Ainchase felt light-headed, and his arms were growing tired of carrying the unconscious boy. After the mage girl was out of sight, he asked the Captain where he ought to take the boy. Before Banthus could give him directions to the medical ward, the injured knight who had sealed the mage's fate stepped forward.

"I'll take the pilgrim to the medical ward, sir," the black-haired knight said. "He can leave the recruit there."

"Alright," the Captain acknowledged. "I'll leave that matter in your care, Liam. And, friar…" Banthus' eyes turned towards Ainchase. "You should check on the El 'n see if it's still alright."

Ainchase nodded. "With pleasure, Mr. Captain. I will be on it as soon as possible so you can rest easy."

Banthus chuckled. "There's no rest for the wicked, friar, but I appreciate the sentiment."

With those last words, the priest and the knight took off to the medical ward.

If the Celestial had to guess, Liam was barely any younger than the Steel Cross, though his cold gaze and stern expression made him look older. Despite his injuries, the young black-haired man did not let his pain or exhaustion show. It was plain to see that he placed his duties as a knight above all else.

Seeing the knight's devotion made Ainchase wonder about his fellow Celestials. The goddess had told him he was the first in five centuries to walk on Elrios, but he had a hard time believing that. Celestials had the duty of being the Memory of Mankind. Humans had not completely forgotten about demons, but it was out of reach for most common folk.

'I wonder why my brothers would abandon humanity like that,' Ainchase wondered. 'We are supposed to be the ideal humanity should follow, yet this human is showing more principles than my brothers.'

He frowned at the thought. It was perhaps unbecoming of him to doubt his fellow Celestials, but this was a legitimate problem.

Ainchase's vision blurred but returned to normal after blinking several times. His dizziness only worsened by the minute, but he could not let it show.

The Celestial figured it was simply due to the energy he had lost because of the boy. The redhead's affinity for the El was phenomenal, but underneath his admiration for the recruit's talent, there was a tinge of fear. This boy perhaps could weaken Ainchase to the point that the corruption of Time and Space would reawaken. The priest had no way of knowing for sure, but the weakness he felt was a worrisome symptom.

"Friar," the blue-eyed knight called to him, pulling Ainchase out of his thoughts. "May I know your name?"

"Sure," the green-eyed priest replied with a nod and a faint smile. "I'm Ainchase Ishmael. Nice to meet you."

The injured knight repeated his name a few times under his breath. A frown soured his otherwise calm expression, and each time the blue-eyed knight muttered his name, his frown only deepened.

Ainchase tilted his head at the young man. "Is something troubling you, Mr. Knight?"

"Your name is strange for a Senacian," the blue-eyed knight answered matter-of-factly. "That's all."

The priest chuckled to hide the burning sensation that was spreading over his face. The curse of Time and Space was reawakening, just as he feared. It was nothing too alarming yet, but Ainchase knew he had to find a way back to the El Shard soon.

"The monastery I'm from requires us to take up a holy name," Ainchase explained. His eye continued to sting, but he decided to tune out the pain receptors of his human shell to hide his ailment. The Celestial did not have enough energy to delay the corruption from spreading, so it was crucial not to drag mortals into his struggle.

After all, the goddess said he should not meddle with mortals too much.

"Ainchase was the name given to the—" The Celestial paused. A foul thought had crossed his mind, and – to make matters worse – he had almost voiced it to a human. He had to reach the goddess as soon as possible. His weakness, his hesitancy to kill the demoness, the pain, and this new intrusive thought were all warnings he should heed; there was something very wrong with him. The goddess would surely know what he ought to do to cleanse himself from whatever remnants of Henir's power he still carried.

"The name given to whom?" Liam asked.

"A decorated soldier who fought in the name of Ishmael during the early days of the Elrian kingdom," Ainchase lied without a hint of fear or hesitation. "I ended up taking his name when I was ordained."

"I see. I may be out of line for asking, but if Ainchase is not your birth name, what is it?"

The green-eyed priest shrugged. "I grew up in the monastery. For as long as I can remember, everyone has called me Ain."

"Ain it is, then," the knight nodded as he came to a halt. He looked to his left towards a limestone building with a tile roof. "There's the medical ward. Follow me closely. It's a tad chaotic inside."

