Heads

"They've stopped... why have they stopped?" Nilgaurd's voice echoed through the streets, tinged with a sharp edge of confusion and rising concern. His heart pounded as he stood amidst the crumbling facades of the city, directing torrents of water to funnel the hordes of monstrosities away from the palace and toward the north. There, Wrath's devastating magic would clean up what remained, allowing them to focus their forces on the massive, grotesque beast preoccupied by Leah's enigmatic ally.

Everything had been going according to plan—until now. The monsters, once relentless and swarming, had suddenly ceased all movement. Their grotesque forms stood frozen, grotesque sculptures of flesh and malice, twitching faintly as if awaiting some unseen command. The air was thick with a suffocating tension, and the silence was more unnerving than their previous ferocity.

"What's happening?" Nilgaurd muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning for any clue. Before the thought fully formed, the answer came with chilling clarity.

The horde surged backward, breaking formation with terrifying speed, their grotesque limbs flailing as they barreled toward an entirely new direction. Nilgaurd's stomach dropped as his mind raced to process what was unfolding before him. His jaw tightened as the realization hit.

"Leah's moving!" he shouted, the panic barely hidden in his voice. His gaze darted toward the distant spire of the cathedral, its silhouette looming like a shadowed sentinel over the city. "Wait... no, she's heading toward the cathedral?!" His voice cracked into a scream as the enormity of her actions dawned on him.

"Damn it!" he spat, his frustration boiling over as he turned to his forces. "Everyone, defensive positions! Hold the line and don't let them breach the palace! Mage Enri, you're in charge until I return!" His orders came fast and clipped, the practiced authority of someone who had commanded in the chaos of battle too many times.

Without waiting for acknowledgment, Nilgaurd took off, his movements a blur of purpose and desperation. He summoned a surge of water beneath his feet, freezing it into a slick sheet of ice that propelled him forward. Sliding across the terrain, he moved with uncanny grace, his staff raised to balance and direct his momentum. The freezing air bit at his face, but he ignored it, pushing harder with each passing second.

The city blurred around him as he raced toward Leah's last known location. The streets, once alive with the cacophony of battle, now seemed eerily quiet in the wake of the monsters' retreat. His mind churned with unanswered questions. Why the cathedral? What was Leah thinking? And most hauntingly—what awaited her there?

His thoughts flickered to his earlier conversation with her. Leah was no fool; she wouldn't make a move like this lightly. But the risks—the damned risks—were colossal. Whatever she intended to find or confront at the cathedral could very well be their undoing.

As the towering structure loomed closer, its ancient stone façade casting long shadows under the waning moonlight, Nilgaurd braced himself. His gut told him this wasn't just a reckless gamble. Something was waiting for her there. Something worse than anything they'd faced so far.

And Leah was walking straight into its jaws.

_____________

"Yohoooo!" Ludel's voice rang out like a gleeful carnival barker as he bobbed and floated through the air, his gravity magic carrying Leah and her elite guards toward the ominous spire of the cathedral. The darkened sky swirled overhead, punctuated by the faint glow of fires and the flickering of arcane spells in the distance. Below them, the city churned with chaos—monsters and desperate defenders locked in brutal conflict. 

Ludel laughed again, his voice brimming with joy as he skillfully weaved between collapsing buildings and stray magical blasts. "Yohoooo! Faster than a carriage, smoother than a broomstick!" he declared, spinning them around a toppled steeple before righting his trajectory. His buoyant demeanor was almost comically at odds with the grim situation, but no one dared interrupt his focus. They needed him to get them there alive.

Ahead, the cathedral loomed like a grim sentinel, its jagged spires clawing at the sky. Leah's sharp eyes fixed on it, her expression unreadable behind her ornate mask. As Ludel began to slow their approach, she stood up precariously on his floating platform, her cloak billowing in the wind. 

"Listen up!" Leah barked, her voice cutting through the howling air like a blade. Her gaze swept over her loyal, cursed guards, each one awaiting her orders. The time for levity was over. "Ligh, take Hey and Bey and clear us a path. Kill anything—anything—that isn't ours. No hesitation. No mercy."

Ligh nodded silently, her masked face betraying no emotion. She grabbed Heyfell and Beyfell by their arms, her teleportation magic whisking them away in a blink of light and shadow. Their absence left an unsettling void on the platform.

