Dain left him without a word.
The heavy iron door groaned shut, and suddenly—Elias was alone.
Alone in the cold, empty chamber. Alone in the dark.
His body throbbed with dull, lingering pain, the echoes of every death he had suffered still burning in his nerves. He could feel the weight of it inside him—something rotten, something wrong.
His breath was slow, steady—but inside, something else was growing.
Hatred.
Hatred for this city.
Hatred for the people who had done this to him.
Hatred for Dain Ferris.
He clenched his fists.
The world was so cruel. So meaningless.
He had been thrown into this nightmare, forced to suffer, forced to return—over and over, without end.
And now, something inside him was shifting.
His Ruin Mark hummed faintly, burning against his skin.
And for the first time—he wasn't afraid of it.
Hours passed.
The door opened once again, and Dain Ferris stepped inside.
This time, he didn't look at Elias with amusement or curiosity.
He sat down across from him, hands folded, golden eyes flickering in the candlelight.
"Well," Dain said finally. "The city council called a conference and they are afraid of you, Scholar."
Elias didn't move.
"They think you might know a bit too much about the outside world. They want you gone."
A pause.
"But… I want to know something. Before they decide to do that."
Elias listened carefully but remained silent.
Then, he spoke quietly.
"You know I can't die."
Dain stood up, his coat shifting around him. His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes were sharp—calculating.
"That's true, but they don't know that," he admitted. "And I have a question I want answered."
He turned slightly, his fingers tracing the hilt of his sword.
"Since my ability is Void-Healing, I'm pretty sure it resists your unnatural change, you're redos."
Elias' heart started racing.
He could already sense where this was going.
"So, Elias."
Dain's voice was calm. Patient.
"If you want to go free—then I need to confirm my little theory."
Elias' fingers dug into the chair.
He's going to ask me to die again.
Dain's smile widened.
"I might retain my memories of other times with void healing, but there is only one way to find out."
Silence.
Then—Elias exhaled.
"Fine."
Before he could prepare himself—
Dain's sword swung. A sharp, clean slice.
Darkness.
Elias snapped back to life, gasping.
The same room. The same chair. The same man sitting across from him.
But something was different.
Dain's expression.
He was staring at Elias, his golden eyes slightly wider than before.
Elias said nothing.
"Kill me you fucking coward."
Dain's smirk returned.
And so he did.
The cycle repeated.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each time, Elias returned to the chair. And each time, Dain was waiting but each time he's different. Changed.
But by the fifth time—something changed.
Elias opened his eyes and saw Dain Ferris on the floor, gripping his head with both hands.
His breathing was uneven, his body trembling.
Elias watched him in silence.
Dain slowly lifted his head, his golden eyes flickering with something new.
Something dangerous.
He exhaled sharply, his voice a low whisper.
"I was fucking right."
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand.
"All those memories… flooded my mind."
His fingers dug into his skull, as if trying to hold himself together.
"My Void Blood… it's preventing the time rewrite. It's trying to heal… the lost memories. "
Elias didn't react.
He just closed his eyes and sat back in his chair.
He had expected this.
And now—Dain was suffering the weight of his own discovery.
Dain stumbled slightly, still gripping his head as he dragged himself to the door.
Then—he left the room.
Hours passed.
Elias drifted in and out of sleep, his body still exhausted.
Then—the door creaked open.
Dain walked in, looking more composed now. He sat down, crossing one leg over the other.
"The council wants you gone. They think you might know a bit too much about the outside world."
Elias slowly opened his eyes, his gaze cold.
"Then why am I still here?"
Dain smirked.
"Because I'm going to kick you and your little friend out of this city myself."
Elias watched him carefully.
"And?"
Dain exhaled, stretching his arms. "And… I'm taking you with me."
Elias narrowed his eyes.
"Where?"
Dain chuckled. "You don't know, do you?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"There are seven Lost Cities, Scholar."
Elias' heart stopped.
"Each one built in the name of a different hero."
Dain smirked.
"And this city. It won't welcome you anymore. So we're leaving for another."
Elias exhaled slowly.
"This is my key to get out of this hell hole as well."
This was his way out.
His only way out.
"Fine."
Dain stood, stretching his arms.
"Good. Then let's—"
A loud thud echoed from the hallway.
Dain's head snapped toward the sound.
Then—a scream.
His expression shifted. "Stay here."
He strode out of the room.
Seconds later—his voice rang out.
"Scholar! Get over here!"
Elias immediately stood and followed the sound.
When he reached the other cell—he froze.
Lyra stood in the center of the room, her dagger glowing faintly in the dim torchlight.
A guard was on his knees before her, his face twisted in agony.
Dain stood a few steps away, his expression unreadable.
Lyra's voice was sharp. Unstable.
"Let us go right now—or I will kill everyone here."
The air was heavy.
Elias stepped forward.
"Lyra."
She turned slightly, her body tense, her breathing ragged.
"It's okay," Elias said carefully. "We're leaving. Trust me."
