The Lich Emperor surveyed the throne room with eyes that burned like cold stars. Frost spread from where he stood, creeping across the marble floor. Justin's breath misted in front of him.

Belshar's gaze lingered on Theric, Elena, and Irina.

Then those terrible eyes shifted toward Blackwood and Valdrik.

"Kneel."

The word echoed through the chamber like a bell tolling in a crypt.

Lord Blackwood immediately dropped to one knee, his staff clattering to the floor. His face was pale with a mix of terror and rapture, as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment. Tears of joy mingled with blood from where he had bitten his lip.

For the first time, Justin logged his class.

[Level 40 Blood Wizard.]

He must have kept it hidden somehow until this moment of revelation.

Valdrik hesitated for only a heartbeat before lowering himself to one knee. His staff remained upright in his hand, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Theric stood with his mirrored sword raised. Elena's staff blazed with emerald light, though her hands trembled. Irina's eyes were unfocused, darting between unseen futures. The paling of her face suggested none of them led to anything good.

The Lich's attention had not yet shifted to the back of the throne room.

Justin felt a tug at his shoulder—Lila, pulling him toward the hidden door. Alistair was already ushering Eldrin and Myrelle through.

Even Reginald seemed to understand the need for discretion, but unlike the others, he wasn't fleeing. His violet eyes were sober rather than fearful.

Neither did Atlas move.

Justin's mind raced. They could slip away, but the window of opportunity would only be open for a few more seconds.

But if they left...

He reached out with Elea's Whisper. Alistair, is running really the right move?

Justin, this is beyond any of us. They've unleashed something we cannot fight. We must escape and regroup with the Templars. This isn't cowardice, but prudence. We can do no good if we're dead.

What about the Queen?

I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do for her.

Justin glanced at the slumped figure on the throne. From this angle, he couldn't tell if she was breathing. The crown sat askew on her head.

Maybe we have a chance, he suggested. It doesn't know we're here. We could—

Justin, now is not the time to be a hero. Alistair's tone was sharp. If you confront that thing, you will die. We all will. We need to alert the Templars. Please. If it gets your Prismatic Core, it can go above Level 50.

Justin hesitated, caught at a crossroads.

Theric, Elena, and Irina stood defiant yet clearly terrified. Unlike him, they didn't have a choice.

Another consideration weighed on him. How long before Valdrik or Blackwood notified the Lich? Why hadn't they already? How long until the Lich sensed them? They had already wasted precious seconds.

But if they ran now, they would condemn three people to death. And the Queen. And possibly all of Belmora and beyond.

Belshar gestured with one skeletal hand, and the two kneeling supplicants rose as if pulled by invisible strings. Blackwood stumbled slightly; Valdrik's rise was more controlled, but his face was ashen.

"Rise, faithful servants." The Lich's voice echoed like a rattling whisper. "You have done well. The ritual is complete. The binding is achieved. Now begins the glorious era Morvath promised. An Age of Shadow. An Age of Eternal Night."

Blackwood's face lit up with zealous joy. "My Lord Emperor, we are honored to welcome you—"

"Silence."

Belshar didn't raise his voice, but Blackwood's mouth snapped shut as if physically compelled.

Blackwood's hands flew to his throat, eyes bulging as an invisible force crushed his windpipe before releasing its grip. "You will speak when I permit it, worm. Your service has been noted. Do not presume it grants you familiarity."

Gasping for breath, Blackwood's eyes darted to Justin and the others. But already, the Lich had turned his full attention to Theric, Elena, and Irina.

"You three. You dare remain standing in my presence? You dare raise weapons against your emperor?"

"You're no emperor of mine, corpse," Theric shot back. "Whatever Blackwood and his pet Lexicant promised you, this Queendom won't—"

Belshar's skull staff swept forward, unleashing a bolt of pure necrotic energy—black edged with sickly green and trailing wisps of shadow. It crossed the distance to Theric faster than thought, a lance of concentrated death.

Theric's mirrored shield rose to block, reflecting the spell just as quickly. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, knocking dust from the chandeliers. The force of the deflection sent the Dungeon Delver sliding backward ten feet. The reflected spell had no discernible effect on the Lich.