"Pental," Leah continued, her voice sharper now, "I need you to hold back as many of those things as possible. Stall them. Break their ranks. Do not—" her tone darkened, "—get hurt. That's an order." Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

Pental gave a serpentine grin, his body coiling unnaturally as if in anticipation. "Understood," he hissed, his voice tinged with restrained fury. 

"And Due..." Leah glanced around, only to realize the shadowy figure had already disappeared. She sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Never mind. He's gone already."

Ludel chuckled softly at her frustration but quickly stifled it when she glared at him. 

"Rift," Leah turned her attention to the enigmatic figure at the back of the platform. "You'll be backing all of them. If anyone's in danger, I expect you to intervene. Go all out if you must, but don't collapse on me yet."

Rift gave a slow, deliberate nod, his movements deliberate and precise, as if every action required immense calculation. 

As Ludel began descending toward the cathedral's entrance, his jovial tone dropped into something uncharacteristically serious. "We're here, Boss. Touchdown in three... two..." His gravity magic dissipated gently, setting everyone down just outside the cathedral grounds. 

Leah took a step forward, her boots crunching against the bloodstained cobblestones. She drew her weapon, the faint hum of cursed energy radiating from its blade. "You know your roles," she said, her voice calm but commanding. "Do not fail me."

Her guards dispersed into the shadows like wraiths, each one heading toward their assigned tasks. The air grew heavy, the cathedral looming above them like a foreboding titan. Leah's grip tightened on her weapon as she stepped forward. 

"Time to meet destiny," she muttered under her breath, her voice carrying just enough steel to mask the lingering doubt gnawing at her mind.

_______________

"How long is this going to take, kid? I'm getting bored over here," Wrath grumbled, narrowly sidestepping a massive skeletal claw that slammed into the ground beside him with a deafening crash. Dust and debris flew into the air, making Adam cough as he clung desperately to Wrath's back, his hands gripping the demon's armor like his life depended on it—because, well, it did.

"I'm trying my best here!" Adam snapped, frantically flipping through the half-formed ideas in his brain. "Kinda hard to focus when all I can hear is that thing screaming! It's like it's got a megaphone lodged in its throat!"

Wrath let out an exaggerated sigh, dodging another grotesque appendage with the kind of casual ease that suggested he could do this blindfolded. "Oh, poor baby," he teased, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You want me to ask it to quiet down? Maybe offer it a cup of tea? 'Excuse me, horrifying abomination of flesh and bone, would you mind toning it down? My human's trying to use his big squishy brain.'"

"Very funny," Adam shot back, gritting his teeth as Wrath launched them both into the air to avoid another strike. "Why don't you just kill it already? You're supposed to be the big scary demon here!"

Wrath's grin widened, his fangs glinting. "Oh, I could. But where's the fun in that? Besides, you're the one who's supposed to figure out how to kill it. I'm just the muscle. Think of this as a team-building exercise!"

Adam groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment before realizing how close Wrath was flying to the creature's open maw. "Can we not get eaten? Please?"

"Relax," Wrath said, veering sharply to the left as a snapping jaw of exposed bone and decayed flesh narrowly missed them. "You'd probably taste terrible anyway. All that stress can't be good for the flavor."

"How are you this calm?!" Adam yelled, as Wrath flipped midair, dodging three strikes at once with infuriating grace. "This thing is the size of a skyscraper, and it smells like a landfill threw up on itself! I'm losing brain cells just being near it!"

"Focus, kid," Wrath said, his tone a little sharper now. "You're not here to complain about its smell. You're here to figure out how to turn it into a pile of ash."

"Yeah? Well, it's not working!" Adam shouted, clutching at his hair. "Every idea I have is just, 'Throw fire at it,' and—newsflash—that hasn't exactly been doing the trick so far!"

Wrath hummed thoughtfully, dodging another swipe from the monster's massive claws. "Have you considered thinking harder?" he said, as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the world.

Adam glared at him. "Oh, sure. Let me just pull out my Advanced Guide to Killing Gigantic Nightmare Beasts That Smell Like a Thousand Deaths and flip to chapter three!"

Wrath chuckled, his flaming spear materializing in his hand as he hurled it at the creature's chest. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield, and the monster staggered back, a hole smoldering in its torso.

"Bought us some time," Wrath said with a yawn, as if he hadn't just punched a hole through a literal monstrosity. "So keep thinking, genius. Clock's ticking."

