Would it suffice to say that Theodore’s heart was practically thundering in his chest? Yes, yes it would be. As he faced the vessel of the goddess, [Sever] thrummed within him. He could feel it. Sitting within him, slightly out of reach, ready to be drawn and used.

The air took on a heavy weight.

He took a deep breath, acknowledged what he was about to do and exhaled.

Then, he slashed at the barrier surrounding Eliza. [Sever] got triggered with mere intent, and the effect was instantaneous. The shimmering field that had seemed so impenetrable before shattered like glass, fragments of something like shards dissipating into the air.

Ezekiel and Alden watched in disbelief.

Not wasting a moment, Theodore struck again. This time, he aimed for something intangible—the very connection between the Outer God and its human anchor. Its anchor. [Sever] cut through unseen threads of power—

Blood trickled from his nose and mouth. Using [Sever] was too much it seemed.

—and Eliza’s body jerked violently, her eyes rolling back. Then, abruptly, she went limp. Her form, however, remained suspended in mid-air, as if held up by invisible strings.

Silence. Pure, utter silence.

Theodore, Ezekiel, and Alden exchanged glances, their breath held. Had it worked? Was it truly over?

A nervous chuckle escaped Alden’s lips. “Is that... it?” he asked.

Ezekiel stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examined Eliza’s floating form. “It appears so,” he said cautiously. “The connection seems to have been severed. Well done, Lord Theo-”

His words were cut short by a blur of motion. Eliza’s eyes snapped open, blazing with fury. Before anyone could react, she lashed out with inhuman speed, her hand morphing into a wicked claw as it raked across Theodore’s chest.

Pain exploded through Theodore’s body as Eliza’s attack tore through his defenses. He stumbled backward, blood blossoming across his shirt. Then, he lost hold of air. The world tilted sickeningly, and Theodore felt himself falling. A look of pure shock overtook on his face—she had been faking unconsciousness! The Outer God was gone, but they hadn’t considered the vessel herself! Obviously she was alive!

Alden’s reaction was swift and merciless. With a roar of anger, he lunged forward, his blade flashing. Eliza barely had time to turn before Alden’s sword found its mark, piercing her heart.

A terrible shriek filled the air as Eliza’s body convulsed. Dark energy poured from the wound, dissipating into nothingness. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Eliza’s form crumpled on the sword, lifeless.

But Theodore had no time to process the victory. As he fell, a wave of psychic energy slammed into his mind. He cried out, clutching his head as invisible talons seemed to tear at his thoughts. Through the haze of pain, he dimly registered a series of notifications:

[Psionic Resistance] — Lvl 2 -> Level 3

[Psionic Resistance] — Lvl 3 -> Level 4

[Psionic Resistance] — Lvl 4 -> Level 5

You have been afflicted with a curse!

Just before he hit the ground, strong arms caught him. Ezekiel’s face swam into view.

“Lord Theodore! Hold on, I’ll heal you,” the bishop said urgently, his hands already glowing with restorative magic.

But something was wrong. Theodore could feel Ezekiel’s healing energy washing over him, yet the pain persisted. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse, a creeping coldness spreading through his veins.

Ezekiel’s expression shifted from concern to alarm. “It’s not working,” he muttered, his voice tight with frustration. “That vicious woman... she must have used something truly sinister.”

The bishop’s hands trembled slightly as he redoubled his efforts. “It’s a curse,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “A powerful one. I-I can’t dispel it without proper preparation. Lord Theodore, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to-”

Theodore’s mind raced, fighting through the fog of pain. A curse. Something dark, something corrupt. Something that needed to be... purified.

With trembling fingers, he reached for his own chest.

[Purifying Touch]

A soft white glow emanated from his hand, spreading across his body. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, like ice melting in the sun, the curse began to dissolve. The pain receded, replaced by a warm, comforting sensation.

Ezekiel’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-you!” he exclaimed in awe and shock. “You’re Light Touched!”

Theodore tried to respond, but darkness was creeping in at the edges of his vision. The last thing he saw before consciousness slipped away was Ezekiel’s face, as healing magic once again flowed from his hands.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

As Theodore drifted into unconsciousness, a sense of peace washed over him. They had done it. The Outer God was defeated, its vessel destroyed. And somehow, against all odds, he had survived.

The battle wasn’t over. But… He could rest now—because, they could take care of the rest, right?

***

Theodore floated in a sea of darkness, untethered from time and space. Fragments of memory drifted past—the searing pain of Eliza’s attack, the look of shock on Ezekiel’s face, the warmth of [Purifying Touch] as it drove away the curse.

And now, Theodore found himself suspended in an endless void, a sea of inky blackness stretching in all directions. He couldn’t move, couldn’t even feel his body, yet he was acutely aware of his surroundings. This was a dream, he realized, but one that felt unnervingly real.

A figure materialized from the darkness—Lyra, leader of the Night Whispers. Theodore observed her silently as she circled him. Eyes looking at him, curiously. He knew she couldn’t harm him here, protected as he was by his [Psionic Resistance] skill, but tension coiled in his gut nonetheless. How was she able to enter his dream?

