Lior rose slowly, taking a light step forward. His foot landed on empty air—and he dropped gracefully. His dark garments, along with his hair, danced as he descended. The snow didn't crunch beneath his bare feet; instead, it remained deathly silent.
The mages stood frozen at the sight, their eyes fixed on the tall young man—and the dark haze that clearly enveloped him.
Gripping Ashrender, Lior used his thumb to slide the blade free just an inch. That tiny part of the weapon came to life, inky tendrils slipping from the opening like breaths being drawn.
He stared at the visibly shaken mages, indifference etched onto his face. Then he glanced sideways. Sachia was staring back, her grip tight on her sword, fear and confusion swirling in her eyes.
Lior was just as surprised, slipping Ashrender back into its sheath.
Ignoring the mages, he turned toward Sachia.
"What is a Velgrynd warrior doing here?" he asked, his voice even.
Sachia raised an eyebrow, her shoulders relaxing slightly as Lior dismissed his dark energy.
"Excuse me?" she replied cautiously. "I don't understand your question… Mister Ghost, right?"
Ignoring the last part, Lior clarified.
"I wouldn't be surprised if you appeared half a year ago—but now? There's only one reason you'd come here."
Glancing down at the wounded warrior she had dragged behind her, he continued.
"With Velgrynd desperately defending the western regions, they wouldn't risk pulling fighters away."
Now, his gaze returned to her. "So the western front was attacked. And you fled—dragging this corpse with you. Isn't that right?"
Sachia couldn't respond. She hung her head in shame.
Her silence said everything.
"So," Lior pressed on, "what's the current situation?"
She shook her head. "They're overwhelming us—not in numbers, but in sheer power."
"How many of you remain?" he asked, his tone more serious.
"We started with five thousand warriors. Around two hundred had a Kindled core."
"And now?"
She glanced up at him, her eyes trembling.
"About one thousand remain. Barely any Kindled."
"I see…" Lior muttered, tapping his chin.
"That's why you dragged this corpse with you," he added. "With so few Kindled left, every single one is precious."
Sachia's eyes fell on the injured man. Then it struck her.
"Wait," she said, eyes wide. "What do you mean… a corpse?"
"What could I mean?" he replied calmly, pointing the sheathed Ashrender toward the body. "This man was already dead before you arrived."
Sachia stared at the body, disbelief washing over her.
How didn't I notice earlier?
Lior turned back to the mages, his gaze steady and cold.
"Not that it matters now," he whispered, staring directly at them.
Ashrender resting on his shoulder, he pointed a finger at the girl mage.
"You. Little girl."
"My name is Seia!" she snapped, brow furrowing.
Lior sighed. "I didn't ask—"
He walked toward her slowly, the corners of his lips curling upward.
"I'm not interested in the names of the dead."
"What do you mea—?"
Before she could finish, he pressed a finger to his lips.
"Shh. Just answer the question I'm about to ask."
"If I do, will you let us go?" she asked, her expression growing grave.
"We'll see about that," Lior answered, his grin lingering.
Looking back at her trembling subordinates, she sighed and nodded slowly.
"What do you want to know?"
Now standing face to face with her, Lior looked down.
"Who's the superior leading the attack on the western front?" he asked, smile vanishing.
Unable to suppress the chill of his presence, she avoided eye contact.
"Lady Eadda," she said, voice shaky. "Warden Ernest should be joining us shortly… to finish the job."
Lior's eyes widened, a devilish grin twisting his face.
He grabbed her shoulders, his face now just a breath away.
"Good, good…" he whispered, dark haze dancing in his eyes.
"Will you let us go now?" she asked, still refusing to meet his gaze.
Lior let go. "Of course. You've brought me wonderful news."
Clapping his hands together, a warm smile spread across his face.
"If you pass a small test, I won't touch you. I promise."
Seia's brow furrowed. "A test? What kind?"
"It's simple. I wouldn't even call it a test," he said, turning to point at the ruined temple.
"All you have to do is step inside that ruin… and spend, let's say… ten minutes."
Seia looked at him doubtfully. "So we just stay in there for ten minutes?"
