Our final day in South Jaka City came too quickly. We were due to board a military transport airplane before going on a long journey by land to Vanguard Academy.
My travel pack lay half-zipped on the floor.
I didn't want to bring too much stuff since they said Vanguard Academy would give us most of what we needed.
It was strange to think we'd be leaving so soon, and it was even stranger to think we might never train under Hale again.
Even after all that we've been through, she has been there, not in the spotlight, yet silently helping us in the background.
Not to mention…
The reality of her condition weighed heavily on us all.
We gathered by the city outskirts, preparing to say a last, subdued farewell to our mentor.
The air was thick with the promise of rain—ominous gray clouds blanketed the sky.
Hale stood near a parked military jeep, arms crossed as she watched the throng of vehicles maneuver through the clogged roads of South Jaka City.
She wore her uniform, pressed and crisp, her posture proud despite the exhaustion she couldn't fully hide. Thalamik, Carmilla, and I approached slowly.
She turned to face us, offering a small nod. "Ready?" she asked, her voice calm. "We'll head to the airport soon."
The trip plan was to board a plane to Batam and cross over to Singapore. Then, we would use land transport because some of the regions are now taken up by other races.
Before any of us could answer, Hale's suddenly posture stiffened.
Her eyes flickered—then she gasped, staggering backward. There was no time for words; her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the asphalt.
"Instructor!" I cried out, my heart seizing in panic. Thalamik and I lunged forward, catching her just before she hit the ground. Carmilla dropped beside us, anxiety evident in her quivering voice.
Hale's eyes were fluttering, and her breathing labored. Dark wisps of mana—malignant and roiling—began radiating around her, crackling with unstable energy. She clutched at her abdomen, teeth gritted in pain.
Her groans were a voice laced with agony.
For a split second, none of us moved, paralyzed by shock. Then Thalamik ordered us, "Get her into the jeep!".
We hoisted Hale's limp form into the back seat as gently as we could. Thalamik took the wheel, slamming the door shut while Carmilla climbed in beside him. I stayed in the back with Hale, trying desperately to keep her conscious.
"Everything will be fine, Instructor… You will be fine."
The jeep roared to life, lurching into the busy street, horn blaring as Thalamik forced a path through the traffic.
Through the haze of sirens and horns, I kept calling Hale's name, begging her to stay awake. Her eyes flickered open occasionally, glassy with pain, but she managed to give me the smallest nod in response.
We burst into the hospital reception in a flurry of panic. Medics rushed toward us, and Thalamik—still tense, voice trembling—pushed past them, shouting for a mana meid specialist.
"Doctor Vellar!" he yelled, repeating the name in desperation. "She needs mana-extraction care right now!"
If I remember correctly, Dr. Vellar was Thalamik's previous mentor when he was still a mana medic.
The hospital staff apparently considered Dr. Vellar's name so important that their faces became serious as they tried to give Hale the best treatment possible. They ushered Hale onto a hovering gurney. Moments later, a man in a white coat appeared. He had gray hair and a clean, neat cut. His eyes lit with recognition upon seeing Thalamik, but he wasted no time with pleasantries.
"Thalamik," Dr. Vellar greeted, voice tight, scanning Hale with a practiced eye. "So this is your instructor? Mana contamination, I see. We must begin mana extraction at once. Stay back—all of you—unless you're prepared for the contamination risk."
Despite his warning, none of us budged. We watched in tense silence as Dr. Vellar and his team maneuvered Hale into a specialized treatment room.
Thalamik clenched his fists. "If only I still studied as a mana medic. I can still…"
I put my hand on his shoulders.
"Let's hope for the best; no use taking the blame."
After a while, Hale was taken to a more serious room.
A glass wall separated us, leaving us staring helplessly as swirling lines of malignant mana coiled like snakes around Hale's body.
Thalamik pressed his forehead against the glass. Carmilla and I flanked him, each of us feeling the helplessness gnawing at our insides.
Hale had told us this might happen someday, but none of us were ready—not so soon.
Minutes blurred into hours. Medical staff came and went, carrying instruments that glowed with faint magical energy. Some emerged, shaking their heads grimly. Others forced their way back inside, determined.
But the ominous swirl around Hale never diminished.
"She's… resisting," Dr. Vellar finally announced through the intercom, his face drawn with worry. "Her own mana is devouring the demonic mana infection, but they're tearing each other apart. I'm sorry, Thalamik—we can't reverse the damage."
Thalamik bit his lip, frustration and grief carving deep lines into his features. "There has to be something!" he shouted, pounding a fist against the glass. "A transplant… a purifier infusion… something!"
"A transplant would mean a gamble since we aren't sure if her new organs will repel the invasive mana. If we force that option, Hale will die the instant we succeed the transplant."
Thalamik gritted his teeth.
