The outpost wasn't large — a stone ring of survival carved into the edge of the wild. But it felt immense compared to the forest, to the Darkzone. The buildings stood upright. The air no longer stank of blood and bark.
But not all the looks were kind.
As the six knights entered, the gate behind them groaned shut. Soldiers, medics, and watchmen turned from their duties to stare.
Not at the green.
Not at the black.
At the red.
Phoenix stood tall, but his steps were uneven. His helm still on. His flamberge strapped to his back like a memory he couldn't let go of.
A voice murmured near the barracks wall:
"That's one of the reds…"
"…He's alive?"
"No one came back from that mission."
Phoenix didn't flinch, but Ryliegh moved slightly closer beside him — not protectively, just present. Solid.
A field medic approached, eyes wide.
"You—he's—" she stammered, eyes flicking between the two. "We thought the whole company…"
"Dead," Phoenix finished. "They are."
The medic's mouth closed.
Another officer stepped forward — lean, tired-looking, eyes hard from too many nights. His armor bore the sigil of the border command. "We logged your entire company as lost."
Phoenix turned toward him. "Update your logs."
He started to sway.
The medic grabbed his arm. "We need to get you to a bay—now."
Another medic came for Bram and Soren. "We'll take them separately—west wing. The red goes central. Specialized treatment."
Soren hesitated, looking back at Phoenix. "We're not leaving you alone, right?"
Phoenix gave a soft huff through the helmet. "I've had worse company than trained professionals."
Ryliegh spoke. "I'll go with him."
Vale nodded. "We'll regroup once everyone's treated."
Elric gave Phoenix a steady look. "Don't let them pull rank on your blood. You lived. That means something."
Phoenix didn't reply — just turned and limped slowly toward the central medical building, flanked by two medics and Ryliegh.
Inside, it was quiet. Clean. Lit with real lanterns and stocked with gauze that didn't smell like mold.
As Ryliegh stood off to the side, Phoenix sat heavily on a cot. A surgeon stepped in — older, graying, no armor.
She paused when she saw him.
"…Red Knight Phoenix Solto?"
Phoenix pulled off his helmet.
Golden eyes met her shock.
"Yes," he said. "And no, I don't know why I'm still breathing."
She blinked. "We… thought you were a myth. A rumor passed by patrols. A knight who fought a company of beasts alone and lived."
Phoenix winced as she pressed into his ribs. "Well, that part's true. I just didn't enjoy it."
She frowned. "Why didn't you send signal flares? Anything?"
"They were torn down before we could light them. And after the fourth day, I didn't think anyone was left to answer."
Ryliegh finally spoke from the wall. "He stayed and killed what didn't run. The beasts. The soldiers. Alone."
The surgeon turned back to Phoenix. Her voice was quieter now. "You're a survivor."
Phoenix looked away. "No. I'm what's left."
Outside, a guard peeked into the room. "Command wants to speak with them both when stable."
The surgeon nodded. "They'll live. But don't expect ceremony."
The guard paused, then nodded back. "Understood."
The door closed.
Phoenix leaned back into the cot, exhaling carefully.
Ryliegh watched him, silent.
After a long pause, Phoenix muttered:
"They don't know what to do with me."
Ryliegh answered without hesitation:
"You're not here for them to understand. You're here because you didn't fall."
Phoenix looked up, and for once — didn't deflect.