Ascension of the Dark Seraph

A gift.

That's what Leandra expected.

She was excited to find out what lies behind the door that the golden key opens the moment it's in her hands. But she restrained herself, resisting the pull of curiosity. It was a gift meant for her, meant to hold meaning, and so she was resolved to wait.

Only when the moment was truly special would she check the address.

Despite the fracture in trust, there were moments when she wandered late at night about the gift.

And she also imagined how surprised she would be when she finally opens the door.

But never did she expect it to be like this.

Creak…

Leandra didn't need to push the door open as the wind helped her open it.

"Lucivar…?" She called meekly.

Even though Mirel seemed to be certain that he was already gone, like Ravenna, she'd never believe it until she saw a body. Unfortunately, as soon as the door opened enough for her to glimpse inside, the lingering hope that she had inside was crumbling.

She felt a sudden tightness in her throat as she looked at the living room.

From the corridor leading to the living room, there was a sofa facing away from the door, and someone, a man, was sitting on it. Despite the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the moonlight seeping in from the windows, she could recognize the man only by his head.

Leandra swallowed hard.

In this moment, stepping into the house felt more like stepping into a powerful dungeon.

She was hesitating.

But inside, she ultimately knew that she had to step inside and see it with her own two eyes.

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she made the first brave step into the corridor.

She flinched at the creak of the wooden floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the stillness. Forcing herself past the first hurdle, she stepped inside—and was instantly met by a sudden chill that sank deep into the bones and marrow.

Then, she heard them: faint, fleeing whispers, distant but there.

Like muffled cries or hushed confessions of souls weeping in another realm.

Instinctively, she closed the front door before going deeper.

Another step sparked another phenomenon, the sound of sand blown by the wind could be heard, and it was then that her eyes noticed red sand began to seep out of the wooden floor. As she neared the end of the corridor leading to the living room, she stopped.

From above, dark water leaked and dropped to the floor.

It hissed upon touching the wooden floor, acidic or scorching, Leandra wasn't sure.

"Lucivar…?"

Going around the dropping droplets, she stood inside the guest room—eyes locked onto the man sitting on the sofa. Seeing the phenomena happening within the room made her more hopeful, as that showed the Gods were still present.

Or at least that's what she thought.

It was a bit worrying since the phenomena were weak, not overbearing like they used to be.

Gritting her teeth, she went around the sofa to check on the man, and the moment her eyes fell on him, her breath hitched sharply in her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears, long since dried, welled anew, forcing their way free while the fragile hope she'd clung to shattered into dust.

"LUCIVAR!!"

Leandra dropped to her knees and cried.

Sitting on the sofa was exactly as Leandra expected—Lucivar.

No trace of malice or pride.

No whisper of ether or divine energy.

Not even the faintest flicker of life.

An empty vessel devoid of blood and life that had long gone cold.

Lucivar's body sat slumped upon the sofa, eerily peaceful, as though sleep had simply claimed him. His head dropped forward, chin brushing his chest, and his arms hung limply at his sides, lifeless and slack like a marionette whose strings had been cut.

There was no tension in his face, no trace of pain or anger—only a calm, serene expression.

Not the faintest ghost of pain lingered on his features as if he had accepted his end without resistance.

Leandra cried uncontrollably, clutching his pants hard as she couldn't believe that this was happening for real. She raised her gaze, exposing her tear-stricken face to the moonlight, and saw something that pierced Lucivar's chest, straight through the heart.

It was a slender shard of silver hue—no larger than a thick needle.

However, it thrummed with an overwhelming, radiant power.

Even the air around it shimmered faintly, its energy sizzling softly, unmistakably divine in origin—and utterly opposite to Lucivar's own. It was the power of light. And still, even in death, Lucivar seemed as composed as he had always been.

Untroubled as though meeting the light on his own quiet terms.

"I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…"

Leandra's voice broke and trembled as there was no denying it this time.

She had seen the proof with her own two eyes that Lucivar was dead, so there's no denying it.

Just the sight of the Ending Needle alone made the pain even worse.

At this moment, Leandra realized that Lucivar had been telling the truth all this time—the needle was really an item or weapon that could kill him. And the reason he didn't seem to be excited in searching for the book was because he was afraid that the others would know about it.

And the fact that he told the truth about the Ending Needle to her was devastating.

Lucivar had been screaming in his own way that someone would notice—that someone would see that he was lost—and don't know what to do. And he put his trust in Leandra, hoping that she would catch the hints, but she didn't.

