The memory came to him without being asked for.
A training ground on Earth, scorched and broken after a long day of sparring. Six figures lay sprawled across the cracked ground, too tired to stand, laughing about who had cheated and who had nearly lost an eye.
His wife had been one of them. She had poked his ribs with her boot and told him he fought like a man who had something to prove.
He had laughed with them.
He had trusted every one of them with his back.
And a month after he killed the Demon King of Death, those same six had put their weapons through him.
Simon looked at the four figures behind the barrier, then at Enigma sprawled in the scorched earth beside him.
Sonya was arguing with Virella about who had cheered the loudest. Akaza was examining the burn on his chest, and Ammor was staring at the crack in the bone wall as though he expected it to fall on them.
Did he consider them his friends?
He already knew the answer.
Yes.
