The battle was over.
Falcon Scott had received an incalculable blow in a single day. Well, in fact, it could be calculated…
More than a thousand soldiers falling in a single day. Mundane, Awakened, and Ascended included. And even civilians who had the misfortune of being in areas where collapses occurred.
Still, the Siege Capital stayed afloat with what remained.
The southern area of the city was entirely destroyed, replaced by a gargantuan crater. The buildings were gone, and a long span of the great wall was gone too. Even most of the killing field beyond was erased from existence.
With the collapse of the wall, defending the city had become much harder. However, the crater formed a natural barrier of its own—even though the secondary ramparts were not nearly as tall or formidable, they still gave the First Army a chance to resist the attacks of Nightmare Creatures.
More than that, five out of the six direst threats to the siege capital were now eradicated. The Devouring Cloud, the Terror of LO49, the Heart of Darkness, Mournwing, and Leviathan… despite the terrible price the First Army had to pay, they were dead. Now, only the most powerful of the horrors remained.
The Corrupted Titan, Winter Beast.
But it was being contained by the Saint of Sorrows… though his task was going to become more complicated now with the absence of Saint Cormac.
First Command decided not to spread the news about the Valor Saint's death to avoid generating chaos just a few days before everything ended.
For the first time since the start of the siege, the people of Falcon Scott felt hopeful.
They were shaken and terrified too, but with countless millions of refugees already evacuated, and so many powerful abominations slain, it was no longer impossible to imagine the end of this bloody affair.
The ghostly flames of the aurora burned above the ravaged city, and the moon had hidden itself in the cold darkness of the night sky.
The wind was beginning to grow colder with every heartbeat that passed.
Eight hours later.
Arthur opened his golden eyes, and the first thing he perceived was the monotonous ceiling of a medical room.
Around him, the beeping of the machines checking his vitals reached his ears like an alarm that couldn't be deactivated.
He complained slightly while trying to find a more comfortable position in the bed to keep sleeping, but at that moment, a different sound could be heard.
Arthur frowned slightly.
'Who's snoring?'
Even in his cloud of sleep, he managed to identify the reason he was in a medical bed with machines connected to him. Arthur had only fallen unconscious after Jet carried him and took him away from the battlefield.
Supporting himself on his shoulders and exerting a little force, he sat up in bed and observed his surroundings.
His eyes moved across all the machines, eventually settling on the figure of his father sleeping beside his bed.
He was sitting in a chair with his arms crossed. The chair was so small that it should be uncomfortable for his size. He was wearing the government suit with a warm jacket over it.
His chest rose and fell at a peaceful rhythm while snores could be heard leaving his throat.
Arthur smiled slightly and went to wake him by touching his shoulder, but the moment he went to extend his hand, a sharp pain ran through his entire body, and he couldn't suppress a groan.
Which ended up waking his father, making him jump from the chair, his eyes going alert in a matter of moments.
Noticing that nothing had happened and it was only Arthur who made the noise, he calmed down.
"Arthur!" He approached him and helped him settle better in the bed. "The doctor told me that you shouldn't move!"
He felt small tickles running through all his muscles, as if they had been broken and formed again in an infinite cycle. As if the process were happening at that very moment.
Putting on a face of understanding, he could only let out a sigh at everything this implied.
Knowing his body, he knew it would take him about one or at most two days to fully recover, but he was never going to have that time…
"Okay, okay. I won't move." He replied once comfortable. "What's the status of the situation?"
Reynolds chuckled.
"You just woke up and you're already asking those things?" But he didn't let him defend himself and continued speaking. "The positive ones are that the Corrupted Titan Mournwing was eliminated the same day as the Heart of Darkness… leaving only the Winter Beast."
His expression darkened.
"The bad ones are that… a large part of the city is completely destroyed, the number of soldiers who fell exceeds thousand. Saint Cormac died against the Heart of Darkness…"
At that moment, his eyes widened slightly upon noticing the confusion on Arthur's face.
"Oh, right… after you fell unconscious, the fight continued for a few minutes, but eventually all the creatures were eliminated. At that moment, only the Titan remained, but it wasn't moving. So the decision at the moment was to recover strength and wait for it to move."
He shook his head.
"Yet, that wasn't what happened. Eventually, Cormac had to go cover the Winter Beast and decided to check the Titan. In doing so, we assume it was still alive, and he killed it. But from Mournwing's corpse came the Heart of Darkness, which was consuming it from within."
A sigh escaped his lips.
"The Heart of Darkness consumed Cormac the moment it left the Titan's corpse and headed to the city…" A breath. "The fight was difficult… but Bloodwave eventually killed a creature in the center of the swarm, and from there, everything was easier. Although… then a horde of Nightmare Creatures attacked us, and the entire south of the city had to be blown up…"
Arthur looked at his father with an empty expression. Almost a minute of silence passed where only the noise of the machines could be heard. Eventually, the one controlling his pulse began to make more noise than the rest.