"Interesting," Belshar said, studying Theric anew. "You possess quality items. One with your experience will serve me well in the wars to come."

Elena's staff blazed brighter. "Get away from him."

She unleashed a barrage of radiant arrows, each crackling with Life Magic—an energy that should have been anathema to the undead. They struck Belshar's form and simply faded, absorbed into the shadows that wreathed him like drops of water disappearing into an ocean.

The Lich turned slowly to face her. "Life Magic. How quaint. Did you truly think such feeble light could harm one who has transcended death itself? I walked the Hallways of Always in the Nether for a millennium, battling horrors beyond your comprehension. Your pretty spells are but candles before winter's breath."

Irina stepped forward, her staff raised. Her voice was eerily calm—too calm, as if she had already accepted what was coming. "In one minute, you will cast Death's Grasp at my mother. In two minutes, you will summon three Level 45 Wraith Knights. In three minutes, Theric Wren will be your undead thrall, and my mother and I will be at your mercy."

Belshar paused, his burning gaze fixed on her with something approaching interest. "A Farseer. How delightful. Tell me—do you see a future where you survive this encounter?"

Her hands trembled on her staff. "I... I see many futures. In most of them—"

"In all of them, you kneel," Belshar finished, his voice almost gentle, like a parent correcting a child. "Or you die. There is no third path, little prophet. I have seen your kind before. You peer through time's keyhole and think yourselves wise. But time is a circle, and all circles close. Choose quickly—service or oblivion."

Behind Justin, Lila's hand tightened on his shoulder hard enough to hurt. Alistair's mental voice came again: Justin, please. We have to go. Now.

Valdrik remained on his feet, his eyes shifting between the Lich and the three resisters. His expression was unreadable—was that calculation? Planning? Or simply the paralysis of a man realizing he'd summoned something far beyond his control?

Blackwood looked ecstatic, drinking in every moment of his master's power like a convert witnessing a miracle.

Justin stood frozen, knowing that every second he delayed brought him closer to discovery.

"It matters not. I could change my spell, little prophet, to prove you wrong. But I quite like your idea of casting Death's Grasp. It is one of my favorites. And the best part?" His voice grew more chilling. "The pain will not end for your mother until you accept me as your master."

The Lich raised his staff and spoke fell words, each vibrating with violent poetry. Dark energy coalesced around the staff of bones. Shadows gathered, dense and hungry.

"Morvath has been patient," Belshar intoned, somehow able to speak even as the incantation built. "The Shadow Empire has slumbered for a thousand years, scarcely more than a dream. Now, at last, the waiting is over. Aranthia will be the first to fall, where the Shadow's advance ended centuries ago. One by one, the kingdoms will crumble, and from their ashes, my empire will rise eternal. The age of mortals ends now."

The dark energy pulsed and took shape. With a battle cry, Elena launched more magic, while Theric advanced, death written on his face. All of Elena's magic was easily deflected by Belshar's dark shield.

This was the moment: stay or go, be a hero or be smart.

Justin, Alistair's voice was almost pleading now. Please.

Justin's eyes met Irina's across the throne room. She wasn't looking directly at him—her gaze seemed fixed on some point in the middle distance, tracking probabilities and possibilities—but he could feel her awareness of him like a physical touch.

He reached out with Elea's Whisper, half-expecting the connection to fail. Instead, it formed instantly.

Irina's mental voice was calm. You already know what to do.

Then the connection severed, leaving Justin with more questions than answers.

Blackwood opened his mouth, then seemed to remember the Lich's command for silence. He glanced at Belshar before his eyes drifted toward Justin.

Time was up.

"If I may, Immortal Emperor, there is something you should—" Blackwood began, his voice cracking.

Belshar's hand swept out almost lazily. Blackwood went sailing backward, crashing into a column. The Blood Wizard crumpled, gasping, blood flowing freely from his nose and ears. He tried to rise but failed, slumping against the column.

At that moment, the Queen's body jerked on the throne. Her eyes remained closed, but her chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths. A thread of shadow connected her to the Lich—barely visible, pulsing like a vein—binding her Life Force to his power.

Justin adjusted his hat as his mind crystallized around a plan.

