Silence.
The only sounds were Elara's shallow, ragged breaths and the low hum of the crimson cage around them. The Behemoth was gone. Wiped from existence. Kaelen was on his knees, his sword forgotten, just staring at the impossible being of light and shadow that used to be Alvian.
Then, a new sound came from the shadows.
A slow, mocking clap.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sound was an insult in the dead quiet. Alvian spun, his blade up, the Duality energy still swirling around him like a storm. Kaelen scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword to shield Elara's body.
A figure stepped out of the darkness. It was Alexios Vane, a cruel, triumphant smirk plastered on his face, flanked by two of his goons. But Alvian's eyes shot past him. To the man in front.
Archon Titus.
The granite-faced leader of the Academy stepped into the light, his crimson-trimmed robes seeming to absorb the shadows. The clapping stopped. He looked at the scene—the erased beast, the dying girl, the defiant Kaelen, and finally, the impossible power radiating from Alvian. His face didn't show surprise. It showed… satisfaction.
"Magnificent," Titus said, his voice the same cold boom from the ceremony. "Truly magnificent. I only wanted the Corrupted Alpha to weaken the girl. I never thought it would flush out a prize like you."
"Archon Titus!" Kaelen yelled, his voice a mess of confusion and rage. "Alexios is a traitor! He led us into this trap!"
Titus actually chuckled. A dry, dead sound. "Oh, the Vane boy is a traitor, yes. But he is my traitor. Very useful for herding… special students."
The truth slammed into Alvian like a physical blow. This wasn't Alexios. The test, the trap, the corrupted beast, the cage—it was all the Archon. A leader of the Academy.
"Why?" Alvian's voice was a low growl, vibrating with power.
"Why?" Titus repeated, taking a step closer. His eyes weren't on Elara. They were locked on Alvian, burning with a cold, fanatic fire. "Because Valerius Academy has grown soft. It shelters the weak. It has forgotten its true purpose: to find and forge weapons for the only cause that matters."
He spread his arms wide, a zealot declaring his god. "The Crimson Covenant is not the enemy. It is the future! A future of order! A future free from the heresy of aberrant Aether!"
His gaze sharpened, dissecting Alvian's swirling aura. "I came for the Tyrell girl's water affinity. A fine specimen. But you… you are something else. That power… that perfect, blasphemous harmony. There is only one name for it. Architect."
The word hung in the air. A death sentence.
"To think," Titus continued, his voice dripping with greed, "the legends were true. An heir to the greatest heretics in the universe, delivered to my doorstep. You are not a candidate, boy. You are a holy relic. The key to weaponizing reality itself. You will be my greatest gift to the Covenant."
He wasn't going to kill him. He was going to capture him. Dissect him. Turn his soul into a weapon.
The sheer, monstrous arrogance of it all made Alvian's blood run cold. He glanced at Kaelen, whose face was pale with terror. They weren't just fighting for their lives. They were fighting one of the most powerful men in the world.
[System Scan Activated!]
┌─────[ Target ]─────┐
➽ Name: Titus (Archon)
➽ Rank: Archon - Stage III [Void Severing]
➽ Affiliation: Valerius Academy (Traitor), The Crimson Covenant (Inquisitor)
➽ Description: A master of orthodox Aether arts. Possesses an indomitable Aether shield and overwhelming destructive power.
➽ Threat level: FATAL.
└────────────────────┘
Impossible. The fight was impossible. Titus was an Archon. The gap between them was as wide as the sky.
"Kaelen," Alvian said, his voice low. "Get Elara. Far wall. Now."
"We fight together!" Kaelen snarled, fear warring with loyalty.
"That's an order," Alvian snapped, his glowing eyes leaving no room to argue. "Go!"
As Kaelen scooped Elara up and retreated, Titus just watched, amused. "Futile. There is no escape."
He raised a hand. A spear of pure white Aether, burning like a star, formed in his palm. He threw it—not at Alvian, but at Kaelen.
Alvian moved. A blur of silver and black, he intercepted the spear with his blade.
BOOM!
The impact was a cataclysm. The crypt shook. Alvian was sent skidding back ten feet, his arms screaming, the Duality energy around him flickering violently. He'd blocked it. Barely.
"Impressive," Titus noted, like a scientist watching an ant lift a crumb. "But you are running on empty. That little light show against the beast drained you."
He was right. Alvian's core ached. He was dangerously low on power. He fought on, a whirlwind of desperation. He dodged. He parried. Kaelen, having secured Elara, jumped back in, his Soul-Sight calling out attacks, trying to create openings.
But they were being crushed. Systematically. Titus was a fortress. Every attack they landed fizzled out against his shimmering Aether shield. Every counter-attack was a hammer blow. Kaelen was sent flying with a broken arm. Alvian was bleeding from a dozen cuts, his movements getting slower. Fading.
Titus ended it with a flick of his wrist.
A wave of gravity slammed Alvian to his knees. His sword clattered to the floor. The Archon strode forward, his shadow falling over him. He gestured to Alexios. "Secure the other two. The Architect is mine."
Powerless. Defeated. Everything he had fought for was about to end in this tomb.
'No,' a voice screamed in his soul. The voice of the boy who had sworn to never be powerless again.
One option left. Not a skill. A sacrifice. A final, suicidal middle finger.
His eyes, burning with a last, desperate light, met Titus's. "You want my power?" he rasped, a bloody smile spreading across his face. "Then have it all."
He focused his will on his very core. He didn't control the Aether and Null. He let them go. He pushed every last drop into a single, unstable point.
[WARNING! CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT!]
[HOST'S SOUL MATRIX IS REACHING CRITICAL MASS! DETONATION IMMINENT!]
[CASCADE FAILURE! ANNIHILATION… KZZT… ANNIHILATION…]
Titus's eyes widened. For the first time, his arrogance was gone, replaced by genuine alarm. He felt the world-ending power building inside the boy. "Fool! What are you doing?!"
Too late.
Alvian let out a raw scream as a pillar of impossible energy erupted from him. Not light. Not darkness. Both. A column of pure, balanced twilight tore through the roof of the crypt, shattering the crimson cage like glass. It rocketed into the sky, a beacon visible for hundreds of miles. An announcement.
Here I am.
The backlash was absolute. The world dissolved into white noise and pain. He collapsed, smoking, his consciousness fading into a welcome black.
Titus, thrown back by the blast, roared in fury. His prize was broken. He stalked toward Alvian's crumpled form. "You will not escape me, heretic!"
He reached down to grab Alvian's neck.
A calm, impossibly ancient voice echoed through the ruined crypt. A pressure so immense it made Archon Titus freeze in place, his hand hovering inches from its target.
"That," the voice said, with chilling finality, "is enough."