Sacrifice

The Deathbird's corpse struck the ground and shattered. The Source Energy within it fell silent, its flames went out one by one, and the torrent of Chaos pouring from it was cut off.

It was over.

Xilian thought so as the Grey Fog around him ceased to churn with the Deathbird's death. At last, this Lightless Night had come to an end.

"Teacher, we won."

After a moment in a daze, Xilian turned. A ravaged, sickly face met his eyes.

Nuen stood motionless.

With the fight over, the Source Energy within Nuen was gradually subsiding. His body, transformed into Source Energy, was returning to flesh and blood.

Terrible wounds reappeared across Nuen's body. Riddled with holes, he looked like a broken rag doll.

"Teacher..."

Xilian's voice trembled. He wanted to reach out and support Nuen, but feared even the lightest touch would make that battered body collapse for good.

Nuen said nothing. He merely gazed into the darkness, his eyes hidden by shadow and blood.

He spoke slowly. "Is Mick dead?"

Xilian fell silent.

"I never married or had children of my own, but I adopted many."

Nuen murmured, "Then they all died before my eyes, executed by my own hand."

"I thought I would grow used to grief. But every time, it tore me apart. Later, I wondered if calling them something else might help."

Sorrow filled Nuen's face. "I stopped calling myself their father. I became their teacher, and they became my students."

"I thought that would make me less attached to you. Losing a student should hurt less than losing a child... But I couldn't fool myself. I was terribly wrong."

Nuen had run out of tears many years ago. All he had left was a hollow voice.

"Mick's sacrifice was an honorable one. His remains must not be defiled by Demons."

Mick had fallen not far from Xilian. After only a few steps, Xilian found his younger brother. A horrific wound ran across Mick's waist and abdomen, leaving only a little flesh to hold him together.

Xilian lifted his body. It was not heavy, only cold and coated in frost.

Nuen reached out and stroked Mick's face. His withered features betrayed no expression.

"Let's go."

They staggered toward the burning wreckage. Along the way, they passed Demon corpse after Demon corpse, each slain by a sword.

Warm light drew near. Xilian saw the survivors huddled beneath it, and Tim, covered in wounds but still holding his ground.

"Did we win?"

Joy flashed across Tim's face when he saw Xilian and Nuen return. Then he noticed Nuen's wounds and the body in Xilian's arms.

A heavy silence swallowed him.

"I thought I'd never have to watch another brother die," Tim said faintly.

"I once swore no student would ever die because of me again," Nuen said without emotion.

Grief, anger, confusion... The feelings tangled together and tightened around their hearts.

Mick had once said the Sofluowa brothers would never be separated. Yet he was the first to leave.

The survivors by the fire wore fear and despair on their faces. They pressed against one another, shifting anxiously as they tried to find a spot closer to the flames without getting burned.

No one knew what Nuen was thinking. Was he remembering White Cliff Town as it once had been, or mourning the dead?

"Xilian, at the very end, what was that power?"

The Chaos the Deathbird had unleashed had frozen even Nuen in place, yet Xilian had broken through its hold.

Xilian kept nothing from him. Standing beside Nuen, he opened his palm.

"It gave me power. A blessing."

"A blessing?"

A faint light flickered in Nuen's eyes. "Only a very few beings can bestow blessings. Could it be the expedition..."

He stopped and gave a helpless smile. "This blessing must be closely tied to your origins."

Xilian rubbed his burning palm. After a night of fighting, he had finally begun to understand what the blessing could do.

Blessing: Nurture Myriad Forms.

The blessing had no fixed ability of its own. Instead, it adapted to Xilian's experiences and surroundings, evolving a specific power to suit them.

And so Myriad Forms Evolution had become Blessing: Hatred and Malice.

Beyond its exceptional resistance to Chaos from the outset, it could also grow stronger. Whenever Xilian slew a powerful foe of Chaos, the concentration of Soul Marrow within him increased.

The more he fought Chaos, the more the blessing rejoiced. It strengthened him in every way, restoring his stamina and Source Energy, and even generating new Soul Marrow.

As long as there were enough foes of Chaos and Xilian could kill them, he could keep fighting without end.

Nuen asked no more about the blessing's powers. He stood straight and still for a long while, then started toward the fire again.

"Xilian, didn't you once ask what I would choose when death came for me?" Nuen said. "I made up my mind long ago."

"My plan was to leave once White Cliff Town was on its feet and capable of surviving in the Wilderness."

Nuen recalled the hopes and guilt he had carried for so many years.

"Even after a century, I still remember the road that brought me here. I would follow it back to the Dark World.

"I would fight my way onward, searching for any trace of the Sunflower Clan. Even if all that remained of them was a field of bones, I would die fighting beside them."

A helpless smile entered Nuen's voice as he went on.

"You may ask why.

"Why go to such lengths just to die? How should I put it? Perhaps it's regret."

Nuen stopped suddenly and turned to meet Xilian's eyes.

"Regret is a sword hanging over your head. Every moment, it reminds you that you had a chance to change everything, but failed. Like a ghost, it lingers at your side all day and appears in your nightmares."

An inexplicable chill swirled around Xilian, as though the ghost Nuen spoke of had truly come to brush his cheek.

"Yes, that's it," Nuen said, blaming himself. "The possibility."