The timing had to be perfect. Irina had predicted Death's Grasp next. He needed to position himself, activate Sapphire Aegis to absorb the spell, then strike with everything he had.

Poison Barb for the stun and damage amplification. A Proper Send-off for the finishing blow. All backed by Dazzling Display to command the Lich's attention, if only for a moment.

With the absorbed damage as a base and the multipliers stacking—Add Insult to Injury's triple damage, A Proper Send-off's additional triple—that was nine times the power of Death's Grasp itself turned back on its caster.

Would it be enough? Would the fact that it was Death Magic mean Belshar was immune? Would Poison Barb's Salt in the Wound debuff last long enough to take advantage of the increased damage?

Justin studied the Lich more carefully through his monocle. For the first time, he noticed a barely visible barrier shimmering around Belshar's form—dark energy woven so tightly that it looked like a second skin. A protective layer.

His heart sank. Even with all the power of the Sapphire Aegis and every multiplier stacking perfectly, that shield would absorb the first hit. The burst of accumulated damage would shatter the shield but leave the Lich untouched.

And once Belshar recovered from the stun of Poison Barb, assuming that even landed, there would be no second chance.

"I see it too," Reginald said quietly.

Justin hadn't even noticed the rooster, now perched on one of Atlas's struts. His usual bluster was gone.

"Then this won't work," Justin said. "Even if I land the hit—"

"You cannot get through that shield alone," Reginald interrupted. His violet eyes met Justin's. "That's where I come in."

The rooster's tone made Justin's blood run cold. "Reginald—"

"I can cast Heroic Demise on myself," the rooster continued matter-of-factly. "It grants +60 to all my attributes, including Power. But it only takes full effect after one minute. Then I'll use Feathered Missile to break the shield, ensuring you land a clean hit."

Justin's throat tightened. "That would kill you."

Reginald's feathers ruffled—not with indignation, but with pride. "Yes, it would." He puffed out his chest. "But there is no better way for a knight to die. For his Queen. For his country. For his... dare I say, friends."

"There has to be another way—"

"There isn't. And we both know it." Reginald's beak clicked once, decisively. "I fought beside King Harland. I dueled Princess Eleanor. I've slept in honor for five centuries, waiting for this moment—to serve the royal line one final time, the line that took me in when I needed it the most." His eyes softened. "This is my purpose, Mr. Talemaker. Let me fulfill it."

Time was running out. Death's Grasp was building. The Lich would strike at any moment.

"All right," Justin said hoarsely.

"No farewells yet," the rooster said, settling onto Justin's shoulder. "We have a Lich to banish first. Even with everything, you won't be able to kill it. Your only shot is to knock it back into that portal it came from. You worry about your part. I'll worry about mine."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

With that settled, Justin reached out to Lila with Elea's Whisper. When I give you the signal, boost my Charisma as high as you can. And right before Reginald and I strike, boost Power.

No, Justin, don't do it! Her mental voice was frantic. Don't you dare! We can escape, we can come back with reinforcements, we can—

Too late. This is what I have to do. He tried to sound more confident than he felt. Trust me.

I always do, you idiot. That's the problem!

He signaled to Atlas with a tap on the construct's carapace. The construct lowered itself with a faint metallic whir, and Justin climbed onto its back, his hands gripping the carapace and feeling the slight vibration of its core run through his fingers.

Reginald fluttered onto Justin's shoulder, eyes closed and beak moving in silent words. The spell was building.

Above them, a pinprick of golden light appeared in the air, growing and expanding until it became a window into the Aether Realm itself.

Time stood still—whether for all or just for those touched by divine grace, Justin couldn't tell. Through that window stepped a figure of impossible beauty—a bearded being wreathed in golden light, his form barely contained by mortal perception. It was the same being Justin had witnessed in the Vault of the Sapphire Star.

Seraphis, God of Harmony. Level 100.

The divine presence swept over the throne room like a wave, causing even Belshar's shadows to recoil slightly from the light. The god's hand descended, touching Reginald with infinite gentleness.

Golden magic flowed into the rooster—not violently or consuming, but anointing. A blessing. The same benediction that had empowered Alden the Brave during the fight with Rimefang and had similarly doomed him.

