Chapter 20 – Ashes and Light
Rain washed the ashes of war from the stones.
Smoke rose from broken walls, the scent of burnt blood hanging heavy in the air.
The Academy was silent — a silence too deep to be called peace.
The battle was over.
But no one dared to call it victory.
Seryn walked among the ruins, sword dragging slightly behind him.
Rain and blood mixed on his face.
He stopped beside a fallen body — someone he knew.
A friend who had laughed yesterday and was now nothing more than a memory.
Lucien approached from behind.
"At least most of us made it," he said, though his voice carried no conviction.
Seryn didn't answer. His eyes lifted to the sky — still gray, still burning.
In the distance, Valen knelt on the shattered courtyard stones.
His black hair clung to his face, his coat torn and soaked.
His hand trembled, glowing faintly from within, as if light itself were burning through his veins.
No one noticed that the battle still raged within him.
The cost of light was steep.
—Valen's perspective—
The wind stung his lungs, feeding the fire inside his chest.
The screams of the three demons still echoed in his head, and light still burned behind his eyes.
"They were all high-tier SS…" he whispered.
"My power was never real — just a temporary lie."
He pressed his palm to his heart. It still beat, but barely.
Each pulse sent cracks through his mana channels.
Light consumed everything — even him.
> I'm not an SSS.
But they needed to believe I was.
Without belief, no one would have stood their ground.
A flicker of gold seeped from his hand and faded into the rain.
That was the last of his essence — the light he had torn from his own life to end the battle.
He had traded weeks, maybe months, of his lifespan for this moment.
A voice broke through the rain.
Kaelor — wounded, but standing tall.
"My lord… without you, we'd all be dead."
Valen didn't look up.
"It wasn't me," he said quietly. "It was all of us."
His tone was soft, yet carried the weight of command.
Lucien and Elira approached.
Lucien's gaze lingered on Valen — a mix of awe and fear.
"The three demons… are they really gone?"
Valen hesitated, then answered,
"They're dead. But whatever they left behind… I can't say."
Rain thickened, hissing as it hit the scorched stone.
Then a line of gold light cut through the clouds.
Thunder followed, and from the sky descended a great ship of the Church.
A temple vessel.
At its prow stood a woman dressed in white.
Her hair shimmered silver-white, her eyes a cold blue.
Golden sigils gleamed on her armor.
When her boots touched the ground, even the air seemed to steady.
"High Priestess Lysandra Veyne," she announced.
"I come on behalf of the Temple."
Her voice echoed through the ruins.
No one spoke.
Valen's brows furrowed.
"The Temple," he muttered under his breath. "Of course."
Lysandra approached him, expression unmoving.
"We received the distress signal," she said calmly. "The protection of the Academy is under our jurisdiction."
Valen turned his head toward her, eyes steady.
"You received it, yes," he said coldly.
"But every minute you delayed cost hundreds of lives."
His voice wasn't raised, but it carried the exhaustion and anger of a man who had already given everything.
Lysandra met his gaze but said nothing.
From a distance, Seryn watched them.
He couldn't hear the words, but he didn't need to — the tension between them spoke loudly enough.
Two people who knew each other.
Two people who didn't trust each other.
At the far end of the courtyard, movement stirred near the ruins of the library.
A small team sifted through rubble, tracing faintly glowing runes buried in the stone.
Among them stood a young woman — light brown hair, violet-tinted eyes.
The librarian, Aria Lorne.
She murmured as she wrote in her notebook,
"These markings… they're remnants of a ritual, but much older than any known variant."
Seryn's gaze lingered.
Ritual.
The word echoed in his mind, but this time, it didn't bring fear — only curiosity.
Valen's eyes turned back to Lysandra.
"If you're going to report this," he said, "write the truth. Not about heroism — about the cost."
Lysandra inclined her head slightly, saying nothing more.
When she turned and walked toward her ship, Valen's eyes followed her.
The rain hadn't stopped.
But the sky seemed a little lighter.
Seryn closed his eyes and drew a long breath.
He was tired — but not broken.
And somewhere deep down, he knew this silence wouldn't last.
Because peace was never meant to.
This was only an intermission.
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💬 Author's Note:
The war is over, but peace never comes cheap.
Valen's light still burns, but it flickers.
And with Lysandra's arrival, the Academy's true trials are about to begin.
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