As soon as Kiomi and Zein vanished into the passage, the echo of their footsteps faded into the damp corridors. The air settled into an unnatural stillness, heavy with the metallic scent of burnt magic and the dust of the fallen necro. Lucian stepped forward, planting himself at the center of the chamber. The bluish glow of the crystals embedded in the walls stretched long, trembling shadows behind him.
Arnod watched him without blinking. With a slow gesture, he pulled back his hood, revealing a face cut by old scars—fissures that had never fully healed. A crooked, prideful smile took shape immediately.
—Arnod… —Lucian muttered, tightening his grip around his staff.
—Well now —the other replied, dipping his head just slightly—, at least someone remembers me. I'm glad… current leader of the Knights of Ilmenor.
Lucian began to walk in a slow arc, circling him, measuring distance, exits, obstacles—studying the room like a board with a single chance to play.
—You were a hero to my generation —he said, never taking his eyes off him—. We all believed you were dead.
Arnod let out a soft laugh that echoed off the stone walls.
—Don't tell me you swallowed that story —he raised an eyebrow in amused disbelief—. I'm sure you know the truth.
—Of course I do.
—And you still choose to help them? —Arnod asked, tilting his head as if evaluating an unreasonable choice.
—It's my duty.
—Ah, your "duty"… —Arnod repeated with a tone that almost sounded nostalgic—. Just as it was mine to protect the prince. I suppose I can respect that.
A heavy silence settled over the chamber. The temperature seemed to drop as the two of them studied each other, unmoving, each calculating the next step.
I just need to buy time for the kids to get out, Lucian thought, feeling the faint tingling of mana gathering at the tip of his staff.
Arnod narrowed his eyes.
—Why a mage, Arnod? —he nodded toward the staff—. The last thing a knight is any good at is magecraft, isn't it?
Arnod drew a slow breath, neither confirming nor denying.
—Who knows? —he replied with a calm smile.
Arnod lowered his gaze to his own staff, running his fingers along it as if touching an old memory.
—I know what you're trying to do —he said.
—And what would that be? —Lucian asked, feigning a near-theatrical innocence.
—You're trying to buy time…
A cold beat struck Lucian's chest.
Shit. He figured it out.
—…so you can save yourself —Arnod finished. He stepped closer—. You know how powerful I am, and you're afraid. I can tell because I've been watching you since you were a child. You were always a coward… Araphor's little student.
Lucian stood perfectly still for a moment. Then, a long, carefree laugh burst out of him, echoing against the stone walls.
—You're right —Lucian said with an easy smile—. Since I'm such a coward… would you mind explaining how magic works? You know knights are terrible at that.
Arnod raised a brow, amused.
—Of course —he replied with a shrug—. I'll play your little game.
He began to walk in a slow circle, the echo of his boots pulsing through the chamber. Each step set the rhythm of his explanation.
—First… mana. You don't need to be as talented as I am to understand it. Without mana, there are no spells, no resistance, nothing at all. Every race depends on it—humans, elves… —he waved a dismissive hand—. The other races, the inferior ones. They don't count.
As he spoke, Lucian moved his fingers, and the helm of his armor appeared in a brief flash of blue light. He held it tucked under one arm, listening as if he were hearing a story he had already memorized.
Arnod, letting the sound of his own voice carry him, lifted his staff. The empty sockets of the carved skull began to glow with a spectral light. In front of the skull, two magic circles formed, one floating above the other, slowly rotating.
The ground trembled.
The first necro burst through the earth, clawing their way up from blackened cracks with their bony fingers. One, then another, then a dozen more. The air grew heavy, thick with the smell of damp soil and old decay.
—As you can see, magic circles exist —Arnod continued, pointing at them with pride—. The more circles, the stronger the magic. The known limit is ten… though some believe there may be more. A revolutionary theory, if you ask me.
Lucian put on his helmet without hurry, like someone preparing for a familiar routine.
—Wow. Is that all? —he asked in a tone so calm it bordered on mockery.
—Don't be so impatient —Arnod clicked his tongue—. There's one last lesson: your limit is your imagination. You can have power, strength, knowledge… but if you don't believe you can do it, you'll never succeed.
—Wow —Lucian replied, the sarcasm so sharp it could've drawn blood—. Thanks for the lesson.
The kids should be pretty close to the exit by now, he thought as he unsheathed his sword. The metal rang with a clear note that echoed through the chamber.
Lucian pointed the blade toward Arnod.
—Well then… shall we begin?
…
On the other side of the tunnels, near the mountain's exit, Kiomi was running with Zein on her back. The icy air scraped her throat, and each step boomed through the narrow passageway. The moisture on the floor soaked through her boots, but she didn't slow down.
WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!
Her breathing came in shallow bursts.
