Alaric opened his eyes, but there was nothing to see.

  He was floating in an endless, suffocating void. There was no ground, no sky, only a cold darkness that seeped into his bones.

  Then, he appeared.

  Alaric saw himself. Or rather, a twisted, monochromatic reflection of himself standing in the emptiness. The figure’s eyes were not just dark but rather hollowed-out pits of malice.

  The figure laughed. It was the sound of glass grinding against bone.

  "You got killed again," the Alter Ego sneered, circling Alaric like a shark. "How much of a loser are you?"

  Alaric tried to speak, but his throat felt filled with ash.

  "No matter how many chances this universe gives you," the shadow mocked, leaning in close, "you just get killed. You couldn't save your parents. You couldn't save the saintess. And now, you couldn't even save yourself."

  Alaric lowered his head. He couldn't answer. He knew it was the truth. He was weak. He was always one step behind the tragedy.

  "No revenge. No salvation," the shadow whispered, its voice dripping with absolute pity. "Just a corpse in the mud."

  Despair began to eat him alive. Why struggle? Why fight so hard just to end up here, broken and alone in the dark? It was better to end this miserable existence than to keep struggling against a current that only wanted to drown him.

  I’m done, Alaric thought, closing his eyes. Just let me fade.

  Suddenly, the Alter Ego stopped laughing.

  The shadow looked up, its hollow eyes widening in genuine surprise. It took a step back, shielding its face.

  "Huh?" the shadow muttered. "Even the gods prefer you?"

  FLASH.

  The darkness didn't just fade, it was obliterated.

  Alaric gasped as the void turned into a blinding sea of white light. It was coming from everywhere and nowhere. A floor of polished glass formed beneath his feet.

  A figure appeared in front of him.

  It looked like Lucia. It had her silver hair, her face, her dress.

  But Alaric knew instantly, this was not Lucia.

  The pressure coming off her was crushing. It wasn't mana but something far older, far heavier. It was almost divine. Alaric fell to his knees, unable to breathe, his mind threatening to fracture under the sheer weight of the being's presence.

  The entity stepped closer. She reached out a hand.

  "Calm down, child," she said.

  Her voice was the sweetest sound Alaric had ever heard. It was like a choir of bells, like the first breath of spring.

  Instantly, the pain vanished. The suffocating pressure lifted, replaced by a warm embrace that permeated his very soul.

  "Where... where am I?" Alaric rasped.

  "This is the Spiritual Realm," the entity explained, her voice echoing softly. "The pathway between the Mortal World and the unending citadel of heaven."

  She smiled, and it was the smile of Lucia, but with eyes that held the depth of galaxies.

  "I could not come in my true form, for it would burn your mind," she said. "So, I took this one. The one you seem most associated with."

  Alaric stared up at her. "Who are you?"

  "I am the one your people call Elyss," she said. "The materialization of the concept of Hope."

  Alaric’s eyes widened. The Goddess. One of the seven deities of the Church.

  "Why?" Alaric asked. "Why are you here?"

  "Because of her," Elyss said gently. "In the moment you were about to die, the sheer desperation of Lucia and her absolute, unshakable belief in the Divine will, shattered the final barrier. She has overcome her last trial. She has connected with me fully."

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  Elyss placed a hand on Alaric’s phantom chest.

  "She is a Saintess now, Alaric. Right now, I have descended into her body in the mortal world. I am using my power through her to knit your flesh back together."

  Elyss leaned in, her expression tender. "Remember this. It is my Lucia's desire that is saving you. Thank her properly."

  Alaric nodded, stunned. But then Elyss tilted her head, her divine eyes narrowing slightly as she looked into him.

  "Also," she mused, "I was curious about your existence, so I came to look closer."

  She tapped his chest.

  "Huh. You are two souls but also a single soul. That is weird."

  Alaric froze.

  "Two souls?"

  "Yes," Elyss said. "It seems there is something inside of you. It is not just you."

  Alaric felt a shiver of pure ice run down his spine. He thought the Alter Ego, the shadow in the void….was just his own grief, his own subconscious playing cruel jokes on him.

  It’s real?

  The thing that mocked him... actually exists?

  "What is it?" Alaric panic rose. "What is his goal? What is he trying to achieve? What can he do?!"