"If I'd tried harder, perhaps all those terrible things could have been prevented. If I'd been stronger, perhaps so many people in White Cliff Town wouldn't have died. Perhaps..."

"Teacher, you did everything you could!"

Xilian raised his voice, cutting off Nuen's morbid thoughts.

"No one has the right to blame you for what you couldn't do... Not even you."

After a long silence, Nuen reached the roaring fire. Its heat drove away the cold, as comforting as a mother's embrace.

"Xilian, this fire won't last much longer."

The pure white glow of the Soul Marrow was fading. The severed limb Nuen had thrown into the fire was nearly spent.

Under ordinary circumstances, it would have burned for several days and nights. But tonight's Grey Fog was too thick and had consumed it much faster.

"The rest of the Soul Marrow is contaminated... No one else can die tonight."

As Nuen spoke, resolve settled in his eyes.

Xilian froze. He realized what Nuen intended to do and tried to stop him, but despair and helplessness surged through him.

He had never felt so exhausted. His legs gave way, and he dropped to one knee.

Nuen touched the wound on his abdomen. "It's all right. Even if I do nothing, I won't last until dawn. At least this sacrifice will give my death some meaning."

"The Soul Marrow still flowing through what remains of my body will kindle a pure fire and shelter you until morning."

Xilian stared blankly at the ground.

He wanted to stop Nuen. But he understood that this was the only way the survivors could live.

Regret.

Xilian understood it now. If he had been stronger, perhaps Nuen would not have had to make this sacrifice. Perhaps he could even have killed the Deathbird and its kind before they unleashed Chaos.

"What... what are you talking about?"

Tim looked from one to the other, confused. He did not quite understand their words, but instinct had already told him the terrible truth.

"It's nothing, Tim. You're a student I'm proud of... You're the child I'm proudest of."

Nuen struggled to smile as he encouraged Tim. "Look at all these bodies. You have such a strong sense of responsibility, and such courage. That's wonderful."

Then Nuen turned to warn Xilian.

"Xilian, I don't know what happened, but one thing is certain: the Doom Omen Clan was not wiped out. They're still hunting the bloodline of the Sunflower Clan."

"Until you're strong enough, hide which clan you belong to. Above all, don't let anyone come into contact with your blood."

"I don't expect you to rebuild the clan, Xilian. That was my mission. It bound me for my entire life. I shouldn't force it on you and make you carry on this hardship."

He smiled. Whether it was relief or numbness, Xilian could not tell.

"This Boiling Sword came from my teacher. It's been with me through many years of battle. It shouldn't be buried in the flames with me."

Nuen handed the Boiling Sword to Xilian and spoke gently.

"There's no need to grieve, Xilian. You should be happy for me. I fought to the last moment of my life, and the clan's bloodline lives on.

"The Sunflower Clan still stands.

"And now I'll be reunited with my kin."

Xilian stared at Nuen's back, his blood turning to ice.

Nuen had said they would drive back Chaos together and defeat their powerful foe. They were the last of the Sunflower Clan's bloodline, and sacred fire smoldered within them...

They had all been lies.

Only Xilian would survive. Nuen would not.

Nuen had been ready to die from the moment the battle began... No, long before that. Even before he left the Dark World, he had made his peace with death.

How absurd. All these years, I've lived and fought beside a dying man.

And I alone will return.

"Father..." Xilian whispered.

Nuen gazed at the roaring fire with longing.

"We were born from fire. It is only right that we die in it."

Without looking back, he gave his blessing.

"Child, go and live the life you want."

Then Nuen walked calmly into the fire. There was no cry, no whimper. Nothing but the crackle of burning flames.

It was the last time Xilian ever saw Nuen. His figure gradually hunched, curling in on itself like a log burning down, growing smaller and smaller...

It was all so peaceful. Nuen seemed to be ascending a staircase to heaven, not walking to his death.

Pure white flames rose without cease, driving away the Grey Fog that pressed in around them.

The survivors gathered around the fire, kneeling and praying over and over.

Xilian laid Mick's body down and stood with Tim in the warmth Nuen had left behind.

Countless tangled thoughts filled Xilian's head. He felt like a kite with a broken string, drifting helplessly through the air.

He did not know how to speak of his pain, or whom he could tell. All he could do was endure it in silence.

Like everyone else, he endured it with quiet devotion.

At last the Grey Fog dispersed. Dawn slowly rose beyond the dark horizon, illuminating the wreckage of White Cliff Town and Xilian's numb expression.

"Let's go, Tim."

Xilian straightened and slid the Boiling Sword into its sheath.

"This isn't the time to grieve. We still have a lot to do."

He forced himself to remain calm and strong, pushing aside the tender, tangled feelings in his heart.

"Before nightfall, we need to gather enough Soul Marrow to last through the night. We also need to rebuild the defenses and check on the survivors. If anyone has been contaminated by Chaos, we'll have to eliminate them..."

The longer Xilian spoke, the more his voice trembled.

"I'll search for any other survivors. Take everyone to the Armory. It's safe there."

Xilian tried to fill his mind with work and responsibility. But before a tidal wave of grief, he still fell apart.

Tim nodded silently. Looking at the exhausted survivors, he had the uneasy feeling that this was far from the end of the tragedy.

Bright daylight descended, sweeping away every trace of gloom.