And why in the hell am I carrying the vessel of a thousand-year-old demon on my back?!
She tried not to look behind her. Every time she did, it felt as if the darkness itself was following.
Zein finally opened his eyes.
His sluggish blinking, heavy breathing, and unfocused stare made Kiomi stop dead in her tracks. She lowered him carefully, almost letting him fall onto his own feet.
—Are you okay? —she asked, leaning toward him.
—Yeah… —Zein rubbed his head, swaying—. What…?
—Do you feel anything weird? —she cut him off quickly—. Does anything hurt? Do you feel… different?
Zein shook his head, confused.
—No… why?
Kiomi let out a sigh so long the echo bounced across the hallway.
She explained everything as they resumed walking: Arnod, the escape, though she kept the black figure to herself. Zein listened in silence.
The tunnels stretched on endlessly. Identical torches, identical walls, the same damp smell clinging to every step. Both of them blamed the repetition on their exhaustion… until neither of them could ignore it anymore.
First came a faint vibration, then a deep rumble shook the passageway. A handful of stones fell from the ceiling, and a torch crashed down right in front of Zein, scorching the air next to his face.
They kept running.
But the torch appeared again.
They turned a corner: the torch.
Climbed a small incline: the torch.
Opened a different door: the same damned torch lying on the floor.
At first it seemed like coincidence.
By the fourth time, it wasn't.
Kiomi shoved open another door… and there it was again, waiting for them.
—Damn it! —she snapped, kicking it. The flame flickered wildly, almost as if mocking her.
Another tremor rippled through the mountain.
A distant roar followed, metallic, like stone groaning under a power that should not exist.
—Lucian… —Kiomi whispered, clenching her teeth.
Zein took a deep breath, his eyes darting around with growing desperation.
—There has to be a room here that doesn't send us back to this —he said while opening door after door. Each one showed something different, but no matter how it changed: they always ended up in front of the fallen torch.
Until, turning into a narrower corridor, they found a different door.
The wood was old, carved with symbols they hadn't seen before. And the moment they opened it, they knew: this room wasn't like the others. It didn't feel repeated. It didn't have the torch.
They rushed across the room. For the first time in that endless maze, the door on the far side looked like a real exit, so Kiomi pulled it open with force… but instantly, where a hallway should have been, a solid wall appeared—cold like stone freshly awakened.
A loud rumble echoed behind them.
When they turned, the door they had entered through no longer existed.
—No, no, no, no! —Kiomi sprinted to the new wall and struck it with her fists, as if she could force it to regret its existence.
—Hey… —Zein tried to approach, raising his hands awkwardly—. At least… we're safe, right?
Another crash answered his attempt at optimism.
The walls began to move. Slowly at first, with the rough scrape of rock grinding against rock. Then faster. The room shrinking inch by inch.
Kiomi shot him a sideways glare.
—You just had to say something —she muttered through her teeth.
They both threw themselves against the walls, trying to hold back the inevitable. Every inch they gained vanished instantly. The pressure was constant, suffocating, as if the mountain wanted to crush them simply for existing inside it.
Kiomi summoned her ropes; the fibers tightened and hardened like forged metal. She wedged them between the walls to brace them. They held… but only barely. The movement never stopped—just slowed. One more breath. Nothing more.
—Damn it… —she breathed out, her voice barely holding together.
The space had shrunk so much that they could feel the heat of each other's breath colliding. The air grew dense, heavy—almost intimate.
Zein, his face strained with effort, let out a shaky laugh.
—Why do you hate me? —he asked suddenly.
Kiomi blinked.
—What?
—Yeah, why do you hate me so much? —he insisted, still bracing the wall—. Ever since we met, you look at me badly, you talk like it annoys you to breathe the same air as me… it's always been like that. And… —he swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady—. I don't know what I did.
The silence that followed was louder than the rumbling stone.
Kiomi looked away, jaw clenched. The walls pressed forward and forward, forcing them closer, as if the mountain itself enjoyed squeezing out truths.
—I don't owe you an explanation —she said sharply. But her voice had lost its usual edge.
—Come on —Zein forced a small, sad smile—. If we're gonna die crushed… you could at least tell me, right?
Kiomi took a deep breath. The tremor of the stone rattled through them again. Her jaw tightened, but this time not because of the wall.
—I don't know if you know this… —she began, avoiding his gaze—. But I don't have a very good relationship with my mother. And my father… he left.
—I… didn't know that —Zein murmured.
Her voice trembled, like pressure that had been trapped for years finally trying to slip through.
—But even with all that, lately we were getting along better. It almost felt like a normal family again. Until he stopped coming home. Again. She always told me he had work at the church, and I believed him. It wasn't until…—
—Until… what? —Zein asked, leaning slightly toward her.