"Clock's ticking?! Clock's ticking?! I'm going to die because of your stupid motivational pep talks!" Adam screamed, but he couldn't stop a nervous laugh from escaping.

Wrath glanced down at him, smirking. "See? You're already feeling better. Now, get to it. Or else we're both monster chow."

Adam's mind raced in chaotic loops, each thought chasing the tail of the last. (How? How do I kill this thing? Fire didn't work. Nothing's worked. I'm out of ideas...) He let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping. Desperation clawed at the edges of his mind, but he shook it off. If nothing else, he could try everything and hope for a miracle.

He raised his trembling hand, summoning fire to his palm—a weak, sputtering flame that seemed almost embarrassed to exist. "Fire…not like it's going to do much," he muttered, the monster's guttural howls echoing in his ears.

As Adam concentrated, a flicker of memory surfaced, unbidden but vivid.

(Fire... Blue fire! That's right!) He recalled the horrific moment back when his body had been possessed. The thing inside him had twisted his form, pretended to be him, stood before Leah, Nilguard, and the rest like a grotesque puppet. But later, alone with Nilguard, the creature had revealed something terrifyingly beautiful: a strange, unnatural flame. Cyan fire. It hadn't burned the material world but instead seared through something deeper, something elemental.

(But how do I make it?) Adam wracked his brain, his thoughts a frantic jumble. The answer eluded him, slipping through his grasp like grains of sand.

Then, like a spark in the darkness, another thought ignited. (Ritual magic!) It was rudimentary, almost theoretical in the fragments of knowledge he had. But desperation was the mother of invention, and he had no other choice.

Breathing deeply, he raised his hand again and concentrated, his thoughts reaching back to every myth, every tale of fire he had ever known from his world. Prometheus and the stolen flame. The eternal fires of the underworld. The phoenix, burning and reborn. He poured them all into the flame, weaving them together like strands of a tapestry.

The fire in his palm changed. Its orange hue deepened, touched with veins of black that coiled and writhed like living shadows. The way it danced was unnatural, mesmerizing, as if it were a flame ripped from the pages of some forgotten storybook.

Adam didn't notice his nosebleed at first, the blue streak of blood trickling down his lip. He didn't see the brief, eerie glow of his eyes as they mirrored the flame's unearthly light. All he felt was the weight of the magic in his hand—a thing that shouldn't exist, but now did.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. With all the strength he could muster, he hurled the flame at the towering monstrosity.

The fireball arced through the air, trailing blackened wisps like a comet. It struck the creature's grotesque form, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the flame expanded, crawling over the abomination like a living parasite. It clung to the flesh, consuming it in slow, deliberate waves. The monster howled, a sound so unnatural it reverberated in Adam's chest like a death knell.

Wrath, who had been leaning casually on his spear, raised an eyebrow as he watched the flame devour its prey. "Huh. Guess you had it in you after all," he said, his voice tinged with approval. Stretching his arms lazily, he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. "Took you long enough, though. I was starting to think I'd have to handle it myself."

Adam, his breath ragged and his vision swimming, managed to glare at Wrath. "You—" he began, but the words failed him.

Wrath grinned, patting Adam on the back with enough force to nearly knock him over. "Good job, kid. You've earned yourself a breather. But I'm not here to hold your hand all day. You'd better head for the cathedral. Leah's probably getting into all sorts of trouble, and you don't want to miss the party."

"But—" Adam started, only for Wrath to cut him off.

"No buts," Wrath said, twirling his spear as flames licked up its length. His smile widened, more predatory now. "I've got some monsters to roast. You've got a queen to help. Now move it."

As Wrath launched himself back into the fray, his laughter mingled with the howls of the dying abomination. Adam turned toward the cathedral in the distance, his heart pounding. The fire in his hand had been more than just magic. It had been something else entirely.

(What have I done?) he thought, but there was no time for answers. He began to run, the towering silhouette of the cathedral looming ahead, and the promise of more horrors waiting inside.

_________________

The air in the cathedral was thick with an oppressive, otherworldly energy, as if the building itself were alive and watching. Leah stepped forward, her heels clicking against the smooth, reflective floor. Flanked by Ludel and the rest of her cursed battalion, she glared at Pope Ferdinand, who sat atop a throne that seemed almost carved from sunlight. Its brilliance was unsettling, a sharp contrast to the grim reality outside.