And just as quickly, the God of Harmony departed, the window closed, and time resumed as if nothing had happened.

Reginald's eyes opened, blazing with divine light. His feathers shimmered in gold and violet, and power radiated from his small form in waves.

"Thank you, Mr. Talemaker," the rooster said quietly. "For giving an old knight one last worthy fight."

Finally, Valdrik seemed to notice them. The Lexicant's eyes tracked Justin's movements, but his expression remained neutral. Was it possible that he and Blackwood were at cross purposes? Did Valdrik want the Lich dead too—desiring that Prismatic Core for himself? Or did he simply foresee Justin's imminent demise in the attack?

There was no time to puzzle it out completely.

Reluctantly, the rest of his companions began to move into position, understanding without words what he intended. They weren't going to abandon him now.

Justin reached out to Alistair. Try to stay back, but if you see an opening, use it.

May Arion guide your hand. And Justin—don't you dare die on us.

Belshar raised his staff toward Elena. Dark magic began to swirl around the Lich, reality itself seeming to bend and slow as the spell gathered power.

Almost time.

The air grew thick and viscous. Tendrils of shadow coalesced, reaching out like grasping fingers toward the Life Enchantress, hungry and inevitable. Elena's eyes widened.

Now.

"Charge, Atlas! Get in front of that spell."

As Atlas sprang forward, Justin activated Dandy's Swagger, infusing himself with confidence. Then he activated Upper Hand.

Four Advantage charges crystallized in his awareness. He burned one immediately, pouring it into extra speed. His perception sharpened—he could see the individual motes of darkness in Death's Grasp and the exact trajectory they would take.

He burned the remaining three Advantages in quick succession, resetting his cooldowns.

Sapphire Aegis was available again.

The aegis flared to life just as they intercepted the space between Belshar and Elena, barely a heartbeat before Death's Grasp would have struck. The spell hit the aegis with the force of a battering ram—necrotic energy reeking of graves and rot, powerful enough to reduce a person to a withered husk in seconds. It crashed against the sapphire barrier, and to Justin's surprise, the aegis bent, threatening to buckle—something he had never seen before.

But then its integrity was restored. The aegis swelled with the force of the magic, flaring brighter and brighter, like the surface of a blue star.

His hands burned where they gripped Atlas's carapace, his entire body shimmering with sapphire light.

For the first time, the Lich's burning eyes finally focused on him. Justin's breath caught; his courage almost faltered. This was a being that had ended kingdoms, who had transcended death itself through will and dark magic.

And Justin was only Level 21.

But there was no time to doubt now. He activated Dazzling Display. At the same moment, Lila's song arose.

[Bardic Inspiration is active! +10 to Charisma.]

It surged through him like electricity, amplifying the effect beyond anything he'd experienced before.

His base Charisma was 57. Adding 4 from his abilities and boons, 8 from Shadowhunter's Regalia, 6 from the Cane of the Drake, and 10 from Lila's Bardic Inspiration, he reached a total of eighty-five—a number that had to make even the gods take notice.

Sapphire light erupted around Justin, enveloping him in radiance that pushed back the Lich's shadows like dawn banishing night. One film stood out in particular, a scene he had watched countless times, one that never failed to send chills down his spine.

He directed everything from this scene, channeling his Charisma at the Lich Emperor.

His voice thundered through the throne room, so loud that even Belshar couldn't ignore it.

Justin activated Poison Barb.

"YOU. SHALL NOT. PASS!"

He slammed his cane down like a wizard's staff on a bridge, like Gandalf facing the Balrog.

For a fleeting moment, the Lich Emperor of the Shadow Empire—a being of Ascendant rank, Level 50, a creature that had transcended death and walked the halls of the Nether for a millennium...

...stood completely and utterly frozen. Not in ice, but in paralysis.

[Poison Barb refreshed.]

The Sapphire Aegis collapsed just as Death's Grasp ended, all its absorbed energy flowing into Justin's cane, though its light still enveloped him. The weapon blazed with power that made his bones ache.

"Atlas, ramming speed! Give it everything you've got!"

Reginald crowed triumphantly as Atlas shot forward. "Oh, this takes me back! I've always loved a good joust! Don't blink, Mr. Talemaker! That's my advice!"

