Leviticus, Lara, and Pragaya stood in silence, their minds weighed down by the implications of, what if. For a few lingering seconds, they simply hoped—hoped that the worst had not come to pass.
Then, Leviticus exhaled sharply and clapped his hands together, breaking the tension in the air. The sudden sound startled Lara slightly, but Pragaya remained unfazed. He already understood the truth—the harsh reality that none of them wanted to admit. Whether Akiel knew about the Ark or not, it made no difference. In their current state, there was nothing they could do about it.
Pragaya finally spoke, his voice firm but measured. "Alright, enough dwelling on what we can't change. We have more pressing matters to deal with."
With that, the scene shifted to the infirmary.
Inside, Rose and Baruss were already awake. Baruss leaned against the wall, arms crossed in a forced display of nonchalance, but the occasional glances he stole toward Gale betrayed his unease. Gale was still in a coma, and though Baruss said nothing, his lingering stares spoke volumes.
Rose, on the other hand, sat quietly by Gale's bedside, her fingers gently resting on his arm. She hadn't moved much since waking—just watching, waiting, hoping for any sign that he would open his eyes.
The quiet was soon interrupted as Shelly, Kromus, and Luthor entered the infirmary. Kromus carried Rai in his arms—fully healed, but still unconscious.
Kromus called out, "Chimalma, we need some help here!"
From the midst of the bustling infirmary, where nurses hurried to tend to the wounded, a woman emerged—an ethereal vision of grace and quiet strength. Her light blue eyes shimmered like sacred waters, holding a wisdom beyond time. Long, silky black hair cascaded down her back, adorned with golden threads and jade beads, each a symbol of her ancient heritage. Her bronze-toned skin glowed with an almost divine radiance, accentuated by large, intricately decorated earrings engraved with Aztec markings of life and rebirth. She wore a flowing white dress with golden accents, its fabric embroidered with shifting Aztec symbols that seemed to whisper forgotten wisdom.
Despite her elegance, her presence commanded respect. Chimalma was more than just a healer—her kindness knew no bounds, yet her strength was unshakable.
She turned toward Kromus, her voice carrying both irritation and authority. "What now, Kromus? Can't you see how busy I am?"
But the moment her gaze fell upon Rai, her expression shifted—subtle panic flickered in her eyes, a quiet worry unlike the typical concern shown for wounded soldiers. No, this was something deeper. There was an investment in her reaction, something personal.
Without hesitation, she cleared a bed, motioning for Kromus to lay Rai down. Her voice, though angelic, now carried an unyielding firmness. "What the hell happened?"
The weight of her question demanded an answer, and Kromus, uncharacteristically quiet, found himself momentarily at a loss.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the infirmary, Rose and Harchell had caught wind of the commotion. The moment Harchell realized what was happening, she shot up from her bed, disregarding the bandages wrapped around her head.
She ran straight toward Rai—not with the concern of a casual acquaintance, but with the desperation of someone chasing after something they couldn't bear to lose.
It was almost as if she were running to reunite with a long-lost lover.
But in reality…
Rai was just a boy she had met yesterday.
The same could be said for Rose. Her eyes widened in sheer horror at the sight of Rai lying there, lifeless. She couldn't move. She was frozen stiff, unable to react, unable to even breathe as the panic in the room escalated.
Meanwhile, Harchell struggled against Shelly and Luthor's grip, desperately trying to push past them. "Let me go! What's wrong with him?!" she cried out, her voice cracking with something dangerously close to despair. It was almost absurd—she had only met Rai the day before, during his fight with Mammoth, and yet here she was, acting as if she were about to lose someone irreplaceable.
The infirmary, which had already been chaotic from tending to the wounded, erupted into full-blown panic. As devastating as the battle had been, as terrifying as the Hellrisers were, there had been one small comfort—no one had died. Gale was in a coma, and others had sustained serious injuries, but they had all survived. That fragile sense of relief was now crumbling before their eyes.
