That night, Atem and the others exchanged only the essentials. The real discussions—the strategic pieces, the motives, the unseen shadows—would wait until everyone had rested. Even for a king, some matters required clarity of mind, not haste.
Leon began by explaining his connection to Chloe. They had been childhood friends—more akin to siblings than acquaintances. Beyond that, he withheld details. Atem understood at once: Chloe likely no longer remembered those early times. The mystery remained, but not one that troubled Atem.
Leon was always composed, elegant, and unshakably calm—except when Chloe entered the picture. His devotion to her bordered on reverence. It exceeded even the way Treyni doted on Ramiris. Atem noted that Leon might very well kneel before Chloe one day and declare, with a straight face, "Allow me to pledge my eternal loyalty."
And Chloe would probably smile and gently refuse.
Chloe also carried a secret. She could shift into her adult form at will. Chronoa's consciousness remained intact within her, forming a bond similar to Atem's relationship with Solarys, the Sovereign of Wisdom. Together, Chloe and Chronoa could switch control—or merge entirely—granting her access to her original form for battle.
But appearing suddenly as an adult would certainly terrify the other children. Chloe preferred to remain as she was. Atem saw this as wise and gave her his full approval.
When the topic changed to Granbell, Luminás' expression hardened.
"Granbell likely broke after his wife's death," she explained. "Mariabell became his final hope. Her death—whoever caused it—shattered him again. Only recently did his sanity return."
That was Granbell Rosso in a single phrase—so serious, yet so tragically clumsy.
The loss of his wife had consumed him with guilt, the kind a man never escapes. Mariabell had become his hope, and when she fell—after daring to challenge Atem—he lost himself completely. Even without proof, Atem suspected Yuuki had killed her.
But to Granbell, explanations no longer mattered. Her death hollowed him. In a twisted irony, that deep solitude seemed to clear his mind in the end.
With renewed clarity—and terrifying resolve—Granbell devised a plan to awaken the True Hero. If he failed, the world would be doomed. Yet he pursued it without hesitation.
His determination was absolute. That was the only undeniable truth.
A Hero did not need to be virtuous. Humans carried flaws, biases, obsessions. Granbell's love for humanity was immense. Thus, when he fell into madness, the consequences were far worse than if anyone else had.
Even Atem, the former Pharaoh, was not immune to the pain of loss. He recalled the moment he had nearly lost his own companions. The agony of that memory was still sharp.
He could not bring himself to call Granbell "foolish."
He understood him far too well.
✦ The Next Day — A Requiem for the Lost ✦
The sky stretched endlessly above them, deep blue and unmarred. Beneath its vast expanse, the ruins of the Grand Cathedral stood silently as the exchange concert began.
Before the musicians lay an audience seated in perfect order.
The music rose—beautiful, mourning, gentle. A farewell hymn for all who had placed their hopes into tomorrow. A requiem carried on the wind.
And in that transcendent moment, dreams unfolded.
✦ Maria's Dream ✦
Maria awoke smiling, finding Gran's familiar face beside her.
"Was it a good dream?" he asked.
"Yes. A very sweet one."
They shared a warm smile.
"How strange… I kept wondering, why didn't I believe that slime?"
"That's a difficult one," Gran chuckled. "Dreams don't often give us neat answers."
"Ehhh, can't you be serious for once?"
He laughed quietly. "Had we trusted each other from the beginning, things would not have spiraled so far. But humans are fearful. They distrust those who live by different rules. And a ruler must be cautious above all—too trusting, and one is destroyed."
Maria puffed her cheeks in protest.
"That means humans will never truly understand one another! I hate that! Next time, I'll just believe him—no hesitation!"
"You mean what happened in the dream, correct?"
"Yes! If I ever have that dream again, I'll believe him. I'm sure we'll become great friends!"
"I'm sure you will," Gran said gently.
"What about you, Gran? What dream did you have?"
"Me…?"
He had dreamed a long, sorrowful dream—a lifetime of regret condensed into moments. Yet at its end, he glimpsed hope.
"It was a good dream. Truly."
"If you're happy, I'm happy!" Maria beamed.
"Me too. As long as you're smiling, I can endure anything."
"We'll have peaceful days together. That alone makes me happy."
"Indeed."
"When our child is born, we'll have an even bigger family. We'll be even happier!"
"Yes… you're right," Gran whispered, embracing her.
Music filled the air—music guiding them toward their next journey.
"Razul must be waiting. Shall we go?"
"Yes! Did you forget anything? We won't be coming back."
"No need. As long as I have you with me, I require nothing else."
Hand in hand, they walked forward.
Toward a distant, promised land—
where all those they loved were waiting.