Under Ice's gaze, the atmosphere thickened, growing heavier with tension as the battlefield darkened literally. Each time Jilius was forced back, dozens of trees were uprooted without even being touched, swept away by sheer force.
Ice could barely track their movements, only vague flashes in the chaos.
All he could see was a white blur darting and crashing into another even brighter one. He frowned, helpless, as the battle that could determine his fate unfolded before him.
The creature meant to reflect his very soul was now locked in a deadly struggle with someone who, not long ago, had been a complete stranger.
Ice's heart pounded, and the pressure threatened to bring him to his knees. Yet he stood firm, knowing he couldn't intervene, couldn't run, couldn't act, only watch. He remained motionless.
"If this creature of light is my reflection… then what does that make me?" he wondered, shaken.
As the question took root in his mind, a strange glow flickered in his eyes, and without realizing it, a door handle slowly materialized before him, hovering in the air.
...
Jilius was breathing hard, each gasp labored. His body was riddled with searing particles of light from every hit he had endured.
For the moment, he was managing to parry the creature's fury, but he couldn't find any opening, couldn't strike the decisive blow that would mean survival. The beast was relentless, now targeting his left side.
He held his ground for most of the assault, but each blow that slipped through his guard could be fatal.
"It's learning?"
He gritted his teeth. The beast was adapting. It had begun to exploit the blind spot on his left, where his vision had faded since the fight's beginning. Its tactics were becoming precise, calculated.
Overwhelmed, Jilius leapt backward to put some space between them, desperate for a breath. As he steadied himself, he saw the apostle raise its hand, a sphere of radiant energy forming in its palm.
He barely registered the moment it was released. Reflexively, he lifted his sword to intercept the blast and managed to deflect it, but the impact threw him off balance.
Before he could recover, the apostle was already upon him, brandishing a glowing spear. It thrust forward in a flash.
Jilius twisted, but the strike hit home. A deafening gust of force hurled him ten meters away and tore off his left arm.
He crashed to the ground, trembling, on the verge of collapse. His face contorted in pain, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. Even for someone like him, the agony was too much. Still, he stood one final time, wobbling.
His expression was strange, a calm serenity veiled in terror. He knew. This was it.
"It's enough now," he told himself.
He had gathered enough raw essence for one final strike. Everything he had left, every drop of essence, even his soul that he thought lost, since
He stepped forward, heedless of the light particles dancing around him, indifferent even to the loss of his arm. With his remaining hand, he gripped his sword tighter, essence erupting around him in a storm.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
He reappeared inches from the apostle, who barely had time to register his presence. Water-like energy flowed around the blade as he drove it into the creature's heart.
The apostle screamed as blinding light erupted from the wound, an overwhelming torrent pouring from its chest.
Jilius collapsed, laughing in disbelief, a near maniacal grin dancing across his face. He had done it. Despite everything, his injuries, the pressure, the overwhelming odds, he had just defeated an apostle of light.
Even if only for a fleeting instant, and only by burning his very soul, he had used his blessing inside the Prison of Time, something no one had ever achieved before.
He could no longer move, but the creature, though mortally wounded, was still twitching, its form struggling, not yet completely dead.
Suddenly, its cries softened. It turned slowly toward Ice.
Even in death, the Apostle of Light hadn't forgotten her purpose.
As Jilius tried to scream, to warn him, no sound escaped his lips.
A glowing spear formed in the apostle's hand, raised with trembling blinding fingers. She aimed it at Ice, intent on fulfilling her final duty.
But just before she could release it, a thin rapier pierced her back.
Natasha had appeared, silent, swift, emerging from the shadows, her home to end the torment of a dying apostle.
The beast let out a short grunt before collapsing lifelessly to the ground. The shimmering particles of light that had surrounded him slowly faded, vanishing into the air as he vanished.
Ice stood frozen, eyes wide in disbelief. The unnatural glow in his pupils had vanished, and the handcuffs that had once bound him were gone, though he couldn't recall when they'd disappeared. He was still in shock, unable to grasp how he had survived… or why.
His heart pounded furiously. For a moment, all he could hear was the echo of silence. Then, with effort, he forced his legs to move. First one shaky step. Then another.
And then he ran.
He rushed to Julius, who lay motionless in a growing pool of blood.
What he saw made his breath catch.
The man's body was broken, riddled with wounds, drained of color, battered beyond repair. But the most haunting sight of all was his hair, once streaked, which had turned completely white.
Ice dropped to his knees beside him. Guilt twisted in his chest, guilt for the man he couldn't trust who gave his life for them.
His voice came out as little more than a whisper.
"Why…?"
Julius stirred faintly at the sound, barely able to turn his head.
"You could've just left," Ice murmured, doubt leaking through every word. "Just go on with your life... You didn't have to do this. You didn't have to die for...strangers.''
Julius let out a sound, half laugh, half cough, as he tried to smile, though it never quite reached his lips.
"And how…" he rasped, "how do you expect to live in a place you have to survive every single day?"
A faint glint of light danced across the ring on his finger as he tried to sit up. He failed, slumping back with a grunt.
Ice immediately caught his hand, steadying him.
Julius's grip was weak, barely more than a twitch, but he pushed something into Ice's palm. The ring.
"I guess it's my time to rest," he said, breath growing shallow. "Take this. Give it to the Vernes when you get out of here. Because I know you will. Even if freedom fell like an illusion, keep going. Don't let the weight of reality crushing your hopes. Those who don't surrender are invincible.''
He paused, eyes sharp despite the pain.
"That ring… it's more important than I ever was. Keeping it safe, passing it on, is the only reason I've lived this long."
Ice opened his mouth, trying to form a response, but no words came. His throat closed. He simply nodded, clutching the ring tightly.
Julius turned his head one last time, eyes flicking toward Natasha's still form. He gave a slight nod, as if offering his final approval.
Then he let go.
His upper body dropped to the ground in slow motion, lips parting in one final breath beneath the eternal sun.
"Come on," he whispered faintly. "Good night."
And with those words, his b
ody melted into the earth as a tree tall, proud, and radiant rose where he had fallen.
Julius was repentant.