The air around Alan felt heavy, suffocating, as he stood over the goblin corpse.
The blood had already begun to clot, the stench of death lingering in the air, but it was the weight in his chest that felt the heaviest.
His eyes slowly shifted over to the bodies of William and his Beast, lying motionless in the dirt.
His legs felt like they were made of lead, but somehow he forced himself to walk toward them.
Each step he took was like a hammer strike to his conscience, the memories of the battle — of the choices he made, the sacrifices — pressing in on him.
His throat tightened, but he didn't allow himself to break. Not here, not now. He had to remain composed.
When he finally reached William's body, Alan paused. The sight of his comrade, his friend, unmoving and cold, brought a knot to his stomach.
The pain in his chest didn't go away, but he steadied himself, kneeling beside William's corpse. His hands were trembling slightly as he reached out to lift him up.
"I would have died," Alan muttered softly, almost as if speaking to the lifeless form in his arms. "Without your help today, I wouldn't have made it through this dungeon."
His voice faltered, but he took a breath and forced the words out. "The least I can do is ensure you get a proper burial."
The moment those words left his lips, the dungeon seemed to shift. It wasn't a sudden movement, but a slow unraveling, as if the very fabric of the space around him was coming undone.
Rocks began to lift from the ground, their jagged edges breaking away in all directions.
Alan stood still as the space around him fractured, the magical aura lingering in the air disappearing.
In the distance, Alan saw the Nighthound approaching. Its massive form moved with an eerie grace.
The beast's mouth was full of the magical cores it had collected, the energy still swirling within them like a storm.
Despite the destruction around him, Alan didn't flinch. He kept his eyes fixed on the lifeless body in his arms, the weight of his responsibility settling heavily on him.
The dungeon continued to collapse, the very ground beneath him breaking apart as the light in the sky shifted, growing brighter, blindingly so.
Then, without warning, the world seemed to snap. A sudden rush of energy washed over everything — powerful and overwhelming.
Alan's hair whipped around in the force of the wind, his cloak flapping wildly. He felt the magic surge in the air, but he didn't move, didn't flinch. His gaze was still fixed on William's body, his expression a mask of quiet determination.
And then, as if the very fabric of the world had been torn open, the red swirling portal began to recede.
The magic that had once radiated from it, almost unbearable in its intensity, faded quickly, like a storm passing in the distance.
The portal shrank until there was nothing left but the sound of the wind and the crackling remnants of the magic that had been unleashed.
Alan stood alone in the clearing, still holding William's body in his arms. The sky had darkened, ominous clouds gathering overhead as though the world itself was mourning the loss.
He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him — this wasn't just the end of a battle. It was the end of something far bigger.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from behind him, drawing Alan's attention.
A group of guards had arrived, their footsteps pounding against the earth, their beasts beside them. It was a testament to the world they lived in now — where every person, even the most powerful, had to rely on the beasts that had become so intertwined with their lives.
Even the guards were never without their beasts.
But amidst them, there was one person who stood out to Alan. Bianca.
She was standing at the edge of the group, her hands shaking as she looked at him.
For a moment, Alan could see the confusion in her eyes, a silent struggle to recognize him. He wasn't surprised.
The man standing before her now was not the same person she had known. He had changed — his hair now silver, his eyes glowing a deep crimson.
There was something about him now that seemed almost… otherworldly.
Bianca's breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked with Alan's. Her lips parted, but no words came out at first.
She took a hesitant step forward, the weight of the moment pressing in on her. The winds picked up around them, stirring her hair, but she barely noticed.
All she could focus on was the man in front of her, standing like a silent sentinel in the midst of all the chaos.
For a brief moment, Bianca saw the flicker of recognition in Alan's eyes — something human, something familiar — but it was quickly masked by the cold determination that had taken root in him.
The man in front of her wasn't the same as the one she remembered. There was a darkness in him now, an edge that hadn't been there before.
"Alan…" she finally whispered, the name coming out almost like a prayer.
He didn't respond at first. His gaze never wavered from the body he held, his fingers tightening slightly around it as if holding on to something precious.
"I… didn't think I'd find you like this," Bianca continued, her voice trembling, unsure of what to say, how to bridge the gap between the man she had known and the one standing before her now.
Alan's gaze shifted slowly to her, and for a moment, his eyes softened, just the slightest bit. "I never thought this is how it would be, either," he said quietly, his voice filled with a rawness that surprised even him.
"You left the dungeon… you left us all to die, how do you plan on explaining that?" Alan asked, a certain coldness to his voice.
The wind swirled around them, blowing at her hair but the coldness in his voice remained.