Chimalma worked quickly, assessing Rai's condition, her hands moving with practiced precision—until she suddenly froze. Her expression shifted from deep concern to outright horror.
Kromus, still standing nearby, immediately caught the change in her demeanor. His brows furrowed in confusion. "Hey… what's wrong? He's just unconscious, right?" His voice was calm, but there was a quiet unease behind it.
Chimalma didn't answer. She ignored him completely, her focus locked onto Rai as she worked frantically, her movements growing more desperate by the second.
Kromus, Shelly, and Luthor exchanged uneasy glances. Up until now, they had all assumed Rai had merely collapsed from exhaustion. But as they watched Chimalma—normally so composed—struggle against something unseen, something far worse than they had imagined…
For the first time, a terrible thought began to take root in their minds.
What if Rai wasn't just unconscious?
What if something had gone horribly, irreversibly wrong?
And their doubts would soon be put to rest as chimalma uttered those next words, "quick we need to restart his heart soon!", she said that to one of the nurses, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear it. The infirmary exploded into panic.
"WHAT?!" Kromus' voice roared through the room, his composure shattering in an instant. Shelly's grip on Harchell slipped for just a second, and in that moment, she broke free, lunging toward the bed.
Harchell grabbed Chimalma's arm, her fingers trembling. "What do you mean restart his heart?! You—you're joking, right?! He's fine, he's just—he's just sleeping!" Her voice cracked.
Rose, frozen in place, couldn't breathe. Her body felt numb, her mind refusing to process the words she had just heard.
Chimalma didn't respond. She shoved Harchell back—gently, but with urgency. "We don't have time for this!" she snapped, motioning for one of the nurses. "Get the arcane defibrillator! Now!"
A nurse rushed forward, pressing a rune-etched device against Rai's chest. Chimalma muttered an incantation, her voice sharp with focus. The sigils on the device flared to life, glowing an eerie golden hue.
"Clear!"
A burst of energy surged into Rai's body. His limbs jolted—but then fell still.
Nothing.
Chimalma gritted her teeth. "Again!"
Another surge. Rai's body convulsed—then silence.
The air suddenly shifted. It was subtle at first—barely noticeable. Then, like a ripple in reality, an unseen force swept through the room. The torches flickered. The light dimmed—not from the flames, but as if something beyond them was pulling the warmth away.
A low hum reverberated through the infirmary, deep and otherworldly. The rune on Rai's chest began to twist, warping into a symbol no one recognized.
Chimalma's breath hitched. "What… is this?"
The moment stretched on, suffocating. Then—
Rai inhaled sharply.
The torches flared back to life. The strange sigil vanished as if it had never existed.
Chimalma staggered backward, her hand clutching her chest. The entire infirmary stood in stunned silence, eyes locked onto the boy who had just returned from the brink of death.
But no one had an answer for what they had just witnessed.
Rose finally caught her breath, her chest rising and falling as the tension eased. Baruss exhaled deeply, settling back into his usual nonchalant posture, though the flicker of unease still lingered in his gaze. Harchell wiped away her tears, finally regaining enough composure to sit beside Rai, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out but hesitated to touch him. Kromus let out a sigh of relief, while Luthor and Shelly exchanged exhausted smiles, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all.
But amidst the shared relief, one person was far from smiling—Chimalma.
Her expression darkened, her jaw clenched, and without a word, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the exit. The force of her anger was palpable, sending a wave of unease through the room. As she flung open the infirmary doors, three figures stood there waiting—Pragaya, Lara, and Leviticus who had just about finished their conversation and were just about to eneter the infirmary when Chimalma opened the door.
Chimalma barely spared the others a glance as she fixed her furious gaze on Pragaya. "What were you thinking?" she demanded, her voice sharp with restrained fury.
But Pragaya had expected this. Without so much as a flinch, he simply sighed and addressed the room instead. "Alright then, gentlemen, I wish you all a speedy recovery." His tone was casual, but there was an undeniable finality in his words. Without waiting for a response, he stepped past Chimalma, motioning for her to follow as the doors swung shut behind them.