"Pope Ferdinand," Leah began, her voice calm but dripping with venom, "I have to say, this is quite the welcome. I expected a man of God, but looking at those abominations you've unleashed, I'm beginning to think you might be something else entirely. A demon, perhaps?"

Ferdinand chuckled, his laughter echoing unnaturally through the chamber. His golden eyes gleamed as he leaned back in his throne, his hands resting on its gilded arms as though he were the ruler of creation itself. "Queen Leah," he said, his voice reverberating with a layered resonance that made her guards shift uncomfortably, "I'll give you one last chance. Join me. I might even make you my queen in the empire I'm about to forge. Haven't you done enough? Aren't you tired of fighting for a world that rejects you?"

Leah tilted her head slightly, her expression unchanging. She noted the way the cathedral's interior had transformed. The architecture no longer matched the blueprints Adam had stolen; it was as though the walls had reconfigured themselves into something alien, something holy yet defiled.

She smiled, a sharp, dangerous curve of her lips. "Let's get this over with," she said, her tone almost flippant. "I have a city to manage once I'm done here. And for the record, Pope, you're outnumbered. By now, most of your monsters are dead. That leaves what? You and a few dozen knights? Even you aren't foolish enough to think that'll be enough to stop us."

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Then Ferdinand laughed—a low chuckle at first that grew into a booming, almost hysterical cacophony. It was the laugh of a man who had abandoned all reason, or perhaps one who believed he no longer needed it.

"Outnumbered?" he repeated, his laughter subsiding into a sinister grin. "Oh, Queen Leah, how little you understand. Those creatures outside? They weren't my soldiers." His voice grew louder, his arms outstretched as golden light radiated from him. "No, they were a gift! A divine blessing from our goddess herself. Praise be to Fera!"

The light from his body intensified, casting long, warped shadows across the room. With a sudden burst, Ferdinand stood, and the throne behind him dissolved into motes of glowing energy. The ground beneath Leah and her battalion shifted, rippling like water as hundreds of soldiers materialized around them, their silver armor gleaming with an unnatural glow.

Each soldier carried ornate weapons crackling with electric energy, the air hissing and popping with static. Their movements were eerily synchronized, their eyes devoid of life but alight with divine power.

Leah's smile didn't falter, though her fingers twitched subtly—a signal to her guards. "Ludel," she said, her voice calm, "keep us grounded. I don't want any surprises."

"Already on it," Ludel replied, his gravity magic subtly locking their footing against the shifting floor.

"Heyfell, Beyfell," Leah continued, her tone sharp, "clear us a path. Pental, stall as many as you can. I don't want anyone getting too close. Rift, you're on suppression. No one breathes without my say-so."

Pope Ferdinand clapped his hands mockingly. "Admirable leadership, Your Majesty, but futile. You stand in the house of a god, facing an army blessed by her divine light. What hope do you have?"

Leah snorted, drawing her rapier with a flourish. "Hope? Oh, Pope Ferdinand, I don't need hope." She pointed the blade at him, the steel reflecting the golden light like liquid fire. "I have me."

With that, chaos erupted.

Heyfell shot forward, a blur of joy-fueled speed. His laughter echoed through the cathedral as he carved through the first wave of soldiers, his twin blades a whirlwind of death. Beside him, Beyfell followed, her eyes dark with despair as her strikes shattered armor and bones alike.

Pental slithered into the fray, his serpent-like body twisting around enemies with impossible grace. His venomous breath created a poisonous fog that incapacitated dozens of soldiers at once.

From the rear, Rift raised his hands, the air around him warping as he activated his power. The soldiers nearest to him froze mid-motion, their forms bending unnaturally as though caught in an invisible vice.

Leah advanced, her movements precise and deadly. She deflected incoming strikes with ease, her rapier cutting through the enchanted armor as though it were paper. Her smile widened as she met Ferdinand's gaze.

"You'll have to do better than this, Pope," she taunted.

Ferdinand's grin never wavered. "Oh, I intend to." He raised his arms, and the golden light around him intensified. The cathedral itself began to tremble, the walls twisting and warping into shapes that defied logic.

The battle had only just begun.