The construct's mechanical legs closed the distance, pistons firing at maximum capacity.

But Blackwood was there. The Blood Wizard's eyes were wild as he assessed the scene—the stunned Lich, Justin charging with enough power to potentially end it all.

"Stop him, Valdrik! STOP HIM!" Blackwood's voice cracked with desperation, rising to a shriek. "He's only Level 21! He cannot—he MUST not—"

Realizing no one would intervene, the Blood Wizard raised his staff. With an uttered incantation, a crimson barrier formed directly in Justin and Atlas's path—a solid wall of what appeared to be blood magic, judging by its color. The air around it distorted, vibrated, and even screamed.

Justin's heart lurched. He couldn't waste the charge on breaking through Blackwood's shield. All that absorbed power would dissipate if he shattered the barrier, leaving them to face an angry, fully conscious Lich Emperor once the stun wore off.

They were going to fail. So close, and—

But Theric Wren, somehow, was already there. "Not today!"

His mirrored sword flashed, and the barrier shattered like glass. The blood magic shards turned on Theric, attacking him like a swarm of angry wasps. He was instantly enveloped in a healing spell, courtesy of Elena.

"Kill it, Talemaker!" Theric shouted through the pain. "Send that abomination back to the Nether!"

Irina seemed to materialize as if she had always been there. Her staff rose, and silver light surrounded Blackwood like chains. The wizard's body jerked, his feet moving against his will, pulling him out of Justin's path as if yanked by invisible strings.

The path was clear. Lila's song shifted.

[+10 to Power.]

"NOW, REGINALD!"

The rooster launched himself from Justin's shoulder with a battle cry that shook the throne room.

"FOR THE QUEEN! FOR ARANTHIA! FOR HONOR AND GLORY!"

Golden light trailed behind him like a comet. The divine blessing of Seraphis amplified his already boosted power, transforming the rooster into a projectile of pure radiant force.

Belshar's burning eyes widened, genuine surprise crossing that ancient face.

"A... chicken?"

"I AM... A ROOSTER!"

He struck the dark shield like a meteor.

The barrier held for a breath, then shattered into a thousand fragments of shadow. The explosion sent shockwaves through the room, but Reginald had done it. The way was clear.

The rooster tumbled through the air, wings limp, the golden light already fading from his form. He struck the floor near the throne and lay still.

[1 Advantage gained.]

Justin had seconds—maybe less. The fact that the Lich had spoken at all revealed that the stun had worn off.

"Launch me, Atlas!"

The construct chirped—not its usual cheerful beep, but something deeper, more solemn.

Atlas leapt into the air, executing Drill Charge as he soared toward the Lich. Only its cold eyes moved, first registering contempt and then fear.

A bolt of shadowy magic shot at Justin at point-blank range, but he had Gentleman's Sidestep prepared. As if by magic, he executed a flip, avoiding the missile by inches.

Then another bolt came. Justin burned his Advantage, his body twisting unnaturally.

Justin activated A Proper Send-off, pouring everything—rage, grief, desperation—into the strike.

At the last heartbeat before impact, Justin swapped his Affinity from Elea's Whisper to Terridan's Resolve. The change rippled through him. He felt immovable. Unstoppable.

Don't blink.

Justin activated Poison Barb one last time. "Back to the grave, corpse."

He slammed his cane into the Lich, guiding it toward the portal.

The impact made Reginald look small by comparison. A shockwave blasted through the throne room, shattering every window. Chandeliers exploded into shrapnel, and marble columns cracked from floor to ceiling.

Belshar's screech was inhuman—a sound of rage, disbelief, and genuine pain.

The Lich tumbled end over end, its skeletal limbs flailing, robes of shadow streaming...

...right into the portal.

Justin landed hard with Atlas; thanks to Terridan's Resolve, he remained rooted, safe from being sent into the portal after the Ascendant being.

But before Belshar could be completely swallowed, its clawed hand shot out, gripping the portal's edge with skeletal fingers, its eyes fixed on Justin with pure hatred.

"Morvath... does not forget..."

With a final, ear-splitting wail, Belshar was dragged backward, and the portal collapsed.

Silence.

