Chapter 1258: Sunset

Rithen raised his staff as we approached, and a golden barrier appeared before him.

"Enough," he said, holding out his hand to stall us.

I eyed the ward suspiciously. It didn’t feel particularly dangerous, though it was eighth-level.

"I assume this means you’re surrendering," Luke said, keeping his sword raised.

Rithen hesitated. "No. I can’t do that. But this battle is over. You’ve slain the Hero. Surely your vengeance is fulfilled."

Luke’s tail stilled. "What could you know of my vengeance?"

Rithen chuckled humorlessly. "Your mind was laid bare to me. Your greatest fears, your greatest desires..." His eyes strayed toward me. "Everything you care about."

"So that was your doing?" Luke asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Luke..." I said, grasping his sleeve.

He shook me off and stalked forward. His curses penetrated the barrier, and it vanished, consumed by his aura.

"Reason not with them, Rithen. They carry the madness of the demons with them," the Pope said, struggling to his feet. He coughed weakly, speckling his sleeve with blood. He glanced behind us, and his eyes widened. "The Hero! Just what have you done?"

His aura mustered around him, filling the chamber with blistering sun magic. I raised my hand against it and stumbled back, but my horns barely tingled. Was he truly so frail, or... no, that wasn’t it. His soul might be broken, but that only made his aura more unstable, more dangerous. It was the familiar warmth of Adaptive Resistance that shielded me from its fury.

"You’ve murdered the chosen champion of the Sun!" the Pope cried, raising his staff. "Do you think the gods will stand idle while you destroy everything they’ve built?"

"Then where are they?" Luke demanded.

The Pope’s expression twisted. He turned toward the World Shard and drew upon its immense reservoir of mana. Golden circles blossomed around his staff, growing larger and more complex as the Shard answered his call. The entire chamber began to tremble, its eighth-level foundations creaking beneath the pressure.

My eyes widened. Even with his soul in such a condition, he was attempting a ninth-level spell. He was drawing so much mana that the air itself began to distort around him.

"Rithen!" the Pope shouted. "Lend me your strength! We shall scour these demons from Enusia once and for all!"

The archmage studied the gathering formation, his expression grave. Then he lowered his staff and stepped aside.

"Rithen?" the Pope demanded.

"I will fight for Enusia, Your Holiness," Rithen said quietly. "But this is not her battle."

The Pope’s face darkened, but Luke was already moving. His sword swept through the gathering mana, severing the outermost circles before they could resolve. The Pope cried out and hastily erected a barrier, but the weakened ward barely slowed Luke’s advance.

"Stay back! I am the voice of the gods!"

Luke struck again, shattering the barrier and sending the Pope stumbling backward. The old man fell against the base of the World Shard, his staff slipping from trembling fingers.

"You cannot do this!" he rasped, staring up at the Apostle. "Without us, this world will fall!"

Luke regarded him for a moment, then nodded. "Good." His sword flashed, and the Pope’s head fell from his shoulders.

I closed my eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. There was a soft, wet spray, and a thump. My tail curled.

It was over. The man who had condemned me, who had overseen so much suffering in the name of the gods, was gone. I felt no particular satisfaction, only a strange relief, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

But the mana he’d gathered hadn’t disappeared.

I frowned, sensing the tremendous reservoir of sun magic swirling around the World Shard. Without the Pope’s soul to control it, the formation had collapsed, releasing its power into the chamber. Golden currents streamed outward, circling the great crystal before converging toward something behind us.

My breath caught.

"Luke, wait!"

We turned, and I felt the last remnants of Soltair’s shattered soul begin to stir.

The golden mana streamed toward him, sinking into his armor and flesh. His body rose slowly from the floor, carried upon winds of sunlight. Nine brilliant circles appeared behind his back, each burning with more power than the last.

His eyes opened.

They were pure gold, without iris or pupil, shimmering like liquid sunlight. His expression was strangely vacant, yet as mana continued pouring into him, I felt his aura stir.

"Soltair...?" I whispered.

His head turned toward us.

"The light..." he murmured, his voice trembling. "The gods have not abandoned me."

The circles behind him spun faster, drawing still more power from the World Shard. I could see the damage spreading through his soul, the broken threads catching fire as the gathered mana forced itself into them. Whatever strength remained to him was being consumed to sustain the spell.

"Sun has granted me one final chance," he proclaimed, raising his sword. "I will not fail again. Even if my soul must burn, I shall save this world!"

He moved.

There was no warning, no hesitation. A brilliant arc of sunlight swept across the chamber, his sword aimed directly toward my chest.

Luke intercepted him, catching the blade upon his own. The impact sent a shockwave rolling through the Archives, shattering the marble beneath their feet. I cried out as shrapnel scraped against my wards, cracking it in places.

I stumbled backward, raising Final Star as Soltair pressed forward. The nine circles behind him aligned, unleashing a torrent of sunfire that swallowed both men.

"Luke!"