—Until you showed up —Kiomi spat, her nails digging into the shrinking walls around them—. I found out she was taking care of and teaching two brats, putting them above her own family. She didn't even come home for dinner anymore. Or lunch. I barely see her. And it's all your fault.
Zein opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before he could breathe.
—And on top of that… ever since I was a kid, I've always, always wanted to join the Knights of Ilmenor. I've tried so many times. I wanted to become Lucian's disciple, but he always rejected me… —The room was shrinking so much they were practically suspended, their feet braced against opposite walls to avoid the closing space beneath them—. And then, when I saw you as his disciple, I wondered: why not me? And him? Who is he? And not only that. You're also being cared for by the Saint. Tell me, Zein… who are you? What makes you so special?
Zein stayed silent. Not because he had nothing to say, but because he was weighing every word. To him it might sound trivial, but the way Kiomi pressed her lips together, as if holding herself back from completely breaking, told him it was anything but small to her.
—That's not true —Zein said at last, his voice firm.
—How could it not be true? —Kiomi muttered, looking away as if meeting his gaze might shatter her.
—Lucian told me about you —Zein replied—. He told me the exact same things you just said… except he also explained why he never accepted you as his disciple. And it wasn't because you lacked talent. He said he did it to protect you from this world. And I think I understand what he meant… considering the situation we're in.
The space tightened even more, until they could only stand shoulder to shoulder, breathing the same tense, trembling air.
—And Meliora talks about you a lot —Zein continued, his voice soft in a way that didn't match the danger surrounding them—. She never stops talking about you. She loves you far more than you think. She regrets all the time not being able to be with you. I've even heard her think about leaving the church just to spend more time with you again. —He gave a faint smile, searching for her eyes—. And if you think she's not with you because of us, you're wrong. She works incredibly hard… and she only teaches us for a small part of the day. Nothing more.
Kiomi pressed her lips together and looked away without saying a word. But her breathing changed. It was no longer anger. No longer pride. It was something else entirely: the small, quiet trembling of someone who doesn't know whether to cling to what they feel… or to what they've just been told.
Zein watched her for a moment, tilting his head slightly as she kept avoiding his eyes.
—Are you crying? —he asked with a teasing smile that barely softened the tension.
—No… —Kiomi turned her face toward the wall, wiping her eye with the back of her hand—. Of course not.
By then, the room was so narrow they could barely breathe without brushing against each other. The air felt compressed along with their emotions, trapping even the words neither dared to say aloud.
—I would've loved to hear those words much earlier —Kiomi murmured, letting out a smile that, for the first time, didn't hide venom—. Maybe then I wouldn't have hated you for so long.
A violent crash shook the chamber. Everything froze at once; the mechanism screeched, jammed, and in the blink of an eye, the room was no longer shrinking. As if everything they'd lived had been an illusion, both reappeared in the corridor, lit only by the fallen torch.
Kiomi reacted first. She lunged at Zein, grabbed him by the shirt, and yanked him toward her with a sharp pull.
—Nothing happened here. My words never left my mouth. Understood? —her glare was threatening, but beneath that severe mask there was a different glint.
—Of course —Zein said without arguing, letting her release him.
They started moving toward the exit, still processing what they had just lived… and what they had almost said.
…
Meanwhile, outside the corridor, Lucian was already facing Arnod. A horde of necros lunged at him relentlessly; Lucian cut them down, shattered them, reduced them to pieces with the same ease others breathe. But no matter how many he felled, there were always more—too many—an ocean of reddish bodies refusing to let him advance.
Arnod kept summoning without rest, his eyes reddened with frustration as he created creatures larger and more deformed each time. And yet, something in the scene deeply unsettled him.
—Why…? —he muttered, then screamed in fury—. Why won't you fall!? You're weak and cowardly! These necros should be powerful! YOU SHOULDN'T BE ABLE TO TAKE DOWN SO MANY!—
One of the necros managed to break through and struck Lucian's sword, knocking it out of his hand. The weapon clattered against the ground, bounced, and slid several meters behind him.
But Lucian didn't even flinch.
Instead of panicking, he smiled. He stepped forward, planted his feet, and shifted into a combat stance.
Arnod went pale.
—Impossible… it's impossible for you to destroy them… with your bare hands… —he whispered, feeling—for the first time—something close to fear.
Before he even finished speaking, Lucian launched himself straight into the necros. He moved among them like a sharpened shadow: slipping past the edge of their blades by mere inches, answering with sharp blows to their skulls, precise enough to make them burst into a dark cloud. Each strike shattered bone, flesh, and corrupted magic, carving space among the tide that hurled itself at him.
Arnod kept summoning without pause, wave after wave, but no matter how many necros rose from the ground, none were enough to slow him.
