No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

Damien did not spare him even a single glance, his eyes remaining fixed forward. He instead turned his head slightly, speaking quietly yet firmly to Lyrisa.

"Steel your heart," Damien whispered gently, his voice steady yet edged with seriousness. He took another determined step ahead, each movement deliberate and measured.

Lyrisa felt a quiet shiver of dread slip down her spine. She nodded once sharply, steeling herself mentally, drawing strength from Damien's calm and unyielding resolve.

Damien continued forward slowly, each step bringing another painful memory to vivid life. Images surged through his mind one after another, moments of despair, rejection, betrayal, disappointment. He relived every wound, every hurtful word, every soul-deep ache he'd ever felt, magnified beyond reason.

Each memory threatened to break him, drag him down into the abyss of despair below. Yet Damien held fiercely to his understanding of death, its truth as homecoming, as renewal, as an ultimate form of freedom and strength.

Behind him, still standing safely at the bridge's edge, none of the other drow dared to follow, their expressions conflicted between fear and ambition. Vathrian scowled fiercely, fists clenched in frustration. Damien's refusal to answer only deepened his suspicions and unease.

Lyrisa, however, felt only profound respect and admiration. Damien's unwavering resolve was a beacon to her, a powerful reminder of her own inner strength. She watched carefully, analyzing his steps, studying his unwavering determination closely, her own resolve strengthening in response.

Even Nyxara, usually so coolly indifferent, observed Damien quietly, her silver eyes unreadable. Something about his unshakeable composure, his quiet yet absolute mastery over such painful emotional assaults, drew her attention and respect. Her gaze shifted briefly to Lyrisa, silent communication passing momentarily between them, an acknowledgment of Damien's unique, undeniable strength.

As Damien slowly but surely moved deeper onto the bridge, each step steady and unwavering, his presence inspired cautious confidence among the hesitant drow still waiting at the bridge's edge. His fierce resilience seemed to offer a promise—painful though the trial might be, victory was possible.

Damien moved steadily onward, memories still battering him relentlessly. He now saw faces of those he'd lost, those he'd failed, those he'd disappointed. Yet he refused to falter, his resolve unwavering, his heart steady.

In this trial of wills, he would not surrender. The painful echoes of his past were nothing compared to the absolute certainty of his purpose, the unwavering clarity of his understanding of death's true nature.

Damien moved step by step across the Sky Bridge of Wills, every motion deliberate, every breath a battle. Memory after memory struck him like a hammer to the soul, breaking past the defenses he had long held in place.

But even with the pain, he pressed forward, using his understanding of death as his anchor, clinging to the notion of homecoming, of release.

Then the bridge turned cruel.

The air thickened. The light above dimmed, casting a pale hue across the stone beneath his feet. The next image came not as a flash or a whisper, it arrived like a storm.

Jiang Xiao Yu.

She stood there, smiling that soft, elusive smile, her black hair drifting like mist behind her. She looked just as she had in her final moments, unmoving, cold, her core shattered, her blood pooling silently beneath her body. The echo of her voice rang in Damien's mind, soft as silk.

"You weren't fast enough. You're too weak… Damien, you could have saved me… If only you were stronger… We… Might have a future together…"

The words were a whisper, but they ripped through him like a blade.

Then came Rage Monkey.

He roared, massive and fearless, throwing himself in front of the ancient dragon's blow. Damien saw his bones crack again, heard the sickening sound of his friend being pulverized, felt the echo of the blood spatter against his face.

And then Blackie.

She smiled gently at him in her final moment, beautiful and calm even as the fire consumed her. Her voice lingered, soft and sorrowful.

"Damien... you should have listened to me… That Ancient Dragon was too strong for you… And because you didn't listen to me, I had to pay the price… And Rage Monkey too… We died once more because of you…"

The force of the grief and guilt slammed into his oversensitized heart like a tidal wave.

Damien staggered, his breath caught mid-chest. The air was no longer breathable. His lungs tightened. His knees buckled, and he crashed to the ground, palms slapping the stone with a hollow slap that echoed across the bridge.

His head hung low. His vision blurred.

His heart felt like it was being torn apart.

Not again. Not them. Not now.

He clutched at his chest, fingers digging in. His death energy surged, chaotic and directionless, trying to stabilize him, trying to help, but the pain wasn't physical. It was memory, it was loss. It was the unrelenting ache of guilt and helplessness.

On the edge of the bridge, the drow were silent.

Some watched with detached interest, others with veiled sympathy.

But all of them were watching and pondering the same thing.

Just what was the bridge all about? If they were in Damien's position, could they make it?

Even Nyxara, silent as always, stared at him with narrowed eyes. Not judgmental. Not cruel. Just thoughtful. As if measuring the depth of his soul and comparing it to hers.

Then Lyrisa moved.

She didn't speak. She didn't wait for a signal. She just stepped forward.

The bridge accepted her.

A second later, she gasped.

Damien's head jerked up slightly at the sound.

She had taken only one step, and already, her eyes widened, her hand trembling near her blade. The Bridge had reached into her past and grabbed hold of something she hadn't been ready to face. She clenched her jaw and took another step.

Images swirled around her, and though the others couldn't see what she was seeing, the strain on her face was clear.

Still, she moved forward.

Damien forced his breathing to slow. He dug his fingers into the cold stone beneath him. The pain still swirled in his chest like a whirlpool, dragging him down. But now, through the fog of sorrow, he saw her. Lyrisa. Fighting just as he was. Choosing to walk this with him.

His grip loosened.

He remembered what he had said before: Steel your heart.

Damien took a breath that tasted like ash. Then he pushed himself back up, legs trembling, heart still screaming. The images didn't fade. They still hovered at the edge of his vision, whispering guilt and failure. But he no longer tried to silence them.

He carried them.

"I am at fault," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He spoke not to the wind, but to the three who had fallen, Jiang Xiao Yu, Blackie, and Rage Monkey. "I will carry your memories with me. I will honor you with every breath I have left. And when I return home to death one day… we will be together again. Wait for me… Wait for me back home."

One more step.

Then another.

The pain still lingered, but it no longer tore at him. It had become part of him.

His heart had steadied.

He had faced the truth, his mistakes, their consequences, the weight of everything lost, and for the first time, he did not turn away. He accepted it all.

The demon of guilt, long festering in the shadows of his soul, had been met head-on and cut down.

And his weapon of choice was simple.

Self-forgiveness.