Meanwhile, Leviticus and Lara exchanged knowing glances.
The room finally began to ease, letting out a collective breath of relief. Their hope remained intact—the hope that, no matter how brutal the battle, no one had died. That single thread of comfort held everyone together. Just seeing Rai's chest rise and fall with each breath brought a fragile but much-needed sense of peace.
But not everything was well.
Two still lay unconscious—Gale and Rai—and while the room basked in the calm of survival, the shadow of mystery lingered heavily in the air. The way Rai had returned to life, the sheer impossibility of it, was a thought they all chose to postpone for another day. For now, what mattered was that they were alive… and that they would keep praying the two would soon wake.
Still, beneath the surface, two powerful emotions churned within the infirmary. One was excitement—an unspoken awe that both the Elmag and the Magel were in the same room, two legends resting side by side. But the other… the other was dread. The kind of dread that clung to the skin, which whispered in the back of one's mind.
They all knew about the Hellrisers, the Infernals—their monstrous strength, their demonic blood. That was nothing new.
But what unsettled everyone now was something subtler, something they hadn't truly seen until today.
Those demons… they could hide their magic. Corp had shown it clearly—his eyes looked ordinary until the moment he activated his cloud magic, turning them stark white. Other Hellrisers had done the same. They could choose when to reveal their power, cloaking themselves behind the illusion of normal eyes.
And that realization sent a quiet ripple of unease through the room.
Because for the first time, it hit them.
Rai having ordinary eyes... wasn't completely out of the ordinary anymore.
And after witnessing the otherworldly way he had returned to life, a silent question now echoed in every heart.
Just what is Rai, really?
Leviticus could feel the tension simmering in the room. He stepped forward, his voice both commanding and soothing, "I know everyone's on edge… but if you'll indulge me, I'd like to share something. A little story from before I became Elmag—back when I still walked these very halls like all of you."
His words immediately drew attention. The heavy mood that hung over the infirmary began to shift as all eyes turned to him. He continued with a nostalgic smile, "Back then, I wasn't some big-shot. In fact, I'd just gotten back from a fight with someone."
He paused for effect, then gestured dramatically toward Kromus. "Yeah. Him."
A few surprised chuckles broke out—Shelly and Luthor cracked grins before being instantly silenced by Kromus's cold, sharp glare. The sheer intensity of it made the entire infirmary flinch slightly in comedic unison, adding a moment of much-needed levity.
Leviticus grinned at the reaction and carried on, "Me and Kromus were in our eighth year at the time. We didn't spend much time in the academies anymore—by our sixth year, we'd already been pulled into service for our clans." He chuckled, "That's right. We didn't even make the Magistrate Army, let alone the Elemental Knights. Imagine that!"
The room slowly began to lighten. For the first time since Rai was brought in, some genuine smiles began to bloom among the crowd.
"Anyway," Leviticus continued, waving his hand casually, "we got into a nasty brawl. Both of us got wrecked pretty bad… but I won, of course."
He winked toward Kromus, who remained as stoic and unreadable as ever. Leviticus rolled his eyes dramatically and muttered with mock exasperation, "As expected."
The laughter that followed wasn't just polite—it was real. And in that moment, the weight pressing down on everyone's hearts seemed to ease just a little.
He continued, "We were both dragged into the infirmary—half-dead and completely miserable. Everything hurt. Now, me and this guy..." he motioned toward Kromus with a nod, "...we had a very close friend back then. Someone who stuck with us through thick and thin."
He paused for just a moment, his eyes softening. "That very same friend would later become my wife."
His hand extended toward Lara, who stood with her usual poise—elegant and composed. Yet, the faintest blush crept onto her cheeks, and a bashful smile curled at her lips. She dipped her head ever so slightly, acknowledging the moment without saying a word. She knew exactly where this story was going.
