While Lusian was in the city with his people, the valley fell into a silent chaos.
At the base of the Chosen, a shout exploded between the stone walls.
—Idiots!
The war table split apart beneath Aurelius's fist.
The divine light surrounding his body fluctuated violently as he tried to contain his rage. Blood still dripped from the corner of his lips, yet he did not even seem to notice.
Valerius wounded.Caelum wounded.Icarus out of combat.
All because of their stupidity.
—Was it so damn difficult to follow the plan?!
No one answered.
The silence inside the hall was heavy.
The priests avoided raising their eyes. Even the blessed knights remained rigid, not daring to speak while Aurelius's divine pressure filled the place.
He took a deep breath.
His body hurt.His lungs hurt.But what hurt the most was something else.
The lost opportunity.
—You were supposed to wait until the demon kept wearing himself down… —he growled—. That was the plan.
This time he struck the wall.
Cracks spread through the stone.
—But no! You had to rush for glory like stupid children!
The image of Lusian remained burned into his mind.
That Void.That thing.
Aurelius clenched his teeth hard.
They had been close.
Very close.
To make matters even worse, the door burst open.
Morgana stumbled inside.
One of her arms hung limply, completely broken. Her armor was shattered in several places and her gaze… empty.
The hall fell silent for a moment.
Aurelius slowly turned toward her.
And frowned.
—What happened to you?
Morgana lowered her head.
Ashamed.
She could not say it.
She could not admit that a vampire had defeated her like that. That she had almost died. That those fangs had sunk into her neck while she could barely resist.
She could still feel the burning from the bite.
If it had not been for the divine blessing protecting her soul…
She would probably be just another servant of that monstrous vampire now.
Her fingers tightened.
Humiliation.Rage.Fear.
All mixed together.
Aurelius watched her for a few more seconds before looking away with obvious frustration.
Another wounded hero.
Another problem.
No matter how furious he became, it would solve nothing.
The situation had already reached a point far too delicate.
For the will of the gods to descend properly into the heroes' bodies, they had to remain stable. Their bodies, their souls, even their mana circuits had to withstand divine pressure.
And now several of them were injured.
That was a problem.
A massive one.
Aurelius slowly lowered his gaze while the light around his body continued trembling.
The gods were not patient beings.
They were capricious.Violent.Absolute.
If they came to believe this campaign was failing because of him…
they could erase him with a single thought.
Not only kill his body.
His soul as well.
He would disappear without leaving a trace, as though he had never existed.
That was the true terror of serving something divine.
Aurelius closed his eyes for a few seconds.
Then he spoke in a heavy voice.
—Order a temporary retreat.
Several people raised their heads in surprise.
—S-Saint Aurelius…?
—We need time to recover them —he interrupted coldly—. Valerius and Caelum cannot return to the front like this.
He clenched his teeth.
Because saying those words felt almost like accepting defeat.
But he had no alternative.
The demon was still alive.
The retreat was not an organized maneuver.
It was a rout.
Chaotic. Disorderly. Desperate.
Of the ten thousand who had crossed into this continent with the promise of a clean conquest and a certain victory, barely less than half remained.
No one shouted.No one celebrated surviving.
Inside the command tent, the atmosphere was suffocating. There were no maps left on the table, only white ash slipping through the cracks, gathering in thin layers, reminding them of what remained of Aurelius.
—It's suicide! —Kael slammed the table, but did not do it again—. My men do not fear death, Amon.
He paused briefly. Involuntarily.
—But what happened today… that was not dying. That was being erased.
—It was necessary for you to launch that attack. You had to eliminate them.
Amon, who remained in the shadows with his face hidden, did not move. His aura was cold, stripped of the doctrinal warmth he usually projected.
—It was a necessary purification —he replied—. Aurelius was the conduit. Sacrifice is the language of the gods.
—Sacrifice? —Amon intervened.
For an instant, the silence weighed heavier than any external threat.
He suddenly turned toward one of those present, his voice colder.
—Those three were the best opportunity we had!
The silence tightened.
Aurelius clenched his fist.
—The demon is wounded. That is all that matters.
But even as he said it… he sounded less certain than he wanted to.
Lusian walked at the front, with Adela still clinging to his tunic, as if letting go would allow the world to break apart again.
Behind them, the herbivores and the semihuman clans ascended in reverent silence.
They no longer looked at Lusian with simple respect.
They looked at him with the sacred fear one feels toward a volcano that, for incomprehensible reasons, still has not decided to erupt.
Thunder advanced at his side, his hooves tearing sparks from the cold stone while small currents of electricity continued running through his dark fur.
Further behind, Aureus brought up the rear.
The Ice Tiger kept its gaze fixed on the valley, watching every shadow within the mist as though expecting something to try to follow them.
