“Do you want to live?”

The aftermath of the battle in Valoria Kingdom was marked by the echoes of destruction, the stench of smoke, and a sense of both relief and unease. As the dust settled, Viktor approached Commander Isolde, who lay slumped against a crumbled wall, clutching her wounded side. Her breathing was labored, but her spirit was unbroken.

Kneeling beside her, Viktor carefully lifted her onto his back. "You fought well, Commander," he said softly, his usual sharp tone replaced with a rare gentleness. "But now it's my turn to take care of you. Let's get you treated."

Isolde, though weak, managed a faint smirk. "Don't let me hear you being this nice ever again, Viktor."

He chuckled. "Only this once."

As Viktor turned to leave the battlefield, he paused and glanced back at Nizara, who stood amidst the rubble, his ThunderBlade sheathed and his cloak billowing faintly in the breeze. Viktor's gaze lingered, a shadow of doubt crossing his face. "Nizara," he called out, his voice firm. "If anyone dangerous is still lurking around, you know what to do. Finish the job."

Nizara didn't respond verbally. He simply nodded, his expression stoic, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. That single nod was enough for Viktor, who then carried Isolde away, her faint protests growing quieter as they disappeared into the distance.

As Viktor made his way to the medical ward, his thoughts churned. The events of the battle replayed in his mind—the destruction, the chaos, and above all, Nizara.

"That power…" Viktor muttered to himself. "It's unnatural. His growth… it's almost inhuman."

Though he didn't voice it aloud, a seed of fear had been planted in Viktor's heart. Nizara, with his newfound strength, seemed to have surpassed normal limits. It was clear to Viktor that Nizara might already be at Rank A—a level reserved for Captains and elites of the realm. And if that was true, what did it mean for his future?

Viktor shook his head, trying to dispel the unease. "Focus," he told himself. But the thought of Nizara's rapid ascent lingered in the back of his mind, like an ominous shadow.

Meanwhile, Nizara strode through the ruined streets of Valoria. His boots crunched against broken stone as he surveyed the destruction left in the wake of the battle. His mind was heavy, not with the victory but with questions—questions about himself, about what had transpired in the citadel before he arrived at the battlefield.

As he walked, his thoughts began to blur, and his surroundings faded into a haze. Suddenly, like a thunderclap in his mind, a vivid flashback struck him.

In the flashback, Nizara was back inside the dark, empty citadel. Pain wracked his body, his limbs feeling as though they were bound by invisible chains. He gritted his teeth, trying to make sense of his surroundings. There was nothing—only an infinite void of darkness.

"Where… am I?" he muttered, his voice echoing in the emptiness.

Then, out of the silence, a deep, ominous voice resonated through the void. "Do you want power?"

Nizara froze, his heart pounding. "Who's there?" he demanded, trying to sound defiant, but his voice quivered slightly. "Show yourself!"

The voice chuckled, its tone both mocking and alluring. "You're lost, dying. But I can save you. I can give you strength beyond imagination. All I ask is for your answer… Do you want power?"

Nizara's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about? Who are you?"

Instead of answering, a red glow appeared in the distance, piercing through the darkness. The light grew brighter until it took the shape of a humanoid figure, its features obscured by the blinding crimson aura. The figure stepped closer, its voice lowering to a whisper that cut through the silence like a blade.

"Do you want to live?"

Nizara hesitated, his instincts warning him that this entity was not to be trusted. But the pain coursing through his body and his fading consciousness pushed him to desperation. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. "Yes," he said finally. "I want to live."

The red figure tilted its head, a sinister grin spreading across its shadowed face. "Very well. I'll save you… and in addition, I'll grant you a portion of my power. But remember, every gift comes with a price."

Before Nizara could respond, the figure lunged toward him, its red aura enveloping his body. Pain shot through him as the darkness was consumed by a blinding crimson light.

The flashback ended abruptly, and Nizara found himself back in the ruined kingdom, his breath coming in short gasps. He clutched his chest, where a sharp, searing pain now bloomed.

"What… was that?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Who was that figure? Have I seen it before?"

His thoughts were cut short as the pain in his chest intensified. He staggered, his vision blurring. The world around him spun, and before he could steady himself, everything went black.

When Nizara regained consciousness, he found himself lying in an unfamiliar bed. His head throbbed, and his arms felt strangely heavy. Blinking to clear his vision, he turned his head and saw two figures standing beside the bed—Commander Thorian and Vice Commander Alda.

Their voices were low, as if they had been in the middle of a discussion. Nizara tried to move, but a clinking sound stopped him. Glancing down, his eyes widened in shock—his wrists were bound in heavy iron cuffs.

"What the…?" he muttered, his voice hoarse. He tugged at the cuffs, but they held firm.

Commander Thorian noticed he was awake and stepped forward, a faint smile on his lips. "Good morning, Nizara."

Nizara's anger flared. "Good morning? Don't give me that! Why the hell am I in cuffs?"

Before Thorian could answer, Vice Commander Alda spoke, her tone sharp and matter-of-fact. "Nizara, you're currently awaiting trial."

"Trial?" Nizara repeated, his voice rising with disbelief. "What are you talking about? I saved the kingdom! What did I do wrong?"

Thorian's expression darkened, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a hint of unease. "It's not that simple, Nizara. Your actions… your power… there are questions that need answers. The court will decide what happens next."

Nizara's mind raced. Betrayal, confusion, and anger swirled within him. "I risked my life for this kingdom, and this is how you repay me?"

Alda folded her arms. "It's not about repayment, Nizara. It's about understanding what you've become. That power you wield—it's not normal. It's dangerous."

Nizara fell silent, his jaw tightening as he glared at them. In his heart, he knew they were right. The power he had unleashed wasn't entirely his own. But what choice had he been given? And what price would he ultimately have to pay?

*To Be Continued…*