Chapter 51: Realm Of Thoughts

"Lars Mertens," Iskra said, her voice imposing and echoing through the pink mindscape of Lars, "the curse has become volatile, reacting to your resistance against it. It has sensed its hold weakening and has now endeavoured to keep you inside your mind forever."

"I'm not sure I like that notion," Lars frowned, scratching his head. "I mean, I have a girlfriend waiting for me in the real world and everything…"

"It is time I taught you one of my most powerful spells," Iskra smiled, her voice taking on a slight twinkling quality. "The true meaning of what I stand for, intellect."

She created a chair for Lars, beckoning him to sit down. He obliged, his eyes sparkling with curiosity as he observed the Celestial.

"All the great scientists of my time, and indeed, of yours, have imprinted their ideas onto the world through their intellect," Iskra said. "Your first wizard king, Lumiere, Viros the alchemist, who discovered the Elixir of Life, and even your father, Ellion Mertens."

"Where are you going with this?" Lars said, frowning slightly.

"The two purposes of intellect are to create," Iskra said, creating an orb that glowed pink and spun with controlled intensity in her hand, "and to change." The orb suddenly glowed green and stopped gyrating.

"The spell that you must learn is for the power of creation. A spell that has existed since the time of your great-grandfathers' great-grandfathers. The ability to create mind energy constructs from your thoughts alone. Whatever means of attack, defence or support you could think of now become reality. This is the first spell of my Celestial Mind Magic."

"And how will this help make me break the curse?" Lars asked, more than slightly impressed.

"Gedankenreich," the celestial said, her eyes twinkling. "The spell is a projection of your mindscape. Influence the mindscape, influence the world. This is your mind, Lars. You can change it, make it bend to your will. This is the essence of Gedankenreich, of intellect itself."

"Then let's start," Lars said, his expression resolute, but the slightly pinker glow of the terrain beneath his feet betraying his excitement.

…

February 12, 12:03PM

The sun was high in the sky when the four Blue Roses arrived at the Royal Hospital. The corridors were quiet, the air heavy with the sterile scent of healing mana and antiseptics. Lucia led the group, her steps hurried and her expression strained. Behind her, Maddy followed with a tense jaw, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. Dana, her usually playful demeanour muted, walked alongside Zoe, whose face was set with grim determination.

When they reached the room, Lucia hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. She exchanged a glance with Maddy, who nodded silently. Taking a deep breath, Lucia pushed the door open.

Inside, the room was eerily still. Lars lay motionless on the bed, his pale face framed by bandages wrapped tightly around his head and torso. His normally bright blue eyes were closed, his features unnaturally still. Tubes and mana-infused devices surrounded him, their faint hum the only indication of life.

Lucia froze in the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, she couldn't move, couldn't speak. The sight of Lars—always so full of determination, so unyielding—reduced to this frail, vulnerable state broke something inside her.

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "No, no, no..."

Tears welled in her eyes, and before anyone could stop her, she rushed to his side. She sank to her knees beside the bed, clutching the edge of the mattress as sobs wracked her body.

"Lars," she choked out, her voice barely audible through her tears. "Why? Why did this happen to you? You don't deserve this."

Maddy and Dana exchanged a glance, their own expressions grim. Maddy approached quietly, placing a hand on Lucia's shoulder in an attempt to steady her. "Lucia, he's still alive," she said gently, though her voice trembled. "Dr. Owen is the best. He's doing everything he can."

"He's alive, but look at him!" Lucia cried, gesturing helplessly at Lars's still form. Her tears dripped onto the bed as she buried her face in her hands. "How could anyone do this to him? He's—he's one of the kindest people I've ever known."

Zoe stepped forward, her usual steely demeanour softening as she looked down at Lars. Her brush rested loosely in her hand, the sight of her friend in such a state making her grip falter. "Whoever did this," she said, her voice low but filled with venom, "will pay. I'll make sure of it."

Dana knelt beside Lucia, reaching out to gently take her hand. "You know how strong Lars is," she said softly. "If anyone can pull through this, it's him. He's a fighter. He always has been."

Lucia shook her head, her sobs subsiding into quiet hiccups. "But what if he doesn't?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if we lose him?"