Her eyes narrowed.
She didn't trust Dain.
Not after everything.
But then—her dagger dimmed slightly.
She released the guard.
The man collapsed, gasping.
Elias stepped closer, his eyes fixating on the dagger.
It was still glowing faintly.
And then it hit him.
Her Phantom Blade ability… had awakened.
A thought burned in his mind.
"She needed a circumstance for it to awaken."
But what was that trigger?
His entire body tensed.
Something felt wrong.
Then—a cold shock ran through his veins.
A terrible realization crept into his mind.
He frantically looked around. "Where's Callum?" He said, barely a whisper.
Elias' breath hitched.
His body froze, muscles locking in place as the words left Lyra's mouth.
"What do you mean where is Callum?"
His mind went silent.
Completely. Utterly. Silent.
Lyra's expression was calm, tired. There was no hesitation in her voice, no recognition of the horror that was consuming Elias' chest like wildfire.
His heartbeat pounded against his ribs.
"What…?"
The word barely left his lips.
Lyra blinked at him, confused. She didn't seem concerned at all.
"You know where he is, Elias." Her voice was softer now, as if she was speaking to a child who had forgotten something obvious.
"He's gone. He's been gone for a while now."
The world tilted.
No.
No, that wasn't right.
Elias' fingers dug into his own arms as his vision blurred for a second.
"What… what do you mean?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
His throat felt tight.
Lyra's brows furrowed. She looked genuinely confused now.
"Callum's been dead for months, Elias."
Elias staggered backward.
His mind screamed at him.
"No. That's wrong. That's not how it happened."
He clutched at his own head, fingers curling into his hair as if he could physically hold onto his memories—hold onto Callum.
But the moment he did—something shifted. For a fraction of a second—his mind blurred. And suddenly—there was another version of Callum's death.
A version where he had never made it to the Lost City.
A version where he was long gone.
A version where—he had never entered the bunker with them at all.
Elias' breath shook. His own mind was breaking apart, unraveling like threads being pulled from a tapestry.
How many times had he died? He doesn't know.
How many times had reality shifted without him realizing?
"This isn't right," he whispered to himself. "This isn't real—"
But Lyra wasn't lying.
To her, Callum's death had always happened.
Because now—that was the truth.
A soft chuckle broke through the silence.
Dain was watching him. And he was grinning. Not cruelly. Not mockingly.
But like someone who had just witnessed something fascinating.
"Hah." He let out a small breath, tilting his head. "Now that's interesting, very interesting."
Elias snapped his gaze to him. His entire body was trembling.
"No…" Elias muttered. "No, no, no, no—"
His hands curled into fists.
"BRING HIM BACK."
He whirled on Dain, his voice cracking with rage.
"YOU KNOW HOW TO HEAL! IF HE GOT ERASED, THEN THERE'S A WAY TO HEAL HIM BACK!"
"What are you saying, Elias…" Lyra said, standing in awe. Trying to understand what's happening.
Dain sighed.
"Maybe."
"MAYBE!?" Elias lunged forward—but Dain easily caught him by the throat, shoving him back against the wall.
"Relax, Scholar," Dain muttered, his grip firm, unbothered.
He leaned in slightly.
"I think I am starting to get how the ruin mark works now."
His voice dropped lower. His grip tightened for just a second before he let go, stepping back.
"If you die too many times… events start to shift. Right, scholar?"
Elias' back hit the wall as he gasped for air, his head still spinning as lyra stood watching him.
His entire body was drenched in sweat. His stomach twisted violently.
"This isn't fair," he whispered, his voice shaking. "This isn't fucking fair."
Dain just gave him a mockingly sympathetic look.
"Life's not fair, Scholar."
Then he turned toward Lyra.
"But lucky for you—your little friend here just awakened her Phantom Blade."
Elias barely had time to process his words. Because his mind was still stuck on one thing.
Callum was gone.
And there was nothing left of him.
Dain sighed dramatically, rolling his shoulders.
"Well. As fun as this is, we need to get moving."
He looked over at Lyra, nodding toward the exit.
"Your little rebellion against the guards was cute, but it won't last long. The council wants Elias dead, so we're leaving."
Lyra narrowed her eyes.
"And why should I trust you?"
Dain chuckled.
"You shouldn't."
Then, he grinned.
"But you don't have much of a choice, do you?"
He turned toward Elias.
"You wanted a way out, right? Well, congratulations. You've got one."
Elias was silent.
His hands clenched.
His head lowered slightly, his bangs shadowing his face.
Dain noticed.
"Scholar?" Elias didn't look at him.
Instead, he whispered something.
Soft. Almost inaudible.
"What was that?" Dain asked, tilting his head.
Then—Elias lifted his gaze.
And for the first time—his eyes burned with something different.
Not just anger.
Not just pain.
But pure, seething hatred.
"If I find out you had anything to do with all this… I will fucking kill you."
Dain blinked.
Then—he grinned.
"Now that's the spirit."