Then Justin's legs gave out. He slumped against Atlas's carapace, the construct's support keeping him upright. His hands trembled, his whole body shook.

"Did that..." His voice cracked. "Did that actually work?"

"Holy shit," Lila whispered from somewhere behind him. "Holy shit, you actually did it. You mad bastard—"

But there was no time for celebration.

Everyone's attention snapped to Blackwood.

The Blood Wizard was on his knees, crimson streaming from his nose and ears, his hands clutching his chest.

The Queen on her throne was still, but her shadowy tendril was no longer present.

"No," Blackwood whispered, scrambling backward on hands and knees, leaving a trail of blood. "No, no, no—this wasn't—you weren't supposed to—"

Elena struck first. A spear of radiant light materialized from thin air and pierced his shoulder, spinning him around. The Wizard screamed as he summoned a crimson shield.

Alistair charged in. "For Arion!"

The hammer fell, crashing into the shield and shattering it. Blackwood began a new incantation, but due to his shock and his recent exertions, he was not fighting at full capacity.

Even Valdrik moved, though his expression was almost sad—the look of a man watching a tool break after it has served its purpose.

"Valdrik!" Blackwood cried, his voice desperate. "Kill them! What are you waiting for?"

"You're right, old friend," Valdrik replied. "Enough waiting. Long live the Queen."

A bolt of shadow struck Blackwood in the chest, and the Blood Wizard's eyes widened in betrayal.

"Dragomir..." Blackwood's voice was wet and bubbling. "We were supposed to... you promised... the Shadow Empire... together, we would—"

"You were useful," Valdrik said quietly. "But you overreached."

"You claimed to have the Cant of Epic Compulsion! The drake..."

"I do," Valdrik said solemnly. "But this was never meant to be."

Blackwood attempted to speak—perhaps to curse Valdrik's name or to begin a new spell—when Eldrin released an arrow aimed directly at his throat.

It was a perfect shot. Blackwood went rigid, his eyes glazing over as the Darkness effect of Eldrin's bow took hold.

His body began to dissolve immediately—the flesh withering, aging centuries in seconds until only a desiccated corpse remained. Then even that crumbled to dust.

Silence enveloped the throne room like snow.

With Blackwood dealt with, Justin focused on one thing.

Reginald lay on his side near a broken pillar, surrounded by broken glass, his wings splayed at awkward angles. The golden light was gone. His violet eyes were dim but still open, still aware.

After all of this, after that spell, he was somehow still alive.

Justin rushed toward Reginald and knelt. "Reginald..."

"Mr. Talemaker," the rooster whispered, his voice a shadow of its usual grandeur. "Did... did we do it? Is the Queen...?"

Justin glanced toward the throne, where Elena was already tending to her. The Queen's chest rose and fell—shallow, but steady. Alive.

"You did it," Justin said, his voice thick with emotion. "You broke the shield. We banished the Lich. And the Queen is still alive. Elena is healing her now."

Justin chose to omit the part about her life potentially still being in jeopardy. He had to trust that Elena would take care of it.

A faint, rattling sound escaped Reginald—almost like a chuckle. "Good. That's... good."

The party gathered around. Lila knelt beside Justin, offering her support. Alistair approached from behind, while Eldrin and Myrelle stood in respectful silence. Even Atlas lowered itself.

Valdrik stood apart from both groups—close enough to Irina and Elena to claim proximity, far enough from Justin to avoid commitment.

Justin didn't want to be exposed to Valdrik like this, but he had to trust that Irina, Elena, and Theric would maintain the peace. Indeed, Theric stood close to Valdrik, mirrored sword still held. That would have to suffice.

"I must confess something," Reginald said, each word coming more slowly. "When we first fought in the underpalace, Mr. Talemaker, I thought you a crass, undignified fool. A man who knew nothing of honor or duty."

Despite everything, Justin laughed. "Not entirely wrong."

"Oh, but I was wrong." The rooster's eyes found his, their light fading. "You may not be a knight in name, but you are one at heart. The truest knight I have met in over five hundred years. It has been... my honor... to fight beside you."

"The honor was mine," Justin managed. "Sir Reginald the Bold. Last Knight of King Harland. Defender of the Aranthian Queendom."

