While his family cried outside, Sokram desperately tried to reinforce his body through his soul.

His Soul Realm, now a mirror image of the Arch Mage’s Tower, was crumbling from the inside.

Sokram sat in meditation, focusing on the threads connecting his spirit and body, feeling them shattering apart one by one.

He tried to counter it, controlling the Aether around him in a way Nhiria’s eyes wouldn’t perceive.

Then, he heard Fate’s voice resounding, carrying a hint of bittersweet mockery.

“Ask me for help.”

“Help me, woman! Damn it! Can’t you see the obvious time to play the hero?” Sokram's gaze snapped toward her.

Fate leisurely appeared behind him, drinking tea.

She slid a cup, brimming with a shimmering, liquid-gold, toward him.

The elixir had a faint, bittersweet smell that Sokram didn't recognize.

"I've been here for ten minutes already," she said with a wink, "enough for this soul elixir to grow cold."

She went back to drinking her tea, and lowering her cup enough to show her lips, she smirked.

“I don’t want you causing problems in the Nether, or worse, in Aetherium. It's best to keep you here in the dimension of the living.”

“How many?”

Sokram hesitated in reaching for the cup and asked bluntly.

Understanding his question, Fate frowned, looking insulted.

“You wound me. I thought we were friends…”

Fate's frown vanished, replaced by a slow, knowing smirk.

Her eyes held a glint of mischievous delight as she spoke, her voice dropping to a teasing purr, “...and because we ARE friends, one favor. Now I only owe you three.”

Sokram nodded, meeting her gaze, and gratitude filled his own.

“Thank you.”

He grasped the cup, the warmth of it spreading through his inner astral form, and drank it down.

The liquid was thick and velvety, leaving a warm, metallic taste on his tongue as it spread like slow-burning embers through his soul.

After finishing the elixir, he stared at her with a raised brow.

“What was this elixir? If it was counted as a favor, it couldn't have been something that would solely restore my health.”

Fate smiled at him brightly, “It’s something that will also prevent insanity since you want to unlock all the Locks in your mental potential. That’s all I’ll say.”

“Blood of a Golden Ancient…” Sokram's eyes widened.

He didn’t even bother trying to hide how impressed and surprised he was.

“Tsk, you know it. Then why ask about it?” Fate's expression shifted to a bored one.

“I heard about it, but never had the chance to touch it before. Thank you, Fate.”

A genuine smile spread across Sokram's face.

But his smile quickly faded, his eyes unfocused, replaced by a deep furrow in his brow as his mind spiraled through unanswered questions.

Still frowning, he met her gaze again.

“Was it you… Or was it the result of me interfering with the currents of time and the fate of others?”

“Cause and effect, Sokram. Not a coincidence, though. But… Also me.” Her gaze averted his uncomfortably.

“I wanted to test you a little. But to think you could use something of that level… Though you changed the spell structure, it was still impressive.” Fate glanced at him, seeing his frown, she stifled a giggle, knowing exactly how pissed he was.

“It was enough so that you can justify it if Nhiria ever asks, though I doubt she will.”

His frown deepened.

A tremor ran through his body, his fists tightening as if to crush the very air.

Fate smirked guiltily and continued speaking, waiting for it.

“She hates spells that cost the life of the caster, you know that. Because of what happened with Yish…”

His silence only empowered her to maintain her nonchalant tone until Sokram's sharp tone interrupted her.

Sokram's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his voice thunderous and dangerous as he spat out.

"You dare put my family in danger because of a test?!"

“Come on, it’s me, Sokram. Your best pal, Fate.”

She said it teasingly, making a V with her fingers, flashing him a sly grin and a wink, “No harm would come to them, but I needed to be sure you truly had something up your sleeve. I never thought you would use something like the Body of the Ancients reinterpreted with rudimentary runic magic, though.”

“Thought?” Her choice of words took him aback. “You couldn’t see it?”

Sokram calmed himself but frowned, confused.

“I can’t see your future any longer. I believe your fate is directly tied to my own… the fate of the Multidimensional Plane of Existence.”

Fate shook her head with disappointment.

“I can only see the possible futures of those around you, but no certain fate either.”

She sighed, defeated, but then met his gaze, a teasing glint in her eyes, “Still, I know you enough to be certain that death wouldn’t be the end of you, either in the Nether or in Aetherium… You have ways to come back from both, don’t you?”

“I have.” Sokram didn’t hide it, even if she couldn’t see it.

“Then I imagine that if something were to happen with your loved ones while you were away, you would find a way to restart from scratch, right?”

Fate placed her teacup down and stared at him intently.

“That’s the real reason you brought me back with you, right?”

Her fists clenched over the coffee table.

Sokram could clearly see the wrath in her eyes as her tone became sharper and sharper.