"What?!" He snapped. "Is everyone okay?!"
His father didn't know what to respond at that moment. Eventually, he decided to be completely honest.
"Now, yes. But not everyone." The truth weighing more than he thought. "In the aftermath of the fight, one of the Awakened from Sunny's cohort ended up with both legs cut off, while another received a stab in one of his lungs. The first was Luster and survived, but the latter didn't make it. His name was Dorn."
Reynolds stared fixedly into Arthur's eyes now.
"Then Sylvie was also wounded." Before he could react, his father calmed him. "She's fine now. A wound in the area of her clavicle, such was the force of the blow that it broke the bone, but I repeat, she's fine now."
Arthur nodded, though the image of Sylvie wounded turned his stomach.
"Did the creature that did that to her die?"
His father nodded.
"Yes, it was Sunny who killed it."
"Good."
'I'll thank him later,' he added mentally.
His father continued with the bad news.
"There's something else…" His tone was somber. "Winter… she…" He swallowed. "She lost her sight, and none of the healers could do anything. She also… lost an arm, and they couldn't heal that either."
Arthur remained silent for a while, accepting the news.
That Winter had lost her sight was definitely better than her having died, though if they couldn't heal it, that means from now on, she was going to be blind for the rest of her life. In addition to the loss of her arm.
As Cassie's friend, he knows that eventually, someone can get used to that—but he also has the knowledge that Cassie's Aspect in some way helps her compensate for her Flaw, while Winter's has nothing to do with it.
Still, it's better than dying…
'Surely they tried all the healers present, but they aren't the best… maybe I could ask Nephis if she can heal her?'
Nephis's healing ability was more potent than Sylvie's—something they verified in the Dark City—so there was still hope for Winter.
Finally, he responded, returning his father's gaze.
"I know a very good healer. Maybe she could help her."
Reynolds nodded, assuming he wasn't referring to Sylvie but to someone else. Otherwise, he would have mentioned her directly.
"They put her on a ship a few hours ago to travel to East Antarctica so Alice can try to heal her. If she can't, we'll go to your acquaintance."
He smiled at the mention of his mother and asked, "How is Mom?"
His father returned the smile.
"She's fine. As always, doing and reviewing documents…" Then he leaned in slightly. "She told me the Second Evacuation Army is about to arrive in less than a week, and with it, some representatives of the great clans as well…" He raised an eyebrow. "Do you know why?"
Arthur did know the reason, but he couldn't tell his father… or maybe he could? It would be dangerous if he did, since it's a secret that the clans would kill someone over if they knew—but at the same time, if his father only told his mother so she could be safer, nothing should happen…
Not telling him could mean that Valor could use his mother as bait to hurt him… Though Song's forces would also be there.
'What a headache…'
At that moment, Arthur realized a big error in his way of thinking…
'Why am I thinking as if I weren't going to be there too?!'
He wanted to frown at that moment but avoided doing so so his father wouldn't take that as a response.
'There should be less than a week left to finish the evacuations… in theory, if nothing strange happens, I should arrive in East Antarctica at the same time as the rest…'
The current plan of the First Army was to evacuate all people within three weeks to East Antarctica, which was hit to a lesser extent by the chain of Gates, and then move all personnel to that region.
The soldiers participating in the First Army could decide whether to continue helping or retire to their homes with their missions complete, medals, and mainly their lives.
But right now, the way Arthur noticed he was thinking indicated that he didn't see himself in East Antarctica…
'…Why?'
But what unsettled him the most was the fact that he didn't see himself dying…
It sounded strange to think about it that way, but in his head, it made sense.
He didn't see himself dying, but at the same time, his instinct was giving him confusing signals… It was as if…
Arthur's eyes widened, and he couldn't avoid it with the realization he reached.
'…What? Why… why do I feel the map Grey gave me?!'
At that moment, an uncomfortable sensation took over his body, making a cold sweat begin to form. This was accompanied by a tremor he couldn't fully suppress.
Immediately, the vital signs monitor began making sound at a slower rhythm.
"Art?" His father said in a worried tone.
'…This is the first time this has happened to me,' he continued with his storm of thoughts.
His father didn't wait any longer, and upon noticing that his skin had turned completely pale, he got up from the chair and grabbed him by the shoulders firmly while starting to shake him.
"Art!"
But Arthur didn't react. His vision began to blur while a dizziness began to form in his brain, which wasn't receiving enough oxygen.
His entire field of vision began to distort, and the edges of his sight were covered by black spots that advanced rapidly, devouring the light of the room until only a narrow gray tunnel remained.
The slow rhythm of the monitor changed drastically. As his heart rate fell below forty beats, the machine began emitting a double beep—sharp and persistent—while the screen flashed in an alert yellow.
