The night had broken. Elena Moonwhisper's hand rested on the back of Aldric Ironheart's hand. Her slender fingers as a priestess lay gently upon that scarred palm, and the night had turned white around them. Aldric had not been sleeping. Likely Elena hadn't either. The campfire had turned to ash. Around it, Mira Shadowstep sat with her knees drawn up. Her eyes were open, but she was not looking at anything. Just staring at a single point in the darkness. Kael Brightblade sat hugging his knees at the base of a nearby tree, seeming to doze, yet not truly asleep—that kind of silence hung in the morning mist. No one tried to speak first. The weight of what had been spoken the night before still lingered there. Castian—the man who once called himself the "Seventh Demon Lord" and sought to halt the world's time—his soul's remnant was sealed within Aldric's own body. The source of the void ivy lay deep within this old man's flesh. For thirty years, alone, he had carried it. Kael began packing his belongings when the mist had thinned somewhat. His movements were stiff. He tied a knot wrong and had to redo it. His hands moved with a dullness they hadn't possessed since the night before. Mira stood and stamped out the dying embers with her boot. Then, reaching toward her pack, she glanced briefly at Aldric's back. The old man stood facing the river, his left arm pressed against his side over his sleeve. Only Elena walked naturally to Aldric's side. Without saying anything. Simply standing there, beside him. They began walking the mountain path. The four of them moved through the mist with few words. Everyone knew the reckoning from the previous night was not yet complete. Yet their feet moved. Their bodies moved. The fact that there was a place to go was all that directed the four of them in one direction. The walls of Saint Clairvol appeared hazily beyond the mist. Within those walls lay Clairvol Castle. Beneath it lay the entrance to the Forbidden Tower. There lay the source of the void ivy—in other words, the material outlet of Castian's sealed consciousness. No one spoke of it, but all were aware. On a section of the mountain path that leveled out somewhat, Kael's foot slipped. He missed his footing on a protruding stone and nearly stumbled. His pack swayed, tilting forward. As Kael regained his balance and looked up, Mira was walking half a step behind him, sighing. "You did the same thing yesterday," Mira said. Her voice held no emotion. It was less cold than confirmatory in tone. Kael started to say, "No, yesterday it was the rocky area," but stopped. There was no basis for argument. The fact remained that he had nearly fallen two days in a row. "…………" Kael fell silent and looked ahead. His ears were slightly flushed. Mira added nothing further. Aldric picked up the exchange with only his ears while continuing forward, his deep purple-tinged gray eyes perhaps flickering with something—something too small to be called a wry smile. Elena placed her hand over her mouth. The morning mist softened slightly. —— Neveria Academic Tower—the continent's only officially recognized institution for magical education, located twelve kilometers northwest of Saint Clairvol, a six-story structure—its south wing had remained in ruins since a collapse incident two hundred years prior. The South Wing Collapse Incident was an accident in which a forbidden spell experiment conducted at the tower two hundred years ago had spiraled out of control, causing the south wing building itself to vanish. Since then, the research, use, and possession of forbidden spells had been made a capital offense, and this ruined area had become a place no one approached, strictly off-limits—at least officially. The outer walls of the ruin were covered in moss and ivy. Cracks ran through the stone walls, and part of the roof had fallen away, revealing the sky. As the four stepped inside, rotted wood creaked beneath their feet. Mira took the lead down the corridor. Her golden eyes quickly scanned the darkness. Her instincts as an information broker rapidly read the space's dangers. "The left wall is crumbling. Walk on the right side," she said low, moving accordingly herself. Kael followed. Aldric and Elena walked behind. As they approached the deepest part of the ruin—a large stone chamber that had apparently once served as a library—they saw light leaking from the gap in the door. Mira stopped. She signaled behind her with her hand. The four halted along the wall. The light was steady. A lantern, or magical illumination. There were sounds—the rustling of pages, the sound of writing. Aldric stepped forward and pushed the door open. The room was buried in manuscripts and scattered papers of calculations. Stacks of books piled high. Geometric figures of countless kinds pasted on the walls. Parchment covered in fine script and equations and characters. In the center stood a single man. He had long silver-gray hair tied back, thin violet eyes behind spectacles, and a tall frame. His age appeared to be around fifty—actually fifty-four. A black pattern rose on the back of his left hand. A forbidden spell mark—an irreversible trace left on the body of one who had cast a forbidden spell. Lysander the Wise. Former instructor at Neveria Academic Tower, scholar expelled for the discovery of forbidden spell research. The moment he saw Aldric, he looked up from his book. Then he stood. Words did not come immediately. Instead, a short sigh escaped. The violet eyes behind his spectacles looked at Aldric's left arm. They tried to see beneath the sleeve—more precisely, at the gray pattern that should be crawling there—then returned to his face. "Faster than anticipated," Lysander said. His voice was low. Beneath academic composure lay a faint bitterness. Aldric nodded briefly. It was the greeting of old acquaintances, stripped of excess. "Lysander," Aldric said. "Ah," Lysander replied. A wry smile came back. The