Mike stepped through the portal, bracing himself for Hell’s fiery chaos. But instead of flames and brimstone, he found himself standing on the cold, familiar stone streets... somewhere magical, somewhere long gone.
His breath caught in realization as his feet moved on their own. Helm Town? It shouldn’t exist—it had been destroyed, reduced to rubble by the Pillars long ago. Yet here he was, running through its quiet, familiar streets. Something felt wrong. He glanced down at his hands. They weren’t his—smaller, quicker, more nimble... and he had nails. A weight at his side confirmed what he already suspected: a familiar sword hung there, as if waiting for his hand. He would know that blade anywhere.
A flash of movement caught his eye. Turning toward a cracked shop window, he froze. Valicar’s face stared back at him—striking red and blue hair, mismatched eyes. The face of a warrior he hadn’t seen in decades. His heart clenched at the sight.
A voice broke the silence in his head, dripping with sarcasm. "Stop checking yourself out, dumbass. We have to save Alth! Hurry!"
Mike blinked, shaking off the shock, and instinctively muttered back, "Yeah, yeah, can’t blame me for taking in the view. I still look badass as ever... though I miss the cloak." The words slipped out naturally, the banter familiar and effortless, though he couldn’t place the voice. It wasn’t just in his head—it felt too real, like a second presence urging him on.
"Ever the edgelord, aren’t we? Now onward! Running’s your job and casting is mine, remember," teased the voice.
As he sprinted through the streets, his muscles responded instinctively, sharper than they had been in years. His body moved with the ease of a warrior—Valicar’s precision. His hand reached for the sword he shouldn’t even have at this point in time, Blue Dawn, but he didn’t question it as the blade felt like an extension of himself.
Something was wrong, though. Altheack was never the one who needed saving here. The only real trouble they had ever gotten into in this city was when the Old Bloods had kidnapped Valicar. Alth had saved him and Sophia. Yet here he was, charging through the city, trying to reach her, as if the roles had been inexplicably reversed. The sense of disorientation gnawed at him, but the urgency overpowered it.
Save Altheack. That was all that mattered now.
Suddenly, a fireball flew toward him from the shadows.
Before he could react, the voice barked, "Nyus!"
His hand shot forward as if not entirely under his control. Ice surged from his fingertips, and a wall of frost appeared just in time, colliding with the fireball. The resulting explosion sent a cloud of steam into the air, obscuring his attackers. The voice barked from Valicar's lips again, sharper this time, "Silvoria!"
Words he barely recognized left his mouth, and an ice sword materialized in his hand, cold and lethal. He slashed through the steam, cutting down one of the cultists who emerged from the fog, his body crumpling to the ground, blood and frost mingling as it pooled around him. Mike’s heart raced as his instincts guided him through the fight, but something gnawed at the edges of his mind. Who the hell is this voice?
The cultists came at him again, and this time he responded with more confidence, the icy blade in one hand, Blue Dawn in the other. The sharp crack of bone breaking under his strikes was drowned by the screams of the dying, their blood staining the streets as it mixed with shards of ice.
"You’re doing fine," the voice snapped. "Keep moving! Iginis!"
Mike’s body surged with enhanced speed and strength as flames erupted from his sword. He sliced through another attacker, the fire searing through flesh and bone, the stench of burnt meat filling the air. He didn't recognize the spell at first, but his body responded like it had always known the magic. Whoever this voice was, they knew exactly how to push him.
The cultists faltered as Mike hurled his ice sword forward, the blade splintering into shards, driving deep into the nearest man’s chest. His scream was cut short as frost claimed his lungs, freezing him solid. Mike spun, conjuring a fresh blade of ice with another incantation, "Silvoria," then swung Blue Dawn in a wide arc, slicing through two more cultists in a single, deadly motion. Blood sprayed in a gruesome fountain, coating the cobblestones in crimson.
"You know this magic!" the voice in his head growled, frustrated, like an impatient teacher. "You’ve always known it."
But Mike didn’t—did he? His grip tightened on the swords, and his breath came in ragged bursts. He wasn’t sure what was happening, why these spells flowed from him so easily. Who is this voice? It felt... familiar, yet distant. Like someone he once knew.
Another wave of attackers rushed toward him, and Mike’s instincts kicked in again, his lips forming words he hadn’t spoken in years. "Nyus!" A wall of ice exploded in front of him, sending jagged spikes up through the bodies of the cultists, impaling them where they stood. Blood and ice mixed as their lifeless forms twitched, frozen solid by his magic.