Lior raised a finger, his grin unchanged. "Exactly. Don't worry about me attacking you once you're inside."
Still uncertain, she reluctantly agreed.
With a sigh, she gestured for the others to follow.
As they passed him, they eyed Lior warily. He simply waved with a sheepish smile.
One by one, they stepped through the broken entrance.
Once the last entered, Lior called out.
"Oh, and please don't forget—"
They turned back, waiting.
"Longing is not a weakness."
A pause. "Every being carries a fragment of something lost, ancient, or unreachable."
With that, he waved once more.
Sachia simply stared, unable to discern his intentions.
She turned her gaze toward the mages inside.
Then a weight pressed lightly against her shoulder. A whisper grazed her ear, carried on cold breath and silky, jet-black strands of hair.
"Are you not going to join them, miss?"
A shiver crawled down her spine. His touch was colder than death.
"No… I'm fine observing," she said, not daring to look at him.
He straightened beside her, staring into the temple.
"Well then, enjoy the show," he said, a small grin forming.
She glanced at him with a raised brow—then looked back.
Inside, the mages began to shift strangely.
"What's this?" she asked, confusion clear in her voice.
Lior's expression didn't change.
"That is the power of Longing," he said calmly.
Inside, the mages had gone frantic.
Some curled on the ground, tears streaming. Others clung to rubble, pure joy etched across their faces.
Each of them cried out—to loved ones only they could see.
A storm of emotion filled the temple, every ounce aimed at invisible figures.
Lior turned to Sachia, gesturing inward.
"Are you sure you don't want to enter? You might reunite with your family."
She looked at him, terror filling her eyes.
He chuckled faintly. "Although… it might be the last thing you ever see."
Gradually, the mages' erratic behavior slowed. Their eyes widened. Then—stillness.
"What happened to them?" Sachia asked, unable to look away.
"It ate their soul," Lior answered sharply.
"Their soul…" she echoed, dazed.
"Look," Lior said, pointing at Seia.
At the white marble altar, Seia knelt.
Her face pale, her voice ragged.
"I'm sorry… Mother, Father. I'll do better next time."
Hearing her words, Lior couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh my," he chuckled. "Even terrified of her parents, she still longs for them."
Inside, Seia whispered more, her voice fading.
Her skin turned ghostly pale.
Then—she collapsed. Her lifeless eyes locked on the stone altar, and what was engraved there.
Sachia turned to Lior, horrified.
"What… what is this temple?"
"I'm not entirely sure," he said, shrugging.
"But I have two guesses."
He looked up at the temple walls.
"It might be that the temple itself is a Hollow—but I doubt it."
Sachia's eyes widened. "Impossible! As far as I know, only living things can become Hollow."
"Exactly," Lior replied softly.
"That led me to another conclusion."
"And that is?"
Lior paused, his eyes drawn to the altar.
"It's possible a Hollow resides within the temple."
Sachia looked again at the still corpses inside.
"That's more likely, but…"
She trailed off, recalling the earlier events.
"We didn't see anyone else—just the mages."
Her gaze fixed on him.
Noticing it, Lior sighed.
"I'm not certain either. These are just guesses."
"I see…" she muttered.
"Well, it doesn't matter to me," Lior said, stepping inside.
"Wait!" Sachia called, reaching for him.
To her shock, Lior wandered the temple freely. Its power had no grip on him.
Once inside, he stood beside Seia's corpse.
Black haze coiled around him as he unsheathed Ashrender.
What is he about to do?
Before the thought could settle—Lior moved.
Grabbing Seia by the hair, he brought Ashrender down.
In one swift motion—she was decapitated.
With the head firmly in his grasp, he stepped behind the altar.
Bending down, he picked up a small bottle of liquid and a scrap of parchment—tucking both away inside his garments.
Sachia could only watch in shock, unable to speak.
Lior left the temple, blood dripping from the severed head, leaving a trail behind him.
He walked past Sachia, then glanced back.
"What are you waiting for? Let's go."
Sachia jolted, her eyes landing on Lior.
"Where to?" she asked softly.
"Where else?" he said, a smirk on his face.
"To win back the western regions, of course."