I Am a Hero With A Hundred Abilities
Chapter 102 - 102: Ch 101. Cold Truth

Darkness.

That was all Sophia could see.

She drifted in an endless void—weightless, silent, numb. The last memory she could recall flickered in her mind like a dying flame:

Ethan, barely dodging an attack from a white-haired man…

And then—pain.

The overwhelming agony from the injuries Kairo had inflicted.

And then—nothing.

No sound.

No light.

Just… emptiness.

But then, suddenly—

A light.

Warm, radiant, and inviting. It pulsed softly in the dark, like a heartbeat calling her home. She'd always heard stories—never follow the light—but this light wasn't cold or final. It was comforting… enticing.

And before she could resist, she felt herself being pulled toward it.

Dragged through the darkness.

And then—her eyes opened.

She was no longer drifting in a void. She was standing inside a medical tent, soft light filtering through white canvas. She blinked several times, stunned, breath shallow as she tried to piece together reality from dream.

The first thing she saw was Ethan.

He was facing away from her, speaking in a calm yet urgent voice.

"Can you help her father as well?"

Sophia's heart stilled. That voice, that posture—Ethan was here. Which meant…

This isn't the afterlife… I'm not dead…

Her gaze shifted and finally noticed the woman standing beside him—Saint Theresa. The light she'd seen in the darkness—it had to be her doing.

Sophia quickly put the pieces together.

'She must have healed me. And now… Ethan's asking her to heal my dad?'

A wave of emotion surged through her—relief that she was alive, but also something warmer.

'Even now, after everything, he's thinking of me…

He can be so sweet sometimes.'

Her thoughts were cut short as Ethan turned toward her.

He was no longer in his transformation, but his presence still carried that same intense, battle-hardened aura. His eyes locked onto hers—and for a second, she couldn't breathe.

But then… his expression softened.

Ethan walked forward in silence, and before she could speak—he hugged her.

Sophia stood frozen, her thoughts scattering like petals in the wind. Even Saint Theresa raised a brow, caught off guard.

Then Ethan spoke, voice low and sincere:

"Thank God you're still alive, Sophia."

His words broke through her daze. Slowly, she lifted her arms and hugged him back.

"Thank you… for saving me," she whispered into his chest.

A rare, gentle smile spread across Ethan's face as they stood there, clinging to the shared moment of safety, of survival—of something more.

Then—

A soft cough.

They both turned, slightly startled, to see Saint Theresa watching them with amused eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds," she said with a teasing smirk, "but don't you want me to help your father?"

Sophia immediately stepped back, cheeks dusted with a faint blush.

"Th-Thank you… for your help," she said quickly.

Theresa chuckled, waving it off.

"Don't mention it. It's all for the young man's sake," she said with a wink, glancing at Ethan.

Then she turned, her tone becoming more direct.

"Let's get going, then."

Both Ethan and Sophia nodded in unison.

And in the next moment, Saint Theresa raised her hand—and the world around them shimmered with divine energy.

With a flash of light, the three of them vanished from the arena.

****

As Saint Theresa vanished in a flash of divine light, taking Ethan and Sophia with her, the Crownspire Ascension officially came to an end.

The other contestants were left in stunned silence, but there was no further announcement. None was needed.

The winner had already been chosen.

The Saint had selected her champion.

Ethan was now the Saint's Candidate.

Moments later, the remaining contestants throughout the shattered and scorched arena were enveloped in beams of light.

And one by one, they were teleported away, returned to the places they had come from. The battle was over. Their time in the Ascension had ended.

---

Far from the arena, in the grand Droskar Estate, a brilliant glow pulsed briefly before Valen Droskar materialized in front of the main house.

The air was still. The estate grounds were quiet.

And then, the door opened.

Valen's mother, Lady Elira Droskar, stepped out gracefully. Her elegant robes rippled in the breeze, but her expression was tight with concern.

"Valen," she called. "What happened?"

After the attack on the Crownspire Ascension the live feed went dark. So people who were watching couldn't see or hear anything. Basically everyone outside the arena was left in the dark.

Valen stood silently for a moment, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He looked like a man who had just witnessed something that rattled him to his core.

Then, slowly, he began to speak.

He explained everything.

The ambush.

The chaos.

The moment the Overlord descended.

And most of all… Ethan—a mere Level 3—fighting alone against an enemy none of them could face.

Lady Elira's face shifted as she listened. From surprise, to shock and finally understanding.

When he finished, Valen lowered his head.

"All of us were hiding," he said quietly. "While someone weaker than us—by level, at least—faced death head-on. I… I have brought shame to the Droskar name."

His voice cracked at the end, filled with guilt and humiliation.

Elira blinked, stunned. Her son—usually so proud, so sure of his strength—had bowed his head in shame. It was something she never thought she'd see.

The encounter had shattered his world view. Seeing someone of lower level accomplish what he could not had pierced his pride like a spear through armor.

Quietly, she stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said softly. "I believe one day… you'll be able to accomplish such an amazing feat. Just like that boy."

Valen's eyes lit up with hope. He looked at her quickly, needing reassurance.

"You really believe that?"

His mother gave him a flat look and responded with cool honesty.

"No."

Valen's jaw dropped, staring at her in utter disbelief.

"Wha—Mother?!"

Inside, Lady Elira was almost amused, but she kept her expression steady.

She could already see the fire of hurt pride building in him. Just as she intended.

"Good. Let it burn. Let it humble you. Let it drive you."

"You've spent your life believing you were always the strongest. But the world is bigger than you know, and today… today you learned that."

Valen stood in stunned silence, still recovering from the sting of her honesty.

But then she turned and walked back toward the house, glancing back over her shoulder with a slight smirk.

"Follow me inside. I made your favorite dish."

Valen looked up, confused.

"My… favorite? But… I didn't win."

She smiled faintly.

"It was meant to be your victory meal… but since you didn't win, we can't let it go to waste, can we?"

Valen winced. The words stung a little.

But food was food.

And deep down, he knew his mother's harshness came from love. A desire to see him grow, not stay trapped by arrogance.

So he sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and followed her inside.

He wouldn't let the food go to waste.

But more importantly—he wouldn't let this lesson go to waste either.

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