The days that followed Marcus's operation were filled with careful documentation and observation. Every moment mattered—every fluctuation in his aura, every sign of physical recovery, and every ounce of regained strength. This wasn't just about saving Marcus; it was about understanding the success of our experiment and ensuring it could never be undone.
Marcus's transformation was nothing short of remarkable. What had once been a fragile and polluted bloodline was now something rare and potent—a mutation so pure that it rivaled the most ancient ducal families of the Solar Empire. For Marcus, this discovery was as bewildering as it was empowering. A knight who had once been limited to the aura of a mid-tier silver rank had surged to the formidable level of gold rank 2—a level so advanced that even Morrison and I regarded him as a peer in strength.
One quiet afternoon, as we sat in the sunlight streaming through the windows of my lab, Marcus shared pieces of his harrowing past. His voice was steady, but the weight of his experiences hung heavy in the air. He spoke of the countless days spent in the shadows, his body and soul shackled by the Crescent Moon's curse. Every word he uttered deepened our resolve to help him reclaim his life and dignity.
"I never thought I'd live long enough to see the day I'd be free," Marcus admitted, his eyes distant. Then, with a small, grateful smile, he added, "You saved me, Raimon. All of you did."
I glanced at Morrison, who gave me a knowing nod. This wasn't just a rescue—it was a beginning.
Over the next month, the four of us—Marcus, Morrison, March, and Mancil—grew closer. What had begun as mere companionship evolved into genuine friendship. Marcus, despite his burdens, found himself drawn to our group's camaraderie. He laughed more freely, trained alongside us with renewed vigor, and even began to dream again.
On the final day of his recovery, I extended him an invitation.
"Marcus," I said, "I want you to join us—our organization. Not just as a member, but as a brother."
Marcus's expression softened. For a moment, he was speechless, the gravity of the invitation sinking in. Then, with a determined look in his eyes, he responded, "I'll do everything I can to repay this second chance. I swear it."
As Marcus's recovery neared completion, the next step in his journey became clear: reclaiming his ancestral lands from the Crescent Moon's grasp. Morrison and I devised a plan, pooling the resources and influence of our families to mount a full-scale operation. The House of Damian and the House of Flower would unite, dispatching a company of aura knights to crush the remaining strongholds of the Crescent Moon within Marcus's territory.
"We'll clear out every last one of those criminals," Morrison vowed, his emerald aura flickering with intensity. "And we'll make sure your lands rise from the ashes, Marcus."
Marcus, though grateful, was solemn. His path forward wasn't merely about revenge—it was about redemption.
"I've wasted too much time living in the shadows," Marcus confessed. "When this is over, I'll rebuild my family's honor. I'll help those in need, and I'll become strong enough to protect everything that matters to me."
However, there was one unavoidable consequence of Marcus's past. His involvement with the Crescent Moon meant he had compromised the security of the Institute. The thought of it weighed heavily on all of us, but Marcus insisted on taking responsibility.
"I'll request an early graduation," he said quietly. "It's the least I can do."
Morrison and I, however, refused to let him carry the burden alone. We knew Marcus had acted under coercion, and we believed he deserved a second chance—not expulsion.
Together, we arranged a meeting with Director Viktor Halloran. In the director's study, the air was heavy with expectation. Viktor, seated behind his grand desk, listened intently as Marcus explained his circumstances, his voice steady and unflinching.
"I am prepared to accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate," Marcus concluded. "But I ask only this—let me leave with my honor intact."
Viktor's sharp, perceptive gaze lingered on Marcus for a moment before shifting to me and Morrison. "You two support him in this?"
"We do," I replied firmly. "Marcus isn't who he was under the Crescent Moon's control. He deserves the chance to rebuild what was taken from him."
Viktor's expression softened, a rare flicker of approval crossing his features. "Very well," he said. "Marcus Crow will be granted an early graduation with full honors."
Relief washed over Marcus, but there was no arrogance in his posture—only quiet gratitude. He was ready to move forward, carrying the lessons of his past as both a burden and a guide.
That night, we gathered in the courtyard under the stars, a cool breeze rustling through the trees. The future felt brighter, more certain, now that Marcus was free and on the path toward redemption. As we stood together, the bonds we had forged in hardship felt unbreakable.
"From here on out," Marcus said softly, "I'll live a life of honor—and one day, I'll stand as someone worthy of the second chance you've given me."
And with that promise, we knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together—friends bound by trust, determination, and the unyielding belief that no one's story was beyond redemption.