Marc returned to Zvenne with the books, where Elie was waiting for him.
He still hadn't recovered from what had just happened. His expression was frozen in boundless incomprehension, and his eyes remained wide open.
He arrived in Zvenne several hours later, having taken his time on the road — walking like a zombie through the empty streets of Garida. Some people recognized him as the Death of the War and didn't dare leave their homes. His very presence had become a sign of imminent battle and certain death. Even civilians feared him now.
He passed by several bombed areas, destroyed by Zvenne itself. Through places where life had simply… vanished. He caught sight, from a distance, of a few familiar faces — like Gibbs, one of his old classmates. The boy looked exhausted, talking about him without realizing that Marc had been a spy for Zvenne. He said Marc should never have been trusted — that some people were simply meant to die.
It didn't please him. But deep down, Marc knew that he, too, probably no longer deserved to live — though not for the same reasons Gibbs mentioned.
He walked past his old home. The guards were no longer stationed there; no one was left to watch it. So he entered, quietly, just to see. His room was covered in dust, his kitchen — where he had cooked countless meals — stood still in silence. The garage, the garden… everything. His old life, left behind.
Memories came rushing back. Some sweet and warm, others bitter and cold. But they were his. His former life. A life where he didn't know the Man in Black, the Other World, the Visions, the Horsemen, the White Beings, the Aura, the Entities, the End of the World...
A simple life — though uneventful — in a world he once thought normal.
And now, it had all gone up in smoke.
He stepped outside again, heading back toward Zvenne. He passed through many towns, sometimes sleeping on military trucks to rest. He took deserted, abandoned roads to avoid being seen. He avoided every possible confrontation, continuing on his path calmly — his mind empty, his spirit scarred.
In front of Emperor Turcan's royal palace, Marc noticed the weather had turned grim as well. It was as if Astra's presence was being felt once again. But instead of mere rain or a gray storm, the sky was almost black, as though pure darkness itself was falling from above.
Marc was certain — it was the power of the last Horseman he had met in the desert.
One of the soldiers recognized Marc's arrival and saluted him at the gates of Zvenne — but Marc didn't even notice.
"The Emperor will arrive in an hour, Soldier Zeymond. He said he has things to discuss with you. Have you recovered the books?"
Marc snapped out of his daze suddenly, realizing someone was speaking to him. He looked at the soldier , a man holding a black spear, clad in bright red armor, and frowned behind his mask.
"What did you say?"
The soldier tilted his head slightly before repeating his question.
"Have you... recovered the books?"
Marc took a moment to process the information.
"Ah, yes. The books. That's why I left in the first place. Here they are."
Marc showed the soldier the books, who examined them closely for a few seconds without taking them.
"Good. Excellent. You may go in."
Marc began to walk past him as if nothing was wrong — then suddenly stopped.
"Wait. How do you know I went to retrieve them? That was confidential. It was supposed to stay between the Emperor and me."
The tension in the air rose, ever so slightly.
"The Emperor informed us."
Marc knew it instantly — something was wrong with this soldier.
"That's unlikely, soldier. And besides, your aura feels disgusting for someone who's supposed to protect the nation."
The soldier looked at Marc with surprise, then a vile smile twisted across his face, as a thick, black aura burst into the air around him.
"I see you've noticed, chosen one."
Suddenly, the soldier's body began to change — horrifically. As though his flesh was being melted and reshaped into a thick, tar-like liquid.
Marc stepped back when he recognized that aura.
"You recognized me, didn't you? I did try to hide it as best I could."
The man reformed amidst a chorus of sickening, viscous noises — as the air around them grew darker, the world itself losing light.
Marc instantly recognized the man who had emerged from the Aricha military base.
He was tall. Too tall to go unnoticed, and far too thin to inspire trust. His silhouette, draped in dull black clothing, seemed carved from the shadows themselves. No embroidery, no texture — only darkness, smooth and lightless, as if the world refused to reflect upon him.
His face was beautiful, but with a cold, unsettling beauty. His black hair was long and disheveled, just as dark as the rest of him. His features were sharp, flawless... yet frozen in emptiness. Just absence. A silent despair buried so deep it no longer sought escape.
His eyes, black as his garments, did not shine. They simply watched, emotionless, though there was, perhaps, the faintest trace of amusement in them.
"But it's already too late. I managed to stop that madwoman before it got too bad. I still need her a little, but I think that's enough now."
His voice sounded distant, but Marc understood him clearly, which only reinforced the feeling that his brain was malfunctioning and made him uneasy.
Marc had never seen an entity so strange and unsettling. Everything around this man seemed to orbit a bottomless void that absorbed every scrap of light and joy. The first thing that sprang to mind on seeing him was an insane urge to end one's life.
The man turned to leave calmly, as if nothing had happened and as if he had left no disturbing impression in the young man's memory.
Marc watched him go without moving. Yet a sudden thought came to him.
He was there...he could kill him.... At least he could…
"Rip his throat out."
The man turned in surprise, raising an eyebrow.
"Hm?"
Marc's aura burst in front of the palace and collided directly with the entity's. The front windows shattered and the doors slammed under the violence of it.
The man observed the fury of this being that was supposed to put an end to this era of apocalypse, terror, and death, as Marc unleashed his aura like a raging madman.
Taking the powerful wave full in the face, he did not move, keeping his hands in his pockets. Marc directed all his anger at this man as he had done with Aeros before. And although the result had been disappointing the first time, Marc was ready to repeat the mistake as long as he could harm that bastard.
Yet the man did not seem afraid. Rather...perplexed.
"That's strange."
The man watched Marc carefully.
"Your aura has grown as the war progressed. Is it because we're approaching the end? In any case, why would the aura of a chosen savior be so macabre?"
