Outside the tent, the figure who had been waiting all this time was none other than Edward.
He stood squarely in front of Ron, arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze was sharp, observing every detail of Ron's expression the moment the young man stepped out.
The desert wind brushed through his dark brown hair, making the fine strands sway gently. He said nothing—at least not yet. He simply waited, letting the silence speak more than words ever could.
Ron stopped a few steps from the tent, not looking directly at Edward.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm in his chest. But when he finally turned, his eyes were still red, and his face had yet to mask the pain that had just reopened.
"…You heard everything, didn't you?" he asked quietly.
Edward nodded, slowly stepping away from where he had been standing. "I did," he replied calmly. "And I know… it wasn't an easy decision."
Ron looked down briefly. He didn't want to speak right now, but his mouth moved, answering anyway. "I didn't want to leave," he said, his voice cracking. "But His Majesty asked me to… and I couldn't refuse."
Edward offered a faint smile, though his eyes held something far deeper. He stepped closer and gently patted Ron's shoulder.
"Sometimes… leaving someone in the middle of battle is also a form of courage," he said. "Especially if it's to protect the hope they entrusted to you."
Ron gave a small nod, then turned his gaze toward the horizon—where the endless sand met the sky, forming an invisible boundary between the world of war and a world that might still be saved.
"Will you stay here?" Ron asked at last.
Edward nodded, this time with more certainty. "Someone has to stay with him until the end."
"…I'm jealous of you," Ron muttered. "You get to stay by his side. But maybe… maybe I really do need to walk a different path."
They fell silent for a while. The wind blew again, carrying the scent of metal and dust, now growing heavier.
Edward then held out his hand.
"Take care of yourself, Robin. And don't forget what he entrusted to you."
Ron stared at that hand… then gripped it tightly before Edward pulled him into a brief hug—one filled with all the emotions they didn't have time to say out loud.
"Thank you… Edward."
They parted without another word. Ron began walking away, his body upright though his steps were heavy. He didn't dare look back. Because if he did, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave.
Step by step, he walked away from their camp, from the King, from the war that was about to begin.
But within every step, there was a promise etched into his heart—a promise to protect the hope that had been entrusted to him… until the very end.
.
.
.
The sunlight blazing over the desert was searing, burning the sand and making the air shimmer with unbearable heat.
There was hardly any wind, just a suffocating pressure of dry heat from all directions.
Yet strangely, Ron didn't feel hot at all. Nor did he feel thirsty, even though he had walked far from the encampment.
His body was wrapped in a long, trailing cloak that reached the ground, with a light armor vest that should have added to the discomfort.
But there was no sweat clinging to his skin. No sticky feeling, no dizziness from dehydration. He didn't even feel tired, despite the journey that should have worn him down.
He began to realize something was terribly wrong.
'Why don't I feel anything?' he thought, confusion haunting every step.
This wasn't the first time he'd felt strange. Since the meeting with the young King and Edward, Ron had begun to notice that sometimes, his body reacted on its own. His speech, his gestures, even his expressions—sometimes they felt like they didn't belong to him. As if another personality inside him had taken over without asking.
Once, while talking to Edward, he'd spoken that name with such familiarity—despite never having met the man before. As if his body remembered something he didn't, something that wasn't his.
He began to wonder, Am I really Ron? Or am I just imitating the figure of Robin in this world?
The confusion grew deeper when he realized that his body didn't function like that of a normal human. He didn't feel thirsty, didn't feel tired, and could walk for hours without pause. Even the desert's scorching heat, which should have burned his skin, couldn't touch him.
Am I still human?
That question kept echoing in his mind. He used to be just an ordinary gamer—tapping on his phone screen, playing Fate/Grand Order from his small bedroom. But now, he was in a strange world, in a strange body, living a life that felt like someone else's.
He paused for a moment, gazing at the endless stretch of sand. A soft breeze carried fine dust, but brought no comfort.
There were no answers. Only himself, the desert's silence, and questions that remained unanswered.
But one thing was certain—whatever had happened to him, it wasn't over yet. And so, with steady steps, Ron continued his journey, even though he didn't know whether those steps were truly his… or belonged to someone else living within him.
Ron finally stopped walking when he found a small oasis in the middle of the vast desert.
The sight felt like a blessing—a clear pool of water glimmering under the scorching sun, surrounded by date palm trees that offered a bit of shade. There, the air was cooler, and the gentle sound of flowing water brought a sense of peace.
He took a deep breath, savoring the fresher and calmer air. After walking endlessly for days, his body finally felt exhaustion.
His legs felt heavy, and although thirst didn't bother him, his body felt tired. Slowly, Ron approached the oasis and crouched at its edge. The calm surface of the water reflected his image clearly.
He stared at his own face in the water, trying to recognize who he was. His short hair, a light brown—or maybe ash-blond—fell neatly despite the dry desert wind.
His bright blue eyes stood out, reflecting the golden sunlight and making his face appear even younger. His features were androgynous, making it hard to determine whether he was a boy or a girl at first glance.
Ron touched the water's surface with his fingers, feeling the cold sensation flow through his palm.
There was a lingering sense of strangeness. The face he saw in the water wasn't one he recognized. Even this body, so light and agile, felt vastly different from his own in the past.
But beneath it all, there was a strange feeling—a sense that he was connected to this figure, as if this was him, even though he felt like a stranger in his own skin.
Is this me? he thought, staring deep into those blue eyes that reflected a foreign face. Could he be Robin, the boy in this body? Or just a soul trapped in a game of fate beyond understanding?
At last, he slowly pulled his gaze away from the water and took a long breath. He felt tired, not physically, but emotionally.
He needed to rest, to think things through calmly. Nothing was more important now than giving this body time to recover.
Ron stood up and took a few steps back, lying down under the shade of the date palm trees.
With some effort, he loosened the light armor wrapped around his body and removed the large cloak that hindered his comfort. He lay back, staring at the blue sky fading into golden orange on the horizon.
With a mind clouded by confusion, yet slightly more at ease, Ron closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, hoping that the answers he sought would come to him in his dreams.
.
.
.
The next morning, Ron stirred from his rest. As he slowly opened his eyes, he noticed someone kneeling by the oasis, cupping water in their hands to drink.
Sensing his gaze, the figure turned her head toward him. A faint, gentle smile formed on her lips as she spoke softly.
"Well, look who's finally awake. Good morning, sleepyhead."