After we had gradually gathered up the scattered troops, we finally arrived almost at the end of the corridor. I deliberately diverted my thoughts from the dead - the many dead. Just as I prevented remorseful thoughts from coming through me, punishing me for having come so late. For not having saved the lives. The time of mourning would come, just not now. Later! Now it was time to move forward courageously and fearlessly. Like a king. I was aware of how close I was to my old self: a good fighter, but a bad person.

So I spoke to the people around me, paying attention to the path and potential dangers, without being completely focused. Even without remorse, my thoughts constantly revolved around the next steps. About what I would do if I faced a scythe again. About what would happen if I met Tess - no! Cecillia - again. I knew what Seris intended, but it only made my plans a little easier. Relying on an Alacryan, and a scythe at that, wasn't exactly what I wanted. It wasn't that I was relying on her completely - after all, that would be an avoidable risk - but if she were to spontaneously change her plans or stab me in the back, it would complicate everything unnecessarily. Our conversation during the Victoriad had at least given me the feeling that I could read Seris, but I wouldn't rely on that blindly. I had noticed one thing: Seris was like me. At least in her way of thinking, predicting her next steps was easier than I thought and together with her words, her intentions had become immediately clear to me at least, and yet this fact almost frightened me.

If Seris really thought like me, she would also know my plans after the Victoriad to a certain extent. That was exactly where the problem lay. It was a big 'if', but in the event of her betrayal or at least her displeasure, she could harm me more than any other scythe. To be honest, I didn't want to find out how much alike we were. It was enough for me to keep her in mind, but not to attach too much importance to her presence and moves.

Just as I had followed her wishes in my own way at the Victoriad, she would probably do the same. I had already planned to challenge Nico and Cadell, but as the conversation progressed, another advantage became clear to me: I was forcing Seris to act quickly. Perhaps it would have made more sense to do it more discreetly, but how long was I going to hide? Plus, it just sped everything up, offering a smaller but also safer window of time for action. Not only did Seris have to act quickly, Agrona would also need time to react. It was risky, but what wasn't? And I still preferred a controlled risk to no control at all.

Finally we arrived and I went ahead with a few other strong and uninjured mages. We fanned out in front of the rest of the group to cover as much area as possible. Of course my gaze also wandered over the destroyed underground city. It was frightening how much damage a single young Asura could cause. Now I doubted the presence of enemies, but without being able to perceive mana signatures I could never be sure. Although I was aware that only a few people could harm me, I still forbade myself from thinking like that. With each passing day I became more confident and more reckless of my own safety. Being brought back to reality by the Relictombs every now and then felt good. The human mind tended to automatically assume more after great success. A weakness I still succumbed to.

Last year life had been simpler. As a Grey I had completely succumbed to my old self and it had been easier. No feelings to hold you back and no other people I had to try to protect because they were important to me. Back in Dicathen, I lost that privilege. For the sake of my sister and mother, I would try to be more "me" again. Rinia was right; the more I gave myself over to Grey, the more difficult it became to be Arthur Leywin again. There was the man I wanted to be and the man everyone else needed.

These considerations ran more or less in the background and so I noticed quite quickly a movement on an elevation. In the same second, my attention wandered to the etheric paths, ether was channeled through my etheric channels into my hands, ready to manifest a sword. I tensed my muscles and corrected my posture so minimally that I did not appear aggressive and yet could be in the middle of an attack within a second. Automatisms that ran in a tenth of a second and cost me little more than a fleeting thought. The last three - or actually only two - fights were barely over. Without the etheric plane, my core state would already be critical and psychologically I was fluctuating between a state of exhaustion and absolute motivation.

»I'm starting to doubt your sanity,« Regis intervened over our mental connection, even though I tried to concentrate on the hill. Sighing, he continued. »You don't believe me, how peaceful it is without your constantly circling thoughts.«

I refrained from answering. I couldn't and didn't want to lose concentration. Although I had become frighteningly good at concentrating on several things at once, I didn't want to risk it.

»The truth is that you're too stubborn to admit it.« Regis sounded snappy and annoyed, but made no move to stop. »So in terms of not taking risks, you're the expert.« The purple direwolf's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Mentally, I rolled my eyes. »The times are different and..."«

»And your family is here,« Regis finished my sentence, before it softened a little and a certain warmth overflowed. »I understand you, Princess.«

»You do?« I couldn't help my teasing surprise.

»It seems so. I must have let the Sylvie part slip.« He sounded indifferent, but I smiled inwardly.
The silhouette had now taken shape. A familiar one. Did that ease my tension?

»Lance Bairon!« Curtis called out the obvious just a few seconds later. There he was up there: Bairon Wykes. Bloody and frayed, but alive. »You - you're fine!« Fine was relative, but Bairon was at least on his feet.