Zoe's hand tightened around her brush, her jaw clenching. "We won't," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "He's not leaving us. Not like this."

For a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence, the only sound the faint beeping of the monitors. Then, slowly, Lucia stood, wiping her tear-streaked face with trembling hands. She looked down at Lars, her expression a mixture of heartbreak and determination.

"You hear that, Lars?" she said softly, her voice still thick with emotion. "You don't get to give up on us. You promised you'd always have my back, remember? So... you have to fight. You have to come back to us."

Maddy stepped up beside her, her gaze steady as she looked at Lars. "And when you do," she added, her voice quieter than usual, "we'll be here. We'll be waiting."

Dana smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "We've got your back, Mertens. Just like always."

Zoe said nothing, but she moved closer to the bed, her fingers brushing against Lars's bandaged hand for a brief moment before she pulled away. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped back, her resolve clear in her sharp gaze.

Lucia leaned over Lars, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're not allowed to leave us," she whispered. "Especially not on your birthday."

…

Lars stood before the towering, ominous wall of the second curse layer, the faint pink glow of his mindscape dimmed by the oppressive green aura radiating from it. The wall seemed alive, pulsating with malevolence, and its shadow stretched far beyond what his eyes could see. It wasn't just a barrier; it was a challenge, daring him to break through.

Iskra's presence shimmered beside him, her voice calm but firm. "This curse is not merely a wall to keep you out. It is a living entity, designed to exploit your weaknesses, to make you believe it is stronger than you are. But remember this: a curse is only as powerful as the mind that lets it take root."

Lars clenched his fists, imagining his naginata gripped tightly in one hand. Sure enough, it came to fruition. "I'm ready," he said, though the tension in his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

Iskra moved closer, the air around her vibrating with energy. "The first layer made you relive your pain. This one is subtler, more insidious. It seeks to reshape your mindscape, to make you doubt yourself and believe the lies it spins. You must manipulate your world before it manipulates you."

Lars glanced at the pink mist swirling around his feet, feeling its faint warmth. This place, this mindscape, was his. It was supposed to be a sanctuary, yet now it felt fragile, like glass about to shatter.

"How do I fight something that's already inside me?" he asked, his voice quieter, tinged with doubt.

Iskra extended her glowing hand, creating a small, rotating orb of pink energy. It expanded and contracted rhythmically, pulsing with life. "You fight it with creation," she said. "Through Gedankenreich, you project your thoughts into reality. Influence this realm with your will, and you will shape its destiny."

She gestured toward the wall. "But to do so, you must understand what this layer represents. It is not just a barrier. It is a reflection of your fears, your doubts, and your regrets. It will distort your mindscape to convince you that you are powerless. To break it, you must impose your vision over its lies."

Lars nodded, though his throat tightened. "Okay. Let's do this."

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he centred himself. The mist around his feet thickened, rising like waves in response to his focus. When he opened his eyes, they glowed faintly with determination.

"Celestial Mind Magic: Gedankenreich!"

Pink energy surged from his body, spreading outward like ripples in water. The mist began to brighten, taking on a warm, radiant hue. Lars focused on the wall, imagining it crumbling into dust, replaced by a vast field of shimmering pink light that stretched into infinity.

At first, the wall seemed to waver, its surface rippling as though reacting to his will. But then, the sickly green aura flared violently, pushing back with renewed strength. The wall solidified, its black surface twisting and warping, faces and shapes emerging briefly before melting back into the structure.

"Do you feel that?" Iskra asked, her voice cutting through the tension. "It fights because it knows it can lose. The curse is strong, but it is hastily crafted, full of weaknesses. You must find them and exploit them."

Lars's jaw tightened as he planted his feet firmly, pink energy swirling around him like a storm. "Fine. Let's try this again."

He extended his free hand toward the wall, imagining not just its destruction but the reshaping of the entire mindscape. He envisioned a vast, glowing field of his own creation—one where no curse could take root. The energy around him intensified, the mist brightening as it surged toward the wall.

This time, the green aura reacted violently, lashing out with tendrils of dark energy that struck the ground around Lars, causing the mist to darken and recoil. He flinched but held his ground, pouring more of his mana into the spell.