'A tad chaotic' was an understatement to describe the commotion inside the medical ward. From the medics and healers coming and going to the screams and groans of pain from the injured soldiers that lay on the corridors and occupied every bed and the orders for more bandages or medicine that echoed all across the ward, the state of the medical ward was akin to that of a battlefield.

The small facilities lacked beds and personnel. The El Search Party was woefully unprepared for a demon attack, let alone any serious threat to the village. Ainchase refrained from saying anything, but he did not believe all of the injured soldiers would return to fulfil their duties anytime soon. Some might not even survive if the scarcity of medicine continued. After squeezing past a couple of female healers on their way to an adjacent bed, Liam turned towards a closed door and asked Ainchase to help him open it. The priest did so, and the door creaked open, revealing a private room with two beds, one closer to the half-open window on the wall and the other to the wall where the door was.

A blonde teenager – who looked to be sixteen, perhaps eighteen at most – sat on the bed closer to the window. The teenager had long, curly hair that reached his shoulders, and his brown gaze focused on a book he held over his lap. His left arm was heavily bandaged, the other bruised, and his forehead wrapped in bandages.

Although it took some effort, Liam closed the door with his crutch. The blonde turned his attention towards them, and his round eyes filled with worry. "Brother!" he exclaimed before slamming his book shut and rushing towards the black-haired knight. "You should lay back down. I'll call the healers right away, so come on…"

The blonde gestured towards the only other bed in the room.

"I have a report to make," Liam informed him. "Your friend needs a warm bed more than I do."

Liam's younger brother furrowed his brow, but no words left his lips.

The blue-eyed knight glanced at Ainchase. "Ain, please put the boy on the bed."

The blonde's gaze widened when he saw the red-haired boy. He stepped back, his coffee-coloured eyes fixated on the boy, scrutinising his every injury, or lack thereof, visible injuries besides some minor bruises.

"Els…" the teenager gasped before turning towards Ainchase for the first time. "Will he be okay?"

"Of course. He overexerted himself," Ainchase explained with an understanding smile. "But it's nothing some rest can't fix."

The blonde teenager nodded but soon was preoccupied with his older brother again. He put his hands gently over his shoulders.

"Liam, brother. Please come back to rest. I can sleep on the floor, but you need—"

"Wyll. Listen."

For the first time Ainchase had seen him in a short time, Liam's cold gaze seemed to reflect a glimpse of emotion. It could have been shame or perhaps sadness. It was hard to tell compared to how openly Wyll wore his feelings. The black-haired knight glanced at Ainchase, and it was all the priest needed to know that he was no longer welcome.

It was all the better for him. The priest nodded to the two brothers and excused himself from the room. He left the medical ward and roamed around the nearby paths. Midday had already passed, but a few hours remained before dusk. He spotted the elven woman standing under an old oak. She was examining the bruises and cuts over her arms, and the spirits of the forest swirled around her. They were the best medics an elf like her could ask for.

Ainchase squinted, and the ground beneath him swayed up and down, falling prey to invisible waves. His vision blurred again, but he forced himself to focus. He had to reach the goddess to cure himself. At the very least, returning to the Tree of El would give him enough El energy to recover from having almost all of his power absorbed by a human child. His chest tightened, and a jolt of pain that spread from his face down to the middle of his back made him lose his balance.

Ainchase tripped and fell to his knees as he gasped for air. His entire body was burning, melting his very sense of self. He could almost see himself trapped in the darkness of Henir's dimension. The green-eyed priest forced himself back up but could not make another step. The greenery around him twisted into a spiralling mess, the sunlight felt more distant, and so did the voices around him. It was all a blur converging into a single point.

A blanket of warmness soon enveloped him, and the sensation subsided. The worried face of a nymph was the first thing he could see with clarity. The tiny, blue-skinned fairy stared worriedly at him, humming a sad melody that carried her thoughts far more clearly than any human language. Her only question amidst her efforts to cure him and her tearful concern was a question in an ancient language only known by spirits:

How did such an illness befall an extraordinary Angel like yourself?

