

My voice softened with compassion. "We're her friends, after all. We won't hinder her ambitions; instead, we can offer our help, support, and comfort."

"But you already dragged her down. You lied to us. Nevermind. She was once betrayed by someone she considered a friend. That's why she's blocking everyone to invade her zone." Her response held a tinge of bitterness.

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