"Iskra!" he shouted, his voice strained. "It's pushing back harder. What should I do?"

"Do not waver," Iskra replied, her voice steady. "The curse feeds on your doubt. It senses your hesitation and amplifies it. You must believe, Lars. This is your mind. It can only control you if you allow it to."

Gritting his teeth, Lars drew his naginata again and pointed it at the wall. "I won't let this thing win!" he roared.

With a surge of determination, he channelled his energy through the weapon, the pink glow around it intensifying into a blinding light. The energy struck the wall with a deafening crash, sending shockwaves rippling through the mindscape.

The wall cracked, fractures spreading across its surface like spiderwebs. The green aura flickered, its resistance faltering. Lars pushed harder, his mana flowing freely, driven by sheer will.

"I am not your prisoner!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the mindscape. "This is my mind, and I decide what stays and what breaks!"

The cracks widened, and with one final surge of energy, the wall exploded into fragments, dissolving into the mist. The oppressive green aura vanished, replaced by a soothing warmth that radiated throughout the mindscape.

Lars stumbled back, breathing heavily, his grip on the naginata slackening. He looked around, the mist now brighter and calmer, the oppressive weight lifted.

"You've done well," Iskra said, her voice filled with approval. "The second layer is broken. But this is far from over. The deeper layers will not yield so easily."

Lars wiped sweat from his brow, his resolve hardening. "Let them come," he said, his voice steady despite his exhaustion. "I'll break every last one. This is my mind, and I'm taking it back."

Iskra's glowing form shimmered with pride. "Then let us proceed, Lars Mertens. There is much more to learn, and many more battles to fight. But with your resolve, I have no doubt you will prevail."

The mist grew denser around Lars, curling upward in twisting spirals that seemed alive, writhing with unspoken malice. The pink hue of his mindscape dimmed further, taking on a sickly green tinge that made his skin crawl. Lars tightened his grip on his naginata, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Then, out of the shifting fog, a silhouette emerged. At first, it was vague, formless, but as it stepped closer, its features sharpened, and Lars's heart dropped.

It was him.

But not him.

This twisted version of Lars was grotesque. Its skin was pale and cracked like porcelain, black veins pulsing beneath the surface. Its eyes glowed with a sickly green light, filled with malice and mockery. The figure's movements were jerky yet unsettlingly precise, its naginata dragging along the ground with a metallic scrape that set Lars's teeth on edge.

"What… is this?" Lars asked, taking a step back instinctively.

"This is the curse's defence," Iskra said, her voice grave as she materialised beside him. "A manifestation of your doubts and fears, given form by the curse's influence. It has drawn from your own mind to create this."

Lars clenched his jaw. "It looks like me."

"Not just any version of you," Iskra corrected. "It is a reflection of everything you fear about yourself: your failures, your weaknesses, your darkest thoughts. It knows you better than anyone because it is you. A shadow of your own making, manipulated by the curse."

The doppelgänger tilted its head, its grin spreading unnaturally wide. "Weak," it hissed, its voice distorted, like a cacophony of Lars's own voice overlaid with something darker. "Worthless. Pathetic. You don't belong here."

Lars felt a pang of anger flare in his chest, but it was accompanied by an uncomfortable chill. He knew those words. He had told them to himself in his darkest moments.

"Don't let it shake you," Iskra urged. "Remember, this is your mindscape. You have the power to shape it. But be warned—the shadow will not relent. It will fight to maintain the curse's hold."

As if on cue, the doppelgänger raised its weapon and lunged forward with blinding speed. Lars barely had time to react, raising his naginata just in time to block the first strike. The impact sent a jolt through his arms, and he staggered back, his feet scraping against the mist-covered ground.

The shadow didn't stop. It attacked relentlessly, its strikes faster and heavier than anything Lars had faced before. Each blow carried a calculated precision, as if it anticipated his every move.

"This thing's insane!" Lars grunted, parrying another strike and barely dodging a follow-up swing aimed at his ribs. The sheer force behind the attacks made his arms ache.

"Of course it is," Iskra said, her voice steady despite the chaos. "It is you, after all. It knows your strengths and your weaknesses. If you rely solely on brute force, you will lose."