Angel. He was taken aback by the word the nymph had used to address him. Although Ainchase was curious to understand why the nymph had mistaken him for an Angel, he could not answer her question. The existence of Angels was a secret that no god or spirit could ever reveal to mortals. In his human form, Ainchase could never hope to answer the nymph in the dialect she had used to talk to him. Leaving his human shell here could be dangerous, not only for himself but also for all the living beings around him. Ainchase could not estimate how far the corruption had spread nor how virulent it would be to the mortals around him.

Thus, the green-eyed contented himself to give a grateful nod to the spirit before sitting down. The elven woman was sitting beside him. She set her peridot eyes on him with a hint of worry.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm better now, Miss Elf", he assured her with a polite smile. "You have quite a few powerful helpers among all these spirits. Your control is impressive."

"Oh, I don't…control them," the Ranger informed him, averting her gaze as she combed her hair behind her ears. "They all come on their own to help me and, well, you, for obvious reasons."

"So, you're an elf loved by the spirits," he remarked, his grin briefly shifting into a smirk, but not for long enough for the elf to notice. "That is even more impressive. To be born as a soul loved by the spirits is a miracle for all elves, isn't it?"

The elf forced herself to chuckle, but her eyes betrayed a hint of annoyance. "Of course. It's a rare occurrence."

Ainchase found that contradiction rather odd. A Ranger who claimed not to control the spirits was impossible. Either she was more than she claimed to be or could only control the spirits.

"Is that so? Then, surely you're on your way to becoming someone more important for your village, no?" he quizzed with his ever-so-polite smile, "There is no way your Elders would waste your talent by appointing you as a Ranger permanently."

Her expression soured, her lips thinning before she answered in a cold but even tone. "Rangers are more important nowadays. I'm happy to stay as one, regardless of other circumstances."

She sharply turned away, making her way out of the camp.

'Other circumstances, she says,' Ainchase noted. 'I wonder what they may be…'

When Ainchase returned to the Tree of El, the sun was already setting. Without a teleportation scroll or a way to safely leave his shell without compromising the environment around him, there was little else he could do but walk all the way there.

Masses of slowly moving vines claimed the corpses of the fallen soldiers. Their leaves shimmered as they absorbed tiny drops of El energy from the bodies. As disgusting as all demons were, Ainchase had to admit that even demons could ultimately serve the goddess in death. Even as he passed through the main hall and went up the bloodied stairs, the sacred vines were already cleansing the Tree of El from the scum that had come to steal the Gem of All Life.

Ainchase saw an overflowing mess of vines coiled around a mass of dead Glitter soldiers in a storage room. His thoughts wandered to the demoness again. The Tree of El would be the perfect burial place for her. Her combat prowess and strength would give Ruben's El Shard at least double the energy that that pile of soldiers would provide. He tried picturing her lifeless body eaten away by the goddess' creation, but instead of satisfaction, he felt his throat tighten and a strange, sinking feeling on his chest.

The world was spinning again just as the burning feeling around his face became unbearable. He had to get out of his shell, lest he corrupted that, too. The moment he regained his Celestial form, Ainchase heard a bell bellow in the distance, followed by a whisper that echoed in his head, though he could not understand what it had said.

"Who's there?" he asked, only to be met by silence.

The Celestial looked down at his hands. His fingers and left palm had turned the same indigo shade as the night, and neon blue streaks slowly appeared on them as if to simulate veins. The bell tolled again, and the whispers began to form words he could understand.

You…know…she…lies to you…

Ainchase grit his teeth and flew as fast as he could to the chamber of the El. As he got closer, the whispers became unintelligible again, then, they faded away completely as did the bell. When he reached the chamber, his eyes immediately darted towards the direction of the El Shard. The blood stains, broken arrows, bullet casings and ice shards that littered the ground were of no consequence.

The cool, electrifying sensation of being where the El Energy was the strongest soothed him. The pain was subsiding, and the mesmerising blue glow emanating from the backpack-sized gem lulled him to sleep. Then, a dream slowly formed in his mind.

He first saw a rural village in the distance. The fields of wheat that enveloped his legs swayed under the wind like ocean waves.

"Ainchase," his brother called him. He looked virtually the same as he did, save for his shorter hair and hexagonal pupils. "You are too close to the target."

"Is it not my duty to infiltrate their defences first, Ozirion? There's still five hexes left."

"I shall take care of those, brother," Ozirion told him, a small frown souring his otherwise calm expression. Go back."