"That’s it!" the voice urged, more insistent. "You’re not a novice. You’ve learned this! Use it!"
A flicker of memory surged through Mike’s mind. He had learned this—over a decade of studying magic in his past life, forced to sit through the same lectures as his sister, practice the same hand signs, read the same ancient texts at Helmhold. He hadn’t just watched; he’d been immersed in it. He had felt the magic that used to flow from her soul when they fought together, casting spells effortlessly. That was when he realized—this wasn’t unfamiliar. It was ingrained in him. He’d lived this power.
Now, the magic wasn’t just something he had experienced through his sister. It flowed from his own soul, raw and powerful. The realization sent a jolt through him, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it. Another group of cultists charged at him, their weapons raised.
This time, though, Mike felt the confidence of someone who had earned his mastery. He wasn’t just following; he was leading.
"Valaxuz!" Blue flames erupted around him, swirling like a hurricane of fire. He struck out with his swords, cutting down his enemies with brutal efficiency, each swing of his blade more precise, more deadly. Their screams filled the air as the fire consumed them, their skin blackening and cracking under the heat.
"You’ve always had this in you," the voice continued, softer now but no less firm. "You’re stronger than you think."
Mike felt the weight of the words, his heart pounding. The spells felt like his own now, the power surging from his core. He cast again, muttering the incantation under his breath: "Goroma Va Kora!" Lightning burst from his fingertips, arcing across the battlefield, striking down the remaining cultists with merciless precision. Their bodies convulsed as the electricity coursed through them, reducing them to charred corpses.
Panting, Mike stood in the middle of the carnage, blood, ice, and fire mingling at his feet. The alley was littered with bodies, the stench of death thick in the air. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his mind racing.
Who are you? Mike thought, the question hanging in the air. The voice had guided him through the battle, but its identity still eluded him. He could feel its presence, hovering just at the edge of his consciousness, familiar yet shrouded in mystery.
And then, in the aftermath of the fight, it hit him. The spells, the guidance, the snarky tone—it had been there all along, pushing him, reminding him of what he could do.
"Sophia," he muttered, the realization dawning on him. The voice in his head went quiet for a moment, as if acknowledging his discovery.
"Figures it’d be you," Mike whispered, a small grin breaking through the grimness of the scene.
But something was wrong. Her voice was familiar, but there was a coldness to it, a subtle shift that didn’t sit right. And why was he saving Altheack when it had been her who saved them before?
The voice in his head pressed again. “Keep moving, Mike. Altheack’s close. You can still save her.”
The mention of her name tightened the knot in his chest. Altheack. That’s why he was here. That’s why none of this mattered except getting to her. Without another word, he sprinted deeper into the city, his boots slamming against the stone streets, leading him toward the catacombs.
The memory was familiar but unsettling. The same catacombs where he and Sophia had once been captured by the Old Bloods. This wasn’t Hell. It was something worse—a twisted, broken version of the past.
He found her at the far end, slumped against the cold stone walls, her body bloodied and bound. His heart stopped at the sight of her. She was alive—but barely.
"Altheack!" Mike’s voice cracked as he fell to his knees beside her. Her face was pale, her breathing ragged and shallow, blood soaking the ground beneath her. His hands shook as he reached for the ropes binding her wrists, frantically pulling at the knots. She was hurt—badly—but she was alive.
"Hold on, I’m here," Mike whispered, his voice a desperate plea as he fumbled with the bindings. His heart pounded in his chest, the fear of losing her again tearing at him. This time, I’ll save you.
Altheack’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused but filled with recognition. Her lips moved, forming words too soft to hear, her strength fading with each passing second. Blood trickled from a deep wound in her side, and Mike’s panic grew as he tried to stop the flow. He pressed his hands against the wound, his magic surging through him in a desperate attempt to heal her.
But it wasn’t enough.
"No, no, no… stay with me," Mike begged, his voice trembling as he poured everything he had into the healing spell. The cold dread of failure crept into his chest. Why isn’t this working?
Altheack’s hand weakly grasped his wrist, her touch barely there. Her lips parted, her voice a faint whisper. "Valicar… you…"
Mike’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t lose her. Not again.
But even as he tried to heal her, Altheack’s body went still. Her grip on his wrist loosened, her final breath escaping her lips in a soft sigh. Her emerald eyes, once full of life, stared blankly up at him, devoid of the warmth they once held.
"No!" Mike’s voice broke as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms. His magic crackled around him, desperate to bring her back, but the truth was undeniable. She was gone. Just like before at the hands of the Pillar of the North.
