Chapter 163: The Sinking Light

[Arthur’s POV]

The change was so seamless it made my stomach turn.

One moment, I was standing in front of the giant doors, my hand on my sword, ready for the blast of purple smoke. The next, the floor vanished from under my feet. The cold, silent dark didn’t just fade, it was ripped away by blinding light.

"Leo?!" I called out, my voice cracking through the heavy silence. "Roan! Elisabeth!"

No one answered. I was alone.

The smell of burning wood and hot ash hit my nose, forcing a cough out of my throat.

My eyes snapped open, and I gasped, air rushing into my lungs like I’d been drowning, like someone had held me under and only now let me surface. My hand went to my chest automatically, feeling my heart hammering away too fast, too loud.

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to breathe. In through my nose, hold it, out through my mouth. It was the rhythm I’d taught myself years ago when the nightmares first started, a desperate attempt to ground myself.

It didn’t work.

It never really worked.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the ruins anymore. The black stone corridor was gone. Leo, Roan, and Elisabeth were gone.

I was standing in the middle of a dirt street, surrounded by wooden houses burning under bright orange flames. Red embers floated through the night sky like angry fireflies, painting the dark clouds in a sick, bleeding red.

Oakhaven.

A cold, deep fear grabbed my throat, freezing my body. I was eighteen years old, an Expert rank with an SSS core, but looking at those burning buildings, I felt exactly eight years old again. Small, weak, and useless.

"Arthur!"

A panicked scream cut through the fire, pulling my eyes toward the source. There, stumbling through the thick smoke, was my mother. A wealthy merchant who was trying to escape a monster grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her backward into the beast’s path, using her as a shield.

"Mother!" I screamed, but my voice was small, like a child’s.

The monster’s claw went right through her.

She fell into the dirt, her blood pooling under her clothes. She didn’t scream. She forced her head up and looked at me. Even as her life faded, she smiled. A sad, painful smile meant only to comfort me. That frozen smile burned into my eyes.

"Arthur! Run!"

A sharp scream tore through the crackle of the fire.

My head turned toward the sound.

A few feet away, a big monster covered in dark scales stood over a fallen barricade. Under its heavy claw, pinned to the ground, was my father. He was holding nothing but a broken piece of wood, his chest heaving as he tried to protect the space behind him.

"Father!" I cried out, my legs moving entirely on instinct. I lunged forward, drawing my sword, the golden light flashing along the steel. I had the power now. I was an Expert. I could save them. I could rewrite this.

But as I leaped, my Divine Sense screamed at me. It told me the fog was in my head. It told me the voices were not real.

But the memories were too strong. The pain was too deep. I couldn’t listen.

"You were too late, Arthur," a bleeding merchant whispered from the shadows of a burning house, his face twisted in agony. "You didn’t save us. You watched us die and you call yourself a hero?"

"Arthur..."

A soft, fading voice cut through the merchant’s words.

My heart completely shattered. I stopped mid-stride, my boots skidding through the ash.

Right in front of the creature, a girl with messy hair and a torn dress pushed herself forward, blocking a descending blade. My older sister, Lilia. The creature swatted her aside like she was nothing, and I watched her small body fly across the space, hitting the wall with a horrific, wet crack.

She slid down slowly, leaving a dark smear of red behind her.

"Lilia!" I screamed, a raw, agonizing howl ripping from my throat.

I threw myself toward her falling body, dropping my sword entirely as I collapsed at her side, grabbing her hand — the same hand that had held mine through crowds, through darkness, through everything.

It was still warm.

Warm one second, and then cold the next, so cold I could still feel it, that phantom sensation of her fingers going limp in my grip. The light in her eyes, the light that had always been there, teasing me, protecting me, loving me, slowly faded to absolute nothing.

"Lilia, please," my voice came out broken. "Please get up. Please. You said you’d protect me. You said—"

"Why didn’t you protect me, Artie?"