Ainchase frowned and grabbed Ozirion's shoulder, forcing the Celestial to look at him.

"Do you still not trust me, brother?" Ainchase asked, looking at his brother right in the eye.

"This is not and has never been a matter of the fickle, mortal concept of trust," Ozirion explained. "You are still an Angel. You will jeopardise this mission should you venture further into the target's location."

Ainchase scoffed. "You can't be serious. What could I possibly have in common with that scum?"

"More than you think."

Those words puzzled Ainchase, allowing his brother to break free from his grasp and throw him a disapproving look.

"Go back, Ainchase," the Celestial ordered as he walked away. "If you disobey, I will use any means necessary to incapacitate you for the century to come."

Ainchase observed his brother striding further into the fields. Each step Ozirion took seemed to ignite the ground beneath him, leaving a winding trail of roaring fire that set the wheat fields ablaze. As he moved towards the peaceful horizon, Ozirion outstretched his arms, summoning a curtain of fire that swiftly enveloped the village. The smoke billowed into the sky, and the screams of all the heretics pleading for mercy rose above the quiet crackling of the blaze.

Then, black rain fell from the sky. The Angel felt every drop, warm and carrying the smell of rust. It was blood. He looked up at the clear night sky above, reaching out for an explanation that soon came when he saw a bloodied blade in his hands. In the reflection of his weapon, he saw himself lifting the severed head of a faceless demon.

"Good job," Ozirion's voice echoed in his head. "You are one step away from becoming a Celestial."

"Ainchase!" The voice of the goddess called him.

He turned to his right, and the carnage around him vanished under the goddess' light. Ishmael appeared in all her splendour, sitting on her ivory throne. Her long, neon blue hair flowed free from her veil, almost touching the floor.

"What happened to you, Ainchase?" she demanded, her fists clenched over the armrests of her throne. "Why did you do such a thing?"

"My divine energy got absorbed by a Rubenian boy," he informed his creator after kneeling before her. "Forgive me for that oversight, goddess Ishmael. I should have predicted that the boy's exceptional aura—"

"That is not the main issue at hand," the goddess interjected. Her tone was a slap to the face. "Why are you seeking those memories?"

Ainchase furrowed his brow. "Memories? I can hardly believe the vision I had is anywhere close to reality, be it in the past or present. It was akin to a dream, was it not?"

"Ainchase," Ishmael sighed as she got up from her throne and approached him slowly but purposefully. "Celestials do not have dreams. You are, and always have been, a Celestial."

She raised his head with her left hand and approached the index of her other hand right over his eye. Her claw-like fingernails grazed his eye, which he could not close. Ainchase grimaced as her touch became liquid fire on his skin. Yet, he could not deny her. She knew what was best for him; he only had to endure it.

"Follow the boy," she ordered him. "Make him fulfil his destiny, but do not dare to dream again. You are a Celestial. You have always been one."

Ainchase awoke at the feet of the Altar of the El in the middle of the night. He was back in his human shell. The green-eyed priest slowly got back on his feet as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He felt stronger, and his mind was as sharp as ever. He bowed at the El Shard, thanking his goddess for cleansing the remnants of Henir's energy within him. He had all but forgotten what she had said and what he had dreamt about.

Ainchase felt like a brand new soldier of the goddess, ready to do her bidding. He set towards the El Search Party's base in his Celestial form to shorten his journey.

Elsword was back in the middle of a bloodied road. The horrific screeches from the crocodile-like monsters echoed through the forest on the road to the Tree of El. They were fast approaching, their steps shaking the ground beneath him. He could do nothing but watch as the mud turned red with rivers of blood.

The first monster came for Liam, slashing his arm cleanly off before biting down on his throat. Time froze as Liam's eyes met his, horrified, pleading for him to save him. By the time Elsword raised his sword, it was too late. Blood sprouted from his friend's neck like a fountain, dyeing the boy's clothes crimson.

Elsword heard the blue beast demon chuckling behind him, its gigantic claws only inches from his neck.

"You're worthless, boy. That's why everyone leaves you behind," the demon whispered with a low, feral growl before swinging the killing blow.