Of course I was relieved that Bairon was alive. Anything else would be hypocritical and selfish. But even after everything that had happened in the war, my relationship with the lance had changed little. We were on the same side, no more, no less. He had never forgiven me for what had happened to Lucas in Xyrus. I didn't blame him, I had gone too far. But I was still a little worried about his reaction.

»I was lucky that the...« Bairon seemed even more exhausted as he spoke than he looked. His eyes wandered over the people standing around him and when our eyes met, he stopped. »Who...?« The surprise and irritation at the same time were clearly written on his face. I looked for anger, annoyance or at least indifference in his expression, but didn't find it. Not yet.

»Bairon!« There was a tense undertone in my voice that I couldn't stop in time. Trying to be relaxed, I wanted to continue. But how did you stay relaxed when you had such a past? Distant images from the past flooded into my mind involuntarily. »I'm glad to know I'm not the last of the lances...« He didn't let me finish.

»Arthur!« I saw... relief and joy? Bairon jumped from the gravelly hill and slid down as elegantly as his physical condition allowed. His action made no sense to me and my concern only increased. As he rushed towards me - I couldn't describe it any other way - my pupils dilated involuntarily in surprise. One of the few times in a year that my emotions were reflected in my facial expressions. I thought relatively little as I simply continued to observe the situation, prepared for anything, and reconciled it with the Bairon Wykes I knew. He grabbed me by the shoulders. Not particularly firmly, but my body still tensed under his touch.

He looked straight into my eyes and I saw tears shimmering. This was not a trick of my senses, I was in my right mind. I decided to simply accept the situation and allow myself this hint of calm and relief. He calmly put his forehead against mine, a sign of care and respect. The last year had changed both him and me. So we both remained silent for a few seconds. Out of the corner of my eye I had already spotted Varay and Mica, who had followed Bairon at a distance. Both were just as bloody as Bairon, maybe even more. The wounds were only provisionally closed. Varay was missing an arm, Mica an eye. Exhaustion marked each of their steps and I realized once again how lucky I actually was with my regeneration. Although luck was the wrong word.

»You're late,« said Mica, a slight reproach in her voice. Her childlike face was marked by deep shadows of resignation and sadness. I would ask what had happened at the right time. Bairon took a step away from me, but did not look away.

»It's nice to have you back, and apparently in the last moments before the catastrophe. You must have been what the old elf seer saw coming?« Varay just sounded infinitely relieved. At that moment she looked very little like the emotionless Lance he had met a good six years ago. Guilt overwhelmed me when I thought that when I had last seen her I had disobeyed one of her orders. It had been necessary, and yet an apology was on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed it.

»That seems to be the case, yes, although I had no idea what was coming,« I answered her question, slightly uncomfortably. It must have been that way, but I had really come into the fight extremely unprepared. If Taci had been more than a child? Then the fight would have been a lot more dangerous for me. »Where is Aya?« I asked, something that had been going through my mind for a while. Bairon's look said everything that was needed. A deep sadness overcame me, but I locked it away. I'm sure I seemed almost apathetic to others because of it, but it was better that way... wasn't it?

»Brother!« Ellie interrupted our conversation, seemingly coming closer, and despite Bairon's anger or Varay's surprise, I felt curiosity and actually concern about what she had to tell us. After she had almost died today - a sight I will never forget - she would not interrupt a conversation between adults over a trivial matter. »Mana signatures are coming. A lot of them.« I almost wanted to curse. Not being able to perceive mana was sometimes my downfall. Not being able to manipulate it was annoying enough, but bearable. Not perceiving it was another matter. The surprise of the other lances reflected all too well the state of their mana reservoir. Behind me, the people visibly panicked at these words.

»Everyone back to the tunnel!« Bairon ordered with an authority I would not have thought him capable of. I was glad that he was trying to prevent a mass panic. Despite the fear that was evident even in the other lances, a cold calm of determination flooded through me. Even without being able to sense it, I knew that there were no powerful magicians among them. It would be no problem to defeat them.

»We fight together, side by side?« Varay seemed uncertain, realistic enough to be able to assess her own condition. Bairon's eyes sparkled with a will to fight and Mica wavered between the two.

»No.« I did not raise my voice, but there was still a level of immutability that reinforced my decision. If they were to fight, it would be more than just foolish.

All three of them seemed dissatisfied with my decision, but they accepted it. They backed away and I stepped forward confidently. The circumstances had changed and the pressure was increasing. I could handle it, but with each passing day the people of Dicathen saw me more and more as an untou chable hero. That was what I would be. For as long as it was necessary. And then... Then I would break.