The weight of her loss crushed him, the pain searing through his chest. He had come to save her, to change the outcome of this nightmare, but now she was dead—again. The bitter taste of failure filled his mouth, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.
This isn’t real, his mind screamed. This isn’t how it happened.
But as much as he tried to convince himself, the sight of Altheack’s bloodied body in his arms, the feel of her cold skin, felt far too real. The memory warped around him, twisting in on itself like a nightmare he couldn’t escape. His heart raced, the walls of the catacombs closing in, suffocating him with the weight of his failure.
"This isn’t real," Mike whispered to himself, his hands trembling as they gripped Altheack’s lifeless form. It’s all wrong. She was never the one who needed saving. She saved us.
The voice in his head was silent. Sophia. She had been guiding him this whole time, pushing him forward, but now… nothing. The familiar presence was gone, leaving him alone with the crushing guilt.
The catacombs began to warp around him, the stone walls shifting and distorting, as though the very fabric of reality was unraveling. The floor cracked beneath him, and the air grew cold and still. The weight of the illusion pressed down on him, suffocating him with the lies it was feeding him.
And then, without warning, the scene shifted again.
The cold, damp air of the catacombs vanished, replaced by the grand, towering stone walls of an elven throne room. The silence was deafening, the heavy echo of the past washing over him like a wave. Mike wasn’t holding Altheack’s body anymore. Instead, he stood before Qunaria, Altheack’s mother, her icy gaze boring into him from atop her throne.
Mike’s heart lurched as he realized where he was. This was another memory. Another moment from the past—but it, too, was wrong. Twisted. None of this is real.
Qunaria’s voice rang out through the chamber, cold and venomous. "Valicar. You’ve brought nothing but death and ruin to my daughter. How much more of her soul must you take before you’re satisfied?"
The weight of her accusation hit Mike like a hammer, the guilt settling over him like a heavy cloak. He remembered this confrontation well. Altheack had stood by his side, choosing him over her mother. She had forgiven him. But now, as he looked to where she should have been, she was no longer there with him. Instead, she stood at Qunaria’s side, her face cold, her eyes filled with anger and betrayal.
"No," Mike muttered under his breath. "This isn’t how it happened."
But Qunaria continued, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Altheack has made her choice. She sees the truth now. She knows that you and your sister destroyed her family and her life on Caldera."
Mike’s stomach churned, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He glanced at Altheack, desperation in his eyes. "You don’t believe that, do you? You know we did what we had to do."
Altheack’s gaze was icy, her voice sharp and unforgiving. "I saw my parents die because of you, Valicar. Because of you and your sister’s dark magic. Everything you touch turns to death. You promised to protect me, but all you did was bring ruin."
Mike’s chest tightened. The words cut deep, each one stabbing into the old scars he thought had healed. But none of this was right. None of it was true. Altheack had forgiven them, she had stood by their side.
But in this warped memory, she wasn’t the same Altheack. She was something else—something darker. The memory was manipulating her, twisting her emotions into hatred. Mike couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just Hell. Something deeper was at play, distorting the past, turning it against him.
Before he could respond, a booming voice echoed through the throne room, dripping with arrogance and malice.
"I am Gorlion, the indomitable hero of the East!" Gorlion’s hulking form stepped out from the shadows, his body encased in stone armor, his eyes burning with hatred. "And you will face my wrath, necromancer!"
Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Necromancer. The title hit him like a slap to the face, a reminder of the past he had tried to leave behind. In this twisted memory, they still saw him and Sophia as one—Valicar, the necromancer who wielded both blade and magic. But there was something else, something that didn’t make sense. How could Qunaria know about her own death? Or Altheack’s father’s death, which hadn’t even happened yet?
Before Mike could make sense of it, Gorlion raised his arm, summoning jagged spikes of stone from the ground. "You think you’re the hero here? You think you can just walk away from the destruction you caused? You took everything from her!"
The ground beneath Mike erupted as stone spikes shot toward him, aimed for his chest. He barely had time to react, dodging the attack and pulling out Blue Dawn. His grip tightened on the hilt as the battle began.
He was no longer Mike. He was Valicar, the necromancer. The one who had brought ruin to Altheack’s life. The one who had caused her to stand with Gorlion and Qunaria in this twisted memory.
Mike’s heart pounded as Gorlion’s voice thundered through the throne room, the sound reverberating off the cold stone walls. Necromancer. The word clung to him like a curse, a reminder of everything he had fought to forget. In this twisted memory, they still saw him and Sophia as one—Valicar. Little Red Blood Bath. Aldria's Scarlet Scourge. The one who killed the king and father of Altheack Skyborne, the wielder of both blade and dark magic.
