The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 504: Too Many Visions to be Dead

Chapter 504: Too Many Visions to be Dead

A/N: The last Chapter concluded the fifth arc of the novel, pitching us into the sixth and final one. Thank you for reading this far, and if you haven’t already, please consider leaving a review. We’re only a few away from getting the novel rated, which would be something of a personal milestone for me. It would be easy to get a few random alt accounts to do it, but I want them to be more meaningful, coming from people who have actually enjoyed the work so far. Thanks again, and I hope you continue to enjoy my work!

Death felt different this time. It was dark and quiet, looking much the same as my last brush with the inevitable shadow, but something was off. There wasn’t a sense of detachment or peace, none of the freedom I’d experienced before Fate called me to her side.

Could it be because I’d left so much behind? In this life, I had friends, happiness, and a loyal companion in Fable.

The life I had on Earth seemed a lifetime ago, not just a couple of years. And it had only been after I’d tried reaching the bottom of my existence that I’d even considered killing myself. It took another year or two after that before I finally mustered the courage to try. Death then had been a sweet relief. The darkness welcomed me like an old friend, smothering me in peace and nothingness.

Yet now, I just felt...agitated. Through much of my life in Enusia, I’d viewed death as a possible escape from the pain and suffering from the slave crest, the backup plan I’d never quite felt desperate enough to try. But was death on this planet different, after all? It seemed to lack the same timelessness, nor could I feel the darkness ebbing at my awareness.

If anything, impossibly so, it felt more like my soul space. But that was ridiculous–I had definitely died. There was no way my body and soul could have survived the sun purge, especially not after however long it had been since I collapsed in Haven.

My only relief was that there was no pain, just me and my thoughts on a canvas of black velvet that seemed to stretch on forever. And yet... was that a star? Distant and very faint, I could make out a tiny glimmer on the horizon, like the first star peeking out in the evening sky.

I quickly denied it; that would be impossible.

But it didn’t fade. If anything, it grew brighter.

Then another appeared, and another. It wasn’t as though they weren’t there before; it was more like I could finally see them, like my eyes were only now adjusting to the dark, beginning to make out shapes.

As I stared around me, bewildered, I became aware of another sensation. I had a body—not a real, corporeal form, but a soul form like I had in visions. I could touch my face and glanced down to see my tail twitching in confusion.

Was I not dead after all? Had something different happened to the Oracle of Eternity, or whatever I was? Would I simply exist here in this space forever as the hours slowly crawled by?

It seemed an absurd notion, but I shivered, unable to avoid thinking about it. Just how long had I been here, and nothing had happened? I couldn’t feel my mana, so I couldn’t start or end a vision, nor could I seem to will myself awake as I should have been able to do.

Eventually, the entire night sky was filled with a vast aurora of stars, leaving me even more confused. This was definitely my soul space, but that raised more questions than it answered. Still, regardless of the implications, I was grateful for the star’s soft, comforting light. At the very least, I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Slowly, my mind began to clear. Memories of the past few days filtered back, slotting into place like pieces of a puzzle. With every passing moment, I felt increasingly lucid, as if I could wake up from this state at any time and return to my body.

At some point, my thoughts drifted toward a comforting fantasy. If I were still alive, perhaps Fable would be curled around me, nuzzling my cheek with his warm fur. Korra would be beside him, her hand gently holding mine, waiting for me to open my eyes.

I let the pleasant images linger, a faint smile gracing my lips, until I realized they weren’t the only source of light in this realm. Dazzling ribbons of energy materialized around me, weaving into a familiar pattern—a vision.

It shouldn’t have been possible. Not only was I dead, but the sunpurge had ravaged my soul. Even if I somehow survived, healing it was impossible, which meant I would never again be able to wield my mana or abilities.

But regardless of what I thought possible, the blackness of my soulspace vanished, hidden by the shimmering curtains of the vision. As the scene sharpened, I recognized the sprawling walls and clashing armies of Brithlite, seen from atop the highest tower, the very place Alverin had taken me. A shimmering golden portal swirled beside me, now oriented vertically instead of horizontally across the floor.

There was no indication of how much time had passed since I’d summoned it and entered Haven, but it couldn’t have been long. I doubted the portal would remain open if I were truly dead, meaning I was still trapped with Alverin.

The vision itself was relatively unstable, the edges flickering and distorting like static. The colors were inconsistent as well, going faint in places and then overly vibrant in others.

Down below in the city, the battle raged. The Last Light Company had retreated within the protective membrane of the Grand Aegis, defending the gates and the main palace as both demons and humans from the divine forces sought to enter. Our assault worked against us, and all the damage we’d caused to the walls is now allowing our enemies an easier approach.

