Chapter 74: Fallout

The air in the Inner Wilds of Elysium tasted like ozone and copper.

By midday, the outer boundary of the trial grounds had become hopelessly saturated. Thousands of examinees, paralyzed by fear of the deeper zones, squabbled over low-tier goblins and shadow-rabbits. For Valerian, operating under the unassuming guise of the blindfolded mercenary, Valen, staying in the outer ring was a waste of time.

Under his quiet direction, his temporary party had crossed the treeline into the Inner Wilds.

For the first three hours, the arrangement functioned with mechanical precision.

Calla led the vanguard with explosive, fiery swordplay, her red ponytail snapping like a battle-pennant.

Toby held the line behind his wooden tower shield, absorbing impact after impact with stubborn grit.

Dahlia provided immaculate backline support, her light magic knitting minor wounds and shielding the group with practiced efficiency.

Valerian moved among them like a shadow, taking precise, minimalist strikes that finished beasts already softened by Calla’s broadsword.

To the trio, he was a silent, reliable anchor—a grizzled sellsword who spoke little, calculated everything, and never wasted a movement.

Then, the sun died.

It did not set.

The violet sky of Elysium simply tore open as a suffocating, ancient pressure descended upon the canopy.

Trees centuries old snapped like dry twigs, collapsing in a wide, circular radius as a creature materialized above the inner forest.

It was colossal, elegant, and horrifying—a monstrous union of draconic power, vulpine grace, and avian divinity.

Crimson-gold scales armored its feline-dragon torso, while three pairs of luminous, terrifying eyes gazed down at the tiny mortals below.

Behind it, nine immense tails floated like living banners, weaving together dragon scales, foxfire, and blinding phoenix feathers.

Aurelix.

The Triune Beast.

The Crimson Sun of the Core Abyss.

It had grown bored in the deep trenches of the Core.

And its boredom was an execution sentence.

"B-Beast King..." Toby gasped, dropping to his knees as the Ninth Tail—the tail of Sovereignty—exuded an aura of raw, crushing authority.

The sheer weight of the atmosphere forced his forehead into the dirt.

Dahlia fell beside him, her staff clattering to the moss, her breath catching in a dry, silent sob.

Calla alone fought the aura, her teeth grinding so hard they bled.

"Move..." she screamed, her red aura flaring as she forced her trembling legs to straighten. "Run! Break your slates!"

Aurelix did not roar.

It made a sound akin to a soft, melodic chime, tilting its sharp, foxlike head with cruel curiosity.

A single tail flicked—the tail of Flame.

A wave of white-gold dragon-fire swept through the clearing.

It didn’t merely burn; it unraveled the space around them.

Calla’s broadsword, raised in a desperate parry, disintegrated into glowing ash instantly.

The fire touched her chest, her leather armor vaporizing into searing heat as she was thrown backward like a broken doll, smashing violently into the stone wall of a nearby cliffside.

CRACK.

"CALLA!" Dahlia shrieked.

Valerian’s eyes behind his black blindfold narrowed to slit-like points.

Under his left sleeve, the dark-mithril suppressor burned white-hot, vibrating violently as his three primordial dragon cores roared in response to an apex predator’s presence.

"Little master, do not!" Nox’Aethel’s voice thundered in his mind, sharp and urgent. "If you release your dragon-fire to fight this beast, Archmage Elias will detect the primordial ripple instantly! Your identity will be blown!"

Valerian gritted his teeth, his gloved fingers digging into the hilt of his plain iron blade.

He had to hold back.

He had to play the mortal.

Aurelix was simply toying with them.

It swiped a single massive paw, the sheer wind pressure sending Toby flying across the clearing, his wooden shield shattering into a thousand splinters.

The beast leaned down, opening its jaws to release a concentrated beam of Soulfire straight toward the paralyzed Dahlia.

Valerian moved.