_______________

Adam was bent over, gasping for air, when he saw Nilgaurd sprinting toward him, his heavy wooden staff bouncing in rhythm with his hurried steps. Adam tried to catch his breath enough to yell, "Nilgaurd! Hah... Leah, she's in—"

"I know," Nilgaurd interrupted sharply, skidding to a halt. His eyes flicked over Adam, assessing him with the speed of someone who'd been in a thousand battles. "Come on, we need to get there fast. Can you do it again? That orange-black fire thing? We might need it."

Adam blinked, still hunched over, and wiped at his nose, his fingers coming away smeared with a faintly blue liquid. "I don't know... Maybe? It kinda hurts to use though. Hey, uh... is my blood blue?"

Nilgaurd raised an eyebrow as he grabbed Adam by the arm and pulled him onto the stretch of wet ground he'd conjured. "Yes, it's blue. Don't worry about it. Happens to all mages when you start overloading on magic. Think of it as the mystical equivalent of... uh, a nosebleed during finals week."

"Finals week doesn't usually come with existential crises and exploding blood vessels!" Adam shot back, frantically pinching his nose.

"That's just because you didn't go to mage school," Nilgaurd quipped, slamming his staff into the icy puddle. The water instantly froze, forming a slick, winding path ahead of them. With a swift motion, Nilgaurd hauled Adam onto the ice. "Relax, you're fine. You've got at least one more fireball in you before you pass out."

"Wow, comforting," Adam muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What happens after I pass out?"

"After that?" Nilgaurd smirked as he kicked off, the ice sliding them forward at breakneck speed. "I prop you up like a scarecrow and hope you intimidate the bad guys."

Adam clung to Nilgaurd for dear life, the freezing wind whipping at his face as they rocketed forward. "This is a terrible plan!"

"Terrible plans are my specialty," Nilgaurd shot back, leaning into a sharp turn as the icy path veered between crumbling buildings and snarling monsters. "Besides, you'll be fine. You're still upright, you're talking, and your eyes haven't started glowing yet. That's when you really have to worry."

"My eyes can glow?!" Adam yelped.

"Sure. It's a mage thing. Usually means you're about to accidentally open a portal to somewhere nasty, though. So let's not push it, yeah?"

Adam groaned, his head lolling back as the sheer absurdity of the situation hit him. "This is insane."

"Welcome to my world, kid," Nilgaurd said with a grin, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase. "Now hold on tight. We're crashing a cathedral, and we've got a queen to save."

As the icy path twisted toward the cathedral's towering spires, Adam felt a spark of determination creep into his chest. Crazy or not, he wasn't about to let Leah down. Even if it meant turning his blood blue and possibly glowing in the process.

After several minutes of ice-skating chaos—complete with Adam nearly face-planting twice and Nilgaurd humming a jaunty tune like he was out for a leisurely stroll—they finally skidded to a halt in front of the cathedral. It was covered by a radiant golden dome that shimmered as if daring them to even think about breaking through.

Nilgaurd surveyed the dome with a hand on his hip. "Well, isn't that just obnoxious. Who even designs these things? Overcompensating much?" He turned to Adam, propping him up with a supportive—but not exactly gentle—grip. "Alright, kid, this is your moment. One more fireball like the last one, and you can take a nap while I handle the rest. Deal?"

Adam, slouched like a wet noodle, groaned. "Yeah, sure, no problem. Just ignore the fact that I feel like my brain's been microwaved."

"Atta boy!" Nilgaurd grinned, giving him a playful slap on the back that nearly sent Adam toppling.

With a deep breath (and a muttered prayer to any deity that would listen), Adam raised his trembling hand. He focused, summoning that eerie orange-and-black flame again. The fire flickered to life, twisting unnaturally in his palm like it was alive. Just looking at it made his head throb, but he pushed through, concentrating with everything he had.

"Okay," Adam wheezed, "here goes nothing!" He weakly tossed the fireball toward the dome. It soared… for all of three feet before plopping onto the ground like a lazy pancake.

Nilgaurd stared at the sputtering flames, then at Adam. "Well, that was anticlimactic."

"Shut up!" Adam snapped, leaning against Nilgaurd for support. "I'm trying!"

But before Nilgaurd could throw in another quip, something strange happened. The fire on the ground began to writhe and coil, as if it had a mind of its own. It slithered across the stone, inching toward the golden dome with the speed of an elderly snail on its day off.

