As the deafening echo of the massive explosion subsided, an eerie silence fell over the ancient ruins of the Manrok mountain range.
The smoke and dust slowly cleared, revealing a battlefield even more gruesome than before. Large boulders were torn apart, ancient walls had collapsed, and amidst the devastation were the bodies of the brave investigators who had fallen. Their blood soaked the ground, creating a somber, deep red color.
Beleth's Rank 6 Avatar had failed in one final, desperate blow.
In the chaotic aftermath of the explosion, while everyone was struggling to withstand the shockwaves and search for survivors in the thick, hazy smoke, Henry made a painful but necessary decision. He secretly activated the ring that Mythris had given him.
A faint spatial light flashed. Amidst the wreckage, his "false body" appeared, the one he had secretly nourished with his blood and aether for the past year. It was partially buried by stones, clothes torn, and its body covered in fake but realistic-looking wounds. It lay motionless, appearing critically injured after the battle.
Carrying the grief of losing his comrades, the ones who had faced life and death with him, the real Henry walked away. He carried the image of Ragley and Brena sacrificing themselves to protect him and the others. And he also carried the heavy burden of the deception he was forced to commit to protect Sophia.
He didn't reveal anything to Beleth; disappearing was the only way to protect the secret of his Mystic Sense and, more importantly, to protect Sophia.
The next day, news of the investigative team's tragedy in the Manrok mountains descended upon Aerion, a waking nightmare. The entire Central Investigation Bureau was plunged into mourning. Too many losses, too many lives given.
Ragley, Brena, and almost all the core members of the East Aerion bureau were reported dead. And Henry Strike, the young investigator who had achieved so much, was also reported as "missing in action," his condition unclear.
When Sophia heard the news, the world crumbled beneath her feet. The pain of losing Jacobs and her old teammates in Unit 18 hadn't even subsided, and now this overwhelming shock was added to it.
She rushed to the scene of the massacre. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst from her chest, and every leaden step landed with the weight of stone. There, she saw him.
Her "Henry." He was lying there on a makeshift stretcher, among the other injured. His face was pale, his eyes closed, and his chest rose and fell with only a faint, shallow breath. He wasn't dead, but he was no longer the Henry she once knew. He was a soulless body, his existence a flickering flame between life and death.
Sophia knelt beside the bed, tears streaming down her face. She tightly held the cold, motionless hand of "Henry" and pressed it against her cheek. The pain was tearing her heart apart. Why? Why was fate so unfair? Why were all the people she loved leaving her, one after another? She screamed in her mind, a cry of despair that consumed her soul.
But then, the memory of Henry's gentle smile, his firm yet loving eyes, and the promises of a happy future they had built together, flashed in her mind. She remembered her own promise - the promise to take care of him no matter what. She resolved that she couldn't give up. She had to be strong, to live on, not just for herself, but for "Henry," too.
Though her heart was shattered into a hundred pieces, Sophia kept her promise. She decided to take "Henry" back to their small apartment and care for him herself, hoping for even the smallest of miracles. Though aware the road ahead would be difficult, Sophia was determined never to give up. She would care for "Henry" and wait, even in vain, for a miracle to happen one day.
The small apartment, once a home, was now suffocated by an oppressive silence. The weak light of the gray dawn filtered through the window, illuminating tiny dust motes in the air and a single, exhausted figure.
Sophia sat on the wooden chair by the bed once as bright as honey in the sun, now deep-set and hollow. She had been sitting like this for three days and three nights, ever since the rescue team brought "Henry" back. He lay there on their familiar bed, his chest rising and falling with only faint, mechanical breaths. His face was the same - firm, still the man she loved dearly - but his eyes were closed, devoid of any life. A statue carved from pain, perfect in every detail.
Her tears seemed to have run dry. The initial pain, the feeling of the world collapsing when she saw him in the rubble, had passed, giving way to a terrifying emptiness. She mechanically did what the priests at the Cathedral had instructed: wipe his body, change his clothes, and try to feed tiny spoonfuls of thin porridge into his unresponsive lips. Every gesture was performed with care, but her soul felt dead.
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She reached out and gently touched his face. It was cold. Gone was the familiar warmth, gone were his playful caresses. She buried her face in his old leather jacket hanging on the headboard, trying to find his scent - the smell of sun, wind, and their journeys. But all that remained was the smell of disinfectant and the coldness of a body.
Finally, the emotional dam she had been holding back for so long broke. Sophia buried her head on the bed, next to "Henry's" motionless hand, and sobbed. Not with choking gasps, but with a silent scream that tore her heart to shreds.