“You needed me to be your anchor, to forever awake in the Supra dimension. Oblivious every time you restart a timeline, living loop after loop, again, and again, and again…”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Fate slammed her fist on the table, leaning toward Sokram menacingly.

“Timeline after timeline, until you found your way forward!”

Sokram didn’t answer; he didn’t need to.

“How many times?” Fate asked, sitting back in complete calm as if her wrathful outburst had never happened.

At that, Sokram smirked, “Believe me or not, this is the first.”

Fate sighed, relieved, then her snapped open, her gaze shot back to him. “Would I know if it wasn’t?!”

“No. You will have to trust me, like I trusted you back then.” Sokram grinned teasingly at her.

“Talking with you is tiring sometimes… But it matters not, you will stay in a coma for two months, enjoy your time reading, I’m not coming to talk to you for a while, bye.”

The same way she appeared, Fate vanished from his Soul Realm.

Sokram finally had a chance to look around and saw that his soul realm was completely restored.

Trying to extend his consciousness to check his body condition, he saw that her words were truthful, two months of coma at the very least.

Outside his soul realm, while Sokram was chatting with Fate, the moment he drank the Blood of Golden Ancient, which Fate had given him, Hannah felt his body beginning to respond again.

The Elixir Miralyn had fed him began to be digested with Hannah’s help.

The cascade of healing spells also sped up his body’s recovery, and his vital signs only got stronger after that.

“Yes, darling! Yes, keep fighting! Thank you, Nhiria, Fate, the Records, whoever it was, thank you!” Hannah cried in relief.

Margiory and Brunhild cheered, hugging each other, their tears dampening warm cheeks.

Hilda and Miralyn finally released tears of relief in each other’s arms.

Kamus hugged Kasine and Leona, forcing them to jump with him in celebration.

Even Sahvus broke his character and released a “Yes!” while punching the air.

Neloph looked at that scene, very surprised, but said nothing.

The only time he had seen Sahvus act like that was when Sienna or his granddaughters were born.

While Sokram’s family rejoiced, the air near the city gates was heavy with a palpable sadness.

The chilling wind carried the sounds of mourning.

Sobbing mothers, the low wails of widows, and the whispered prayers of those collecting the bodies of their loved ones. A sea of grieving families huddled together, their faces etched with despair, was a complete contrast to the celebratory mood elsewhere.

Eversnow was the place they were meant to feel the safest in the world, the place they called home.

Battles like those always brought the feeling of being violated, the desire for vengeance, and the denial of the harsh reality, which were part of the grief that most in Eversnow were used to.

Most of the people in Eversnow were warriors.

Despite the multitude of different racial cultures and belief systems, they all shared a common understanding when it came to death.

Those who followed the Path of Evolution with good values in their hearts would reach Aetherium.

While the souls of the wicked would be sent to the Nether.

Yet, even in the eternal night of the Nether, as happened with Mentyr and Azulla, they could one day find the Light of Evolution once more.

But understanding the pain didn’t make it any less painful.

The funerals and departing ceremonies were very emotionally charged, as it was expected of a passionate people, such as the people of Eversnow.

The city was a chorus of contradictory emotions. In some houses, haunting, melancholic songs of loss echoed through the night.

In others, the cheerful clinking of glasses and boisterous laughter could be heard as people celebrated the lives the fallen had lived. The smell of ale and savory foods mingled with the somber scent of funeral pyres, while the living drank to drown their sorrows and shared funny stories of the past.

The most famous among the fallen warriors even had songs written about them by the bards in the taverns they often frequented.

And those who had no family were at least sent away by their teammates or companions.

There was a common saying in Eversnow: All those who raised their sword in her defense were children of the same land. No matter if Magni, Homini, Feral, Aefhery, Faery, or even Netherian. If they fell for Eversnow, Eversnow would live on for them.

While the poetic side of death brought solace to their spirits, Licarus worked with the city administration to prepare enough burial grounds and to pay the due compensation to the families of the departed.

If they were from a big family with many warriors, a thousand gold coins would be paid.

If they came from a small family with a good name, they would receive two thousand gold coins.

But if they were from the slums, five thousand gold coins.

This was also part of the initiative of mandatory service; it served as insurance to the poor, even in the case of an untimely death.

Yet, even through individual grief, the entire city shared one concern: The young dragon who put his life on the line like many of his name did before him.

The one who proved once more that the House Dracnakrid remained a house of heroes, heroes who loved Eversnow.

Once the news that Sokram's condition became stable, many within the city rejoiced and celebrated.

Among them are Sokram’s team, Oliver, Figos, and many others.

That moment also gave rise to the rumors and legends about Sokram, and in all stories, he carried the titles: “The Swift Wind, The Dark Lightning, The Killing Blade.”

