Outside the dungeon,
The air turned heavy—thicker than mana, thicker than silence.
No one could speak.
Zane's words still echoed like a curse.
"Arin Blake is a traitor. He was the spy."
Celeste's knees trembled.
Her sapphire-blue eyes widened, disbelief and tears mixing as her voice cracked,
"N-No… that's impossible. He can't be a spy… not Arin…"
Zane exhaled softly, his expression unreadable.
"You can see for yourself."
He knelt and gently laid the corpse on the ground.
The lifeless body of Arin Blake—once full of laughter and restless energy—was now pale, broken.
His uniform was torn and blood-soaked, deep wounds carving across his arms and torso.
A hollow hole gaped in his chest, right where the heart should've been.
Filthy, corrupted mana still clung to him, like a black mist refusing to fade.
Celeste fell to her knees beside him.
Her trembling fingers brushed his face.
"Arin… wake up... please..." she whispered, tears dripping onto his motionless cheek.
