CHAPTER 298: CHAPTER 298: AFTER THE STORM

The arena was quiet, save for the crackle of broken wards and the faint hiss of molten stone cooling in the trenches. Noel knelt at Nicolas’s side, Revenant Fang resting limp in his grip, his other hand hovering helplessly over the Archmage’s still body.

A shadow fell across him. Selene stepped forward, her boots crunching against the fractured floor. She stopped a few feet away, her cyan eyes fixed on Nicolas’s chest.

Her face—always composed, always cold—had changed.

Her lips parted slightly, breath uneven. For the first time since Noel had known her, she looked afraid, like the time she stood up to his mother.

The gaping wound in Nicolas’s torso seemed to drain the strength from her own frame. His heart still beat faintly, but where his mana core should have glowed there was only emptiness, shattered fragments clinging to ruined flesh.

Selene’s hands trembled as she lowered her wand. She almost never showed emotion, her voice typically as sharp and distant as ice. Now she looked like a child staring into the abyss.

"If... if this can happen to him," she whispered, her voice thin, "what chance do the rest of us have?"

Noel glanced at her, emerald eyes dulled with exhaustion. He had never seen Selene like this—not during training, not even during their countless duels. Seeing fear carved into her features twisted something inside him.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The silence of the ruined coliseum pressed down on both of them.

Selene’s gaze shifted to Noel briefly, then returned to Nicolas’s body. Her expression wavered between fear and disbelief, as if her mind refused to accept that one of the strongest men in the world now lay powerless before her.

The First Pillar was gone, but the terror he left behind remained.

Footsteps echoed through the ruined coliseum. First came the guards, dwarves in battered armor, creeping down from the stands where they had hidden during the chaos. Their eyes darted nervously across the shattered arena, faces pale as they beheld Nicolas lying motionless on the floor.

Then came the students. Roberto’s voice cut through the silence first, loud and brash as always, though this time tinged with unease. Marcus, Clara, Laziel, and Garron followed close behind, Charlotte with her Sancta Veil active, Elyra and Elena at her side.

Noel turned sharply as Roberto approached. His voice cracked with rage.

"You were supposed to bring them here sooner! Where were you?"

Roberto froze, guilt flashing across his face. "I—I ran as fast as I could. Everything was chaos, Noel, the guards blocked half the corridors—"

Noel’s hands trembled as he pushed himself to his feet. "I asked you to do one thing! Nicolas almost—" His voice broke, the words catching in his throat.

The silence that followed was heavy. Selene glanced away, her lips pressed tight. The others didn’t dare speak.

Noel exhaled sharply, shoulders sagging. His anger drained as quickly as it had come, leaving only exhaustion behind. He clenched his fists, then forced the words out.

"...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m not thinking straight right now."

Roberto’s expression softened. He clapped Noel’s shoulder firmly, though his voice was uncharacteristically quiet. "Forget it. You’re allowed to lose it after all this."

Charlotte stepped past them without a word. Noel turned toward her, his face no longer stern but pleading, eyes silently begging her to do something.

The rumble of armored boots rolled into the arena like distant thunder. From the far tunnel, Balthor entered at last, a host of dwarven soldiers behind him. His gaze swept the battlefield, first catching the ruined stone, then settling on Nicolas’s collapsed body.

He stopped dead in his tracks. "Lad..." The word left him in a low growl, heavy with frustration. His fists clenched at his sides. He had come with an army, prepared for war—but he was late.

Behind him, Daemar strode in with measured steps, Rauk close at his side, and Redna following with her usual calm but sharp eyes. Their expressions changed the moment they saw Nicolas. Even they, hardened by decades of power and politics, faltered.

The students fell silent. The guards lowered their weapons instinctively, realizing the weight of what they were seeing.

Daemar broke the silence, his tone subdued. "One of the strongest Archmages in the world... brought to this."

Redna’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. "This is not just his loss. It’s Valor’s."

Balthor’s jaw tightened, his voice harsh. "Damn it all. Too late... again." His knuckles cracked as he forced his fists open, regaining control. He turned sharply to the soldiers behind him. "Stand down. There’s nothing left to fight here."

Charlotte’s light still glowed faintly as she worked, her blessing surrounding Nicolas’s body. But the truth was visible to all—the hollow wound in his chest, the absence where his core should have been.

The weight of the revelation pressed down like a stone wall. Nicolas von Aldros would live, but his magic was gone.

And for Valor, that truth was as heavy as defeat.

The march back to the castle was grim. Nicolas’s body was carried carefully by Daemar and Redna, their expressions locked in cold restraint. Charlotte walked close behind, exhaustion written in the slump of her shoulders. The others followed in silence, the clatter of armor from Balthor’s soldiers the only sound that broke the air.

Inside the dwarven stronghold, Nicolas was placed in a chamber lit by steady mana lamps. The room was warm, carved into solid stone, yet the atmosphere was suffocating. He lay on a wide bed, chest bandaged and rising faintly with shallow breaths. Though Charlotte had sealed the wound, the damage went deeper than flesh.

Balthor gave orders in a low, commanding voice. "Guard this place day and night. No one enters without my leave. He’s to be kept safe." His eyes, sharp even in grief, lingered on Noel for a moment before he turned and left with his soldiers.

When the room emptied, Noel remained. He sat in a chair at Nicolas’s side, Revenant Fang leaning against the wall within reach. His emerald eyes were fixed on the man who had once been untouchable, now broken and powerless.

’I really need to go to the Thorne library...’

Noir was gone into the shadows, evolving beyond his reach. Nicolas lay before him.

Slowly, Noel leaned back, staring up at the carved stone ceiling. His fists clenched, trembling, a single thought echoing in his chest like fire.

’The next time I see you... Motherfucker... I’ll make sure your fate is worse than his.’