Bethiv himself defended the front gate with several of Kahlen’s remaining demons. I hadn’t seen them much, as Kahlen himself preferred to be my guard, and the others were less normal in appearance, making the other soldiers feel uncomfortable. But now, they held no restraint, fighting for my cause as fiercely as any of the Last Light Company.

To be honest, I hadn’t even remembered most of them were alive, and yet, seeing this was oddly heartwarming. Were it not for them and the others in the Last Light Company, I never would have had a chance to free Elise and finally put Alverin to rest.

"My Lady, are you still...." Luxxa’s voice reached me before she did, trailing off as she came into view.

She and the rest of the Star Guard burst onto the rooftop, their souls flaring with power, weapons at the ready. They stared in shock and horror at the swirling golden gate, the entrance to Haven. Fable lunged towards it, but as he tried to enter, he passed right through, rejected by the realm.

"Damn it," Kahlen growled, his swords vibrating angrily. "She’s locked us out."

"What the hell is she thinking?" Luxxa cried, her voice filled with fear and frustration.

It had been my intention to keep them out, though seeing them hurt by my actions caused a pang of guilt. They wouldn’t be able to fight the Remnants, and even if I succeeded in defeating Alverin, the realm would eventually collapse in on itself, and none of us would escape alive. The moment I lured Alverin into Haven, the end had been set in motion. It would expose the realm to unfriendly eyes, but it wasn’t as if I would survive anyway. What did it matter if that mysterious god learned about it?

"Fable, can’t you do something?" Jenna asked, reaching forward and putting a hand on the wolf’s shoulder. "Can’t you reach her?"

Fable’s ears drooped, a sorrowful growl resonating in his throat. He couldn’t speak to them, but that response was enough.

The vision suddenly shattered, fragmenting and then weaving itself back together. My perspective now hovered in the air some distance from the city, just beyond the edge of the Grand Aegis. There was a massive area of raw devastation for nearly a mile in all directions, in the middle of which two titanic presences clashed.

It took me a moment to recognize the combatants, so different were they from how I’d always seen them. Luke and Soltair fought spell against sword, intertwined by thousands of dark and light mana ribbons. Their auras continually crashed together like convergent tsunamis, blasting away any soul foolish enough to wander close.

If the two had had any words for the other, they’d long since exchanged them. Now, they fought with every ounce of power, sending veritable waves of mana at each other, casting spells that rent the air itself. The collateral damage was catastrophic, killing and maiming hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers and demons. While Soltair took some care to avoid hurting his own troops, Luke showed no such restraint.

The Apostle of the Descent utilized an endless barrage of sixth and seventh-level spells, the circles flickering around him so quickly that the spells all blended together. They weren’t particularly well crafted, but the absurd cast rate created a veritable wall of magic that kept Soltair at bay. His eyes burned with cold fury, raging with the sheer hatred and thirst for vengeance I’d seen when our souls joined.

On the other hand, Soltair relied on his sword and magical techniques. Unlike normal techniques, which were a crude means of throwing as much mana around as possible, his sun magic seemed alive, a fluid extension of his will. I faintly recalled him sharing one of his abilities, Sun Mastery, which allowed him to control sun mana without the need for magic circles. Watching him now, I found it reminiscent of Magic Arts and idly wondered whether it had any bearing on Korra’s innovations.

After allowing me to observe the spectacle for a few seconds, the vision shifted again, transporting me to another part of the battlefield. This time, I was within the city walls, looking down at the burning wreckage of the flying ship. The impact had damaged the mana cannons beyond repair, rupturing their charging crystals. The resulting explosions had leveled several city blocks. Soldiers and mages lay scattered about, dead, dying, or weakly struggling to bind their wounds.

Just a few feet from the smoldering wreckage of the ship’s prow, three demons sharing the same soul surrounded a wounded Victor, exchanging blows at a speed that blurred them into a whirlwind of motion. The Justice Hero’s armaments glowed with power but were swatted aside like annoying insects by Gayron’s avatars. The apostle himself watched on, a cold smile curling his lips, his arms crossed, content to let his "flickers," as he called them, do the fighting.

My eyes instinctively fell to his chest, where Victor’s spear had impaled him just moments before. The armament had struck with enough force to deliver a lethal blow, yet there was no sign of any wound. His armor gleamed brightly, not even scratched, leaving me baffled. I wasn’t disappointed, not when he meant so much to Korra, but I’d seen the blood, the gaping hole in his chest. How had he managed to survive, and unscathed, no less?