The red-haired boy woke up with a gasp. He could feel his heart pumping hard, and although he tried not to, Elsword could only take fast, shaky breaths as he sprang back on his feet. He had no idea where he was, but it did not take long to get used to the dimly lit room.

The first thing he saw was the two Gesson brothers sleeping peacefully despite how they barely fit in the single bed. Liam's arm was wrapped around his younger brother's shoulder, seemingly holding him from falling off completely. Wyll's head rested comfortably over his brother's shoulder. They looked peaceful despite their injuries. Perhaps it was just because he was asleep, but Liam looked more gentle, almost caring.

'I guess Liam protects him from nightmares, too,' Elsword thought as he silently made his way out of the room, biting his lip as tears threatened to stream down his face.

He closed the door behind him as softly as possible, took one of the oil lamps from the corridor, and snuck past two medics who were dozing off. Once outside the medical ward, Elsword noticed how quiet the base was. There was not a single soul in sight, and all the surrounding buildings had no lights on. He had no reason to continue to hold back his tears.

The boy went to the village after telling the knights stationed at the gate that he wanted to go home. None of them opposed his choice, leaving Elsword to run down the hill until his feet ached and his legs trembled. From then, he trudged himself to his home as the sky lit up with the promise of a new day.

He knocked on the door. No answer. Perhaps he was being bothersome. It was too early, so he could not expect anyone to be up. The demon's words in his nightmare echoed once more in his head. The Felfords had probably left. It was not surprising at all, of course. If monsters were roaming and gutting people left and right, anyone would evacuate. He could do nothing to stop Seris and her family from leaving.

'And why should I? I can't protect them. They're not gonna stay and put themselves in danger for my sake.'

Elsword knocked again, this time more softly, fully expecting to be met by silence again. The boy's crimson gaze sank to his feet and so did his hopes of comfort.

The door creaked open.

He looked up and saw Lady Seris in front of him. Her hair was still damp, but she looked ready to tackle the day. Her emerald eyes widened when she saw him, and she immediately crouched at his eye level before putting her hands over his shoulders.

"Dear El, what happened to you, Elsword? Are you hurt?"

Although he knew he should not do so because Seris was not his mother, he shook his head, hugged her, and let his tears fall uninhibited.

"They got killed, and I couldn't do anything," he quietly sobbed. "I can't protect anyone. I'm afraid of fighting those monsters. I don't want to fight them. I don't wanna go back."

The blonde woman hugged him back as lovingly as a mother would. "You don't have to go back now, Elsword. We all need to take breaks sometimes. Let's take it all one step at a time, alright?"

The boy weakly nodded, sniffling and drying his tears away. He had to calm himself down. Seris cupped his face, combing some spiky hair strands behind his ears.

"Do you want to eat something, or do you want to rest up?"

"I don't know," he mumbled before his gaze wandered to the small wet spot on Seris's shoulder. He had ruined her outfit. "Sorry about all this. I, uh, I shouldn't be bothering you at all with—"

"You never bother me, Elsword." Seris calmly interjected with a soft smile adorning her lips. "You're family."

Family. The word itself was almost foreign to the red-haired boy.

"I'm family?"

"Of course you are," Seris answered. "You are a son to me and Owen as well. My children see you as their big brother, too. We will stay here for as long as you need us, Elsword. That's what families do."

Though Elsword had not meant it, the memory of his sister leaving without a word three years ago crossed his mind. He felt a tinge of hatred tug at his heart but quickly shook the thought away. Elesis was not like Elkashu. She was an honourable knight fighting for justice all across Lurensia. He just had to be patient. She had to come back someday. He dared to hope it would be tomorrow.

"Thank you, Lady Seris," Elsword said, trying to force a smile by holding onto the hope of seeing Elesis again. "I'm hungry, but I think I need a shower first."

The blonde woman nodded before standing up and giving him the way into the home.

"Alright. Breakfast won't be ready anytime soon, so don't rush."

"Got it," Elsword agreed with a nod.

As he went down the hall, Seris called him again. He turned his head towards her, expecting to have to set up breakfast, but Seris only had one thing to tell him: "I forgot to say it, but welcome home, Elsword. I'm glad you're safe."

A bubbly feeling blossomed within him; without realising it, a natural smile had crawled on his face. Elsword quickly turned back around and rushed to the shower.