Leviticus continued, his voice warm with nostalgia. "When the two of us were in excruciating pain, laid out on infirmary beds while the nurses struggled to patch us up… she made all the pain disappear. Not with potions. Not with magic. But with a song."
He paused, letting the weight of those words hang in the air, before continuing with an almost boyish grin. "She sang something soft… something beautiful. And I swear to the gods, it didn't just ease the pain. It healed it. They say the mind rules the body, right? So maybe… just maybe… her voice healed our minds—and in doing so, helped heal our bodies too."
He looked around the room, eyes filled with sincerity and warmth, addressing everyone not just as their Elmag, but as someone who understood their exhaustion.
"Now, I'm no telepath… but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that what we need most right now isn't just medical care. The nurses will handle our wounds—but my wife?" He turned back to Lara with a fond smile. "She'll take care of your hearts."
With that, he gestured for her to step forward.
And so she did.
Lara stepped forward, graceful as ever, her presence calm and commanding. "Now, I'm not sure how many of you will know this song," she said with a soft, reassuring smile, "but it's been sung since ancient times. It's known for the peace it brings to the mind. If it sounds familiar, don't hesitate to join in. The more voices, the better."
She closed her eyes—and began to sing.
Her voice floated through the air like silver wind, angelic and serene. The atmosphere itself seemed to shift. The dull weight of dread lifted, replaced by something gentler—sparkles of magic, fragments of hope. The song flowed like a river, washing through each heart and mind, soothing the chaos left in the battle's wake.
And then, one by one, others began to join her.
First a whisper, then a harmony.
It seemed many in the infirmary remembered the melody—an old alloy song passed down through generations, sacred and timeless. Together, they sang:
Close your eyes, let sorrow sleep,
The stars will guard the tears you weep.
Though night has stayed a thousand years,
The dawn still waits beyond your fears.
Breathe with me, the earth still hums,
The sky still sings, the flame still comes.
You are not lost, though all seems gray—
Your heart remembers yesterday.
Wounds will mend, and souls will mend,
The river bends, but does not end.
Your pain is proof you still remain,
And even ash can bloom again.
So rise, dear soul, though you feel small—
The everlight still warms us all.
And when one voice begins to sing…
A thousand hearts take flight on wing.
By the time the final line echoed across the infirmary, silence followed—not the tense, dreadful kind, but something sacred. A silence born from peace. From healing. From unity.
The song had done more than calm the mind.
It reminded everyone that even amidst ruins... hope still had a voice.
As the final notes of Lara's voice floated through the room and melted into silence, it was as if the very air itself had taken a deep breath and finally exhaled.
A moment passed. Then another.
And slowly, the people began to feel it—that gentle warmth in their chest. That strange stillness in their thoughts. That flicker of something they hadn't dared to hold onto.
Hope.
Baruss, still leaning against the wall with one leg crossed over the other, let out a long, low exhale. His cool, nonchalant mask remained mostly intact, but his voice betrayed him just a bit.
"Tch. Damn song."
He looked down at the ground, a soft smirk twitching at the corner of his lips, but his hand was pressed to his chest like he was holding something fragile in place.
"Guess I needed that."
Harchell hadn't moved from Rai's side. She hummed the last line of the song under her breath, the same way a child clings to a lullaby after waking from a nightmare. Her hands were still trembling, but she gently rested one on Rai's arm.
"You stubborn little idiot... you'd better wake up after all this."
There was a smile on her face—watery and raw—but a smile nonetheless.
Kromus remained statuesque, arms folded, face unreadable. But something had shifted. There was a looseness in his posture now, a quiet breath that escaped him without command. For once, his cold, rigid exterior seemed… human.
He closed his eyes for a second.
"...Hmph."
It wasn't much. But from Kromus, it was everything.
Leviticus let out a satisfied sigh and gave a glance toward Lara, his arms crossed with pride, eyes filled with something softer than usual.
"You still have it," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.
