Chapter 442: THE SOLITARY FAREWELL

Midnight settled over Galka War Academy in heavy, sorrowful silence.

A cold northern wind whistled through the stone courtyards, rustling the high pine branches outside the student dormitories.

Inside Squad 25's quiet quarters, the fireplace had burned down to glowing amber embers, casting long, dim shadows across the wooden floor.

Sagiri stood alone in the center of the common room, dressed in his dark traveler's cloak with Nokai strapped securely along his spine.

Across his jawline, neck, and collarbones, the ink-black markings on his skin were shifting with restless, burning agitation.

The dark runes squirmed beneath his flesh like molten wire, occasionally flashing with violet sparks that sizzled faintly against the fabric of his collar.

Every breath sent a dull, throbbing ache through his chest, reminding him that the fragile candle of his mortal lifeforce was flickering on its final wick.

Sagiri walked softly across the floorboards, stopping first before the open doorway of the medical recovery room.

Inside, Bukata lay asleep on a wide cot, his broad chest wrapped in thick linen bandages while he snored with heavy, steady breaths.

Sitting in a wooden chair beside the bed was Zolinka, slumped forward with his arms crossed on the mattress, fast asleep from exhaustion.

Sagiri looked at his wounded shield-bearer with quiet fondness, whispering a silent blessing before stepping back into the hallway.

He walked over to the low cedar table where Kiuga's detailed maps and Kaka's spare whetstones lay scattered in familiar disarray.

Sagiri placed a sealed dispatch scroll in the center of the table, held down by his silver War College commander's insignia.

The scroll contained his final orders: appointing Kiuga as leader of the squad, leaving his sovereign council mandate to City Lord Azir, and forbidding any of them from following him.

He moved silently down the corridor, stopping outside the narrow wooden door at the very end of the hall.

Sagiri gently pushed the door open, stepping into the quiet, moonlit room where Lira lay asleep beneath thick wool blankets.

Her soft, pale face looked peaceful in the silver moonlight, though faint tear stains were still visible upon her cheeks from the sorrowful evening at the pool.

A small wooden table stood beside her pillow, holding her silver pestle and a bowl of dried shyflower petals.

Sagiri stepped closer, his boots making not a single sound upon the floor as he looked down at her gentle features.

His chest tightened with an overwhelming ache, the burning relics in his blood pulsing with mournful warmth.

He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, carved wooden pendant shaped like a desert shyflower the very blossom she had ground into tea for him in the north.

Sagiri set the wooden flower softly beside her tea bowl, hovering his hand over her sleeping brow for a brief, tender second.

"Live a long, peaceful life, Lira," Sagiri whispered, his voice catching with gentle emotion. "Do not weep for me."

He turned away before his resolve could waver, slipping out of the room and closing the wooden door with a faint, final click.

Outside the rear fortress gates, the jagged northern mountain ridges loomed against the starry night sky.

Waiting in the pine-covered ravine below the outer wall was colossal titan serpent Zaira, her massive armored coils blending into the black shadows.

As Sagiri approached through the trees, the titan serpent lowered her massive head to the damp earth, letting out a deep, sorrowful hiss.

Her crimson moon-eyes looked directly into Sagiri's dual-colored gaze, sensing the fading lifeforce and the boiling void energy leaking from his spirit.

"I know, old girl," Sagiri said softly, reaching out to rest his palm against her cold, smooth cheek scales. "It is time."

With a light leap, Sagiri vaulted onto Zaira's broad neck, settling between the armored ridges as the wind whipped his dark cloak.

Instead of heading south toward the sun-baked desert of Nkara, Sagiri pointed his hand toward the remote, frozen wilderness of the far northeast.

Deep in the jagged mountains beyond Kovura Pass lay the ancient Valley of Karokai—a colossal, desolate gorge of jagged black stone and bottomless ravines, hidden from the eyes of the realm.

Like the rock-strewn valleys of Boni, Karokai was a forgotten wasteland of primordial bedrock where no mortal cities stood and no innocent lives could be harmed.

"Northeast, Zaira," Sagiri commanded quietly. "To Karokai Valley. Full speed."

Zaira let out a low, rumbling growl and surged forward, her immense muscular body carving silently through the mountain forests like a dark avalanche.

By the second hour of their journey, the snow began to fall in thick, swirling sheets, coating the rocky cliffs in white frost.

High above the clouds, the freezing gale tore at Sagiri's clothes, but beneath his tunic, his skin was burning with unbearable heat.

The ink-black markings across his jaw, neck, and chest were writhing uncontrollably, spreading down his forearms and turning his palms pitch-black.

Black spatial sparks crackled from his fingertips, slicing through the falling snowflakes and dissolving them into empty void space.

Sagiri pressed his hand against his ribs, coughing violently as a mouthful of obsidian blood stained the white scales beneath him.

Zaira curved her long neck backward, gently nudging her armored snout against his side to steady his trembling body against the bitter gale.

"I am holding on, Zaira," Sagiri murmured through clenched teeth, wiping the dark blood from his chin. "Just get us to the valley floor."

As the first gray light of dawn touched the horizon, the sheer granite walls of Karokai Valley opened before them.

The valley was a terrifying, beautiful labyrinth of towering black stone pillars, deep glacial ravines, and ancient bedrock untouched by mortal feet.

Freezing mist swirled through the rocky canyon, muffling all sound and wrapping the desolate landscape in sacred, solemn silence.

Zaira slithered down the sheer rock face, coming to a gentle halt in the very center of a vast, circular basin surrounded by towering obsidian spires.

Sagiri stepped down from her scales, his boots crunching against the frozen black gravel of the basin floor.

He looked around the silent, ancient valley, feeling the absolute solitude of the stone cliffs wrapping around him like a fortress.

Here, miles away from Galka, his friends, and the people he loved, the spatial collapse could harm no one.

Sagiri turned to the colossal serpent, gently stroking her massive jaw one last time.

"Stay outside the basin, Zaira," Sagiri ordered softly, his voice firm yet full of love. "No matter what you see... do not enter."

Zaira let out a low, mournful whimper, her crimson eyes glistening with tears as she slowly coiled her massive body around the outer perimeter of the cliffs.

Sagiri turned back to the center of the frozen basin and sat cross-legged upon a flat slab of ancient bedrock.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the freezing mountain air as the Five Relics inside his blood ignited with blinding, final power.

The ink-black markings across his entire body exploded into searing black flames, and the great descent into the Living Memory began.