The wind howled as Aric trudged up the narrow path leading back to Mount Morris, each step heavy with exhaustion. His body wasn’t ready for this—he knew it, and Giselle had certainly made her thoughts clear before he left. The sharp pains in his chest from the wound hadn't fully healed, and every breath felt like a reminder of his fall. Yet, staying in the village, letting his original body roam free, was not an option. Every second that passed weighed on his mind like a burden he couldn’t shake.

The climb up the mountain felt like an endless ordeal. The steep incline made it hard to maintain balance, the loose rocks and harsh gusts of wind threatening to send him back down. Each step was a struggle, but his mind remained focused on the top, on what awaited him. He had to know. His original body had stolen something from him, something far worse than his physical form. It was as if he had been stripped of his very identity.

After what felt like hours of grueling effort, Aric finally crested the ridge of Mount Morris, and the peak came into view. His breath came in heavy gasps as he stood, hands on his knees, staring out over the barren plateau. The place where he had fought, the place where his original body had cast him down, stood eerily still. It was unchanged, yet so much had happened here.

The altar remained at the center, untouched by time or the chaos that had unfolded. But the metallic arm—the object his original body had taken—was gone. His enemy had vanished without a trace, taking with him the only lead Aric had on what Khaos truly was. There was no sign of a struggle, no lingering energy except for faint traces of Khaos still hanging in the air.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. His chest ached, but this pain had little to do with the wound he had sustained. It was the anger, the frustration, the realization that after all of this, he had failed to gain any answers. His original body had slipped through his grasp, taking whatever dark knowledge it possessed along with it. Now, he was left alone on this godforsaken peak, none the wiser.

A gust of wind whipped through the air, carrying dust and debris across the plateau. It felt like a cruel reminder of how empty the mountaintop had become. It was almost mocking in its silence.

Aric’s teeth ground together as he strode toward the altar, his emotions threatening to break free. His siblings—Dulce, Akali, Haelcar, and Ursa—were all down by the fortress. He could feel their presence lingering at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to face them. Not now. Not after this. The thought of them watching his failure made his stomach churn. They didn’t understand what he had been through. How could they?

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He reached the altar and pressed his palm against its cold, smooth surface. His thoughts raced as the emptiness of the moment settled in.

Why him? Why now? he wondered.

He had barely processed what was happening before his own body—his body—had turned against him. He had been cast aside, forced to flee from the thing that was once a part of him. And now, here he stood, powerless to confront it.

Aric exhaled sharply. His frustration began bubbling to the surface, a storm of emotions he could no longer hold back. The surge of Khaos within him grew, pulsing through his veins. His grip on the altar tightened as the blackish-grey energy that marked his Link flared to life around him.

No answers. No clues. Nothing. He thought bitterly. "I came all the way back here, for this?"

The energy crackled and swirled in the air around him, the tendrils of Khaos reaching out like wild flames. He had always held back—always resisted the temptation to let it all out. But now, with nothing standing in his way, he let the power loose.

The energy erupted from him in a violent wave, surging toward the massive boulder nearby. There was a thunderous crack as the rock split apart, shattered into dust that was carried away by the wind. The force of the release shook the ground beneath his feet, sending small rocks tumbling down the mountain’s slope.

For a moment, Aric stood there, staring at the remains of the boulder. His breathing was ragged, and his arm felt… wrong. Slowly, he glanced down, and his eyes widened in shock.

His entire arm had splintered, cracks running up and down the length of it as if it had been made of glass. He could see fragments of his flesh and bone hanging loosely, barely connected. It wasn’t the first time his power had done something like this, but it was the first time he had lost control to this degree.

Then, as he watched, the familiar blackish-grey energy of Khaos began to swirl around the fractured limb. Slowly but surely, the shards of his arm began to knit themselves back together, piece by piece. The process was agonizing, each moment of regeneration sending sharp pains through his body, but Aric bore it in silence.

When his arm was whole once again, Aric flexed his fingers, testing the newly repaired limb. It felt just as strong as it had before, the pain already fading into the background. He let out a bitter chuckle, his voice hoarse and tired.

“At least this body has a core,” he muttered dryly, his lips curling into a humorless smile.

The absurdity of it all hung over him like a weight. He was standing at the peak of a mountain, destroying boulders with a power he could barely control, while his real enemy—the one who had stolen his original body—was nowhere to be found.

He turned away from the altar, a deep sense of frustration gnawing at him. There was nothing more to gain here, no answers left to uncover. All he could do was press forward, but to what? He had no leads, no clear path. Just a deep sense of failure, despite the sheer destruction he had unleashed moments ago.

Aric clenched his fist, the familiar energy of Khaos still swirling around him, simmering just beneath the surface. He would find his original body, one way or another. And when he did, he would make sure that it didn’t slip away again.

But for now, all he could do was leave the empty peak behind him and continue the search.