The titles hung heavy in the air, each name dredging up memories Mike had buried deep. Memories of battlefields drenched in blood, of magic crackling through the air as he carved through armies. Of a time when he and Sophia had been feared as one, a singular force of death and destruction.
"You think you’re the hero here?" Gorlion sneered, his voice filled with contempt as the stone armor covering his body shifted with a menacing crack. "You think you can just walk away from the destruction you caused? You took everything from her!" His arm shot up, summoning a new wave of jagged stone spikes from the ground, hurtling them toward Mike with terrifying speed.
Mike barely had time to move. He dodged to the side, rolling on instinct as the stone spikes ripped through the ground where he had stood. His body moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior—Valicar’s reflexes ingrained in him—but his mind struggled to keep up. This isn’t how it happened, his thoughts screamed. None of this is real!
Blue Dawn felt heavy in his grip, its weight grounding him as he stood and faced Gorlion’s towering form. The warrior’s stone-covered fist slammed into the ground, sending cracks racing through the floor toward Mike. He leaped back, dodging another set of spikes, but Gorlion’s attack was relentless.
"You destroyed her life!" Gorlion roared, his stone-clad form looming larger as he closed the distance between them. "And now, I’ll destroy you!"
Mike swung Blue Dawn in a wide arc, sending a wave of fire magic crashing toward Gorlion, but the massive warrior batted the attack away with a casual swipe of his hand, the flame going out against his stone armor. Gorlion’s earth magic was overpowering, his control of the battlefield absolute.
Stolen novel; please report.
"Focus, Mike," the voice whispered in his head—Sophia’s voice, though more distant now, strained. "You know how to fight him. You’ve done this before."
Mike’s muscles moved on instinct, even as his mind spun with doubt. He parried another wave of stone spikes with his sword, the force of the impact reverberating up his arm. He swung again, ice and fire blazing from his blade as he fought to keep up with Gorlion’s onslaught.
But, Gorlion was relentless. His earth magic sent the ground quaking beneath Mike’s feet, stone pillars erupting from the floor, blocking his path. Mike ducked and weaved through the barrage, but Gorlion was closing in, his massive stone fist swinging toward Mike with deadly force.
Mike barely managed to deflect the blow with Blue Dawn, the clash sending sparks flying as the sword met stone. The force of the attack drove him back, his feet sliding across the cracked floor as Gorlion advanced.
"This isn’t real," Mike muttered through gritted teeth, his frustration mounting as he dodged another strike. "This is all wrong."
"Wrong or not," Sophia’s voice urged him, "you have to keep fighting. He’s not going to stop."
Gorlion’s laughter echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. "You took everything from her, necromancer. You twisted her life into ruin, and now you think you can just walk away from it? You’ll never be free of what you’ve done! Not to her, not to our alliance!" His voice grew louder, shaking the walls around them. "We gathered the might of the world for your cause against the empire, and where did it lead? To death! You led us into a massacre, sacrificed our armies for your hunger for power, for those damned souls you now wield!"
Mike’s anger surged. "You’re the one who killed her mother!" he shouted, his voice raw with fury. "You stabbed her in the back, Gorlion, not me!"
But Gorlion’s smirk only deepened, twisted with dark satisfaction. "A sacrifice I made for you," he sneered, his stone-covered fist smashing into the ground, sending a shockwave of earth and shattered gems racing toward Mike. The ground trembled under the force of his attack. "I know who and what I am, Mike! I’m a hero, the savior of our people, the only one who had the strength to do what had to be done. But you…"
Gorlion’s voice dripped with scorn as he took a menacing step forward, his eyes burning with accusation. "You’ve always lied to yourself. You think you’re better, that you’re noble. But the truth is you’re nothing but a butcher, hiding behind that blade and your magic. You led us all to ruin, and now you want to pretend you were ever something else?!"
The words stung, digging into Mike like a knife. Every memory of the battles they had fought together, of the blood they had spilled, now twisted into a weapon against him.
The ground cracked beneath Mike’s feet, forcing him to leap aside as the stone spikes erupted where he had stood. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body aching from the relentless assault, but he wasn’t going to back down.
"Keep moving!" Sophia’s voice urged him, sharper now. "Don’t let him corner you!"