Without unleashing a single drop of his true arcana, relying purely on raw physical spatial prediction, Valerian snatched Dahlia by her robes and rolled across the burning soil.

The Soulfire scorched the air where she had been standing a millisecond prior, the heat alone singeing Valerian’s black coat.

He grabbed the unconscious, bleeding Calla with his other arm, threw a smoke pellet into the scorched dirt, and kicked off the cliffside, retreating into the dense, blinding fog of the valley.

Aurelix did not pursue.

It merely let out a low, vibrating purr of amusement, watching the tiny ants scurry into the dark before turning its radiant, three-paired gaze toward another part of the forest.

---

The cave was damp, dark, and smelled of mold and iron.

Toby collapsed against the stone entrance, clutching his broken ribs, his breath coming in ragged, bloody wheezes.

Outside, the distant explosions of Aurelix’s rampage shook the mountain.

But inside, the only sound was the sickening, wet rattle in Calla’s chest.

"Light that heals, light that binds... close the flesh, seal the wound..."

Dahlia sat in the dirt, her hands bathed in a flickering, desperate golden aura pressed against her sister’s chest.

Calla’s chest was a ruined, bloody mess.

The dragon-fire had cauterized part of the flesh, but the force of the impact against the cliff had shattered her ribs and torn through a major artery.

Blood pooled beneath her in a dark, terrifying lake, soaking Dahlia’s robes, hands, and face.

"Stay with me, Calla... please, please, please..." Dahlia sobbed, her mana flickering wildly as she poured every drop of her reserve into the wound.

The skin slowly knit together.

The bleeding stopped on the surface.

But Calla’s skin was turning a translucent, waxy white.

Her lips were blue.

Her breathing grew shallow—a frail, fluttering whisper that threatened to extinguish at any second.

"She’s lost too much," Dahlia whispered, her hands shaking violently as she pulled a tiny crystal appraisal lens from her pouch.

With trembling fingers, she cast a basic diagnostic spell over her sister, then swept it toward Valerian, who stood near the dark mouth of the cave, leaning silently against the stone wall.

The lens chimed faintly, flashing a pale blue light.

Dahlia’s eyes widened.

A sudden, wild surge of hope broke through her tear-streaked face.

"Your blood..." Dahlia gasped, scrambling across the bloody dirt on her knees, reaching out to grab the hem of Valerian’s coat.

"Valen! Your blood! It’s a universal match! The lens says your blood type is completely compatible with hers!"

Valerian didn’t move.

He kept his head tilted toward the cave entrance, his face concealed in shadow.

"Please!" Dahlia cried out, her voice breaking into a piercing, desperate plea. "I’ve sealed the internal bleeding, but her body has no blood left to carry oxygen! She’s going into organ failure! If I perform a direct mana-guided transfusion right now—just a pint, just enough to keep her heart beating—she’ll live! I can save her! Please, Valen, give her your blood!"

Toby pushed himself up from the wall, his eyes wide with desperate expectation.

"Valen... man, please. You’re the only one who can do it."

Silence stretched in the dim, cold cave.

The wind outside howled through the rocks.

Calla let out a faint, choked gasp, her chest barely rising.

Valerian slowly turned his head toward Dahlia.

Behind the black blindfold, his expression was completely unreadable—cold, still, and devoid of tremor.

"No," Valerian said flatly.

The word hung in the damp air, heavy and jagged like a falling blade.

Dahlia froze.

The frantic, hopeful energy in her eyes flickered, as if her mind couldn’t process the syllable.

"What...?"

"I cannot, and I will not," Valerian repeated, his voice smooth, calm, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"Treat her as best you can with your magic. We move when the beast leaves the sector."

Dahlia’s hand slipped from his coat.

"It’s... it’s just a transfusion, Valen! A simple blood transfer! I have the sterile needles and light-tubes in my medical kit! It won’t weaken you for more than a day! Why?! Why won’t you help her?!"