Lars cursed under his breath as he ducked under a horizontal slash, rolling to the side and putting some distance between himself and the doppelgänger. "Any tips, then?"

"Use Gedankenreich," Iskra urged. "This is your mind. Shape it. Manipulate it. Turn its strength into a disadvantage."

Lars's eyes narrowed. He planted his feet firmly and took a deep breath, focusing his mana. The mist around him stirred, glowing faintly as his energy spread outward.

"Celestial Mind Magic: Gedankenreich!"

The pink mist swirled violently, condensing into solid constructs around him. Walls of glowing energy erupted from the ground, forming a maze-like structure that stretched as far as the eye could see. Platforms floated above, and weapons of pure energy began to materialize, hovering at Lars's command.

The doppelgänger paused, its glowing eyes narrowing as it surveyed the changing battlefield. Then, with a snarl, it charged again, its movements growing more aggressive.

Lars darted between the barriers, using the maze to outmanoeuvre his opponent. The doppelgänger's strikes clanged against the walls, sending ripples through the energy but failing to break through.

"Let's see how you handle this," Lars muttered, summoning a spear of glowing pink energy and hurling it toward the shadow.

The spear struck true, hitting the doppelgänger square in the chest. The impact sent it staggering back, cracks forming along its pale skin. But it quickly recovered, its green aura flaring as it let out an unearthly roar.

The shadow raised its weapon, slashing through the air and sending a wave of dark energy crashing toward Lars. The wave obliterated part of the maze, forcing Lars to retreat and create new barriers to block the onslaught.

"This thing's adapting," Lars muttered, sweat dripping down his brow. "It's like fighting myself, but worse."

"Then outthink it," Iskra said. "You cannot win by meeting it head-on. Use your intellect. This is what Gedankenreich is for."

Lars nodded, his mind racing as he analyzed the shadow's movements. It was relentless, attacking with precision and ferocity. But it also mirrored his own fighting style, which meant it had the same weaknesses.

A plan formed in his mind. Lars summoned a series of glowing platforms above the battlefield, creating a network of elevated positions. He leapt onto one of them, baiting the shadow to follow.

The doppelgänger snarled and lunged upward, its naginata slicing through the air. But Lars was ready. He jumped to another platform, dodging the attack and creating a glowing construct beneath the shadow's feet.

The construct erupted into spikes, piercing through the doppelgänger and pinning it in place. The shadow let out a distorted cry, its form flickering as the cracks spread further.

"This is my mind," Lars said, his voice steady and resolute. "And I'm done letting you control it."

He raised his naginata, channeling all his energy into the blade. The weapon glowed with a brilliant pink light, radiating power as he leapt toward the shadow.

"Mind Magic: Telekinetic Sweep!"

The strike landed with explosive force, engulfing the doppelgänger in a blinding burst of energy. The ground beneath them shook, and the shadow let out one final, distorted cry before shattering into fragments of light.

When the light faded, Lars stood alone, breathing heavily as the pink mist began to calm.

"You did well," Iskra said, stepping forward. "The third layer has been broken. But there are more layers ahead, each more dangerous than the last."

Lars nodded, his determination unwavering. "Then let's keep going," he said. "I'm not stopping until this curse is gone."

As the mist settled in Lars's mindscape, the pink hues brightened slightly, signalling his growing control. But just as he prepared to focus on breaking the next layer of the curse, a strange ripple coursed through the air. The world wavered like a reflection disturbed by a pebble, and Lars felt an eerie shift, as though something—or someone—had entered his mind uninvited.

He immediately raised his naginata, his heart pounding. "Iskra?" he called out, his voice steady but cautious. "What's going on?"

Before Iskra could respond, the fog parted to reveal a figure emerging from the shimmering haze. Lars tensed, his grip tightening on his weapon. But as the figure stepped closer, he froze in disbelief. It was Dorothy Unsworth, his captain, looking as whimsical as ever in her pink cloak and wide-brimmed hat, her hands clasped lightly behind her back.

"Captain?" Lars lowered his naginata slightly, blinking in confusion. "What… how are you here? This is my mind."

Dorothy gave him a mischievous smile, tipping her hat playfully. "Dream Magic: Lucid Dreams," she explained, her voice light and melodic. "You're dreaming right now, Lars. Technically, anyway. And since I'm the Coral Peacocks' expert on all things dreams, I thought I'd drop by."