“So you killed one of my clones,” Lyra’s voice cut through the silence, smooth as silk and cold as ice. The casual revelation of her ability to create clones sent Theodore’s mind reeling, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. If she was looking forward to a reaction, he wanted to make sure he didn’t give her the satisfaction.

Lyra continued her slow orbit around him. “Eliza, you know. She was my favorite clone. Quite talented.” A note of genuine regret colored her words. “Unfortunate that she had to die and our plans had to fail. Unfortunate that I couldn’t bring retribution to you humans. For now.”

Theodore remained still, listening intently. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction, even if she was fishing for one. And silence was better. She was blabbering and he’d already gotten a crucial bit of information. One of her skills.

“You’ve caused quite the stir, you know,” Lyra mused, her voice taking on an almost conversational tone. “Defeating an Outer God’s vessel... you’re becoming quite the thorn in our side.”

She paused directly in front of him, and Theodore suddenly became aware that he was naked. Lyra’s finger traced a line along his collarbone, down his chest. The touch was feather-light, barely there, yet it sent a chill through him.

“Such potential,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “I wonder what you’ll become, given time. A hero? A monster? Perhaps both?”

Her finger came to rest on the scar left by Eliza’s attack. Lyra’s eyes met his, a mixture of curiosity and something darker swirling in their depths.

“Well, good work, I suppose,” she said. “You’ve won this round. But it is far from over, love. We’ll be seeing each other again; I must leave now. That annoying skill of yours… I can’t even stay here. So sad.”

Lyra vanished, leaving Theodore alone in the darkness once more. The dream began to fade, reality seeping in at the edges of his consciousness. Gradually, sensation began to return. He became aware of a soft surface beneath him, the gentle press of blankets. Voices murmured nearby, too low to make out the words.

With great effort, Theodore forced his eyes open. The world swam into focus, revealing a simple but comfortable room. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window, casting warm patterns across the floor.

“Ah, you’re awake,” a familiar voice said.

Theodore turned his head to see Ezekiel sitting by his bedside, a book open in his lap. The bishop’s face was drawn with fatigue, but his eyes were bright with relief.

“How long...?” Theodore croaked, his throat dry.

“Three days,” Ezekiel replied, setting his book aside and reaching for a glass of water. He helped Theodore sit up and drink. “You had us worried for a while there. While the curse was gone, that woman had used something that not only slowed but actively sabotaged my healing attempts. I’m not a bad at healing, mind you. Regardless, effort of other [Healers] and I combined was enough.”

As Theodore sipped the cool water, memories of the battle came flooding back. “The Outer God,” he said urgently. “Eliza—”

“It’s over. The entity has been banished, and its vessel... dealt with.” A shadow passed over his face at the mention of Eliza. “Prince Alden made sure of that.”

Theodore sagged back against the pillows, relief washing over him. They had done it. They had actually done it.

“What about the incursion?”

“Took some time, but the army was enough. There’s something else we need to discuss,” Ezekiel said, his tone growing serious. “What happened at the end of the battle... your ability to dispel that curse...”

Theodore tensed, unsure of how to respond. He had never told anyone about [Purifying Touch].

Ezekiel leaned forward, his gaze intent. “Lord Theodore, do you know what it means to be Light Touched?”

Shocked as he was at the fact that Ezekiel knew he was Light Touched, Theodore shook his head slowly.

The bishop took a deep breath. “It’s incredibly rare. Once in a generation, perhaps. Those blessed by the Light itself, given powers beyond normal magic.” He paused, his eyes searching Theodore’s face. “It’s a great gift, but also a great responsibility.”

A knock at the door interrupted them before he could ask what the Light was. Alden poked his head in, his face lighting up when he saw Theodore awake. “About time you rejoined the land of the living,” he said with a grin. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a carriage,” Theodore admitted, managing a weak smile. “But alive, thanks to you both.”

Alden waved off the thanks. Then the room was swarmed by people. A lot of them. Roland, Jack, Rosemary, Seraphina. Surprisingly, not his aunt. Soon, however, Ezekiel pushed everyone out of the room sternly. Once he was alone, Miss Bodyguard materialized. She sat on the bed, facing away.

“My apologies. I was not able to protect you.”

“Hmm,” Theodore said. He didn’t quite mind, but he was curious. “Why?”

“Lady Karmichael teleported you, and she forced me to stay away.”

Ah, Miss Bodyguard must not have any mental resistance type skill or whatever. It made sense why his aunt would force her away.

“Still,” she stood up, and bowed. “That is no excuse. I failed to protect you, my lord. I apologize.”

She was expressionless, and her voice was flat. Part of him wondered if she even meant it. But another part of him was a bit happy she cared—then a cynical part of him sneered. Cared? This emotionless robot?

Regardless, with all the thoughts in his head, he merely nodded. “It’s okay.”

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded. As she vanished, Theodore sank back into the pillows, his mind whirling. Light Touched. [Sever]. The Outer God’s defeat. It was all too much to process.

But exhaustion pulled him back towards sleep, and he pushed all the thoughts at the back of his mind.

The sun continued to shine through the window, warming Theodore’s face as he drifted off. Outside, the town of Holden continued to turn, unaware of the battle that had been fought.

For now, at least, there was peace.