Mike’s body responded to her guidance without hesitation. He ducked under a sweeping punch, swinging Blue Dawn in a wide arc and sending a flurry of ice shards and blue flames toward Gorlion. The shards ricocheted off his stone armor, but it gave Mike enough of a gap to strike. He lunged forward, his sword blazing with blue flames, and slashed across Gorlion’s exposed side.
The blow connected, the sharp crack of stone breaking filled the air as Gorlion staggered back, clutching the wound.
But even as Mike landed the hit, the weight of the memory pressed down on him. The scene around him warped and shifted, the edges of reality cracking like broken glass. None of this is real, he reminded himself again. Altheack wasn’t supposed to be with them. She was supposed to be with us.
"You betrayed the alliance! Millions of souls now swarming inside you!" Gorlion bellowed, his voice thick with fury as he raised his hand. The ground trembled beneath them, but instead of stone spikes, glittering shards of rubies and diamonds erupted from the earth, hurtling toward Mike with deadly speed. "You killed our entire army for power! And now you’ll pay for it!"
Mike barely had time to react as the dazzling barrage of gems streaked through the air. Each gem gleamed with an unnatural sharpness, cutting through the air like knives. He ducked and rolled to the side, his instincts guiding him as the voice in his head continued to push him forward.
But the weight in his chest, the crushing grief of losing Altheack again and again, was almost too much to bear. The sight of her lifeless body flashed in his mind, the memory twisting like the nightmare he was trapped in. This isn’t right, Mike thought, his heart pounding as he deflected a ruby with Blue Dawn. She forgave us... she forgave me.
"Focus!" Sophia’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. "You know how this ends. You’ve seen it before. Finish it!"
Mike gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling over. He raised his hand, summoning the familiar surge of magic through his veins. "Goroma Va Kora!" he chanted, lightning crackling from his fingertips and arcing toward Gorlion.
The lightning struck Gorlion dead-on, the force of the spell shattering his stone armor and sending him crashing to the ground. The air smelled of ozone and burnt flesh as the warrior’s body convulsed from the shock.
But even as Mike watched Gorlion fall, the scene around him twisted further. Altheack, who had stood with Qunaria just moments before, was now gone. The throne room began to crack and warp, the walls crumbling into shadow as the false memory dissolved.
Mike’s heart pounded in his chest as the nightmare fell apart around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles burning from the effort of the fight, but something inside him still felt wrong. This isn’t over.
In the darkness left behind by the fractured illusion, a voice echoed—soft but insistent.
"You’re close, Mike... but time is running out."
The words sent a chill down his spine, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if it was Sophia’s voice or something else. Something darker.
The shattered remnants of the throne room disintegrated into the void, the walls crumbling like dust, leaving Mike standing alone in a hollow darkness. His hands trembled, the weight of twisted memories pressing down on him, each one more distorted than the last. But it wasn’t just the illusions that crushed him—it was the overwhelming sense of failure.
I’ll save her, Mike vowed, clenching his fists tighter, the void closing in around him. No matter what, I’ll save Altheack.
As the last pieces of the throne room dissolved into nothingness, Mike’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts. The illusion was gone, but before he could make sense of it, the world around him shifted again, dragging him into another nightmare.
Without warning, he found himself in the middle of another battlefield, the ground beneath his feet shifting like quicksand. The air around him crackled with a suffocating pressure, charged with magic so intense it felt like the atmosphere was on fire.
Mike’s heart pounded in his chest as the twisted landscape of battle came into focus. His eyes darted around, recognizing the faces of his enemies—Bellic and the Pillar of the East—both standing tall, their holy magic crackling in the air, weapons drawn and glowing with divine fury.
"This isn’t right," Mike muttered under his breath, already feeling the strain of the shifting memories weighing on him. He remembered this battle—it had happened years ago—but the details were all wrong. The sky was too dark, the smell of burning flesh too thick. The entire scene felt warped, twisted, like a nightmare that didn’t fit the memory he held.
The Pillar of the East stood with his glowing staff raised high, his holy aura burning with the intensity of the sun. Beside him, Bellic sneered, his golden sword shimmering in the eerie light, his eyes filled with malice.
"I’ve seen this before," Mike whispered, his hands tightening around Blue Dawn. "But it wasn’t like this…"
"Focus," the voice in his head whispered—Sophia’s voice, still guiding him despite the chaos around them. "They’ll kill you if you hesitate. Fight back."
Before Mike could respond, Bellic lunged forward, his golden sword slicing through the air, aimed directly at Mike’s throat. Mike reacted instinctively, raising Blue Dawn just in time to deflect the strike. The impact sent a jolt of pain up his arm, but his body moved on its own, years of muscle memory guiding him through the battle.