Lars stared at her, dumbfounded. "Dreaming? I guess… this is kind of a dream," he admitted, glancing around at the surreal pink mist of his mindscape. "But wait—why are you here? Shouldn't I be, I don't know, alone in my own head?"

Dorothy stepped closer, her smile fading into something softer, almost solemn. "I came because I needed to talk to you," she said gently. "And because I owe you an apology."

"An apology?" Lars tilted his head, his confusion only deepening.

Dorothy sighed, her usual carefree demeanour slipping further away. "Lars… I made a mistake. I was the one who insisted on sending you on this mission. I thought it would be a great opportunity for you to grow, to prove yourself. But I didn't consider the risks enough. I should've sent someone more experienced—Russell, or even Kirsch. Instead, I sent *you* knowing how dangerous it could be." She gestured around them, her expression heavy with guilt. "And now here you are, battling a curse that could've…" Her voice faltered, and she looked away. "That could've killed you."

Lars watched her, stunned by the raw honesty in her voice. He had never seen Dorothy like this before—so serious, so vulnerable.

"Captain…" He started to speak, but Dorothy cut him off, her words tumbling out in a rush.

"I underestimated the situation, Lars. I put you in harm's way when I should've protected you. And now, seeing you like this…" She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with regret. "I failed you as a captain."

For a long moment, silence stretched between them. Lars stared at her, his mind whirling. Dorothy, who was always so whimsical and carefree, was now standing before him, baring a side of herself he never imagined he'd see.

Finally, Lars let out a quiet sigh, his gaze softening. "Captain… I won't lie. This has been rough. But if I'm being honest, I don't regret it."

Dorothy blinked, taken aback. "You don't?"

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "This curse, this battle—it's teaching me more about myself than I ever thought possible. I'm learning my limits, and more importantly, how to push past them. I wouldn't be discovering all of this if I wasn't here, right now." He met her gaze, his expression resolute. "I forgive you, Captain. And I'll come out of this stronger. I promise."

Dorothy stared at him, her eyes wide. Then, slowly, a radiant smile broke across her face. "Oh, Lars. That's exactly why I chose you for the mission. I knew you could handle it, even if you didn't believe it yourself." Her grin turned teasing. "And it seems I was right."

Lars chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you say so. But, uh, maybe next time, I won't take night duty two nights in a row."

Dorothy laughed, her voice like a gentle melody.

She stepped back, her gaze wandering over the mindscape. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "this place reminds me of something we talked about. Do you remember? When I told you to create your own version of my Glamour World spell? A place where you could make anything you imagine?"

Lars nodded, his expression turning serious. "Yeah. I've been working on it. That's actually what Gedankenreich is. I'm trying to shape this mindscape to break the curse, but…" He gestured to the swirling fog and oppressive shadows clinging to the edges of the world. "It's not exactly easy."

Dorothy's eyes sparkled with approval. "And yet, you're doing it. Bit by bit, you're turning your thoughts into reality. That's what makes you special, Lars—you have the ability to create something truly extraordinary, even under pressure."

Her words filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. He straightened, gripping his naginata with more confidence. "Thanks, Captain. I'll see this through."

Dorothy tipped her hat again, her smile returning to its playful curve. "Good. I'll leave you to it, then. But remember, Lars—you're never truly alone. Not with a squad like ours." Her smile turned mischievous. "Though if you need a break, feel free to summon me here. I wouldn't mind a little nap in such a creative space."

With that, her form began to dissolve into shimmering motes of light, but her voice lingered, warm and encouraging. "Keep going, Lars. I'll see you on the other side."

As she disappeared, Lars stood alone in the mist once more. But the weight of isolation he had felt before was gone, replaced by a quiet, steadfast determination.

He glanced down at the pink ground beneath his feet, which now glowed with a vibrant, encouraging light. "All right," he muttered, raising his naginata and focusing his mana. "Let's finish this."

…

The mist that had once engulfed Lars's mindscape was now almost entirely gone, replaced by a vast expanse of shimmering pink light. The oppressive green hues, the shadowy figures, and the whispers of doubt had all been driven back layer by layer. Lars stood on a floating platform of crystalline thought, his naginata glowing with the energy of his triumphs.