"Not the last," Reginald whispered, his eyes on Justin. "Not the last."

Reginald's form began to dissolve into motes of prismatic light—every color of the rainbow dancing upward like fireflies at dusk. Beautiful. Peaceful.

"What I leave behind is for you, Mr. Talemaker," Reginald said, his voice already fading into an echo. "And no one else. It was King Harland's greatest secret. Use it well... from one Traveler to another."

Traveler? Justin's mind reeled. Had Reginald come from Earth? A medieval knight transported to Eyrth five centuries ago? It would explain everything—his bearing, his chivalric code, his archaic speech patterns, even the reference to jousting. The portals had been happening for that long?

Valdrik had mentioned the phenomenon had been going on for a long time, but Justin would have never guessed to this extent.

The implications were staggering, but there was no time to process them.

The last motes of light spiraled upward, gathering at a single point and forming an orb that held every color of the rainbow.

[Prismatic Core]

The orb fell gracefully into Justin's outstretched hands, warm to the touch, as the last of Sir Reginald's form faded upward, joining the dust motes dancing in the light of the shattered windows.

[Sir Reginald the Bold has left the party.]

The Prismatic Core settled in Justin's hands, its rainbow light illuminating everyone around him.

[You have received a Prismatic Core! This Legendary Artifact is said to be a connection to the Creator Himself. It is the will of its previous holder that it goes only to you; the Creator honors this request.]

"By the gods," Alistair said, incredulously. "He had it the entire time?"

"He was meant to die," Eldrin replied. "To be the source of the Prismatic Core."

From the corner of his vision, Justin noticed Valdrik stalking closer. The count could not fail to see what Justin now held in his hands. His expression was unreadable—hunger, calculation, and something that might have been regret, all warring for dominance.

"I received a message saying only you could bind it," Eldrin continued. "I don't think Valdrik will be getting his hands on this one."

"What will happen if I do?" Justin asked. "Does it grant me an Ascendant Class early? Will I lose my current class?"

"The gods only know," Alistair said. "Regardless, I suggest you bind it now. It seems like it was meant to be."

Assuming it was even possible to bind. If it required reaching Level 40 first, that was a long time to hold onto a Prismatic Core.

"Here goes nothing."

Justin attempted to bind the core.

[Replace your Merchant Core? This will permanently change your current Advanced Prismatic Class. This action cannot be undone.]

It would not grant him an Ascendant Class early. Instead, it was offering to replace his Merchant Core, allowing him to have two Prismatic Cores.

Whether this would provide him with any additional benefits remained to be seen.

"It can be absorbed," Justin said. "It will replace my current Merchant Core and give me something else."

"It'll let you change classes?" Lila asked. "I thought that was impossible."

"Seems not, at least in this case," Alistair said.

"Or," Eldrin said, "you can wait until Level 40 and have a guaranteed way to get an Ascendant Class. Then again, it stands to reason you should be able to do that with any kind of core."

Justin considered this. Eldrin was likely right, but transitioning away from his current Entrepreneur class meant abandoning the path he had carefully chosen. What did it mean about the two skills he had already unlocked and his Entrepreneur class boon?

But at the same time, perhaps it was for the best. Entrepreneur had been the right choice at the time, as far as he could tell, but now, with a target on his back and two Prismatic Cores, he needed something stronger. Something more combat-focused.

"Justin," Lila said. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

Reginald had trusted him. He wouldn't waste that trust.

"Another thing to consider," Eldrin said. "The moment you absorb the core, the Creator's guarantee that it's yours will probably end."

Which meant anyone, including Valdrik, could kill him and claim two Prismatic Cores.

But to defer now somehow felt... wrong. He understood it was a huge decision, one that would set events in motion beyond his comprehension.

But Irina had said, "You already know what to do." Was that message just for the courage to confront the Lich, or for something deeper?

He looked at Irina, who stood beside the throne with her mother. Her expression was serene, almost knowing. Had she seen this?

With that, his decision was made.

[You have absorbed a Prismatic Core. Core Alteration in progress...]

The rainbow light of the Core flowed into Justin's chest, and the world went white.

[New Prismatic Class Available. Please stand-by...]

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