The clash of blades echoed through the warped battlefield as Mike parried and countered, his movements fluid but strained under the weight of the twisted memory. He blocked Bellic’s attacks with precision, but something felt off. The magic in the air, the energy around him—it all felt wrong.
The Pillar of the East raised his staff, muttering an incantation under his breath. A surge of holy light burst from the ground, shooting toward Mike with terrifying speed.
"Nyus!" Sophia’s voice called out in his mind, guiding him through the spell. Mike thrust his hand forward, summoning an ice wall just in time. The holy light collided with the frozen barrier, shattering it into a cloud of steam that blinded his enemies for a moment.
The twisted battlefield pulsed with dark energy as the steam swirled around them, thick and suffocating. Mike used the cover to his advantage, darting forward and slashing at Bellic’s side with Blue Dawn. The blade sliced through armor and flesh, the sickening sound of metal cutting bone filling the air.
Bellic let out a howl of pain, his hand flying to the wound as blood poured from the gash. But he wasn’t done. With a growl, he raised his sword again, his eyes burning with fury.
"You think you can stop me?" Bellic spat, his voice thick with contempt. "You never had the strength to win this fight."
Mike didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His focus was razor-sharp now, his mind and body moving as one. The battle was on.
The Pillar of the East unleashed another wave of holy magic, his staff glowing with divine light. The energy shot toward Mike in a blinding arc, but Mike was ready. He summoned his magic, muttering under his breath. "Goroma Va Kora!"
Lightning erupted from Mike’s fingertips, colliding with the holy magic in a violent explosion. The shockwave sent both Mike and his enemies stumbling back, the force of the blast reverberating through the battlefield. Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring everything around them.
Mike’s mind raced as he caught his breath. Something’s wrong. This isn’t how it happened.
As the smoke cleared, he saw her—Altheack—bleeding, lying limp in Bellic’s arms. Her body was broken, her face pale, her lips moving in a silent plea for help.
Mike’s heart stopped.
"Altheack!" he screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. He surged forward, his legs burning as he closed the distance between them.
But Bellic only sneered, tightening his grip on her. "Get your fucking hands off of her!" Mike roared, his voice raw with fury as he swung Blue Dawn in a wild arc, aiming straight for Bellic’s neck.
But before his blade could make contact, a wall of holy magic erupted between them, forcing Mike back. He staggered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the force of the magic pulsed through him.
Bellic laughed, his grip on Altheack tightening as she whimpered in pain. "You never had the strength to protect her, necromancer," he spat, his tone dripping with malice. "You think you can save her now?"
Mike’s blood boiled as he slammed Blue Dawn against the barrier, his rage pushing him forward. The flames surrounding his blade flared with intensity, searing through the divine magic as he forced his way through the wall.
"I’m going to fucking gut you!" Mike screamed, his voice trembling with fury. He broke through the barrier, his sword blazing with blue fire as he charged at Bellic with everything he had.
But even as he attacked, Bellic’s smirk never faded. The templar raised his sword to meet Mike’s strike, their blades clashing with a deafening screech of metal on metal. Sparks flew as the two locked in combat, each pushing the other back.
"You’re nothing but a monster, Valicar!" Bellic snarled, his face twisted with hatred. "You destroyed her life, and now she’s dammed to hell because of you!"
Mike’s vision blurred with rage as he pressed forward, driving Bellic back with a relentless flurry of blows. "You templar fucks are the ones who killed her!" he shouted, his voice shaking with fury. "You and the Pillar! You took everything from her! From me and my sister!"
Bellic’s grin widened as he pushed back, his sword glowing with divine power, light crackling along the edge. "You’re the one who couldn’t save her, necromancer. And now you’ll watch her die—again."
His voice dripped with malice as he twisted the blade, deflecting Mike’s attack. "You should’ve kept your pact with Anna Sha, Mike. You had all the power in the world, and you threw it away." His eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction. "This is your reward for breaking it. Everything crumbles in your hands, and you’ll lose her again because of it."
The words cut into Mike like a fresh wound, the old memories of his deal with the demon lord swirling in his mind. He had broken free of that darkness once, but here it was, still haunting him, as Bellic twisted the blade of guilt deeper.
Mike’s heart shattered as he glanced at Altheack, her breath ragged, her body limp in Bellic’s arms. Her voice was faint, barely more than a whisper. "Mike... please..."
