Chapter 530 — Hero and Memories
7 min read ·
Helena sat completely still, her exhaustion forgotten as understanding settled with clarity.
’But the moment he entered...’
Her eyes tracked across Damian’s healing form, her expression becoming complex.
’The result became the complete opposite... The morale of the giants got completely broken, and the survivors survived...’
Only now did she understand the real reason he’d entered that portal.
’Because someone had to.’
Helena waved her hand, light flashing as an alcohol bottle and two glasses materialized from her spatial ring.
She poured amber liquid into both, the movement practiced despite her exhaustion.
"Medical alcohol infused with rare herbs from the Southern Region."
Her voice returned to something approaching normal, though strain remained underneath.
"Helps the mind and body relax, accelerates the final stages of healing, tastes like shit but works better than anything else I’ve found."
She handed one glass to Damian, then raised her own.
And without ceremony or toast, she gulped the entire thing down in one go.
Her face twisted immediately, a grimace pulling at her features.
"Fuck, that never gets easier."
Damian looked at the glass in his hand, then back at Helena.
Something about her posture had changed, the anger melting into her usual casual energy.
He lifted the glass and drank.
The liquid burned going down, heat spreading through his chest with intensity that made his eyes water.
But underneath the shock, warmth spread deeper, settling into his bones. The lingering pain from his injuries faded faster, muscle tension releasing as the herbs worked their effect.
Helena set her empty glass down and turned toward him.
"Looks like my daughter was right about you after all."
Her smile returned, genuine and warm.
"You really are a hero."
Damian’s hand tightened on his glass, the amber liquid catching the light.
"I still stand by my words from before."
His voice came out quiet but absolute.
"I’m not a hero, Helena. And honestly, I don’t think true heroes exist in this world at all."
He stared into the remaining alcohol, seeing his reflection distorted in the surface.
"A person can be a hero in someone’s story and yet be a villain in another. It’s entirely a matter of perspective."
His crimson eyes found her face.
"To the giant army, I’m their nightmare now. The ultimate villain who slaughtered their commander."
He paused.
"And to the survivors, I’m the hero who saved them when everyone else had given up hope."
He drained the rest of his glass, the burn familiar now.
"Both views are completely valid. Neither is more true than the other. So which one am I really? The answer changes depending on who you ask, which means the labels themselves are meaningless."
Helena’s expression softened, something gentle bleeding through her usual energy.
"While what you say is indeed true..."
Her voice came out quieter than before.
"For the Federation and everyone living within it, you’re still considered a hero as long as you continue striving to save this world."
She reached over and refilled both their glasses without asking.
"The perspective that matters most is the one shared by the people you’re protecting."
Damian said nothing, just stared at the refilled glass.
Helena’s demeanor shifted completely, the serious conversation apparently over in her mind.
"Come on, come on!"
She pulled out her camera, bouncing slightly with renewed energy.
"Let’s take some selfies! You look way better now that you’re not bleeding everywhere!"
Her smile widened.
"Just a few photos, I promise! Well, maybe more than a few, but definitely not too many!"
Click Click Click
The camera fired repeatedly as she positioned herself beside him, angling for different shots.
Damian sat there with his expression completely blank, his face showing zero enthusiasm for the process.
Click Click Click
"Smile a little! You just killed a Young Chief, you’re allowed to look happy about it!"
His face remained unchanged.
Click Click Click
"Fine, brooding works too! Very mysterious and cool!"
More flashing, more clicking, more of Helena’s endless energy filling the small room.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she lowered the camera.
Damian looked at her, his crimson eyes tracking her movements.
"Why are you always so obsessed with taking selfies?"
The question came out genuinely curious.
Helena paused, her usual smile fading.
She looked down at the camera in her hands, her thumb brushing across its surface.
"For the memories, obviously." Her voice came out softer. "Nothing in this life is permanent, you know? People, places, moments... everything fades eventually, everything disappears no matter how hard you try to hold onto it."
She looked up, meeting his gaze.
"You never know when these photos might become the only thing people have left to remember you by." She paused. "When the person standing next to you in the picture might be gone tomorrow, and all you have is this frozen moment proving they existed at all."
Her hands tightened on the camera.
"I’ve lost too many people I cared about. And the worst part isn’t the grief or the pain."
She swallowed.
"It’s when time passes and you start forgetting what they looked like when they smiled, how their voice sounded when they laughed, the small details that made them who they were..."
Her thumb traced the camera’s edge.
"These photos help fight against that forgetting. They preserve something real that says ’this person was here, this moment happened, this connection existed’ even after everything else fades away."
Damian remained silent for a long moment, her words settling heavy between them.
Then he spoke, his voice emerging barely above a whisper.
"I think leaving nothing behind is always better than that."
Helena’s head snapped toward him, confusion crossing her features.
"Once you’re gone, time will make people forget you eventually anyway."
His hands opened and closed, the motion unconscious.
"It’s inevitable and unavoidable. Memories blur, details disappear, and eventually even the people who loved you most will struggle to remember your face clearly."
His crimson eyes found the window, tracking snow falling outside.
"These photos and preserved memories... they don’t prevent that forgetting. They just draw it out, make it slower and more painful. They become reminders of exactly what was lost."
His jaw clenched.
"Every time someone looks at a picture of a dead person, they’re confronted again with the fact that this person is gone." He paused. "The photo doesn’t bring them back, doesn’t recreate the moment, just highlights the emptiness where they used to be."
He turned back to Helena.
"So maybe it’s better to leave nothing at all. Let people’s memories fade naturally without constant reminders forcing them to relive the loss over and over."
His voice dropped lower.
"Let time do what it’s supposed to do and help people move forward instead of staying trapped in frozen moments that can never return."
Silence crashed through the room like a physical weight.
Helena stared at him, her expression becoming impossibly complex.
Something shifted behind her eyes, emotions too tangled to name bleeding through her usual cheerful mask.
Her mouth opened, closed, opened again without sound emerging.
The camera hung forgotten in her hands, its lens catching the overhead light.
Neither of them moved or spoke, the moment stretching until it became almost unbearable.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Helena’s communicator erupted with noise, vibrating against her leg with urgent intensity.
She jerked slightly, pulled from whatever thoughts had been forming.
Her hand moved automatically, pulling the device free and glancing at the screen.
Her eyebrows rose, confusion replacing the complex emotions from moments before.
She accepted the call, raising the communicator to her ear.
"Hello? This is Helena Crane..."
She paused, listening.
Her eyes widened, head turning slowly toward Damian.
"Yes, he’s here with me right now. One moment please."
She lowered the device, extending it toward him with an expression caught between shock and something approaching amusement.
"It’s for you."
Damian stared at the offered communicator, his mind not quite processing.
"What are you talking about?"
"It’s that girl."
Helena’s lips twitched despite everything.
"Luna."
The name hit Damian like a physical blow.
His entire body went rigid, color draining from his face.
’How did she–’
’When did she–’
’Why would she–’
His hand shot out, reaching for the communicator.
But his coordination failed completely, his fingers missing the device.
His weight shifted wrong, balance deserting him entirely.
And Damian Valcor, who’d just walked into a giant army alone and killed their Young Chief, who’d faced down thousands of enemies without flinching...
Nearly fell off the medical bed from the shock of receiving a phone call.