The flames parted, and the apostle emerged unharmed, his curses curling lazily through the fading light. His sword remained locked against Soltair’s, holding the golden blade well away from me.

Soltair roared, summoning another spell. An enormous sun blossomed overhead, radiating enough heat to turn the surrounding stone molten. It dripped from the ceiling in strands of molten slag, dropping hundreds of feet to ooze onto the glowing red ground.

"Divine Star!"

The artificial sun collapsed, pouring its entire strength toward us. I raised my aura instinctively, but the light washed over me without the slightest sting. My horns tingled faintly, and then even that sensation faded.

Soltair struck in the height of his glory, bringing his sword down. Luke met it with both hands on his hilt. Another shockwave, twice the strength as before. I fell back a step, feeling the weight in my bones through my cracked wards.

Luke’s blade didn’t waver. Soltair stared in disbelief.

"How? How can you withstand the power of the Sun itself?"

"How?" Luke’s lip curled. "Perhaps you should turn inward for such an answer. After all, your power brought us here."

Soltair stumbled back a step, his eyes widening. Slowly, his gaze turned to me. I flinched, bowing my head, as we came to the realization at the same time. Just how many times had I been burned by his magic? How often had Sunpurge seared my flesh, whether through his carelessness or the collateral damage of his battles? I’d been weak then, a slave who couldn’t defend herself. Even after I gained my freedom, the inquisitors and their sun magic remained my constant companions.

Though I was no longer that slave, the scars he left were deeper than the flesh. As I reached ninth level, so did my abilities. And there was no question which attribute Adaptive Resistance had absorbed the most.

"The Sun Hero will be weakest against that which he is strongest," I whispered, remembering the first words of prophecy I’d ever witnessed. Back then, in the council of the gods, it had meant nothing. I’d never understood what Fate meant. Not until now.

Soltair screamed, gathering more mana into his sword. His soul was burning visibly, golden flames consuming the fractured threads that held him together. Yet he continued attacking, each strike accompanied by a tremendous eruption of sunlight that carved canyons into the walls, eating through the enchantments and opening the chamber up to the earth around us.

Luke met them calmly, his sword turning aside every blow. He made no effort to retaliate, content to parry and keep himself between Soltair and me.

"Why won’t you fall?" Soltair cried, his voice cracking. "I am the Sun Hero! I have given everything!"

His sword descended again, and Luke caught it against his crossguard. Golden light exploded outward, scorching the walls and ceiling, but neither of us flinched.

Soltair staggered, his breathing ragged. The nine circles behind him had begun to fracture, their light flickering as the last remnants of his soul fed the spell.

"No..." he whispered, struggling to raise his sword again.

Luke waited.

Soltair managed one final strike, more desperate than practiced. Luke turned it aside, and the Sun Hero stumbled forward, his weapon slipping from his fingers.

The circles behind him shattered.

He fell to his knees, golden light spilling from his body in thin, wavering streams. His eyes slowly regained their color, and he stared down at his trembling hands.

"Why...?" he whispered, tears running down his cheeks. "Why wasn’t it enough?"

Luke lowered his sword and looked down at him.

"You were the Hero, Soltair. The whole world needed you," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "But so did I. And you...you promised." I sniffled, wiping away a tear with my sleeve.

The Sun Hero’s lips trembled, but no answer came. His shoulders slumped, and the last of the golden light faded from his eyes. I felt his soul unravel, the remaining threads burning away until there was nothing left to sustain them. His sword and armor clanged to the ground, cold and lifeless.

For a moment, I remained where I was, unable to move, just...staring.

Finally, I approached slowly and knelt beside his body. His eyes were still open, staring blankly toward the World Shard. I reached out and gently closed them, smoothing a strand of golden hair away from his forehead.

"Goodbye, Soltair," I murmured.

Luke offered his hand, and I took it, allowing him to help me to my feet. I clung to him with both hands, sheltering in the hollow of his side.

Across the chamber, Rithen remained standing beside the World Shard, his staff lowered. He hadn’t moved throughout the confrontation, though his gaze had followed every exchange.

Luke turned toward him. "Why? You were sworn to uphold this world, were you not?"

Rithen regarded him thoughtfully. "And I believe I am." The archmage’s gaze shifted toward me, his expression softening slightly. "When I first met you, child, you were a small, ragged thing. I could hardly believe anyone so wretched, yet so naive, could exist, let alone as a hero. And now..."

I shifted uncomfortably, my tail curling around Luke’s. The thought of someone searching through my memories was unpleasant enough, especially after what the spell had forced me to endure.

"I’m afraid your mind is unreadable, even to one such as I," Rithen continued. "The past, present, and future swirl together, such that I cannot comprehend how you hold to sanity. Countless possibilities, many of which might never happen, and so many of them terrible beyond belief. And yet, through every vision, there was one constant."

Rithen smiled faintly, spreading his arms wide in a grand gesture. "The sun has just set on Enusia, but the sky is already filled with stars."