At one point, a necro managed to turn and land a brutal kick to Lucian's stomach. The impact forced him several steps back. But during that stagger, his hand closed around the hilt of his fallen sword. He lifted it… and then stood still.
Lucian didn't advance a single step.
He remained firm, the sword held behind him, hidden from Arnod's sight, as if waiting for the exact moment to reveal it.
Before him, the necromancer summoned more and more creatures, filling the entire chamber until it looked like a furious red ocean.
—Earlier you said…— Lucian spoke calmly —that the more magic circles an enchantment has, the stronger it is. Isn't that right?—
—Y-yes…— Arnod replied, wearing a smile that tried to look confident but barely held together.
—Well…— Lucian continued as he slowly pulled his sword to the side, letting the dim light of the place wash over it —I'm afraid I'm not as bad at magic as I told you. There's a reason they call me the Master of the Blade.—
The blade reflected a faint bluish glow. Five magic circles, perfectly drawn, were engraved along the steel.
Five.
Arnod went pale instantly.
He tried to hide behind the necros, ordering them to form a wall of bodies in front of him. But his attempt was useless. In the time it took him to feel fear, Lucian had already crossed half the distance between them.
And by the time he tried to react, it was already too late.
Lucian swung his sword.
The shockwave tore through Arnod's magical defense as if it were paper, splitting him from head to stomach… and continued forward. The impact cut straight across the entire mountain, opening it in a perfect line as a deep rumble announced the beginning of the collapse.
Lucian simply sheathed his sword with serenity, as if he had just finished a routine task.
A thick curtain of smoke spread across the chamber. Debris fell around him, rolling to his feet.
Little by little, the haze thinned, revealing a grotesquely divided figure on the ground.
Arnod's body, sliced cleanly into two halves.
Lucian walked toward him with slow, steady steps.
—You underestimated me far too much —Lucian said coldly—. That was your downfall.—
—Ha… haha… HAHAHAHA! —Arnod burst into a broken, deranged laughter as his body began to crumble into black dust that rose like smoke—. Bravo, Lucian. Give those two kids a little message for me, will you?
—Speak —Lucian replied, removing his helmet and letting the cold air touch his face—. But I'm not delivering anything.
—How cruel… —Arnod muttered as his chest began to cave in and vanish—. Tell Kiomi that no matter how far she runs… her past will always chase her. And sooner or later… it'll catch up. And Zein… tell him he has more power inside than he thinks.
—Anything else? —Lucian asked as the last particles of the body lifted with the breeze.
—Ah, yes… Tell Zein… —Arnod paused for a moment, as if savoring his final words. Then a macabre smile formed on his dissolving face— …that his mere existence will bring nothing but pain and suffering to those around him. I would love to witness it.
Lucian didn't reply. He simply watched as the dust finished scattering, carrying Arnod's fading laughter with it until it vanished like a cursed whisper in the air.
…
Some time later, Lucian walked down the path carrying Kiomi on his back, still unconscious, with Zein walking beside him. They had left the mountain behind, now silent beneath the collapse, and the sunset washed their faces with a warm golden hue that contrasted with what they had just endured.
Suddenly, a group of figures appeared among the trees. Soldiers from Ilmenor… and familiar faces.
Lyra didn't wait a second: she ran toward Zein with such force she nearly knocked him over, throwing her arms around him as if afraid he would disappear. Zein held her, a breathless sigh of relief escaping him. Kio approached afterward and simply ruffled his hair with a quiet tenderness.
Kiomi slowly opened her eyes just as Lucian lowered her to the ground. She barely managed to stand when she felt someone crash into her.
It was Meliora.
Meliora hugged her so tightly that Kiomi went rigid, unsure of what to do. Meliora held her face, checked her arms, her hands, her neck, murmuring non-stop through tears—asking if she was alright, if anything hurt, if she had been scared. She couldn't stop touching her, couldn't stop confirming that her daughter was still alive.
And Kiomi… Kiomi didn't know what to say. No one had hugged her like that in a long time.
Meliora finally broke down, burying her face in Kiomi's shoulder. Kiomi's whole body trembled softly as she felt it, caught between embarrassment, relief, and something she had denied herself for years.
For a moment, Kiomi lifted her gaze.
Zein was watching her from a few steps away.
He didn't say anything.
He just gave her a warm, sincere smile. One that asked for nothing in return.
Kiomi, her eyes still shimmering, quickly looked away, trying to hide the emotion boiling in her chest.
But it was too late.
Zein had already seen it.
And though no one said it out loud, everyone there —Lucian, Zein, Kiomi, Meliora, Lyra— felt the same thing, like a soft thread connecting them beneath the glow of the sunset:
They had survived. Together.