The wind blew cold between the mountains.
—Lord Lusian… —Adela whispered softly, breaking the silence—.
He barely turned his head.
—Yes, my love.
Adela froze.
Her face turned red almost instantly.
—L-Lord Lusian!
He kept walking as though he had said nothing.
Adela let out a small embarrassed laugh while partially hiding her face against his back again.
From that height, the camp of the ten thousand was nothing more than a patch of dying light, flickering like an ember on the verge of going out.
The group continued climbing.
For a moment, Zarhama offered them its peace: the scent of ancient pine, the murmur of crystal-clear water, and the protective presence of the Mother Tree, waiting at the summit like a silent beacon.
They had won a battle.
But from the way Lusian clenched his fist, even Adela understood the truth:
The war was not over.
The dawn at the mountain's summit brought no light, only a bluish gray filtering through the leaves of the Mother Tree, thick and weary, as if even the day itself doubted whether to begin.
The room where Lusian rested —a chamber carved between colossal roots— had transformed, without permission, into a sort of improvised headquarters.
Adela was sitting practically on top of him at the edge of the bed, holding a bowl of hot broth with exaggerated seriousness. Her expression shifted between relief, pride, and indignation she did not quite know where to place.
Near the opening that served as a window, Emily and Isabella whispered to each other while analyzing Lusian's injuries and measuring the density of his mana, as though he were something beyond mortal.
Even Thunder —who, technically, should not fit through the doorway— poked his electric head inside, snorting sparks that lightly scorched the living-fiber carpet.
Elizabeth, seated at the head of the bed, could not stop watching him. Her eyes still held tears that refused to fall.
And Kara, with clenched fists and restrained rage tightening her shoulders, looked like a wound that refused to close. The gods had undoubtedly used her to find Lusian; that was why they had not taken away her divine blessing.
—What... what are all of you doing here? —Lusian managed to say, his voice hoarse.
—Taking care of you, obviously! —Adela answered without hesitation, shoving a spoonful of broth into his mouth before he could protest—. You fainted like a tragic damsel, Lusian-sama. I almost had a heart attack!
Selvryn approached and touched his forehead.
Her fingers were cold.
Lusian barely raised his gaze toward her.
The leader of the dark elves had several bandages covering one arm, and small black cracks marked part of her neck. Even so, she still tried to maintain that calm and proud expression of hers.
—The fever went down —she murmured.
Emily let out some of the breath she had been holding upon hearing that.
—Because he almost killed himself again —she said, without hiding her exhaustion.
The silence lasted a few seconds.
Until Selvryn spoke again.
—The battle underground is over.
The room relaxed slightly upon hearing her.
—The Lithaar held their ground… but they lost a lot —she continued—. The lower galleries completely collapsed after the last attack.
Lusian frowned slightly.
He remembered that pressure.
That deep tremor running through the mountain even during the battle.
Selvryn lowered her gaze slightly.
—But we won.
That last word sounded tired.
Not proud.
—We need to prepare… The next battle will not be smaller. They are not going to give up.
The atmosphere inside the room tightened immediately.
Isabella crossed her arms.
—It's not a question of "if they return" —she corrected quietly—. It's "when."
Selvryn slowly nodded.
Elizabeth said nothing at first.
She simply stepped closer and hugged him.
It was a strong embrace, almost desperate, as though simply letting go might return him to that moment on the mountain where she had nearly lost him.
Lusian, still weak, did not resist. He returned the gesture carefully, as though his body was still not entirely certain it had the right to move that way.
Then Elizabeth pulled back just enough to look at him.
Her cold fingers rose to his face and held it with a mixture of rage and restrained fear.
—What happened to you? —her voice trembled slightly—. What was all that?
She swallowed.
—What is happening to you? Tell me.
Lusian held her gaze for a long second.
There was no clear answer. None he could put into words without it sounding incomplete.
Even so, he spoke.
—I don't know.
Sincerity was the only firm thing in his voice.
—There's something… behind what Kheris left me.
Elizabeth did not look away.
She did not even blink.
Lusian gently squeezed her hand.
—But whatever it is… —he continued more quietly— I'm going to master it.
The women moved closer almost at the same time, as though each of them claimed a part of him; not with words, but with presence, as if, in some silent and irrefutable way, he already belonged to them.
—You are not alone! —Adela replied, shoving another spoonful of food toward him—. We'll always stay by your side, no matter what.
Aureus, the tiger, lay down fully stretched in front of the exit, exhaling cold air that spread through the room and calmed the atmosphere.
Lusian sighed and closed his eyes.
The whisper of the darkness was still there, patient, lurking in the depths of his mind.
But the sound of Adela arguing with Selvryn was, thankfully... much louder.