My head snapped up.

It wasn’t my memory. Lilia’s dead lips were moving, her blank, empty eyes staring directly into mine. Her voice carried that soft, teasing tone she used to have, but warped into a cruel, hollow accusation.

"You were given the SSS-rank core. The Goddess chose you. You have all that holy light... so why am I always the one who has to die for you?"

"I’m sorry — I’m sorry, Lilia, please!" Tears ran down my cheeks, blurring the flames into a smear of light. I pressed my hands against her chest, trying to push my mana into her wound, but the light wouldn’t go in.

It just slipped through my fingers like water.

"You let her die right in front of you, just like me," my mother whispered from the dirt, her dead lips still curved into that frozen, chilling smile.

"Your light is completely useless, Arthur."

"You couldn’t save us," my father’s corpse rasped from beneath the creature’s claw, his dead eyes locking onto mine. "You couldn’t save Amelia from her grief. You couldn’t even keep Leo from falling into the dark. You are a failure, Arthur Vale."

"You’re not a savior," Lilia’s cold lips murmured as her head slumped sideways. "You’re just a coward who survived when the real heroes died."

The weight of their dead voices hit my mind like a falling mountain. Every nightmare I had buried came back. Every guilt I carried for the people who died under my watch in the exam came rushing up, crushing my will.

The orange flames of Oakhaven slowly turned purple. The dirt under my knees melted into a thick, black slime that crawled up my shirt, holding my arms to my sides.

They’re right, a dark, exhausted voice whispered in the back of my mind.I never asked for this. I never wanted to be the Chosen One. I’m just a boy who watched his family die. I’m so tired...

"...Arthur."

A new figure stepped out of the purple fire. It was Leo. But it wasn’t the white-haired man who had just led us here. It was the fourteen-year-old Leo, his ocean-blue eyes filled with bitter, burning hatred.

"You took everything from me," the false Leo hissed, stepping into my space, his face inches from mine. "You took my family. You took Amelia. You played the perfect, tragic hero while I drowned in the dark. And look at you now. You can’t even stand up."

The purple fog began to pour into my mouth and nose as the slime reached my chest, poisoning the air I breathed. My thoughts became tangled and broken. I couldn’t tell the past from the present anymore.

Everything was burning.

Everyone was dying because of me.

"They’re all going to die because of you," the fake Leo whispered.

His voice didn’t have the weight of a normal illusion. It was sharp, cold, and heavy, cutting through the crackle of the orange flames like a blade. He stepped closer, his boots sinking into the dark, foul-smelling black slime that was quickly swallowing the dirt street of Oakhaven.

Slowly, without any hurry, he reached down. His fingers grabbed my messy black hair, his grip tightening. With a sharp, sudden pull, he forced my head up.

I had to look directly into his face.

But it wasn’t the white-haired man who had just led us through the big doors. It was the fourteen-year-old Leo, his ocean-blue eyes wide, filled with a bitter, burning hate that felt too real to handle.

"Look at you," the fake Leo hissed, his hot breath hitting my face, dripping with pure disgust.

"The great savior. The chosen apostle of the Goddess. You took everything from me. You took my family. You took Amelia. You played the perfect, sad hero while I drowned in the dark. And for what? Look at you now. You can’t even stand up."

My jaw shook. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him he was wrong, to tell him I never wanted any of this. But the words died in my throat. My chest felt like it was being crushed under a mountain of iron.

The purple fog didn’t just swirl around us anymore. It began to pour directly into my mouth and nose with every desperate breath I took. It tasted like ash, copper, and rot, creeping down into my throat and wrapping around my core like cold vines.

"You think you’re going to save them this time?" the fake Leo laughed, a low, hollow sound that echoed inside my skull, messing with my thoughts. "You couldn’t even save your own blood, Arthur. Unless you kill the threats first, everyone is an enemy. Everyone. Protect them. Destroy the dark."

