The Company HQ had an odd duality, feeling both sterile and ancient. Lucius had led them to the tower's apex, where the glass walls gleamed, and the hum of servers seemed to pulse with hidden power. There was a subtle warping at the edges, as if reality here followed a different set of rules. Naomi's hand trailed along a console by the window, her gaze shifting between the detached building where refugees were gathered and Elias, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his VR headset balanced on his lap.
Dan, perched on a nearby stool and rummaging through his bag, surveyed the room. "Not bad for HQ. But I was expecting... more glowing runes or something." He raised a brow at Lucius, who sat serenely at the room's far end, sipping tea like it was an afternoon break.
Lucius gave a slight smile. "Not all magic needs to be seen."
Naomi tied back her ponytail and glanced at Elias. "Are you sure about this? How do we even know the shards will log in with you?"
Elias pointed at Lucius, grinning. "Exhibit A."
Lucius chuckled. "She has her reasons for doubt, Mr. Ward. But yes, Miss Faraday, I can bridge the immaterial and the material. Celestian Requiem isn't just a game—it's Astravell's collective memory translated into binary. If I can manage that, integrating the shards is trivial."
Elias adjusted his headset. "I have to do this. Kairo's journey has to end so I can reforge the sword and finally begin my own."
Ava placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, just don't die in there. That's an order."
Elias managed a small smile, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "Not planning on it."
Dan twirled a pen between his fingers. "We'll be watching through the monitors, giving out premium advice like, 'Don't screw up.'"
Naomi's expression softened. "We'll be here for you."
Elias gave them one last look, then pulled the headset down, the familiar weight settling over his mind like armor. Darkness washed over him, then the cold pull of the game took hold.
When he opened his eyes, he stood at the Forge of Immortality.
The arena was just as he remembered—a vast, empty space surrounded by glowing walls, the hum of unseen machinery resonating through the ground. But today, there were no spectators. No fanfare. Only a heavy, expectant silence.
"Guess it's a private audience," he murmured.
He moved forward, each step echoing loudly. The shards in his inventory pulsed softly, their glow intensifying as he neared the forge's center. A pedestal rose from the ground, smooth and cold, as though it had been waiting for him all along.
He opened his menu, selected the shards, and offered them to the forge.
Nothing happened at first. Then, the shards lifted from his hands, spinning in midair. The hum grew louder, vibrating the very air until it shimmered like a heatwave. The arena dimmed, and across from him, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Kairo.
Elias felt his breath catch. Kairo's armor glinted as if alive, flames licking invisibly along the edges, his sword ready, his gaze cold and resolute.
"So," Kairo's voice was a hard edge of steel. "You think you can finish what I couldn't?"
Elias raised his blade. "I know I can."
Kairo tilted his head, sizing him up like a child with too much confidence. Without another word, he lunged.
The strike was blindingly fast, precise. Elias barely blocked it, the impact jolting his entire body. The moment their blades touched, Kairo's memories flooded him.
Kairo stood on a battlefield, surrounded by those he had sworn to protect. His hands bled, his mind a storm of rage and regret. Every swing of his sword fueled by anger—anger at himself, at the Devourers, at the gods who had abandoned him. Each blow took him one step closer to failure.
Elias staggered under the weight of the memory. Kairo advanced, relentless, every strike a message. "You think strength alone is enough?" Kairo spat. "Strength will never be enough."
Elias gritted his teeth, meeting the next blow head-on. "I know it's not enough! That's why I'm not doing this alone!"
Their blades clashed again, and another memory surged forward. Kairo at the forge, hammering his sword with fury and despair. But when it was finished, the blade was hollow—beautiful, but brittle. It shattered in his hands the first time he used it.
Kairo's gaze seethed as they locked swords. "You'll fail. Just like I did."
Elias's muscles screamed, but a memory of Victor's words echoed through him: You're swinging like a butcher.
He exhaled, letting the tension drain from his body. This wasn't about brute strength; it was about precision and flow.
Kairo lunged again, but this time, Elias didn't meet him head-on. Instead, he sidestepped, moving with precision—just like Victor had taught him. Unlike Victor, though, he let his movements flow, his sword tracing a deliberate arc through the air.
"Kairo," Elias said, his voice steady. "Esmer loved you, but you never saw that. She was by your side, but you always fought alone! That's why you'll lose to me." His thoughts flicked to Ava, Dan, Naomi, Lucius, and Markus. "Because I'm willing to accept their strength as my own unlike you."
Kairo swung with animal-like fury, but Elias was already within his guard. In a fluid motion, Elias brought his sword down, mirroring the exact strike Victor had used to disarm him once before.
Their blades met, and for a single heartbeat, time stood still.
Then Kairo's sword shattered, fragments dissolving into light. He looked down at the empty hilt, a flicker of something—pride, perhaps—crossing his face. "You're right… I pushed her away out of fear," he then turned to him, his eyes misty with overdue tears. "But you've chosen your own path. A path far different from mine."
Elias stepped back, lowering his blade. "I won't repeat your mistakes."
Kairo's weary smile was genuine. "Good." He turned, and Elias followed his gaze to Lucius, who stood nearby with a proud smile. "This man will inherit it."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain? Until he completes his mission, you won't find rest."
Kairo nodded, then looked at Elias. "He's green," he said, a faint smile lingering. "But he's willing to learn. My legacy will be in good hands."
"Very well," Lucius said, snapping his fingers. "With this, Astravell's story ends—and Elias Ward's begins."
Kairo's form shimmered, dissolving as fragments of light drifted toward Elias, merging into his sword, reforging it anew. The blade that emerged was whole, balanced, humming with quiet strength.
Elias gripped the hilt, feeling it settle perfectly in his hand—not too heavy, not too light. Just right.
Kairo's voice faded, one last whisper. "Finish the journey. I will be with you until the end."
As the light dimmed, Elias stood alone in the arena, the newly forged sword gleaming in his hand. He took a steady breath. He wasn't Kairo. He never had to be.
The world dissolved, each pixel returning to the blade until Elias opened his eyes, blinking back to reality. Ava was waiting, her gaze steady. "Did it work?"
Elias looked down at the sword resting across his lap, a tired smile on his lips. "Yeah. It worked."
Dan approached, grinning. "Didn't know you were so sentimental. Love you too, man."
"Shut up," Elias replied, laughing.
"Yeah, Dan, shut up," Ava said, wrapping Elias in a hug and resting her chin on his head. "He clearly loves me the most."
"What?" Dan gasped, mock-offended. "Pretty sure he meant me!"
The group's laughter filled the room, the victory a warm glow in the air. The sword was reforged; hope was rekindled.
Lucius stepped forward, his expression grave. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have a general to execute," he said, gesturing to a nearby screen.
The screen flickered to life, revealing their foe. Asmodeus, fully transformed, had revealed himself to the world for the first time. This battle was far from over.