"Uh… is it supposed to do that?" Nilgaurd asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adam, clutching his head, managed a weak shrug. "I don't know, man. I don't even know how I did that in the first place!"

They both watched in tense silence as the fire finally reached the edge of the dome. The moment it touched, the flames erupted, spreading out like an inkblot on parchment. The golden surface hissed and cracked as the fire gnawed its way through, consuming the magic at an agonizingly slow pace.

Nilgaurd's usual smirk faded, his expression growing serious. "It's working," he muttered, his eyes locked on the burning dome.

Adam, slumping further against him, managed a faint grin. "Told you I had another one in me."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a regular prodigy," Nilgaurd said, his tone softer now. He gently set Adam down against a nearby wall, crouching next to him. "Rest up, kid. You've done your part. Now it's my turn to crash this party."

As the fire continued its relentless crawl through the dome, Nilgaurd stood, his staff crackling with icy energy. His lighthearted demeanor was gone, replaced by a steely resolve. "Stay here, Adam. When this is over, you'll have a hell of a story to tell."

With that, he stepped toward the cathedral's entrance, the golden dome crumbling in slow, fiery waves.

Adam stirred, his senses slowly returning as the cacophony of battle washed over him. The sharp clang of steel against steel, the rush of water spells, and bursts of laughter punctuated by snarky one-liners filled the air. His eyelids fluttered open, his vision still hazy, but the glowing orange and black flames devouring the remnants of the golden dome were unmistakable.

As the haze cleared, his gaze shifted to the cathedral's grand entrance. Inside, shadows danced against the light as silhouettes of combatants clashed in a chaotic melee. Adam heard a bloodcurdling scream followed by a defiant roar.

"You'll pay for this, Queen Leah! Do you hear me?! You'll all pay for this!" a voice bellowed, venom dripping from every word.

Adam pushed himself upright, his head throbbing as the sounds of the struggle grew louder. The ground trembled as magic surged, sending shockwaves through the area. The voice inside the cathedral screamed again, but this time it was filled with pain, followed by the wet, unmistakable sound of something being severed. A moment later, something rolled out of the cathedral doors, stopping mere inches from Adam's feet.

It was a head.

Adam blinked at the grotesque sight. The severed head of Pope Ferdinand, his golden eyes now dimmed but still burning with hatred, stared up at him. The mouth opened and closed silently, as though trying to speak but failing.

"Oh... that's... that's a severed head," Adam muttered weakly. His vision blurred again, and with a soft thud, he slumped back into unconsciousness.

Inside the Cathedral Moments Earlier

The interior of the cathedral was chaos incarnate. The once-grand hall had been transformed into a battlefield, its ornate decorations now scorched and broken. Ferdinand stood at the center of the room, his golden throne crackling with divine energy. Around him, Leah's guards were locked in fierce combat with his summoned warriors, their silver weapons clashing against magic-fueled strikes.

"Is that all you've got?" Ludel called out, floating effortlessly above the melee. "Come on, Pope-y, you're supposed to be a man of God—where's the smiting?"

Ferdinand sneered, raising his hands. A shockwave of light rippled through the room, sending Ludel crashing into a pillar. "Blasphemous wretch! I am the voice of Fera! You will all fall before me!"

"Blah, blah, blah," Leah said, rolling her eyes as she parried a strike from one of Ferdinand's knights. "You talk too much, Ferdinand. Did your goddess teach you that, or is it just your winning personality?"

As Ferdinand's knights surged forward, Pental coiled his serpent-like body, twisting and contorting to strike with precision. His venomous breath paralyzed several enemies, but his face remained eerily calm, his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"Watch your step!" Ludel called from above, using his gravity manipulation to hurl chunks of debris at the remaining knights. "Wouldn't want to trip and embarrass yourselves!"

Meanwhile, Heyfell zipped around the battlefield, his speed increasing with every joyful laugh. "Bet you can't catch me!" he taunted, delivering rapid strikes that left enemies stumbling. Beyfell, her sadness palpable, crushed opponents with devastating strength, her tears falling as she fought.

Leah faced Ferdinand directly, her blade gleaming with magic. "You think your divine power makes you untouchable, but you're just another deluded tyrant hiding behind a throne."

Ferdinand roared, unleashing a wave of golden energy, but Rift stepped forward, creating a localized distortion that bent the attack away. The strain was evident on his face, but he held firm.