It even gave a certain bard in the Red Moon the inspiration to create a song.

A week later, the song rapidly became a hit that was sung in every corner of Eversnow.

The kids sang while playing heroes and bandits in the streets.

Everyone wanted to be The Dark Lightning Killer.

The merchants sang in the market district streets, many among them claiming the city’s hero often visited their stalls or stores.

Because of Sokram’s fame, Figos saw an increase in customers, and people even treated him much better.

Oliver, too, received numerous commissions and hints about the locations of rare Magical or Chaotic bird nests.

Not wanting to surrender and drowning in worries, Oliver put himself to work.

So he would surprise his business partner and friend with a map full of marks for them to make some good coin out of it.

When Astrid returned to the city after a long hunting operation with her hunting teams, she rushed home after learning that Sokram was in a coma.

Savannah, who woke up from her slumber three days later, hadn’t left his side, nor had Lucy or Amber.

Leona came by every day to check on him, and Kamus and Kasine did too.

Lycius, who had been out of town with his daughters during the attacks, also came to visit.

Mainly because of the twins' insistence.

Sokram’s team, too, was often there, offering help to his family with anything they needed.

Even Camile, who rarely left the tower, came to visit him once or twice.

Beyond the constant visits and well wishes, people began truly believing that the Dracnakrid family had discovered the Legendary Inheritance of the Dragon Emperor Drokmin.

But with Hannah back in the city, no one dared to even try to pressure them to share more.

Especially after King Alonso’s confirmed death, which increased Hannah’s standing in Norwinter even more.

When that piece of news spread nationwide, it caused a wave of celebrations, and the people of Eversnow were finally able to breathe somewhat relieved, despite most of the troops not leaving the military forts on the border.

Another piece of good news reached Eversnow a few days after the confirmation of King Alonso’s death.

And it was the confirmation of the demise of the Steelheart family, who tried to flee the country with the help of infiltrated agents of Whiteland.

Although the Crown Prince, who was now King Afonso, had confirmed to his late father that the Steelheart family had crossed the border safely, they hadn’t.

It wasn’t a lie, but he had been misinformed.

What truly happened was that while crossing the border, the caravan was attacked by some very merciless and vengeful foxes wearing black and purple.

So the caravan that Marcel was waiting to receive at his new estate in the Royal City of Whiteland never arrived.

Instead, Marcel received a delivery of countless crates with a letter saying: With the courtesies of the Purple Pavilion.

Inside those boxes were the heads of all his family members except for the uncle he had sworn to protect.

But none of their bodies, belongings, slave contracts, not even the treasures he spent centuries accumulating, nothing.

That night, more than when King Alonso died, gave a new meaning to the word grief in Marcel’s and Sandra’s lives.

Another peculiar event tied the fate of a being to Sokram’s, which connected the fate of that being to the fate of the entire galaxy.

And looking at it, Fate couldn’t help but laugh.

Bitterly, but laugh out loud.

The Kasulla had successfully passed through Eversnow’s county without alerting anyone, crossing many kilometers in her small, sluggish form, getting very close to the border.

But sliding through a forest near the border of Frozen Root’s County, it encountered its only natural predator, a slime.

The Kasulla, in its smallest, most vulnerable form after losing its entire body, stood no chance.

It had chosen not to take any other hosts to avoid triggering Neloph’s spell, which the Kasulla could still feel active.

It could also use the snow as cover because of its white, slimy body.

Still, the slime could never confuse the traces of its favorite taste once it absorbed the sleek, gooey liquid the Kasulla released as it moved.

The Kasulla, now a small, blind, sluggish, gooey snake, stood no chance. It was nothing but a remnant of a once-powerful being, and the mindless slime had a natural sense of its presence.

The Kasulla didn’t feel the approach; it only felt the sudden, crushing pressure as the cold, slimy body of the predator enveloped it.

A muffled slurp sound followed by the slow hiss of its body dissolving as it reached the end of its centenary existence.

King Afonso shouted in anger when he sensed their connection disappearing; at the same time, the contract that bound them turned into ashes right in front of his eyes.

Adding yet another loss to all the others, the King, despite the Oath he had to swear to take on the crown, which protected Marcel and Sandra, couldn’t help but resent them more and more.

As the monster absorbed the awakened Kasulla, its core began to pulse, light rippling beneath the translucent slime like a trapped heartbeat.

It was still a slime, a gooey, shapeless blob, but it now moved with a purpose.

Its core now pulsed, with a tiny indentation, like a simple, questioning eye, formed on its surface, a primitive and undeniable sign that something more than instinct now guided it.

The slime also gained the Kasulla’s ability to divide and multiply itself, transfer its consciousness among its bodies, along with some other abilities of its own.

Fate couldn’t help but find that minimal existence a wonder of Evolution.