Marc could not calm down. His black gaze pierced the man in front of him to the depths of his darkest thoughts.
But suddenly, a woman's voice called from behind him.
"Marc?"
Elie rushed out of the building. She took in the situation, which had become uncontrollable. Marc's aura was beginning to press on the building, which cracked before their eyes. A violent wind swept everything in the area as the strange man—whose presence was as obscure as darkness—slowly turned his gaze toward her.
Under the empty stare of the strange man, Elie shivered to her bones. Something was wrong with this man. He had to be an entity. Because there was no way a normal human could emit such a desire to end lives.
Marc must not face this thing if he had lost to Aeros.
"Marc, you have to stop. We're not in a position to fight."
Marc turned to look at Elie. His furious eyes met the worried look of the young woman for a long moment. At last, he calmed and all the chaos stopped.
The man still watched the scene, but this time he focused on Elie.
"I see... you are one of the six. I am pleased to meet you but, as you just said, it is not yet time for us to fight. I will leave this for later."
The man definitively turned and left, disappearing in an instant without leaving a trace of his presence.
Marc did not take his eyes off him until he himself turned to go inside.
But Elie blocked his steps and tapped his head while scolding him.
"Damn it, you need to learn to calm down. You're going to scare our allies at this rate."
Marc raised his head to her. It was true, next to the Queen of War, he looked like an entity of darkness. Elie was gentle and pretty. Behind his mask he resembled more a monster of ancient times.
He bowed his head a little, embarrassed, and spoke in a low voice.
"Sorry."
"Any news?"
At those words, Marc smiled faintly.
"I got them."
Elie and Marc sat down to celebrate the end of their long day.
Marc held the books tightly in his hands while Elie exhaled deeply in her chair.
She had spent the entire day making sure the soldiers weren't trying to end their own lives. Some had turned their spears on themselves, others looked at the windows as possible escapes.
Elie had never lived in such an atmosphere. The air was gloomy, suffocating as if every trace of hope had vanished.
It felt as though she was trapped inside a hospital for the depressed and the insane, when in truth, she was inside the Emperor Turcan's palace.
And yet, since Marc's return, things had strangely calmed down. As if he had driven away the disturbing presence haunting everyone's mind within the palace.
"It must've been that guy's fault."
Marc's voice broke the silence as Elie was still lost in thought.
"And we're just letting him go."
"We're not in any position to fight, Marc."
"I remember a time when we didn't care about that. Need I remind you we jumped on Goagi even knowing who he was?"
"This time it's different, Marc. I have to keep an eye on the guards, and now our power is too great to unleash in the city. We'd destroy more than just a building—you noticed that yourself."
Elie paused, shivering slightly before continuing.
"Besides… that guy is far more terrifying than Goagi."
Marc knew exactly what she meant.
Those videos of him rampaging against Aeros and Garid's soldiers were everywhere now. People saw a man who had surpassed human limits cutting, tearing apart, killing soldiers without a single hint of emotion. As if Death itself had walked among them.
"No need to remind me."
Marc suffered from it. He no longer looked like the hero who was supposed to redeem himself. He had only worsened his own case and no one could defend him anymore.
The war had made him...
...guilty.
"Now, the only way to end this is through the books."
Elie looked at him with worried eyes.
"But you know as well as I do that they don't just contain the future."
"I know, Elie. I know."
The two stared at what seemed to be their final hope in the darkness. Each book emanated a strange aura.
Aeros's, with its crimson skull, seemed to stab directly into their chests relentless, merciless while Astra's book seemed to draw them gently into the depths of the ocean.
With their improved mastery of aura, their perception of it had also evolved.The energy surrounding the two books was now far more detailed and therefore, far more terrifying.
The blood reeked so strongly it felt alive, attacking their senses, and the water seemed to strangle anyone who got too close, like a living tide.
If their own auras hadn't grown stronger too, they might have fainted or even died, just by standing near these things.
"We should wait for the Emperor."
Elie didn't object. She nodded.
"Yes. Who knows what he'd do if we don't follow the plan?"
And yet, the auras of the books called out to them, begged them to open them.
Marc stared at them for a long time, wondering how something so macabre could have been written by a human being.
"Was it really Lavoisi?"
Marc placed the books carefully on the edge of the table before standing up calmly.
"I'm going after that guy. Don't worry, I'll be careful. But I can't just let him wander around like nothing happened."
Elie jumped to her feet, as if an emergency had just been declared. She rushed in front of Marc and blocked his path.
"But we just got back together."
Her blue eyes met his eyes that seemed to grow dimmer and dimmer as the war went on.
"I know, Elie. But we'll celebrate properly when all this is over. Call me when the Emperor arrives. You can read the books until then."
Marc brushed past her, refusing to look back.
If he did, he wouldn't be able to leave.
Elie didn't move. She knew she couldn't stop him.
She stood there like a statue, fists clenched, biting her lip.
"Marc..."
He stopped when he heard his name, but didn't turn around.
The atmosphere in the room had grown heavy as if time itself had stopped in this small, isolated space.
Their hearts weighed too much.
Too heavy for words to lighten them.
"What is it?"
Marc spoke slowly. So slowly. As if to savor one more fleeting minute in that small room.
Elie also took her time before answering. And just when Marc thought she wouldn't say anything, her voice came out, soft, trembling, almost imperceptible.
"Are you okay? Are you holding up?"
Marc felt a sharp pain in his chest.
It was just a simple question but in moments like this, it meant everything.
A wave of guilt and sorrow crashed through him. He wanted to tell her everything, but now wasn't the time.
In situations like this, there was only one answer a man could give...a simple, quiet lie.
"I'm fine."
Marc walked away without looking back, not wanting to see her eyes again.
Elie was probably the only one left who could still claim to know him.
But Marc himself…
no longer knew who he was...