Her words cut through him like a blade, the desperation in her voice shattering whatever resolve he had left.
"No!" Mike screamed, lunging forward with everything he had. His blade sliced through the air, aimed straight for Bellic’s heart.
But he was too late.
With a sickening crack, Bellic’s hand tightened around Altheack’s throat. Her body went still, her eyes wide and lifeless as the last breath left her lips.
"No!" Mike fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he reached for her, but her body was cold, limp, her life stolen from her once again. The battlefield around him began to twist and warp, the memory fracturing under the weight of his grief and rage.
"You never had the power to save her without us," Bellic’s voice echoed, cold and cutting as the world around them began to dissolve. "And now you’ll suffer for it, over and over again. Her soul belongs to us now, just as yours always have." The words dripped with malice, twisting the knife deeper into Mike’s already bleeding heart.
Mike’s chest tightened as the illusion shattered, the twisted battlefield crumbling into darkness. The silence of the void wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket. His breath came in ragged gasps, the echoes of battle still ringing in his ears, but the crushing weight of failure pressed down on him like a stone. Every time he fought, every time he tried to save her—it ended the same way. Always lost.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, chest heaving as the realization hit him like a punch. He had failed—again. This was his curse for breaking the pact he’d made for power with Anna Sha, the price of defying her. And now, he had dragged Altheack into another one of his fuck ups, costing her eternal soul, damning her to suffer the consequences of his choices.
Mike’s body trembled, the aftermath of the battle weighing him down, but the voice cut through the oppressive silence. "You’re so close! Get up, Michael." Sharp, urgent, familiar—but distant, as if hovering just beyond reach.
His eyes flickered open, his hands shaking. He didn’t know if the voice was real anymore. He didn’t know *what* was real. All he felt was the crushing weight of loss, the endless cycle of failure tightening around his throat, the cold void threatening to swallow him whole.
"Get up, Michael!" the voice commanded again, more insistent. But Mike didn’t move. The only truth that burned into his mind was that he had failed—again.
Then, something inside him snapped. It wasn't a surge of strength born of resolve, but a desperate, bitter surrender to the futility of it all. Mike’s body, heavy with the weight of failure, trembled as he let out a bitter chuckle. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his breath ragged. "You’re not my sister... but you sure are annoying like her," he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice thick with defiance and exhaustion.
Blue Dawn slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground with a hollow echo, as another familiar nightmare began to unfold once more. The Pillar of the North stood tall, imposing, the memory of their battle replaying itself in front of him. And just as before, there lay Altheack, broken and bloodied on the ground, her life slipping away.
The sight of her was unbearable, yet different this time. Something inside Mike fractured, as if all the fight he had left finally crumbled. The weight of it all—his power, his failures, his endless struggle—pressed down like a mountain on his chest. He couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t save her.
But he had to. For the love that had spanned his many lifetimes, he had no choice. I love you, Altheack... his thoughts whispered, the weight of her loss tightening around his heart. And I love you, Sophia... The names echoed through his mind, filling him with both pain and hope. I will see you both again
Mike’s hands shook as he had cast aside his swords and spells, letting them fall from his grasp. His knees hit the ground, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he abandoned everything—his power, his pride, his defiance. With his hands clasped tightly together, his voice came out hoarse, raw with desperation. "Oh Father, who art in Heaven," he whispered, the words trembling from his lips. "Give me your strength... your light."
In that moment, he surrendered fully—not just to the idea of failure, but to the possibility that he couldn’t do this on his own. If he couldn’t save Altheack, if his power wasn’t enough, he would reach for something greater. Something divine.
And as the prayer left his lips, a blinding light burst from within him, banishing the darkness that had consumed him. The cold void shattered under the weight of holy magic flooding into his soul, surging through him in a way it hadn’t in decades. It wasn’t his power—it was something higher, something pure. A radiant sword of golden light formed in his right hand, humming with divine energy.
Mike opened his eyes, his gaze steady and resolute. If he couldn’t save her on his own, he would borrow the strength of gods themselves.
With a determined gaze, Mike’s voice darkened, a quiet, defiant whisper: "Darkness around me, become my strength." He felt the twisted energy of the demonic dimension surge toward him, thick and malevolent, drawn to his will. The inky blackness, which had once been banished by the light, now crept back, a blasphemous force swirling around him, filling the air with an unnatural chill.
As the shadows twisted and writhed, they condensed in his left hand, forming a blade of pure, living shadow—tainted by the very essence of the realm he stood in. It was wrong, unnatural, a power he should never wield—but in this moment, he didn’t care.
