Return of the Rejected Luna

Price Of Failure

Winslie’s expression darkened as he crouched beside Melena’s body, his fingers pressing firmly against her neck to check her pulse. The erratic beat beneath his fingertips sent a wave of unease through him.

“It’s... fading,” he muttered, his voice low. His brow furrowed deeply, tension evident in the lines creasing his forehead. “She is slipping into shock.”

Matthias paced in agitation, “We need to get her to a hospital.”

Winslie remained still, his gaze fixed on Melena, though his tone was measured and unyielding. “A hospital won’t be useful,” he said flatly. “This injury isn’t physical. It’s the mutant’s essence. Even though the creature has been destroyed, traces of its power still circulate within her.”

Matthias stopped, turning sharply to face him. “Then get help!” he demanded, his voice rising. “There must be someone with purification abilities—someone who can do something!”

“Matthias,” Winslie’s voice cut through the frantic energy with a calm, deliberate edge. He lifted his gaze slowly, meeting Matthias’s eyes. “This isn’t the time to lose control.” His lips pressed together in a grim line, hesitation flickering across his face. “I know someone with purification abilities... but even if they came, I doubt she will survive long enough for them to get here.”

Aerith’s chest tightened. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, the heat of frustration and helplessness spreading through her veins. There had to be a way to save Melena—she couldn’t just watch another person die. Memories of her parents’ sacrifice flooded her mind, and the weight of past trauma bore down on her. After everything these people had done to save her... she couldn’t stand by and let them lose one of their own. 

Her mind raced, thoughts stirring into a restless storm, searching desperately for any solution. And then, Winslie’s words struck a chord—the mutant’s essence. She’d stopped the monster from regenerating before... could she prevent its power from spreading through Melena? The idea was reckless, but time was slipping away, and it might be their only chance.

Without another thought, Aerith rushed forward. “Let me try!” Her voice trembled with urgency as she almost shoved past Winslie, her heart racing faster than her words.

Winslie crouched beside Melena, lost his balance, and fell back with a thud. He blinked up at her, startled, a mix of confusion and amusement flickering in his eyes. “And who is this lovely young lady?” he asked, turning to Matthias with a raised brow.

“I don’t know,” Matthias growled, too focused on Aerith to care as he rushed by her side, “Are you sure you can do it? Stop the energy from spreading?”

“I can try,” Aerith nodded firmly, even though an uncertainty gnawed at her heart.

Hope flickered in Matthias’s gaze as he watched Aerith, his tension giving way to a fragile glimmer of faith. This was their only chance. 

“He says he doesn’t know her, yet look at them,” Winslie’s lips pressed together in a faint pout as his gaze shifted between Matthias and Aerith. He shook his head, a flicker of amusement passing through his features. “The children grow up fast. Matthias wouldn’t speak more than a few words when he first joined.” 

Aerith knelt beside Melena, her movements careful, deliberate. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes falling shut as though sealing herself off from the world around her. Her hands hovered just above Melena’s injured shoulder. 

Winslie’s gaze narrowed, his sharp eyes tracing every flicker of movement. “What’s she doing?” Suspicion crept into his thoughts. “Does she possess the power of purification?” 

He stood, brushing dirt from his trousers with a slow, calculated movement. The lines etched into his forehead deepened, skepticism hardening his usually composed expression. Aerith’s back was to him, her slender figure framed by the forest’s dim light. His eyes trailed over her curly blonde hair, cascading down her back like cornsilk, before settling on the carapace fragment wrapped around the worn fabric of the office garment. 

“That’s not possible. She doesn’t feel powerful,” Winslie thought. “There’s barely any trace of wolf energy around her. Is she hiding it? Or is she weaker than she lets on?”

Even after several desperate attempts, Aerith couldn’t summon any energy. Her breathing quickened, panic seeping into her chest as her eyes snapped open, locking onto Melena’s wound. Why?

“Why can’t I summon my ability? I used it against the mutant without a problem,” Aerith thought, frustration clouding her mind. The harder she tried to focus, the more chaotic her thoughts became, a tangled mess of fear and doubt.

