High above the city, Nuel and Madrok hovered in the sky, their breaths uneven from relentless combat. Lightning cracked between spells, and the air itself felt bruised.
Nuel was exhausted.
Madrok was not.
Madrok's power was only a step higher—but that single step made all the difference.
"What is your purpose?" Nuel asked, forcing the words out as he struggled to steady his breathing.
Madrok looked down at him, amused. A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Now… are you really trying to stall for time?"
Nuel didn't answer.
"If you are," Madrok continued calmly, "it's pointless—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Madrok turned his head sharply toward the academy far below, his expression shifting—not to fear, but to disbelief.
"…Now this," he murmured, "is unexpected."
He turned back to Nuel, eyes narrowed, reassessing him.
"I was certain there was no one strong enough to challenge him at the academy."
"What do you mean?" Nuel asked, confusion tightening his chest.
Madrok gave a soft laugh and began to drift away.
"I suppose there's an exception to every certainty."
"Where are you going?" Nuel shouted, rage flaring as he hurled magic after him.
Madrok raised a barrier effortlessly, the attack dissolving like mist against glass.
"That's enough, Nuel," he said without turning back. "Let's finish this another time."
With a gesture toward the sky, Madrok vanished.
Nuel clenched his fists.
Every instinct screamed at him to chase—to end it now.
But below him, the city burned.
And no matter how badly he wanted Madrok dead…
Nuel chose the living.
He turned back toward the city.
At the arena, chaos reigned.
Steel clashed against steel.
Rain soaked the ground, turning it slick with blood.
Footsteps thundered, screams cutting through the downpour.
It was impossible to tell how long the fighting had gone on.
"How much longer?" Mroth gasped, barely managing to evade another strike. "More guards are coming. We've already lost control over the city."
She took a few unsteady steps back, fury and fear warring in her eyes.
"So when do we retreat?"
The question hung heavy in the rain—
not as a demand,
but as a quiet admission of loss.
Roy said nothing.
"Say something, you bastard," Mroth snapped, her voice trembling with anger as she stared at him.
But Roy didn't hear her.
Something was wrong. He could feel it deep in his chest—an unease that refused to fade. Too much time had passed. Too much silence. His eyes lifted instinctively toward the sky.
And then he saw it.
A magic attack—violent, unfamiliar—tearing through the clouds.
"What the hell is happening…?" Roy whispered.
No one answered.
"So in the end, we got nothing. Fuck it all," Mroth muttered bitterly as she turned and stormed out of the arena. Roy remained where he was for a moment longer, frozen—before leaving as well.
The arena, once roaring with battle, fell into stunned disbelief.
"What… just happened?"
Soul was already on one knee when he said it. Then the weight of it finally crushed him, and he fell onto both knees, hands shaking. Murmurs spread through the crowd—confused, broken whispers searching for meaning.
"I don't know why they retreated…" Michale said, limping toward Blaze, his voice barely holding together.
"It doesn't matter," Blaze replied.
He planted his sword into the ground and pointed it toward the sky, rain sliding down the blade.
"We won."
He didn't shout.
He didn't celebrate.
But his voice echoed through the arena anyway.
And then—finally—people screamed. Not in fear this time, but in desperate, disbelieving joy. Cheers burst out like sobs held back too long. The battle was over.
At last.
Rome sat down heavily on the rain-soaked ground, his body giving up now that his will no longer had to hold. His breath came shallow.
"I did it… Rick," he whispered.
Slowly, he lay back, his hand still reaching toward the sky—toward the place where it had all nearly ended.
After the battle, Blaze wasted no time.
"Help the people in the city," he ordered.
No speeches. No glory.
Guards and fighters scattered into the streets, cutting down the remaining spider members, pulling civilians from rubble, carrying the wounded. Soon, Nuel returned as well, joining them—silent, exhausted, but resolute.
It didn't end with a victory cry.
It ended with work.
With bloodied hands.
With grief.
And only when everything was finally under control did the city begin to breathe again.
All the students, civilians, guards, and instructors were gathered in one place so the healers could tend to the wounded. Some cried openly. Others sat in silence, staring at nothing, as if their souls hadn't caught up with their bodies yet.
By the time they reached the academy, the rain had stopped.
The sky cleared, sunlight breaking through the clouds, its golden rays touching the ground as if nothing terrible had happened there.
Inside the academy, two guards walked carefully through the ruined halls.
"We came here to check…, but I didn't expected this," one of them muttered, staring at the shattered tables and overturned plates in the cafeteria.
"Yeah," the other replied quietly, his eyes moving to the broken windows. "It looks like someone fought here."
They exchanged a glance.
"Let's go outside. Maybe we'll find someone."
After leaving the cafeteria, they began searching—shouting, stepping past debris, past bodies that no longer answered.
Eventually, they found them.
Will lay on the ground, his back against the earth, completely still.
On the opposite side sat Rick.
Rick's back was pressed against the wall. His clothes were soaked in blood. Bandages wrapped around his head and shoulder, already darkened red. He hadn't moved. He hadn't looked away.
The guards ran to him.
"Hey, kid. Are you okay?" one asked gently, resting a hand on Rick's shoulder.
Rick didn't respond at first.
Then, quietly—almost like he was answering a question meant for someone else—
"Yeah…"
He swallowed.
"…Yeah. I'm okay."
His face didn't agree.
"Don't worry. We'll take you to a doctor," one of the guards said, helping Rick to his feet.
The other guard knelt beside Will, two fingers pressed to his neck.
No pulse.
"He's dead," the guard said softly.