The edges of reality broke. The weight of my memory, the feeling of Lilia’s fingers going cold in my grip, the sight of my mother’s frozen, painful smile as she lay in the dirt, the sound of my father’s chest breaking under the monster’s claw — all of it came rushing back at once.

Except this time, the nightmare didn’t stop where it usually did. The black slime was rising faster now, thick and freezing, crawling up my shirt and pinning my arms to my sides.

They’re right, a dark, tired voice whispered from deep in my mind.I’m so tired... I want to stop and disappear.

Somewhere far away, a voice called my name. Soft. Warm. Familiar. Amelia? But the slime was already in my ears. I couldn’t hear her.

A flash of golden light, not mine, the Goddess’s — flickered behind my eyes. Then it died.

"Give up, Artie," a soft, twisted whisper came from the rising black pool.

I looked down. Lilia’s pale, blood-soaked face was breaking through the surface of the slime right beside my knee, her empty eyes staring up at me with pity.

"You’re not a hero," her cold lips whispered, her hand reaching up out of the mud to touch my arm, pulling me down. "You’re just the monster who lived when the real heroes died. Stop fighting it. Just let us go."

The golden light inside me began to fade, flickering like a dying candle against the wave of purple poison. The light didn’t fight back. It couldn’t.

The guilt of every person I had failed to save, from Oakhaven to the hundreds of students who turned into puppets and killed each other right in front of me during the exam, crushed my mind, killing the last bit of my will.

My grip on reality broke.

"Destroy... the dark..." I repeated, my voice dropping into a hollow, dead whisper, empty of any human feeling.

The golden light in my core didn’t disappear — it twisted. The light energy bent and mixed with the sick purple energy of the fog. My golden eyes lost their warmth, turning into bright, unblinking slits of raw destruction.

I stopped crying. I stopped feeling the pain. I stopped feeling anything at all. The poison took the hurt away, filling the empty hole in my soul with one clear thought.

I let my head fall back into the slime, my body going limp as the black mud rose up over my chest, pulling me under.

I didn’t try to pull away from Lilia’s cold grip. I didn’t try to call on the Goddess.

I just closed my eyes, letting the dark swallow me whole.

_

[Roan’s POV]

"Tch. What a mess," I muttered, shaking my head as I dropped into a loose, low stance.

The words left my mouth with a puff of warm air, completely out of place in the freezing cold that had suddenly taken over.

I looked around me, my storm-silver eyes cutting through the gloom.

Lying on the black stone floor were the bodies of my people. Elven warriors, royal guards, and right in the middle of them, her skin pale and her chest pierced through, was my sister Lyssaria. Her face was frozen in a look of betrayal, staring up at the ceiling.

I didn’t even blink.

Just a moment ago, I was with Leo and the others and we were about to enter the room. But the moment the smoke from those black doors cleared, the world had completely changed.

Leo, Arthur, and Elisabeth had vanished, leaving me alone in a narrow hallway of smooth black stone. The purple fog pressed in, cold and heavy, cutting off my vision past a few feet. Then the ghosts of my family crawled out of the mist, screaming for help, begging me to save them.

I knew it was an illusion.

I knew it from the very first second. The Statue of the Unforgotten Sorrow was supposed to break people under the weight of their own trauma, but the thing completely misunderstood how I worked.

I didn’t carry that kind of heavy, painful past. So I didn’t wait. I spun my spear, dropped my weight, and cut through them.

It hadn’t taken me much time at all to kill them all over again.

In less than a minute, the courtyard full of bodies was quiet. But as I looked down at the fake blood on the dark floor, a bitter taste filled my mouth. No matter how sure I was, or how steady my mind stayed, watching my sister’s face go pale, even if it wasn’t real, didn’t feel good.

"Damn it," I sighed, resting my spear on my shoulder.

As if sensing my mood, the endless dark hallway suddenly shook. The false walls melted away, rippling like water, and the illusion shattered. The repeating stone vanished, dropping me back into the real temple of the inner sanctum.