Instead, she went against him.

And now, Lucivar was gone.

"Haaaahh!"

No excuse this time—Leandra boasted to be the person who understood him the most, but she failed to even realize his cry for help. The pain was suffocating, forcing her to pound her chest to ease it, but it didn't work.

Leandra could only live with this guilt; carry it for the rest of her life.

…

Rain drummed softly against the earth, a relentless whisper that blurred the line between sky and soil.

On a narrow road clinging to the edge of a steep cliff, three figures stood solemnly, unmoving, as if they were carved from stone. Grief anchored them in their spots; the storm swept their wet clothes and hair, but none of them cared.

Leandra, Ravenna, and Mirel faced the earth before them with grim, hollow expressions.

Like souls crushed beneath the weight of a lifetime's sorrow condensed into a few days.

Not even a week from the tragic night, and they were forced to handle and attend three funerals.

Before them lay three graves—plain, unadorned, their simplicity a stark contrast to the worth of those buried there. One had no tombstone at all, while the others bore a name crudely carved, not out of spite, but out of guilt and weakness.

One could tell from the writings that the person doing it was in anguish.

Even though the rain concealed their tears, it couldn't hide their pain.

For Leandra and Ravenna, the loss was unbearable.

Unlike Mirel, who had at least done right for Lucivar's final moments, offering what little comfort he could give by doing exactly as Lucivar wanted, the two women had done the complete opposite. Their last memories of him were marred by regret.

The ache in their chests was sharp, unrelenting, the kind of hurt that made breathing painful.

Leandra and Ravenna crumpled beneath the weight of it; their sobs lost in the storm.

No matter how much they cried, the rain drowned their voices—much like the irony that no matter how much they regretted what they did, nothing would change. The pain will still linger, and Lucivar won't be coming back.

Mirel alone remained standing, though the effort hollowed him out.

He patiently waited for almost half an hour—before he gathered them close, a steady presence against the storm's fury. Lucivar had entrusted him with this, to look after them, and Mirel clung to that promise with quiet determination.

'You're a bad person, Lucivar, but I respected you.' Mirel thought, looking at the grave with bitterness. 'I would even argue you died a good man. Just leave the rest to me, I'll make sure to protect them, and let them find their own happiness.'

"I want to die…" Leandra whispered amidst her choked anguish. "I don't want to live anymore."

"Don't say that," Mirel turned towards her, holding her shoulders to give her strength. "Did you forget what Lucivar wrote in his letter? He cannot change. His life would remain hollow all the same as long as the Gods are inside him, but you're not. You can still change and find something better."

Despite that, Leandra pounded her chest.

"But it hurts… It really hurts," She whimpered, crying uncontrollably. "I want this pain to stop."

Upon hearing this, Mirel sighed and pulled her into his embrace.

No words would ever help her ease the pain.

All he could offer was a shoulder to rely on, someone who could help her heal bit by bit.

Leandra cried harder in regret.

She should've been the one to realize what was going on, but she failed, and there's no taking it back.

Just like that, the family lost two of its members.

First Bakar.

And then Bob.

Now, Lucivar and Nerissa died on the same day.

Leandra found a dark spot on the sofa that was oozing with divine energy right beside Lucivar.

It didn't take long before she realized it was Nerissa.

Even Sabrina disappeared, saying that she was going to be Lucivar's personal maid in this life or the next. And due to that, at this moment, Mire knew that death—had become too tempting for the family, and he couldn't let it win.

Or else Lucivar would die for nothing.

"Don't think like that," Mirel caressed Leandra's head. "Lucivar handled our affairs because he wanted us to live. If you feel any regret for what happened, then pay for it by living well. That's how you honor him and his sacrifices."

"Come on," Ravenna urged. "The academy is asking questions. We have to go back. We can always go back here in the future."

Mirel looked at her tenderly and found strength in her eyes.

Seems like his words for Leandra also took an effect on Ravenna.

Honor Lucivar by living well, and that's exactly what she's going to do.

After casting a look one last time at the grave, the three of them headed back to the academy.

Later that night, the rain stopped, but the dark clouds still loomed, signaling another session.

From the other side of the street, the sound of hooves and spinning wheels against the soil could be heard.

"Slow down the carriage, it's slippery!"

"It's going to get too late soon. This area becomes more dangerous by the hour. We can't slow down!"

"Then let's stop here and find a place to hide. It's going to rain again, anyway!"