Finally, Leah saw her opening. With a swift, calculated strike, she severed Ferdinand's head from his body. As the golden energy around him dissipated, his head tumbled to the floor, rolling out of the cathedral and landing near Adam.

Leah exhaled sharply, surveying the battlefield. "All right, team, clean up the rest of these zealots. Let's finish this."

As the guards moved to secure the cathedral, Nilgaurd emerged from the shadows, his staff humming with icy power. "Nicely done, your majesty. Though I gotta say, you've got a flair for the dramatic."

Leah smirked. "Somebody's gotta keep things interesting."

From outside, Adam's faint groan signaled his brief consciousness before silence returned. Leah shook her head with a chuckle. "Someone check on the kid. I think we broke him."

_____________________

The weight of the past weeks lingered heavily as Adam stood in the palace corridor, his belongings packed into a modest satchel. Leah leaned against the marble archway, her regal posture softened by an uncharacteristic hint of vulnerability in her voice. 

"Adam... are you sure about this?" she asked, her gaze unwavering. "You don't have to go. You could stay—maybe find something meaningful here." 

Adam adjusted the strap on his shoulder, giving Leah a tired smile. "I've made up my mind. The war's over, and your control over me—it's not what it was. I need to figure things out for myself. Going to the Has Republic might be my best shot at finding a way home." 

Leah's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. "Then goodbye, Adam. And... thank you." Her voice faltered slightly, an admission of gratitude she rarely voiced. 

As Adam turned to leave, Boyd appeared near the palace's grand exit, holding an intricately carved wand with silver inlays. 

"Master Adam," Boyd called, his perpetually cheerful tone carrying a hint of melancholy. "You forgot your wand. A mage always needs his wand, even one as peculiar as you." He handed it over, his warm smile never fading. "Do visit sometimes. Her Majesty will likely be insufferably bored without you around to argue with." 

Adam chuckled, taking the wand. "Thanks, Boyd. Though... keep an eye on her, will you? I've got a feeling something's not right. It's like she's changing—maybe even possessed. If she does, well..." Adam trailed off, shaking his head. "I trust you and the others to figure it out." 

Boyd gave a slight bow. "Of course, Master Adam. Farewell, and may your path lead you where you need to be." 

As Adam stepped through the palace gates, the morning sun bathed the grounds in a soft, golden light. Near the edge of the courtyard, Wrath leaned casually against a charred stone pillar, a wry grin on his face. 

"Finally done with the farewells, kid?" Wrath asked, his tone as sharp as ever. "Good. Now listen up—Has Republic's your best bet for digging up anything about Earth. They've got libraries, scholars, and enough political intrigue to keep you on your toes. Oh, and don't lose your guild badge." He pointed at Adam's pocket. "Trust me, you'll want that." 

Adam gave a faint nod. "Got it. Thanks, Wrath." 

Wrath smirked, flames beginning to flicker at his feet. "Don't thank me. Just try not to die out there. Makes things more interesting if you stay alive." With a burst of fire, he vanished, leaving a faint scorch mark on the cobblestones. 

Adam exhaled, muttering under his breath. "Alone again... Figures." 

As he neared the gates leading out of the palace grounds, he noticed Ligh standing in the shadow of the great stone arch. Her silent presence was as steady and enigmatic as always. 

"Hey, Ligh," Adam said, giving her a small wave. "I guess this is it, huh? Our last goodbye—at least for now." 

Ligh didn't respond, but instead held out a mask. Adam took it and realized it was his—a replica of her own, except where hers bore a serene smile, his showed a sorrowful frown. 

He turned the mask over in his hands, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks. It's nice that you brought it. I, uh... kind of forgot about it." 

Ligh placed a hand on his shoulder, and before Adam could say anything more, the world around him blurred. A moment later, they reappeared in the middle of a dense forest. The canopy above let in slivers of sunlight, dappling the ground with patches of gold. Ligh motioned silently toward a winding path that led deeper into the woods. 

Adam adjusted his satchel and gave her one last look. "Take care of them, Ligh. And... thanks for everything." 

Ligh inclined her head slightly before vanishing into thin air, leaving Adam alone in the quiet forest. He sighed, pulling his mask down over his face, and began walking toward the path she had indicated. 

"Has Republic, huh? Let's see what you've got for me," he muttered, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots the only sound accompanying him as he ventured into the unknown.