In the centre of the expanse, a dark, writhing orb hovered—a fragment of the curse's core. It pulsed like a diseased heart, radiating malevolent energy.

"This is it," Lars muttered, gripping his weapon tightly. His clothes were torn, his body drenched in sweat, but his eyes blazed with determination.

Iskra materialised beside him, her form as luminous as ever. She no longer floated aimlessly; she stood firm, her translucent wings glimmering with an intensity that mirrored Lars's resolve. "You've done well, Lars Mertens," she said, her voice calm yet tinged with pride. "The final piece of the curse lies before you. Destroy it, and your mind will be free."

Lars took a deep breath, steadying himself. He raised his naginata, pink energy coursing down the blade. "Mind Magic: Neural Rapture!"

The blade swung down, releasing a torrent of radiant energy that surged toward the orb. The impact was deafening, and the curse core let out a distorted wail as cracks splintered across its surface. The black energy coiled violently before shattering into countless shards, which dissolved into harmless motes of light.

The silence that followed was profound. The oppressive weight that had lingered in Lars's mind vanished, replaced by a serene stillness. The crystalline platform beneath him glowed brighter, and the mindscape transformed into a boundless, tranquil expanse of pink light and shimmering stars.

Lars lowered his naginata, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. A sense of relief washed over him. "It's over," he murmured.

Iskra stepped forward, her ethereal form radiating a soft, golden glow. "Indeed, Lars. You have not only broken the curse but also proven yourself worthy in ways few could. I see now why you were chosen for this path."

Lars turned to her, his brows furrowing. "Chosen? What do you mean?"

Iskra smiled, her form shimmering as she drew closer. "You have shown incredible resolve, ingenuity, and strength of will. It is rare for one to master their mind so fully, especially under such dire circumstances. I have decided that you are worthy to become my partner."

"Partner?" Lars repeated, blinking in surprise.

Iskra nodded. "Yes. By forming a contract with me, I will become your familiar, bound to aid you in battle and beyond. Our connection will allow you to channel my power directly, enhancing your Mind Magic and unlocking abilities you have yet to imagine."

Lars's eyes widened. "Wait, really? That's incredible!" He paused, his enthusiasm softening. "But… is there a catch?"

"There is no catch," Iskra said. "However, as part of the contract, you are allowed to set one condition. This condition will shape the nature of our bond. Choose wisely."

Lars thought for a moment, his gaze drifting to the serene expanse around him. His journey thus far had been filled with challenges, and he knew there would be more to come. Finally, he looked at Iskra, his expression resolute. "Then my condition is this: You will always have the freedom to choose your own path, even if it takes you away from me."

Iskra's glow brightened, her eyes widening with surprise and admiration. "A selfless condition… Truly, you are unlike any other. Very well, Lars Mertens. I accept."

She raised her hand, and pink runes began to form in the air between them. The light intensified, enveloping them both in a radiant glow.

When the light faded, Iskra's form had changed. She now stood before Lars as a humanoid figure, her body composed of intricate, translucent patterns that shimmered like fractals of thought. Her skin was a soft, glowing white, etched with faint, swirling runes that pulsed with pink and gold light. Her long hair, flowing like threads of silken light, shifted between shades of rose and silver, and her eyes sparkled like twin galaxies.

She wore an elegant, otherworldly outfit that seemed woven from the fabric of dreams—layers of translucent, glowing material that moved like a gentle breeze. Around her shoulders, a mantle of crystalline feathers shimmered, radiating an aura of calm wisdom.

Lars started, his jaw dropping. "You… You look amazing!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with awe.

Iskra tilted her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "You flatter me, Lars. But I must say, your enthusiasm is… refreshing. Have you been spending time with someone who shares such habits?"

Lars scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Uh, yeah, my girlfriend Lucia. She's kind of rubbed off on me."

"Well," Iskra said, a playful smile gracing her lips, "I am glad to see you appreciate the form I have chosen. But remember, Lars—this is not just about appearance. When you need me most, I will be there. No matter the battle, no matter the challenge."

