CHAPTER 232: CHAPTER 233: A FRIEND

Atlas sat near the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, jaw clenched. The quiet hum of magic pulses filled the room, distant but ever-present, like static in the walls. He leaned closer. The bed groaned under the uneven weight sprawled across it.

One hand—massive, oversized—twitched. Fingers splayed unnaturally, pale skin taut like a glove stretched over stone. A leg, just as distorted, hung off the other side of the bed like a misplaced branch grafted to a young tree.

The rest of Loki’s body looked shrunken, almost gaunt in contrast, his breathing erratic but steady.

"...You said he was okay..." Atlas muttered, voice dangerously calm, like thunderclouds before the lightning strike.

A small black sludge unfurled near his shoulder, taking on a vaguely humanoid form, its single eye blinking open lazily. Veil hovered, as if weighing his words.

"You looked busy... And hey, it wasn’t me, alright? He told me to say that. I was just the—uh—messenger."

Atlas didn’t reply. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing hard. He could feel the heat in his jaw, his tongue restrained from cursing. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze back to Loki.

The boy’s eyes blinked open.

One was bulbous, grotesquely swollen. The other barely opened at all. His mouth twisted into a grin far too wide for the tone in the room.

"Half... half..." he murmured.

"Half what?" Atlas asked gently, though his stomach clenched.

"Half...half..." Loki chuckled again, deliriously. "Did you get it...? Half good... but the other half...hahaha..."

Atlas flinched inwardly.

His friend wasn’t in pain—he was gone?

That laughter didn’t belong to the Loki he knew. It was like the echo of a jester who had seen too much of the void.

His stare slowly drifted to Veil again. No words. Just the stare. Icy. Condemning.

"Bro..." Veil raised his little arms. "You’re looking at me like I committed the atrocity. That idiot tried to outwit a literal god. You think I could’ve stopped him?"

Atlas’s lips barely moved. "...Then what happened? Did he hurt his head or what?"

"No," Veil said with a shrug. "Aurora gave him some medicine. I don’t know what happened after. I mean, she did

say it might... cause side effects...in the head."

"...Aulola...hahaha...aulooooollaaaa..." Loki cackled, drooling slightly from the side of his mouth.

Atlas stood. The floorboards creaked beneath him, louder than necessary. The temperature in the room felt colder suddenly, or maybe that was just him. "Take care of him until I return," he said.

Veil saluted with a sigh. "Like babysitting an arcane landmine..."

.

.

Descending into the dungeon had become a twisted routine.

Each step felt heavier, as if the very stone remembered the weight of consequences. Dim torches lit the passage, casting shadows that danced like silent witnesses on the walls.

The scent of earth, magic residue, and something metallic—blood, maybe—lingered in the air.

At the end of the corridor, Eli was sprawled on a velvet-covered sofa, as if waiting for a lover returning from war.

She jumped up the moment she saw him. "Took you long enough! Come inside, come inside~"

He didn’t answer. Just a small wink—reflexive, even now—but he ignore her for a moment, walking towards Aurora.

"—what the hell?! Atlas!" she yelped,

"Later Eli....later.," he said without emotion. ". I need to speak with Aurora first."

Atlas flike her forehead as She blinked, surprised by the coldness in his voice.

Aurora was curled on another couch, buried beneath layers of enchanted silk and furs. She stirred as he approached, one eye barely peeking open. "What the fuck...? Why... why again... I just—"

"Loki," Atlas cut in. "We need to talk."

That woke her up.

Eyes snapping wide, she pushed herself upright. "I’ve been meaning to speak with you ...about that..."

"Then speak," Atlas urged, standing still like a statue forged in divine rage. "Tell me."

Aurora exhaled. That kind of exhale you do when you want to say something, but the truth makes your bones ache. She didn’t want to say. Oh god she didn’t. But her lips moved—

—and then, without sound or cue, Merlin appeared through the wall.

It was silent. Like the air itself held its breath for the old mage.

"She won’t tell you...." he said, his robes stirring as if they caught wind in a windless room. "But I will."

Atlas tensed.

"Unlike Aurora and me," Merlin began, "who were only grazed a few times by that... divine storm... Loki took the full blow. Not natural lightning, no—divine lightning. Lightning born from a wrathful god. And worse... he took it willingly."

There was silence.

Thick. Drenched in a slow-burning grief.

Atlas’s hand twitched.

"You want to know why I’ve remained here?" Merlin continued. "Because when I was about to die—when oblivion stared back at me—your friend stepped forward. A demi god. And stood between me and death."

Merlin looked ashamed. "He saved me."

Atlas’s gaze didn’t leave him.

"...I know I made mistakes," Merlin continued. "Grave ones. But I’m not lying when I say this but....Loki cannot be healed."

A heartbeat passed.

Then two.

And then Atlas moved.

He grabbed the old man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly. "I don’t like bullshits, old man. And I have a loose temper. The next words you speak—might be your last."

Merlin dangled, not resisting.

"Heh... Stop, Atlas..." Aurora called from the side, casting a simple repel spell.

It shattered on contact.

Not deflected. Not resisted. Shattered, like it had touched something it couldn’t comprehend.

"What...?" Aurora whispered.

Merlin coughed softly. Still held high, he looked at her and said, "It’s useless, Aurora. He’s beyond the human realm now. No magic. No spell. No force of mana works on him anymore."

Atlas’s grip tightened. "....Last chance."

Merlin nodded slowly. "But... there is a way."

Atlas’s jaw clenched harder. His gut tangling. The way this....scene worked. It forced him to remember something. Something than can heal a divine damage...something than bring back the dead...no...no.

’No... no... don’t say it...’

"A cure more powerful than the medicine..." Merlin whispered. "...A mythical elixir. Called....

’Don’t say it....Don’t..’ Atlas thought.

...Amrit."

"Fuuucck," Atlas growled, dropping him.

He turned.

"Wait!" Merlin called.

"I know what Amrit is!" Atlas barked, spinning around. "The drink of the gods, the cure to all—eternal healing, divine blessing, yadda yadda bullshit!"

Merlin was stunned. Aurora too. Her eyes locked with Atlas, then shifted to Merlin, shaking her head furiously as if to say she didn’t know.

Of course, Atlas thought. Of course it was Amrit.

He had thought of it before.

He remembered its place in the game—the moment Lara used it during the mid-arc. It was rare, unobtainable, and the price for even hearing about it was usually blood.

And now... it was the only option.

The walls of the dungeon seemed colder now. He could feel the stones mourning with him.

Without another word, he turned and walked up the stairs.

Eli leaned back, watching the fury in his retreating steps. The silence in the dungeon was now thick with tension.

Merlin limped back toward the magical prison field, rubbing his neck.

"He’s... something else," he murmured.

Eli stared at the ceiling. Her fingers lazily drummed against her thigh.

"That’s why I love him," she whispered. Her palm glowed faintly as it pressed against her own stomach. "You old man."

Atlas stepped out into the surface. The moon was high now, its light pale and detached.

His thoughts swirled like storm clouds.

He hated this. He hated that he couldn’t fix things with his strength. That despite evolution, despite victory, there was still something he couldn’t punch, slice, or intimidate away.

Loki. His friend. That idiot with jokes. now he lay half-broken, laughing at shadows.

Atlas stared up at the moon.

"Amrit," he whispered. "Fucking Amrit."

The stars didn’t answer.

He needed to act.

He needed to move.

No more waiting. No more discussion.

Even if it meant walking beyond the Empire. Even if it meant facing gods again.

He would not let a friend die.