Then he looked at the crowd again—at the students, the wounded, the broken—and gave a subtle nod.
"That's the first step."
Luthor and Shelly stood side by side, and for once, neither of them was cracking a joke. Shelly's voice came out like a whisper.
"You think... we'll be okay?"
Luthor didn't hesitate. He glanced around the room, saw the pain still lingering, but also the fire returning.
"We already are," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into it.
The atmosphere had shifted. Wounds still bled, and fear still lingered in the corners of everyone's mind. But the melody left behind more than silence.
It left behind strength.
And in that strength, they found something greater than comfort.
They found resolve.
Leviticus stepped forward once more, clapping shoulders and patting backs as he moved through the room—radiating warmth and reassurance like a quiet fire in the cold. His presence alone was enough to breathe a bit of hope back into the room, but it was his words that everyone waited on.
"Now, I'm not going to just sweep it under the rug," he said, his voice calm but direct, "that question that's still hanging in all your minds... is Rai possibly related to those demons?"
A sudden hush fell over the infirmary.
He scanned the room, reading every face with that same sharp gaze he once used on the battlefield. Anxiety. Unease. Curiosity. He inhaled slowly... then said,
"I can tell you that..."
The entire room leaned in, breath held, waiting for the revelation.
"...I've got no clue at all."
He pulled the dumbest possible expression—wide-eyed, jaw slightly slack, shoulders shrugged in exaggerated cluelessness.
Everyone, in perfect comedic timing, groaned or stumbled back in mock disbelief, clutching their faces, some collapsing theatrically to the floor. Laughter broke out through the tension like the sun cracking through storm clouds.
Even Mammoth smirked.
Leviticus let the moment sit for a beat, then spoke again—this time with a gentle sincerity that settled the room.
"I know that's not the answer anyone wanted. But one thing I do know is that every single one of you here has a sharp eye when it comes to sensing someone's true nature." He let his gaze linger on the crowd. "Especially when it comes to someone as... uniquely enigmatic as Rai."
He paused, letting that land before continuing.
"That boy, on his very first day, didn't just come in trying to blend in or curry favor—no. He made a choice. A bold one. He chose to speak through action. And not just against anyone... but against someone known for both strength and character."
He turned slightly, gesturing toward Mammoth, whose eyes narrowed thoughtfully but with a subtle nod of respect.
"And in that Magian Duel, Rai didn't just prove his strength." Leviticus's voice softened. "He proved his heart. His resolve. And above all, his character."
The room, though still filled with bruised bodies and aching minds, gave small murmurs and nods of agreement. The image of Rai's speech toward Mammoth echoed in their memories. His words, his conviction… his wish.
A wish that still lingered in the air, the only reason that Mammoth is still here.
He continued, "So with that, I believe in him. There is no way a man of Rai's character could ever be associated with those fiends." His voice was firm, his conviction unwavering.
A wave of silent agreement passed through the room. Heads nodded—some solemnly, others with quiet admiration. But beneath the surface of that unified silence lay a truth that had gone unnoticed… until now.
Because while that agreement was real, it came only from those whom Rai had touched—those who had seen his resolve, fought beside him, or heard his words and felt something change within themselves. They were the minority.
The majority? The elites of the Academy—many of whom had never spoken to Rai, never bothered to look twice at someone with ordinary eyes. They couldn't care less whether he lived or died. And it wasn't just the students. Even among the nurses, subtle expressions betrayed their disappointment, their indifference. A few even wore thinly veiled frowns at the fact that Chimalma had managed to breathe life back into him.
Leviticus and Lara noticed it. Of course they did. They had seen it before, far too many times. But they weren't the only ones.
Because there was one person in the room—one calm, nonchalant individual—whose composure was beginning to crack.
His jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. And while he had remained quiet until now, the way those people looked at Rai, a boy who had been dead mere minutes ago… it was testing his patience.
They weren't relieved. They weren't thankful. They were disappointed.
And that... was unforgivable.