"Leave him here," one said after a moment. "We have to head back."
They lifted Rick carefully and began to move.
Rick didn't resist.
He didn't look back.
And just like that—
the war that had soaked the ground in blood,
the pain that had broken bodies and lives,
the fight that took everything from them—
ended.
Not with cheers.
Not with triumph.
But with silence.
Two days later, as evening light bled softly into the room, Rick opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the ceiling.
"…Where the hell am I?" he murmured.
His gaze drifted slowly, unfocused at first, then clearer. White walls. Curtains swaying gently. The scent of medicine.
"The infirmary… academy, huh?" he muttered, forcing himself upright, his body protesting every movement.
"So, you finally woke up."
Rick turned his head. A doctor stood behind him, holding a clipboard.
"Yeah," Rick replied quietly.
"That's good," the doctor said with a small smile. "Do you know how long you've been asleep?"
Rick looked out the window, watching the sky darken. "No."
"Two days," the doctor answered, checking Rick's condition. "Honestly, considering the state you were in when they brought you here… it's a miracle it only took that long."
Rick didn't reply.
"Well, anyway," the doctor continued gently, "you're the last one still here. Everyone else has already been discharged. You should recover fully soon."
He paused at the door. "Get some rest."
And then Rick was alone.
Later that night, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
The door opened, and Krai, Leze, and Rome rushed in, relief written all over their faces.
"You're awake!" Krai exclaimed.
They talked for a long time—about the chaos in the city, about fighting alongside the guards against Spider, about Blaze and Michale, about Rome reaching the level of an Aura Master. Their words were filled with excitement, pride… survival.
Rick listened. He smiled when he had to. Nodded when it was expected.
But his eyes kept drifting—
to the locket beside him.
"But still," Leze said softly, sitting beside Rick, "how did you get so badly injured?"
"Yeah," Rome added, curiosity mixed with concern. "You must've been fighting someone insanely strong."
Rick stayed silent.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"…Yeah," he said. "Absurdly strong."
His smile was small. Hollow.
Warm—but broken.
Before anyone could ask more—
"That's enough chatting," the doctor's voice echoed from the doorway. "The patient needs rest."
They stood reluctantly, wishing Rick goodnight before leaving.
"Damn… look at the time."
Krai glanced at the clock and sighed softly.
"We should head back now."
Rick nodded faintly.
"Goodnight, Rick," Leze said gently. "We'll come back tomorrow."
With that, Krai, Leze, and Rome turned and left together. Their footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving the infirmary completely empty.
Silent.
Late into the night, Rick remained awake.
His fingers tightened around the two lockets resting in his palm—one given to him by Andrew… and the other by Will.
He opened them slowly.
Inside one locket was Lily's picture.
Inside the other, a photograph of a smiling family.
Rick stared at them for a long time.
"It's strange…" he murmured to himself.
"Strange how both of these belong to people who lost someone precious."
His breath trembled.
"The only difference…"
He closed the lockets gently.
"…is that one man is still alive… while the other is dead."
Rick slipped the lockets back beneath his shirt.
Unable to rest, he stood and began to walk.
The academy grounds were completely silent—no voices, no footsteps, no signs of life. Above him, the full moon hung high in the sky, its pale light spilling softly across the earth.
Rick stopped.
He stood there for a long moment… then slowly sat down on the ground, his eyes fixed on the moon.
Will's voice echoed faintly in his mind.
Can we ever achieve the thing called peace?
"Peace…" Rick whispered.
He raised his hand toward the moon, as if trying to grasp it.
"I wonder if we'll ever reach it."
His hand fell back to his side.
"But I can promise one thing."
Rick closed his eyes.
"I'll do everything in my power to help anyone I can."
The night remained silent.
Yet somehow, in that stillness—
it felt as if another promise had been gently added… resting quietly upon Rick's shoulder.
"Hey—what are you doing out here?"
The voice cut through the silence.
Rick flinched slightly as the night guard stepped into view, his lantern casting a soft glow across the path.
Rick straightened.
"Oh—sorry. I was just… taking a walk. Trying to clear my head."
The guard's eyes lingered briefly on Rick's clothes, recognizing the uniform.
"You're admitted here, aren't you?"
"Yes," Rick replied.
The guard let out a slow breath and gave a small nod.
"Well… with everything going on. I'll let it slide this once. But you should head back and get some rest."
Rick nodded.
The guard placed a hand lightly on Rick's shoulder before turning away, and together they began walking back.
After a few steps, Rick stopped.
"Wait."
The guard turned, puzzled.
"Yes?"
Rick's voice was steady—too steady.
"Can you tell me… what is the meaning of life?"
The words hung in the air.
An awkward silence followed, thick and heavy.
"What kind of question is that?" the guard said, confused.
Rick slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping the locket tightly.
"I just wanted to know your thoughts."
The guard looked away, thinking for a long moment.
"Well…" he said slowly, "maybe it's about living life to its fullest… and enjoying the time we have with the people we love."
Rick listened carefully.
Then he bowed his head slightly.
"Thank you," he said softly.
And with that, he turned and left.
Rick didn't ask anything else—not because he understood the answer, but because he noticed something else instead.
The guard had smiled while answering.
That smile lingered in Rick's mind.
It may have seemed like a foolish question to others, but for Rick—who had seen too many sides of the world at too young an age—it meant everything.
At first, he had searched for grand answers.
Something vast. Something hidden.
But slowly, he began to realize something unsettling.
The answer might not be something anyone could fully explain.
It might be something each person had to find on their own.
And perhaps…
it was something no one truly knew.