Matthias’s eyes darted from Aerith’s trembling hands to her pale, strained face. The confidence he had held in her began to waver. “Can’t you do it?” His voice broke slightly, a thin thread of desperation creeping in.

Aerith barely registered his words. She bit her lip, her thoughts racing. Something’s wrong. She replayed the events of the battle in her mind. What changed? Why isn’t it working now?

Then it hit her.

Her eyes widened slightly, realization dawning. “My ability,” she muttered under her breath, barely audible. “It only works when the attack is directed at me... When I am in the possibility of being harmed.” Her voice trembled with uncertainty. “But right now, the essence is attacking Melena…”

Matthias scowled, his disbelief evident. “What are you talking about? I have never heard of such a strange talent before.” His tone was sharp, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

But Aerith wasn’t listening. Her mind was racing in a different direction. “If my power only reacts to danger aimed at me... then I need to redirect it.” An idea sparked—a reckless, wild idea. She hastily unclasped the centipede carapace fragment from her waist.

“Last time… it worked when I used Matthias’s knife,” Aerith muttered. The memory was clear, the blade acting as a conduit. “I need something to act as a bridge…”

Her fingers brushed the jagged edge of the carapace, its surface rough and unfamiliar. She held it up to the dim light, her heart pounding. Could it work? Could this fragment be the conduit?

It was a gamble, but Aerith’s options were running out.

She glanced at Melena’s limp form, then at the fragment in her hand. The risk gnawed at her, but there was no time to hesitate. “I have to try,” Aerith thought, her resolve hardening. 

As Aerith moved to press the fragment into Melena’s wound, a firm hand seized her wrist, halting her in mid-motion. Winslie’s fingers gripped tightly around her, sending a sharp jolt of pain up her arm. Aerith winched at the pressure. 

“Forgive the intrusion, young lady,” Winslie began, his voice low yet dangerously composed, authority lacing into every word. “But if you think this is an opportune moment to earn favor after failing the Federation’s exam, you are sorely mistaken. We are not here to entertain your whims.”

His eyes were calculating as they bored into her, but there was something deeper beneath the surface. His grip tightened slightly, the unspoken warning clear. “My child lies at death’s door,” he said, his voice a mere whisper now, yet it resonated with a chilling tinge. “And I will not waste time on idle experiments.”

“What are you even implying?” Aerith snapped, her brows knitting in frustration. “I need this as a conduit! I’m not pretending—everyone saw it. I can stop this!”

Winslie exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. “Lady, I have seen plenty of wolves try this trick. Omegas with no real talent posing as something special to fool the organizations after being rejected by the Federal School. They put this act for a few days before they are tossed out. But we don’t fall for it here.” His tone was calm but unyielding. “I decide who joins Neo.”

Aerith’s eyes flicked to Matthias, silently pleading for backup. He knew the truth. They had fought side by side—she wasn’t some fraud. However, Matthias didn’t respond as his face looked conflicted, doubting Aerith. 

“Listen,” Aerith’s voice cracked with desperation. “We don’t have time for this! Just give me the few minutes you are wasting arguing. If I fail, you can take her—I won’t stand in your way. I owe her my life.” Her eyes locked on Winslie, unblinking. “And you don’t have another option, do you?”

Winslie stared hard at her, his eyes narrowing as if searching for weakness. For a moment, silence hung between them like a blade. Then, something shifted in Aerith’s gaze—a fierce determination he couldn’t deny.

“Fine,” Winslie finally muttered, barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, gripping her shoulders with an iron force, his fingers digging into her skin. “But if you fail—” his voice dropped, a quiet, menacing promise, “I will make sure you never forget it.” His hands tightened, sending a cold shiver through her as his threat sank in.

Aerith didn’t flinch, her voice steady as steel. “And if I succeed?”

Winslie’s grip remained, but his expression shifted, eyes burning into hers. “Then I will kneel before you and beg you to join Neo,” he said, his voice low but unwavering.