_____________

Leah walked back into the grand throne room, its vast emptiness echoing her own silence. The once-bustling space, filled with advisers and soldiers, now felt cold and hollow, the remnants of the political chaos that had engulfed the kingdom still lingering in the air. A large, polished table sat in the center of the room, papers and scattered notes hinting at the aftermath of the recent war—each document a reminder of the bloodshed, the betrayals, and the weight of the decisions she had made.

She moved toward her throne, the golden seat that had once felt like a symbol of power now feeling more like a cage. With a weary sigh, she sank into the seat, her eyes scanning the room in a daze. The walls seemed to close in on her, the heavy weight of the crown pressing down even though it wasn't physically on her head. Her kingdom was safe—for now—but the cost had been immeasurable.

A soft rustling sound caught her attention. She turned her gaze to the left, where a small pedestal stood, its surface gleaming in the dim light of the room. Upon it, nestled against the cold stone, was a tiny puppy, curled up in a peaceful sleep. Leah's heart twisted at the sight, the softness of the creature a stark contrast to the harsh realities she had just witnessed. She had rescued this pup after the chaos of killing Pope Ferdinand, a casualty of the violence she had been forced to perpetuate. It had been a small, tender moment in the middle of the storm—a fragile life spared when so many had been lost.

She gently picked the puppy up, cradling it against her chest. The warmth of its small body against hers was comforting, but there was a bitter edge to the sensation, like it was a reminder of what she had sacrificed to get here. Her fingers absentmindedly stroked the soft fur, her mind whirling with thoughts she didn't want to face.

"What should I name you?" she murmured, her voice a quiet whisper to the sleeping creature. The words felt hollow, as if even naming the puppy wouldn't be enough to fill the emptiness gnawing at her.

Her mind wandered, and before she could stop herself, she began to think of Adam. He had left her—left the palace—and she hadn't had the chance to say goodbye properly. He had been more than just a pawn in her game; he had been a reminder of a life she had nearly forgotten—one without the constant pressure of ruling, one where she could make decisions without the weight of her crown on her brow.

"Maybe I should name you after him," she thought, the idea almost forming in her mind before she could pull it back. "Adam... No. No, that's absurd. He's gone, and I..." Her voice trailed off as she thought of him walking away, heading toward the Has Republic with nothing more than a quiet farewell.

But before she could spiral further into her dark thoughts, she heard Boyd's voice, clearing his throat with that familiar, tactful cough that always preceded a word of caution.

"Ahem, Madam Leah," he said, his tone light but his eyes betraying a quiet concern, as if he could read her thoughts better than she herself could. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you weren't just about to name that dog after Master Adam... That would be terribly unbecoming of your position."

Leah stiffened slightly, looking up at Boyd. His eyes were calm, almost serene, but there was a subtle, warning glint in them that made her pause. He was right. Naming a dog after Adam was... too much. Too sentimental. Too personal. Not something a queen—especially this queen—should indulge in. But even as the thought flickered across her mind, there was a pang of regret, of something lost, that gnawed at her from the inside.

She forced a smile, the facade a practiced mask that she had perfected over the years. "What?" she said, her voice light, trying to mask the heaviness inside. "No, no. This little guy's name will be... Prince. Yes! Little Prince. Much more fitting, don't you think?"

Boyd raised an eyebrow, but his lips twitched in something resembling approval. "Of course, Madam. Prince it is."

Leah cradled the puppy tighter, her gaze falling back to the creature in her arms. Prince. She could live with that. It was safe, detached, something that wouldn't tie her too much to the past. She nodded to herself, but beneath the cool exterior, a small, fragile part of her mourned the name she had almost given the puppy. It would have been a small piece of Adam that she could hold onto. But she couldn't let herself cling to it. She had to be strong—she had to be the queen.

"Prince, huh?" Leah whispered to the puppy, stroking its fur one last time before she set it gently down on the pedestal. She stood, her posture straightening as she steeled herself for the next phase of her reign. The war was over, but the real battle was just beginning. And she couldn't afford to let the past—and the people in it—distract her now.

As she turned to face her advisers, her expression hardened into the mask of the ruler she had to be. There's no time for weakness. No time for sentimentality. Adam was gone. This was her kingdom now, and she would shape it however she saw fit.

"Let's get to work," Leah said, her voice now firm, the ruler inside her rising to the surface.