Her tears became a river, drenching the bedsheet and wetting his cold hand. "Why? Henry, why you?" she cried in her mind. "You promised you would come back. You promised we would go to the village up North together. Why did you break your promise? Why did you leave me alone...?"
Despair consumed her, a thick darkness threatening to swallow her whole. She had lost her parents, her dear comrades, and her older brother, Jacobs. And now she was losing Henry, losing her love, her hope, and her reason for existing. She felt she couldn't bear it anymore.
But then, amidst the depths of her pain, in the darkness of despair, a memory flickered in her mind, shining with the brilliant light of a star of hope. It was the memory of a night by Lake Loknezt, after he had almost died from an attack by the Dino Serpent.
She remembered his question, a cruel question that held all his concern: "...What if they find me, but... I'm a cripple? A vegetable, unable to speak, unable to move?"
And she remembered her own answer, a promise made from the bottom of her heart, an unbreakable vow:
"Then you would still be alive…. You would still be Henry. Still here, by my side. And then I would have taken care of you. Every single day. I would have been your shield, no matter what. As long as you were still here, breathing beside me, nothing else would have mattered."
"How can you be so foolishly loyal…Sophia, you deserve better than a reckless idiot like me."
That promise was cool water, nourishing her withered soul, which was withering from sorrow.
Sophia slowly lifted her head. Tears were still rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes were no longer hollow. Instead, there was a newfound strength.
She looked at "Henry." He was still there, motionless. But he was still breathing. He was still here. He was still her Henry.
"I promised, Henry," she whispered, her voice hoarse but full of determination. "I promised I would take care of you. I won't break that promise."
She stopped crying. She wiped her tears, stood up, and walked to the window. She yanked open the curtains, letting the dawn light, weak and gray as it was, pour into the room.
She turned back and looked at "Henry" one more time. This time, her eyes held not only boundless love but also acceptance and extraordinary strength. She had found a reason to live on.
"You used to be my shield," she smiled, a sad but beautiful smile. "Now, I will be your world."
That day, she went to the church and officially adopted baby Luna. She faced the daunting reality that the road ahead would be incredibly difficult; she would have to care for a man in a vegetative state and raise a child all by herself. But she wasn't afraid, drawing her strength from the certainty that even if Henry could no longer speak or move, he was still there, beside her. And their love would be the fire that warmed this small, broken but resilient family.
Built on a foundation of loss and pain, yet filled with love and devotion, their special family began a new life amidst the ruins of Aerion.
---
In a dark place decorated with countless skulls and horrifying symbols... lay a naked, gaunt body. His dark skin was stretched tightly over his thin but firm muscles. His eyes were closed, but his bony chest still rose and fell with faint, regular breaths. This was the true form of Beleth, the legendary Necrofear.
Suddenly, the body convulsed violently. A stream of black liquid, thick as tar, seeped from the corner of his mouth. His mighty Rank 6 Avatar, the puppet he had painstakingly created and controlled, had just been completely annihilated. The sudden disconnection of the psychic link caused a not-insignificant backlash, and although it didn't cause any critical physical damage, it left a nasty scar on his soul and pride.
Beleth slowly opened his eyes. They were no longer two malevolent red flames, but a terrifying stillness, a bottomless abyss of darkness. There was no ordinary anger, only a coldness born of humiliation. He was a predator who had lost his prey, only to realize he was a puppet dancing on someone else's strings.
The final memory from the avatar flashed clearly in his mind: a meticulously crafted dark magic circle and an energy sphere carrying the destructive power of "Dark Explosion" - the famous attack spell of the sorceress Selena, one of the high-ranking members of the Cabal.
"LAURENT..."
For a brief moment, Beleth couldn't control his emotions, and he roared the name that had caused all of this. The entire space around him trembled at that thought. He understood. The information about the Mystic Sense owner, the promise of immense benefits... it was all an elaborate trap. Laurent had used his own ambition to turn him into a hunting dog, a tool to stir up the chessboard, to serve the Enclave's private agenda.
The entire plan to attack Aerion, from the incident at St. Elms Abbey with his Rank 5 avatar to the tragedy in the Manrok mountains with his Rank 6 avatar - every time he got close to his prey, Laurent would cut the string, not just to deny him victory, but to slowly erode his power.
An unforgivable insult.
Beleth offered a twisted, malevolent smile. He was savoring this hatred. Laurent's betrayal didn't break him; it only sharpened his resolve and made his goal clearer.
"You think destroying a few avatars can get rid of me, Laurent?" his thoughts echoed in the void, cold and deadly. "You've overestimated yourself and underestimated me."
The aura around Beleth flared violently. It was perfectly controlled, turning into strands of energy that seeped into his flesh. Soon, his body seemed to have recovered its strength, ready for the battles to come.
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