But Arthur could no longer hear the alarm or his father's voice. Both things became a distant, distorted echo, as if he were submerged underwater.
Finally, all light abandoned his vision, consuming his entire world in complete darkness.
Yet, within that darkness, small purple particles began to appear around him.
At first, they were nothing more than scattered points of light, drifting aimlessly through the void. Then, slowly, they began to move.
The particles gathered together, following different patterns.
Some floated higher, forming vast, soft masses that resembled clouds suspended in an endless sky. These clouds began to move erratically for a few brief moments, eventually taking the shape of a rune.
Others descended toward the ground and solidified, spreading outward into a wide purple platform. Its surface was smooth and slightly curved at the edges, resembling an endless beach surrounded by nothing but darkness.
The last group of particles gathered directly in front of the platform.
They began to solidify—
—And a throne slowly took shape.
It was imposing, yet strangely simple, its back rising high above the seat while intricate details emerged from the purple particles. Once it was completely formed, the throne remained there in absolute silence.
Then, another group of particles appeared above it.
Unlike the others, these particles did not immediately take shape. They swirled around one another, gathering more and more densely until a humanoid figure gradually emerged from within them.
A young man appeared, sitting upon the throne. He was handsome in an almost unnatural way.
He sat with his right leg crossed over his left, his right elbow resting casually against the armrest. His hand supported his face, which was tilted slightly to the right. There was a strangely pleasant smile on his handsome face.
Above his head floated a crown.
It remained suspended just above his hair, never quite touching him, as if even the crown itself did not dare to make contact.
For a brief moment, nothing else happened. Then, new particles began to appear. They emerged from the darkness one after another, slowly gathering around the throne.
At first, they remained separate. But a moment later, they began to merge.
Green, brown, blue, and red. Colors mixed with colors, creating countless new shades as the particles moved around the young man.
Slowly, the purple throne began to change.
Purple faded into deep violet, then into gray, until eventually the entire throne took a color similar to dark stone.
The remaining particles continued to gather.
They covered the young man's figure next, obscuring him completely beneath a swirling mass of colors. When these finally fused with the existing ones… a different figure appeared sitting on the throne.
A young man wearing a simple gray robe.
His skin was milky white, almost pale against the darkness surrounding him. His large, bright azure eyes closed the next moment as his long auburn-brown hair finished forming. There were drops of something resembling blood scattered across his face.
Yet it was his expression that drew the eye.
There was resignation in it. Melancholic sadness and the bitter acceptance of something he had long since stopped trying to escape.
The crown above his head had changed as well.
Its purple color had disappeared, replaced by a pale sandy hue. Small pearls were embedded into its surface.
The largest one, positioned at the very front, was purple. Surrounding it were smaller pearls in green, brown, blue, and red.
The crown slowly descended. But it never touched his head.
Instead, almost translucent hands emerged from above, descending from the endless darkness. They carefully took hold of the crown.
Millions upon millions of brilliant golden threads extended from the darkness above, stretching toward the hands and controlling their every movement. And slowly—almost ceremonially—the crown was lowered onto the young man's head.
It was as if Fate itself had decided to crown him.
As if the countless threads represented every possibility, every choice, every path that had led him to that single moment.
A king was being born.
Yet there was no pride in the young man's expression. No joy, no desire for the crown—only pain and fatigue.
The embodiment of the unbearable weight of a responsibility he had never chosen.
The moment the scene unfolded… everything shattered.
Arthur opened his eyes; he hadn't realized when he had closed them. Everything around him felt unreal—as if a painting had come to life, yet remained, at the end of the day, nothing more than a painting.
The colors were brilliant, and the sounds came through perfectly, as if they were originating within his own ears. The contact with the soft sheets was flawless; he could sense even the slightest connections between the fabrics.
The oxygen entered through his nose and traveled throughout his body without interruption, though he identified a slight smell of burning in the air.
At the same time, his Aether channels felt far too thick compared to before. If they had previously felt like simple hoses, now they were more like small rivers, their vast channels allowing the Aether to flow freely toward his core.
His muscles still ached, but the sensation now felt more like a pleasurable pain—as if such a thing were even possible. Yet that was the feeling he experienced whenever he contracted them.
He couldn't help but let out a chuckle into the air.
'As if things weren't complicated before…'
Arthur wanted to remember the dream—or whatever that had been—at that moment before forgetting any detail, but the memories of what had previously happened invaded his mind like a plague.
He didn't react abruptly, nonetheless. The pain present in his muscles was a constant reminder that he should stay in place.
'Are you awake, sleeping princess?'
Arthur heard Regis's annoying voice in his mind, but this time he was slightly glad.
'Regis…'
'Yeah, that's my name. Duh,' the response came.
He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, at the same moment a femenine voice reached his ears.