The cold winter wind howled across the Midlands, biting at my raw cheeks, but I couldn't feel it. All my focus, all my terrifying, hyper-fixated attention, was entirely anchored on the small glass vial in my hand.
I stood over Rian. The boy lay on the frost-covered grass, his breathing little more than a wet, desperate rattle.
The Caustic Void-Weaver venom had already crystallized halfway up his bicep. The sickening green veins pulsed under his pale skin like toxic worms.
Finn knelt beside him in the mud, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were completely white. He was silently praying to whatever god was cruel enough to watch this happen.
This is a test, I told myself, locking away my humanity in a dark, cold box in my mind. I am just verifying the item's properties. That's all. It's for Alisa.
My hands trembled as I tilted the Aurum Tear.
One single, golden drop of liquid separated from the glass lip. It fell through the freezing air, catching the pale sunlight, and landed gently on Rian's cracked, dry lips.
I quickly pulled the vial back, shoving the cork tight and tucking it securely into my tunic. I took a slow step back, my boots crunching on the frozen grass. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I waited.
Finn leaned forward, his eyes wide, his breath catching in his throat.
Ten seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
The green, crystallized rot didn't recede. Rian's breathing didn't ease. The horrifying, necrotic pulse of the Void-Weaver venom continued its slow, steady march toward the boy's chest. The drop of golden liquid had simply vanished into his mouth without a single trace of magical activation.
My stomach plummeted into an abyss of pure ice.
No. No, no, no. My mind began to race, an absolute storm of panic and rage brewing behind my stoic face. According to the game's lore, high-tier holy relics like the Aurum Tear or the Tear of the Goddess were supposed to show results instantly.
The moment the liquid made contact, the debuffs should be cleansed in a burst of radiant light. The fact that nothing was happening could only mean one thing.
That bastard Julian played me?. A hot, violent rage surged through my blood. The Inquisition didn't give me a cure at all. They didn't even give me a temporary stagnation field. They gave me a useless bottle of glowing water to get me out of the village so they could lock down the rift. I had dragged my broken, burned body across the continent, surviving on spite and rotting magic, for a fake.
I was carrying a bottle of lies, and Alisa was going to die because I was stupid enough to trust a Silver Knight.
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ground together. I didn't let a single muscle in my face twitch, but inside, I was screaming. I wanted to tear down the Cathedral. I wanted to burn the Inquisition to ash.
But then, Rian gasped.
It was a sharp, sudden intake of air that sounded like a drowning man breaking the surface.
Finn jolted.
"Rian?"
he whispered, his voice trembling on the edge of a blade.
Before my very eyes, the impossible happened. The sickening, luminescent green glow of the Void-Weaver venom suddenly flickered and died. The hard, brittle crystals crusting over the boy's arm dissolved into fine, harmless mist. The necrotic black veins under his skin retreated, melting away as if they had never existed.
A rush of warm, healthy color flooded back into Rian's pale cheeks. His chest rose and fell in a deep, unobstructed breath.
Rian's eyes fluttered open. They were clear, bright, and completely devoid of the hazy glaze of impending death. He blinked at the grey sky, then turned his head to look at his older brother.
"Finn...?"
Rian mumbled, his voice completely steady.
"Oh, gods... Rian!"
Finn completely broke. He practically threw himself onto the grass, scooping his younger brother up into a massive, desperate hug. He buried his face in Rian's shoulder, sobbing with a force that shook his entire body. It was an ugly, visceral, beautiful sound—the sound of a man who had just been handed his entire world back.
"You're okay,"
Finn wept, his tears soaking into Rian's dirty tunic.
"You're finally okay! I was so worried... I thought I lost you, Rian. I thought I killed you."
Rian weakly raised his arm—the same arm that had been petrifying just moments ago—and wrapped it around Finn's back.
"I'm okay, Finn. It doesn't hurt anymore. I don't feel the cold any longer."
"Forgive me,"
Finn choked out, refusing to let go.
"Please, forgive me. I shouldn't have let you go near those ruins. I'm your big brother. I was supposed to protect you. I am so, so sorry."
"You did protect me,"
Rian smiled, a genuine, warm expression crossing his youthful face.
"You carried me all this way. You never gave up."
Watching them, the heavy, suffocating ice in my chest completely shattered. A sudden, overwhelming wave of pure relief and happiness washed over me. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
It worked. The potion actually worked. I guess Julian wasn't a liar. I wasn't carrying a fake. I had the power to save Alisa right here in my pocket. The crushing weight of the last three days lifted from my shoulders, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I smiled. A real, genuine smile.
But in this world, happiness is the most fragile glass of all.
My smile didn't even last a full ten seconds.
As I watched the brothers embrace, my eyes caught a strange anomaly. Rian's hand, the one gently patting Finn's back, was changing.
It wasn't turning back to flesh. It was glowing.
It was a soft, brilliant white light. Not the warm, golden glow of the Aurum Tear, but a stark, blinding white.
My face completely melted. The smile fell from my lips, replaced by a mask of absolute, paralyzing horror.
How...? my brain stuttered. How? That doesn't make sense. That makes no sense at all!