The problem was, I still couldn’t see a damn thing. The purple fog was thick here, swirling across the ground, blocking my vision past a few feet.

"Leo!" I called out. "Arthur! Elisabeth! Anyone still alive?"

Silence.

The fog seemed to eat the sound, burying it under a heavy, suffocating pressure.

I started moving forward, my boots silent on the floor. I wasn’t scared — I was excited. The energy was finally starting to buzz in my veins. My eyes shifted left and right, watching the slow drift of the mist.

Deep in the fog, I felt something shift. A quiet rustle of fabric.

My body moved on its own. Years of fighting had taught me well. I didn’t look, I just acted. I spun on my back foot, swinging my spear in a wide, fast arc to the right. The crystal tip cut through the air, and the force of my power pushed the thick purple mist aside in a straight line.

Whoosh!

The sharp tip of my weapon halted abruptly, freezing just inches away from a pale throat.

The parted fog revealed a figure standing trembling in the dark.

It was Amelia.

Her eyes were wide, the deep blue of her irises full of shock as she stared at the glowing spear tip just inches from her skin. Her breath came in short, shaky gasps. She looked completely worn out, her hair stuck to her damp forehead, her shoulders dropped like she had just fought her way out of a bad dream.

I kept the spear still, but I didn’t lower it.

"Well, well," I murmured, a relaxed smile returning to my face. "How can I believe you aren’t real, Amelia?"

Amelia swallowed hard, her throat moving just under the tip of my spear. She looked surprised by the question, a flash of confusion cutting through her tiredness, but she still managed to answer, her voice shaking a little. "Roan... it’s me. I... I just got out of the mist. What do you mean?"

"Just checking if you are real or not," I said, pulling the spear back and resting it at my side. "You see, earlier before we entered this lovely place, we also met a fake Amelia. The statue tried to play a trick on Leo with her."

Amelia’s breath hitched. "A fake... me?"

"Yeah. And honestly? It was a bit brutal," I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Leo didn’t even let her finish talking. He just cut her down without a single shred of hesitation. It was wild. He also mentioned something right after... he said the real Amelia doesn’t regret. He seemed pretty sure about that."

Amelia flinched, her eyes lowering to the stone floor as my words hit her.

A complex wave of raw emotion passed over her face — pain, guilt, and a strange, quiet realization. She didn’t argue. She didn’t defend herself. She just stood there, absorbing the fact that Leo knew her well enough to spot an imitation instantly, even after everything that had fallen apart between them.

Seeing that raw reaction, the tight worry in my chest finally let go. A fake couldn’t copy that kind of pain.

"Alright, you’re the real deal," I said, my tone turning friendly again. "Good to see you made it through. Though, I don’t suppose you’ve run into the others? I have no idea where Arthur or Elisabeth are. The fog completely split us up the second those doors popped open."

Amelia shook her head, her hands tightening into fists against her dress. "No. I was alone the entire time. I thought... I thought everyone else might have already made it to the center."

We were still talking, the silence of the temple hanging heavy around us, when a sudden, sharp sound erupted from our left.

Step. Step.

It was the heavy, rhythmic drag of a boot against stone, followed by a sudden, violent crackle of energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up. I felt the massive, crushing presence a fraction of a second before the fog even moved.

"Leo?" I called out, turning my head toward the sound, my eyes sharpening. "Is that you?"

The purple fog parted.

A figure came tearing out of the mist like a runaway train. Before I could even register the movement, a massive sword came flashing downward, aimed directly at my collarbone with pure, murderous intent.

Crash!

I brought my spear up just in time. The impact exploded between us in a shower of sparks. The force pushed my boots back across the floor, leaving marks in the stone.

I gritted my teeth, pushing back against the weapon, my eyes widening as I looked through the sparks at my attacker.