  "Calm down, child," Elyss soothed, though her tone was serious. "It is connected to you, but it is not in charge of your being."

  "How do I get rid of him?" Alaric begged. "Tell me how to erase it."

  Elyss looked at him with pity. She shook her head slowly.

  "It is you, Alaric. You cannot get rid of it. Trying to erase it... would be like trying to kill yourself."

  Alaric’s mind went blank. He couldn't speak. The implication was too heavy to process.

  "Well," Elyss said, stepping back as the light began to fade. "It seems it is time to go. Your body is ready."

  She offered him one last smile.

  "Remember, Alaric. Now that Lucia is the Saintess... things will not be the same."

  The light swallowed him whole.

  "Alaric!"

  The voice came from far away, then suddenly, it was right next to his ear.

  Alaric gasped, his eyes snapping open.

  The smell of blood hit him first. Then, the warmth.

  He was lying on the ground. His head was resting on something soft, Lucia’s lap.

  She was hugging him. Her arms were wrapped tight around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder. She was sobbing, her body shaking with uncontrollable relief. A faint, golden light was still fading from her skin….the remnants of the Goddess leaving her vessel.

  Alaric blinked, his vision clearing.

  Surrounding them was a circle of worried faces. Instructor Hargan looked pale. The five Elite Knights stood guard. And standing right there, looking down with an unreadable expression, was Duke Thorne.

  Alaric realized the situation instantly. He was lying in the lap of the Duke's daughter, who was crying over him like a lover, in front of the Duke himself.

  Dangerous, Alaric thought.

  He tried to move, but Lucia held him tighter.

  "Saintess," Alaric rasped, his voice dry. "I survived the demon... but I think I will die if you hug me this tightly."

  Lucia froze. She pulled back, her face red and streaked with tears, but her eyes bright with joy.

  "You idiot!" she choked out, but she loosened her grip.

  A wave of relief washed over the group. Hargan let out a massive sigh. Even Duke Thorne’s stoic mask cracked, and a look of genuine relief crossed his face.

  Alaric sat up. His chest, which had been a crater of gore minutes ago, was completely healed. Only a faint white scar remained.

  The sun was setting over Ironhold, casting long shadows across the battered courtyard.

  The students of all four battalions were gathered in formation. They were bandaged, exhausted, and shaken but alive.

  Duke Thorne stood on the podium.

  "Today," Thorne began, his voice projecting across the silence, "we faced a nightmare."

  He didn't sugarcoat it.

  "The sudden appearance of a General was a tragedy that should not have happened. It was traumatizing. But you survived."

  He looked at the students, specifically at the nobles who had been paralyzed by fear.

  "Take this lesson to heart. The world is not safe. The demons do not care about your titles. Prepare your hearts, for this may not be the last time."

  He took a breath.

  "Given the severity of the incident, I will speak with the Academy Principal. We are canceling the remainder of the War Game. The Academy will go on a one-month break to allow you all to recuperate and recover from this experience."

  Murmurs of relief rippled through the crowd. They wanted to go home.

  "However," Thorne continued, "we must acknowledge the outcome."

  He turned his gaze to Battalion 3.

  "The winners of the engagement are Battalion 3."

  The commoners cheered weakly, still too tired to celebrate fully.

  "And finally," Thorne said, stepping down from the podium.

  He walked through the ranks until he stood in front of Alaric.

  Alaric stood at attention. He was wearing a spare uniform, as his original one had been incinerated.

  "Alaric," Thorne said, his voice deep "I would personally like to thank you. For your bravery in killing the Void Stalker. And for safeguarding the students when hope seemed lost."

  Thorne reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, gleaming object.

  The Golden Pin of Valor.

  It was a medal usually reserved for knights who did something exceptional. Thorne pinned it onto Alaric’s lapel himself. The gold shone brightly against the navy blue fabric.

  "You have the gratitude of House Thorne," the Duke said loudly for everyone to hear.

  Then, he leaned in close.

  Under the guise of adjusting the pin, Thorne whispered, his voice low and for Alaric’s ears only.

  "Meet me in my study tonight. and Join my family for dinner."

  Thorne pulled back, gave Alaric a firm nod, and walked away.

  Alaric touched the cold metal of the pin. He looked at Lucia, who was watching him from the side with a soft, proud smile.

  The test was over