For the first time since he had been Valicar, Mike now held both divine and demonic power in his grasp. The raw, unholy force of the demon dimension coursed through him, vibrating violently alongside the holy light of the gods in his right hand. The two powers, incompatible, seethed against one another, but Mike welcomed the chaos. With a primal, defiant roar, he slammed the two blades together.
The collision of the sacred and profane unleashed an explosion of raw energy that ripped through the air, tearing apart the very fabric of the illusions around him. The searing light of the divine clashed with the impenetrable darkness of the demonic, both forces locked in a brutal, violent merge, forming something far more dangerous—something forbidden.
From the swirling chaos of divine and infernal energies, a sword of solid, burning purple flame emerged. It wasn't just any weapon—it was a forgotten relic, long concealed by powerful illusions that had distorted Mike's memory. Blue Dusk ,his true blade, had been with him all along. Only now, after his ascension through the trials of Hell, had its real form been revealed.
The blade was no longer the simple weapon it once was. Now fused with divine and demonic power, it had transformed into something far more terrifying. Its very existence was an abomination, forged from the raw essence of creation and destruction, blasphemous in its nature. The ground beneath him trembled as Blue Dusk hummed with an unholy radiance, its purple flames flickering like the twisted souls of the damned, yet tinged with the purity of heavenly light.
In Mike's hand, Blue Dusk was more than just a weapon—it was a manifestation of his journey, of the fusion between his old self and the terrifying power he now wielded.
Mike grinned, feeling the combined might of the gods and demons coursing through him, a force neither realm could contain. He had done the impossible—he had summoned strength from both heaven and hell, bending the power of his enemies to his will, using the very essence of the demonic dimension against itself.
As the illusions shattered, reality peeled away, revealing what had been hidden behind the shadows: Millions of inky black demons surrounding him, their hollow eyes glowing with malice.
"You have passed the trial of the mind," they spoke in unison, their voices echoing like a chorus of the damned, "but can you pass the trial of the body?"
The endless horde surged forward.
But Mike was no longer Valicar. He looked down at himself, feeling the weight of his true form—tall, broad-shouldered, and powerful. His eyes glowed with fierce intensity—one gold, burning with divine radiance, and the other inky black, swirling with demonic power. His once-dark hair now shimmered with an ethereal purple, a manifestation of the combined forces raging inside him. A deep, unshakable confidence flooded his veins. I’m Mike.
With a fierce grin, he lashed out, cleaving through hundreds of the damned, his sword of purple flame carving a path through the horde. His towering frame moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior, each motion deliberate and unstoppable. The magic within him—lightning, ice, fire, golden beams of light, and shadow—rained down upon the demons in a storm of destruction. The battlefield crackled with the raw fury of his power, each strike fueled by the combined strength of holy and demonic forces.
The tall figure that now dominated the battlefield was no longer bound by the past, no longer the short, nimble girl Valicar. Mike stood larger than life, his gold and black eyes glowing with a mix of righteous fury and chaotic power, his purple hair flickering like the flames of his unstoppable magic.
He tore into the demons with an unmatched fury, his every move precise, calculated, and devastating. The ground beneath him trembled as he unleashed the full force of his magic, striking with the fury of the mightiest of dragons. His blade glowed with the divine radiance of pure mana, cutting down the endless waves of the damned with ruthless efficiency.
For the first time in a long while, Mike felt the full weight of his power surging through him, unchained and raw. He was no longer bound by the illusions of the past, no longer tethered to the guilt or fear that had once held him back. He wasn't the man he had been. Now, he was both warrior and mage, both light and dark—something greater, something unstoppable.
A deep, booming laugh erupted from his chest, echoing across the battlefield. He grinned wide, a smile so large it bordered on the demonic, his eyes alight with both joy and madness as the horde fell to his overwhelming power. With every demon he cut down, he felt their energy flood into him, strengthening him, fueling the fire in his veins.
The air around him crackled with the combined might of his magic, and as he absorbed their power, small, twisted horns began to form on his head—one glowing gold, radiant with divine energy, the other pitch black, swirling with the malice of the abyss. His laugh grew louder, almost euphoric, as he reveled in the destruction, his purple hair billowing in the whirlwind of energy that surrounded him. He had become something new—something that could wield both holy light and the deepest darkness with equal mastery.
With each swing of his sword, with every burst of magic, he tore into the horde with an unstoppable fury, his power growing with every soul he claimed. He was no longer just Mike or Valicar—he was both, and he was more. He was everything.