Fear of Consequences vs Fear of Regrets

Dahlian, Ashrenne, and I all stared at the elf in silent awe, watching as a massive deluge of roots and leaves engulfed the dead tree and crushed it in seconds.

Without even giving Florathea the chance to comment, he redirected the flood toward the glass orb, mercilessly shredding away whatever Florathea threw at it.

And just like that, he shattered the orb, and the glass particles slowly disintegrated into the air, followed by the entire realm slowly crumbling apart.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Floathea, her voice quickly fading away. “So you’ve got some bite in you after all… Hehe, very well. Enjoy your limited peace. I’ll see you all again very soon.”

Nobody answered her. Sloane’s silence particularly felt more threatening than anything else.

Ashrenne whistled. “That was… pretty anticlimactic.”

“No kidding,” said Dahlian.

We all looked around as the forest began to disintegrate into darkness.

“Hey, uh, shouldn't we get outta here?” asked Dahlian.

“We’ll be fine,” I said. “When rift instances close, they’ll send everyone here back to the crevice location.”

“Oh, then that means we don’t have to find Lora and everyone else?”

“Yeah, if she’s here too, we’ll meet back with her at the real church.”

“Phew! Alright, it’s finally over…”

I nodded and turned to the silent elf staring into the void.

Sloane made it look so, so incredibly easy fighting against Florathea. Was he holding himself back this entire time, even in the RPG?

Not to mention that tree stump… It couldn’t be anything else but his supposed sapling familiar, but this state… meant his tree was undoubtedly dead, and if Florathea was right, he himself was forced to chop it down because her curse made it uncontrollably hostile.

I… couldn’t imagine the incredible shame and guilt he was probably feeling now. This was pretty much the equivalent of digging up a close friend’s grave and weaponizing their corpse.

“Why… did you summon it?” I reluctantly asked. “You didn’t have to if it hurt you that badly! Besides, I think my curses would’ve somehow healed me anyway, like that time I somehow survived an arrow to the head.”

He lowered his head. “That’s… a good point,” he muttered. “I… must’ve done it out of impulse.”

Dahlian raised his fist and gripped it like he was planning to knock some sense into the elf, but he clicked his tongue and scratched his head instead. “So that tree stump… you… that she, erm…”

This was the first I’d ever seen Dahlian at a loss for words too, but he managed to ask, “Aren’t you pissed that Florathea ruined your life?”

Sloane gritted his teeth. “Of course I am. It’s been eating me up ever since the war.” He gradually relaxed his shoulders and wore a dejected look. “Citrine… always wanted to help me like a sapling familiar naturally would, so I taught it plenty of magic and helped it grow. But then Florathea corrupted all our sapling familiars, including Citrine. I foolishly thought I could cure it, so I held back my people from cutting it down, but because of that, it… ended up claiming the most lives of all our corrupted trees.”

“Sloane…”

The elf slowly turned to the tree stump as it faded away. It was as if the crumbling realm around us reflected his inner mental state.

“My meaningless actions didn't stop there either,” he muttered. “I thought fighting in the war could stop that goddess, so I’ve killed, and killed, and killed so many of her forces, trying to take out all this anger I had boiling inside me. But even after all that senseless slaughter, Florathea is still tormenting us to this day. I’ve stained my hands for no reason. It’s like this world is warning me that my choices will make no difference or make matters worse.”

I furrowed my brows.

Something inside me snapped, and my old memories flashed before my eyes.

I approached him and asked, “Do you seriously mean all that?”

Sloane tilted his head. “I do.”

I balled a fist and promptly bashed his face.

“Woah! Haruma?!” asked Dahlian. “Why’d you—”

I snatched his lapels and forced him to look straight into my eyes. “Don’t give us that crap,” I snarled. “You think your actions won't mean anything? What about earlier?! You saved us! Didn’t that count?!”