I recognized that white light. It was the exact same visual effect as the Sun-Blade's conceptual erasure. It wasn't a healing glow at all. It was the visual representation of physical matter and spiritual being erase from the world.
The Aurum Tear hadn't cured the venom. The holy magic and the Abyssal corruption had collided, triggering a catastrophic reaction. The potion didn't give him his life back; it gave him a fleeting, painless moment of perfect clarity right before his entire existence was wiped from reality.
"Finn..."
Rian said softly. His voice didn't sound panicked. It sounded incredibly peaceful.
Finn pulled back slightly, his face smeared with tears and mud. He looked at his brother, and then he looked down at Rian's hand.
The white light was spreading. It crawled up Rian's wrist, consuming his forearm. Where the light touched, Rian's body didn't burn or bleed. It simply turned into thousands of tiny, glowing motes of white dust that floated up into the freezing winter air.
Finn's breath hitched. His eyes widened in a terror so absolute it defied description.
"Rian? Rian, what... what's happening? Leo! What is happening to him?!"
I couldn't speak. My throat was clamped shut. I just stood there, paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the tragedy unfolding before me.
"It's okay, Finn,"
Rian whispered. The white light reached his chest. His legs were already gone, scattering into glowing ash that caught the wind.
"No! No, no, no, hold on! Rian, please!"
Finn screamed, frantically trying to grab his brother's shoulders. But his hands passed right through the dissolving, glowing light. He was trying to hold onto smoke.
"Finn, listen to me,"
Rian said, his voice surprisingly strong, even as his physical form rapidly disintegrated. He looked his older brother dead in the eyes, offering a smile so pure it physically hurt to witness.
"It's really warm. I'm not scared anymore."
"Rian, please don't leave me!"
Finn wailed, falling forward, trying to wrap his arms around a body that was no longer there.
"You did your best, big brother,"
Rian whispered, the white light finally reaching his jaw.
"Thank you for the ride..."
And with a final, brilliant flash of soundless light, Rian was gone.
He didn't leave a corpse. He didn't leave blood. He simply collapsed into a mound of fine, shimmering white dust that settled softly over the frozen grass.
Finn collapsed entirely. He fell forward, his hands burying themselves in the glowing dust where his brother had been resting just seconds before. He didn't scream. The shock had completely short-circuited his brain. He just knelt there in the mud, staring at his empty hands, trapped halfway through a sob that would never finish.
I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth.
A sickening wave of nausea rolled through me. Ikilled him. I felt violently betrayed by the Inquisition. Julian had handed me a weapon of mass conceptual destruction, masquerading as a miracle. If I had poured this into Alisa's mouth, she would have vanished into dust right in front of the me.
But beneath the betrayal was a guilt so heavy it threatened to crush my ribs.
I did this. I used an innocent, dying boy as a guinea pig. I gave him a sip of a mystery liquid because I was too cowardly to test it on the girl I cared about.
But they asked me to! my mind screamed, desperately trying to construct a defense. Finn begged me! He got on his knees and begged me to do it! Rian was going to die anyway! I gave him a painless death! I gave them a chance to say goodbye!
I clung to those thoughts like a man drowning in a storm. Iwas right. I was right to test it. If I hadn't, Alisa would be dust. I did what I had to do.
But I knew the truth. I was lying to myself to keep from losing my mind. I was a monster wearing the skin of a traumatized boy.
Slowly, agonizingly, Finn stood up.
His movements were stiff, like a rusted automaton. His knees were stained with mud, and his hands were coated in the fine, glowing ash of his younger brother.
He slowly turned to face me.
My breath caught. I dropped my hands to my sides, relaxing my posture. If he ever throw puch in rage I didn't prepare to dodge. I just looked at his hollow, dead eyes and made a silent vow.
Do it, I thought, a bitter, self-loathing resignation settling over me. Punch me. Curse my name. I will tank anything you throw at me.
Finn took a step toward me. Then another.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact. I waited for the rusted hunting knife to plunge into my ribs.
But the pain never came.
A cold breeze brushed past me, carrying the scent of mud and salt.
I opened my eyes. Finn had walked right past me.
He didn't even look at me. He just stared straight ahead, his face completely devoid of any recognizable human emotion.
As he passed my shoulder, his voice—hollow, raspy, and entirely broken—carried on the wind.
"Thank you..."
The words hit me harder than a physical blow. They punched the air from my lungs and shattered the last of my defenses.
He was genuinely thanking me for giving Rian a moment of lucidity to say goodbye. It was the most devastating thing I had ever heard.
I stood frozen, completely incapable of moving, as Finn walked to the back of Barnaby's wagon. The old merchant was sitting completely still, his pipe forgotten in his hand, watching the scene with wide, terrified eyes.
Finn reached into the back of the wagon, completely ignoring Barnaby. His hands wrapped around a simple, unadorned clay vase used for storing dry grain.
He pulled it out, clutching it to his chest.
Without a backward glance, the older brother walked slowly back to the patch of frost-covered grass. He knelt down in the mud once more, uncorked the clay vase, and with agonizing, meticulous care, he began to scoop the glowing white dust of his little brother into the jar.