"My answer is no," Valerian stated, his tone as indifferent as if he were discussing the weather.

He couldn’t.

He could not.

His blood was not human.

It was the concentrated, primordial essence of the Prim Sanguis core line, fused with the ancient dragon lineage.

The moment a single drop of his blood entered Calla’s human circulatory system, it wouldn’t save her—it would incinerate her from the inside out.

The primordial dragon-blood would consume her mortal veins, turning her into an agonizing pile of ash within seconds.

And if Dahlia channeled her light magic to facilitate the transfer, the sudden eruption of abyssal dragon arcana would blow his cover instantly, alerting the entire Academy to his existence.

He could not explain this to them.

He could not defend himself.

He could only give them a wall of absolute, icy rejection.

"You... you monster," Dahlia whispered.

The light in her eyes died.

It didn’t fade.

It vanished completely, leaving her face a hollow, expressionless mask of absolute despair.

She didn’t cry anymore.

She didn’t beg.

She simply slumped back against the cold dirt floor, her bloody hands resting lifelessly in her lap.

Beside her, Calla’s chest gave one last, shuddering rise...

And then fell still.

The faint thread of her life force snapped, dissolving into the quiet dark of the cave.

Dahlia didn’t even scream.

She just stared at her sister’s pale, motionless face, her spirit completely extinguished.

Valerian watched the light fade from Calla’s soul.

He felt no pleasure in it, nor did he feel panic.

There was only a heavy, familiar coldness settling in his stomach—the cost of walking the path he had chosen.

He turned slowly, pushing off the wall to walk toward the cave exit.

"The beast’s aura is fading. We should move."

BANG!

Before Valerian could take a second step, a rough, trembling hand slammed onto his collar.

Toby, his face contorted in a terrifying mix of grief, rage, and sheer madness, hurled Valerian backward.

He slammed the blindfolded youth hard against the jagged stone wall of the cave, the impact echoing loudly in the enclosed space.

"YOU BASTARD!" Toby screamed, his voice raw, cracking, and drenched in tears.

He tightened his grip on Valerian’s leather coat, shaking him violently, his knuckles white.

"YOU ABSOLUTE MONSTER! SHE WAS DYING! SHE WAS RIGHT THERE!"

Valerian didn’t fight back.

He allowed himself to be pinned against the stone, his head tilted slightly downward.

"We fought beside you!" Toby sobbed, saliva and blood dripping from his mouth as he screamed directly into Valerian’s face.

"Calla took the front line for us! She protected the group! Dahlia healed your scrapes! We trusted you! You called yourself our teammate!"

Toby slammed Valerian against the wall again, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his dirt-stained cheeks.

"All it would have taken was a little blood! A single pint of blood, you selfish, cold-blooded parasite! You stood there and watched her die! You watched her draw her last breath and you didn’t even blink! Do you even have a heart?! ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN?!"

Toby’s screaming echoed off the damp rocks, mixing with the distant, low rumble of the storm outside.

Dahlia remained motionless on the ground, staring blankly at her sister’s body, completely deaf to Toby’s rage.

Toby panted heavily, his hands trembling against Valerian’s collar, waiting... praying for some sign of remorse, a defense, a breakdown, anything.

Valerian said nothing.

He stood there, unmoving, his face an unreadable marble mask behind his blindfold.

Toby didn’t notice down below.

He couldn’t see Valerian’s arms, hanging low at his sides, concealed beneath his long coat.

Valerian’s right hand was clenched into a fist so tight, so impossibly rigid, that his short nails had sheared directly through his thick leather gloves.

They bit deep into his own palm.

Dark, golden-crimson blood—his true, lethal blood—was slowly leaking from his palm, dripping quietly onto the dark cave floor, soaking into the dirt unnoticed.

He held his tongue.

He swallowed the bitter, suffocating weight in his throat.

He let them hate him.

He let them call him a monster.

He didn’t have a choice.