"Arthur?!" Amelia cried out from behind me, her voice filled with instant panic. "Arthur, stop! What are you doing?!"

It was him, but he was completely unrecognizable.

The quiet, disciplined soldier who always stood perfectly straight was gone. His jet-black hair was wild, sticking to his pale, sweat-slicked face, and his clothes were torn to ribbons.

But it was his eyes that made my blood run cold.

They were completely blank — bloodshot and wide, glowing with a terrifying, volatile purple light. One of his eyes was twitching violently, a clear sign that his conscious mind was trapped in an absolute frenzy, desperately fighting against a trauma he couldn’t conquer.

He had become an unconscious puppet, driven entirely by a maddening instinct to slaughter.

His light affinity had turned into a sick energy that hissed against the air.

As I struggled against his immense strength, a sudden memory flashed through my mind.

Just hours before we had stepped inside this inner sanctum, Leo had pulled me aside. Away from Arthur, away from Amelia, away from everyone. His cold, ocean-blue eyes had locked onto mine with a terrifying level of certainty.

"Roan," Leo had said, his voice entirely flat.

"There is a high chance Arthur will become a puppet inside the trial. His mind is unstable, and the statue will force him to fight his own trauma. If he snaps, his Divine Sense will turn him into a blind killing machine. When it happens, I need you to calm him down. Hold him down until he takes his control back. And if Amelia is there, ask her for help. She’s the only anchor he has left."

A wide grin slowly spread across my face as I pushed Arthur’s blade back.So Leo was right, I thought.That white-haired bastard actually saw this whole thing coming.

"Arthur! Look at me!" Amelia screamed, stepping forward, her hands reaching out in desperation. "It’s me! It’s Amelia!"

Arthur didn’t blink. He let out a low growl and raised his sword again.

"Don’t bother, Amelia!" I barked, spinning my spear into a high guard. "He’s completely lost his control! He’s trapped inside his own head, fighting a war we can’t see!"

I flicked my silver hair back and dropped into a low stance.

"I need to knock some sense into him before he accidentally tears this temple apart, but I’m going to need your help to snap him out of it. You’re the closest one to him, right? Get ready to call him back the second I find an opening!"

Arthur didn’t give us a second. His core exploded. A wave of energy shattered the stone pillars around him as he lunged forward.

But I was already moving.

We closed the distance at the same time. The speed of our exchange was insane.

Sword against spear.

Arthur’s traditional swordsmanship was flawless, a relentless storm of heavy, perfectly executed downward cleaves and precise thrusts, each one carrying enough raw power to split an Elite warrior in half.

But my spear was an extension of my own soul.

I deflected his strikes with blinding speed, the crystal tip dancing through his guard, tracing silver lines of mana through the purple dark.

It was a beautiful display of raw violence.

Every time our weapons clashed, a loud boom echoed through the temple, pushing the purple mist away only for it to rush back in.

I was laughing, a loud, breathless sound, as the rush of the fight pushed my body to its limit. He was faster than anyone I’d ever fought, his instincts guiding his blade with perfect aim even while unconscious.

Arthur lunged again, a massive, horizontal slash aiming to take my head off.

I didn’t try to block it head-on.

I dropped low, letting the wind of the blade whistle over my hair, and planted the base of my spear firmly into the floor. Using the momentum, I swung my entire body around the shaft, channeling a massive burst of mana directly into my right boot.

Boom!

My kick caught Arthur in the ribs.

The sheer force of the strike sent the Chosen One flying backward, his body crashing violently through a thick stone pillar before slamming into the wall at the far end of the chamber, burying him under a mountain of heavy rubble.

I landed lightly on my feet, twirling my crystal-tipped spear with a flawless, arrogant sweep before resting it easily over my shoulder. My chest was heaving, my blood was singing, and the wide, confident grin on my face reached my eyes.

"Well," I said, looking toward the dust where Arthur was already starting to get up, his light flaring even brighter.

"...Now the real fun begins."