Lars felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He nodded, gripping his naginata tightly. "Thank you, Iskra. I'll make sure to honour this bond."

Iskra placed a glowing hand on his shoulder, her gaze steady. "And I, you. Together, we will achieve greatness."

As the mindscape began to fade, Lars felt a renewed strength coursing through him. Everything around him faded to white.

…

February 12, 5:41 PM

The first thing Lars became aware of was the dull ache in his chest, followed by the faint murmur of voices. His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced them open, greeted by the sterile white of an infirmary ceiling. The light of late afternoon filtered through drawn curtains, bathing the room in a warm glow.

"Lars!"

The cry was Lucia's, her voice choked with relief. She was at his side in an instant, clutching his hand tightly. Kirsch sat nearby, his usual flamboyance subdued, though his expression was as dramatic as ever. Dr. Owen stood at the foot of the bed, his hands glowing with healing magic, a look of mild exasperation on his face.

"It's 4:41 PM," Lucia blurted out, tears glistening in her eyes. "You've been out for a long while. Lars... today is February 12. Your birthday."

"My dear little birthday star," Kirsch added, flipping his hair. "How tragically poetic for you to wake on the day of your birth after such a near brush with death. Though of course, I always knew you'd survive—you're far too stubborn to do otherwise."

Lars blinked, his mind catching up to the moment. His body still ached, but something else stirred within him—something profound. With a sudden burst of energy, he threw off the blanket and leapt from the bed.

"Wait! Lars, you shouldn't—!" Dr. Owen protested, but it was too late.

Lars threw the windows wide open, the evening air flooding the room, carrying the whispers of the approaching night. The golden hues of the setting sun bathed his face, lending him an almost otherworldly glow. He raised his arms high, his voice booming with a newfound conviction.

"I understand it now! On the verge of death, I finally grasped it!" His eyes burned with an intensity that was almost blinding. "The meaning of intellect... the true essence of what it means to be smart. It is not simply a collection of facts, nor is it the ability to solve puzzles or impress others with clever words."

His voice grew steadier, more profound. "No, intellect is the power to create. It is the power to change. To dream of a better world and to make that dream reality. It is the courage to look at a broken system, a failing path, and say, 'This can be better.' It is the willingness to question, to challenge, and to transcend the limits of what is known."

Lars clenched his fist, his knuckles whitening as he continued. "Lumiere Silvamillion Clover saw the chaos of his time and created unity through magic. Viros the alchemist discovered the Elixir of Life, bending the laws of nature to grant humankind another chance at greatness. Even my father - Ellion Mertens - crafted spells to save countless lives, unbeknownst to me, driven by his belief in the infinite potential of magic."

He turned to face his companions, his gaze piercing yet warm. "Being smart is not about being better than others—it is about seeing what others cannot and giving them the tools to see it too. It is about lifting people, about building bridges where there are only chasms. Intellect is not a weapon of destruction; it is the foundation of progress. It is hope manifest."

Kirsch, for once, was silent, his usual flamboyant demeanour overshadowed by Lars' radiant passion. Lucia stared, her heart caught somewhere between awe and pride.

Lars extended his hands to the open sky, as though summoning the heavens themselves. "And this, I realise now, is the essence of Gedankenreich. The power to project the mind's truth onto reality, to wield creation itself as a weapon, as a shield, as a tool for change. It is the culmination of all I have fought for, the true strength that lies within my mind!"

He let his arms fall to his sides, his expression softening into something resolute yet hopeful. "The curse sought to trap me within my mind, but it failed to see the truth. This is my mind, my creation, my domain. I will wield it not only to overcome my enemies but to transform the world itself!"

The light of the setting sun dimmed as if bowing to the radiance emanating from Lars' and Kirsch stared, wide-eyed, as Lars stood framed by its golden light.

"He's still delirious," Dr. Owen muttered, shaking his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips.

Lars turned back to them, his eyes gleaming. "This is my rebirth. The Lars Mertens of yesterday is gone. The Lars of today understands. Watch closely, all of you. The mind is not just a battlefield. It is my kingdom. It is my strength. And it will change everything."

A/N: Escort Arc - fin

Who was your favourite character from this arc? (And why is it Fransiska Granvorka?)