heavy way two people laugh when meeting after a long time. Elena stepped forward and bowed with the courtesy of the Moonwhisper Temple. "I am Elena Moonwhisper, a priestess-in-training of the Moonwhisper Temple," she said gently. That politeness softened the tense air that had filled the room slightly. Lysander was about to respond—when he suddenly remembered he was chewing hardtack and tried to swallow what was in his mouth, choking spectacularly. Cough, cough, the sound echoed through the room. Kael quickly pulled a leather flask from his pack and held it out wordlessly. Lysander took it and drank. After a moment, he settled. "…My apologies," Lysander said. A strand of silver-gray hair fell from his shoulder. Adjusting his spectacles, Lysander spoke quietly. Exhaustion from prolonged hiding seeped into his voice. Kael took back the flask and slung it over his shoulder, saying nothing. Silence was the right answer here. —— Lysander turned toward a large diagram on the wall. "I will explain. Please listen," Lysander said. The diagram showed a complex geometric structure. Concentric circles overlapped many times, with lines radiating outward from them. At the center was a silhouette modeled on the human body. "This is the structure of the sealing spell within Aldric's body. A sealing spell—a technique that confines a target's soul or power in a separate vessel—normally uses an inanimate object as the vessel. However, in the final phase of the Void Annihilation War thirty years ago, there was no time to prepare an inanimate vessel. Aldric made his own body the vessel," Lysander said. Kael looked back and forth between the diagram and Aldric's face. His expression gradually hardened. "The human body is an imperfect vessel. By design, the seal degrades by approximately three percent per year. Over thirty years, that would be ninety percent—by design, there should still be some margin remaining. However—" Lysander said. Lysander pointed to a spot on the diagram with his finger. Several of the outermost concentric circles were warped and broken. "The manifestation of the void ivy has accelerated the degradation. The remnant of Castian's consciousness materializing from the gaps in the seal is eroding the seal structure itself from within. The current rate of degradation exceeds the design specification by more than double. Until the critical point—when the seal completely loses function—there are only a few months remaining," Lysander said. The room fell silent. Mira stared at the diagram head-on. Her gaze did not move. Yet her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the map on the table before her. Her knuckles had gone slightly white. "What happens after the seal collapses?" Elena asked quietly. Her voice was calm, but the core of her question was sharp. Lysander paused for a beat. "Two catastrophes arrive simultaneously. First—Aldric's body loses its function as a vessel completely. Physical annihilation. Second—the released consciousness of Castian, together with thirty years of resentment, resumes its erosion of the world's time. Not a repeat of the Void Annihilation War, but many times faster," Lysander said. Elena started to speak. "For thirty years straight—" The words stopped at her lips. She looked at Aldric's profile and closed her mouth. The unspoken continuation of the sentence fell as air in the room. As quiet weight among the four. —— "There is one solution," Lysander said. Lysander turned from the diagram. The violet eyes behind his spectacles faced Aldric. "Rather than releasing the seal, we separate it. We apply a forbidden spell in the reverse direction to the seal's core, cutting Castian's consciousness away from Aldric's body. Technically, it is possible. I can perform that spell," Lysander said. "The problem is," Lysander continued. His voice tried to maintain academic composure, but that very effort created weight. "The backlash from doing so would far exceed what a human body can endure," Lysander said. Silence. Aldric spoke briefly. "I understand," Aldric said. Just four words. An acknowledgment of acceptance. Those four words—changed the air in the room. Something shifted, soundlessly. Kael stood from his seat. As he rose, the chair leg scraped against the stone floor. His amber eyes looked at Aldric. The gaze of a nineteen-year-old youth toward an old man. "Master," Kael said. His voice trembled slightly. But what followed did not waver. "Five years ago, on the night at the fortress, Master said: do not be ashamed of surviving, but do not forget that pain," Kael said. Aldric listened quietly. "Now I want to return those words to you. For thirty years—have you not been ashamed of surviving?" Kael said. The moment the words left his mouth, Kael himself realized it. This question would rebound on him. On himself. Five years ago at the fortress, losing Master and three comrades, surviving alone—he had been ashamed of it all along. The lonely atonement within Master's heart and the guilt within his own heart took the same shape. For the first time, he realized it now. Kael's words stopped. He couldn't quite explain to himself why they stopped. Something was simply caught in his throat. Silence continued. Mira's voice came low. "Did you calculate it all from the start and plan to die alone?" Mira said. It was anger held back. Or rather, something else—a voice where another emotion had been suppressed before surfacing. Her golden eyes looked directly at Aldric. Elena continued quietly. "Do you ignore the pain of those of us who do not wish you to disappear?" Elena said. She was not blaming. She was asking. With the voice of a priestess of the Moonwhisper Temple, gently, yet directly. Words came from four directions, raining down on Aldric. The old knight could not produce an answer with his mouth closed. A man who had produced answers for thirty years. A man who had always decided for himself and acted on his own decisions