“Th-that’s…”

“You’re a powerful elf with so much magic at your disposal, you can basically take over a whole continent if you so want to! You can do so much more than you realize, but you just choose not to because of some bad outcomes that were out of your control?! How shortsighted are you?!”

Sloane blinked at me.

“Sure, there might be times where your good intentions could backfire and make you regret ever trying to help, but doing nothing will make you just as guilty!”

He widened his eyes.

I squeezed my grip. “I just… I used to think the same too. I’m always afraid of making situations worse, but… I don’t know. When you keep doing nothing knowing you could’ve done something, the regrets will keep piling up and will stick with you no matter where you go, y’know?”

After some tense silence, I reluctantly let go and looked away, rubbing my arms. “You said you summoned Citrine out of impulse, but… you wanted to save us in order to right the wrongs and make up for everyone it killed, didn’t you? Not to mention, your contributions to the war still ultimately stopped Florathea from destroying the world.”

Everyone I’d managed to help so far in this prologue abruptly flashed through my mind, and my face softened. “I think… the problem here is that you weren’t thanked enough to make you realize you’ve already done plenty of good things, Sloane.”

Sloane widened his eyes even further, wholly bewildered, before lowering his head in silent contemplation.

I sighed and stared at the void creeping toward us.

…Man, I didn’t know what went over me. Was this one of those heat-of-the-moment things anime characters would feel in a drama? I wanted to spin around and apologize so badly, but wouldn’t that make things more awkward?

While I pondered over it, Dahlian scratched his head, and Ashrenne quietly sighed to herself and shook her head. We all simply stood around in this awkward silence as darkness swallowed the scene whole before a cool, familiar breeze greeted us.

We all carefully opened our eyes to find ourselves back inside the nave, sitting on the pews along with everyone else.

“Wh… wh-what the…” A priest looked around.

“What… happened…?” another one asked.

“Ugh, my head hurts…”

Meanwhile, my team and I carefully looked around the nave until Dahlian pointed toward the altar, where a familiar girl slumped. We all immediately rushed toward her, who slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Lora! Are you okay?” I asked.

“Whuh?” She blinked a few more times and looked around with a groggy gaze. “Oh… huh? We’re… back?” She locked gazes with all three of us and quickly jolted up. “Wait, what are you guys doing here? I-I thought we were… still trapped?”

A pastor approached us with squelching footsteps. “You four… I don’t remember you all being here before that rift instance suddenly appeared,” he said. “Are you the heroes who perhaps freed us?”

“Hell yeah, man!” Dahlian patted Sloane’s back. “But this guy’s the one who actually broke us all out!”

“Huh? Oh, no, I can’t take all the credit,” Sloane sputtered. “These three also helped—”

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” said Ashrenne, slapping his shoulder. “I saw it all happen. He saved everyone today, Father Anver.”

“I see…” The pastor turned to the elf. “May I know your name?”

“I’m… Sloane Ivoric.”

The pastor widened his eyes. “Sloane Ivoric? Aren’t you one of the heroes from the War of Florathea?”

The elf frowned. “You must be mistaken. I’m no hero…”

“No, I remember it clearly. You and a few others defended Grovendale from Florathea’s infected army. I could never forget our heroes’ names.”

He scratched his head. “It was part of my job, that’s all…”

“There’s no need to be so humble, Sir Ivoric. On behalf of this church, I’d like to extend our sincerest gratitude for saving us once more,” he said, deeply bowing.

Sloane gawked at the old man while the rest of us grinned and elbowed him.

“By the way, do you know what happened to my shoes?”

We all looked down at his vomit-stained shoes. Dahlian and Sloane tossed a knowing side-eye at me, and I started sweating bullets.

“That… may or may not be my fault,” I barely squeaked out. “Sorry…”

“Pardon?”

“Uhhh, i-it’s a long story. H-how about we all settle down first before we talk?”

“Ah, yes. I was about to suggest that myself.” Father Anver turned around and walked away, making more squelching noises. “Please follow me.”