"Mana purifier infusion could work. But the situation is like that of the Mana Poisoning Epidemic. Hale's antibody is low. Her body has been on a necrosis for a long time. Even with mana infusion, we can only sustain her for mere seconds before the invasive mana begins attacking again."
Dr. Vellar's voice crackled softly. "The invasive mana… It's spreading too far and too fast. We can ease her pain and maintain a stasis, but the outcome…" He trailed off, the silence heavier than any words could have been.
"The outcome will be the same as Aric's condition…. a vegetative state…" Thalamik said.
Thalamik sank to his knees, slamming his hand once more against the glass in angry despair. I stepped forward, gripping his shoulder tightly. "Thalamik," I whispered.
"We did everything we could…."
"Are you suggesting we should just let her die, Ray?" Thalamik grabbed my collar.
Carmilla stood rigid, eyes shining with tears she refused to let fall. "It shouldn't end like this," she murmured, her voice trembling with quiet desperation.
Inside the room, the medical team drifted aside, revealing Hale—pale, sweat-drenched, her breathing shallow. Dr. Vellar opened the door, waving us in, his expression solemn.
"She asked for all of you," he said softly.
We entered in a hushed procession. The sterile lights hummed overhead, casting harsh reflections on chrome instruments. The acrid scent of mana-burn lingered in the air.
Hale looked so small lying there—so different from the stern, imposing figure who'd guided us with unwavering resolve.
Her eyes flickered open as we approached.
"Thalamik… Raymed… Carmilla…" she rasped, each name an effort.
"Instructor, don't talk," Carmilla pleaded, tears finally breaking free as she hugged her.
But Hale shook her head weakly. "No… we don't have time." She forced a shallow breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry… that I couldn't hold on. I wanted to see you three… in the new academy… see you fight… see you win…"
A tear slipped down Thalamik's cheek—something I'd rarely seen from him. He carefully took Hale's hand, his voice unsteady.
"Instructor… it's not over. You can still—"
Hale managed a faint smile, lifting her other hand in a trembling gesture to hush him. "I've long since… accepted my fate," she said, the corner of her mouth quivering.
"Please remember our promise…"
I swallowed the hard lump in my throat, kneeling down so she could see me clearly.
Until the end, Hale only wanted us to remember what we are fighting for and why we have gone this far.
My chest felt painfully tight, fear and heartbreak swirling in my head. "We remember," I said quietly, forcing the words through trembling lips. "We'll make you proud, no matter what."
Her gaze softened, the fierce pride so distinctly Hale's shining through her pain. "You three are the last survivors of L'arc… the best of what humanity can become," she whispered. "Don't forget that."
Her breathing grew shallow, each exhale fragile. The unnatural mana cracked faintly around her fingers, burning against Dr. Vellar's containment wards.
"I… I…" Hale muttered, her eyes drifting shut for a moment before snapping open one last time.
She looked at each of us in turn—Thalamik, Carmilla, and then me. The weight of her unspoken emotion struck me like a physical blow.
She inhaled, her voice trembling with her final words. "…Last survivors... Thrive for humanity… Godspeed."
Then she exhaled—a long, quiet breath—and her body went still.
It happened so gently, so unceremoniously, that for a second, I refused to believe it. My mind screamed that she was still there, that she'd open her eyes and snap another stern order at us.
But the monitors gave their final forlorn beeps, and the malignant mana flickered out, leaving only silence.
My raw and anguished cry shattered the hush. Thalamik went silent, and Carmilla fell to the floor, sobbing softly. I could feel my tears sliding down my cheeks crazily. Dr. Vellar lowered his gaze, giving us space in our grief.
In that moment, Hale, the one who had shaped us into warriors and guided us through unimaginable darkness, was gone.
But in our hearts, her last words blazed like a torch in the night, a final commandment to carry on.
Abruptly, Thalamik said, "I need to go somewhere." As he left, I could see that his eyes were filled with mana.
It was as if he was still filled with determination.
We could almost feel her presence urging us forward, reminding us of our promise. And though our hearts were shattered, we would heed her call because Hale had entrusted us with humanity's hope.
Because we were her students.
Because now, we had to be more than that.
***
We were supposed to leave for Vanguard Academy the morning after Hale's death. Instead, the military association postponed our departure for a week.
The reason was obvious: they wanted to honor Hale—and Aric—with a formal funeral. News of Aric's passing had arrived at nearly the same time, leaving us reeling from a second blow we never expected.
It was late afternoon when the joint funeral commenced at a newly consecrated military burial site on the outskirts of South Jaka City. Despite the threatening rain clouds overhead, a large crowd gathered—uniformed officers, medical staff, old classmates from L'arc Academy, and even some city officials. Two gleaming caskets rested at the front, draped with official flags.
Carmilla, Thalamik, and I stood side by side, waiting for the final ceremony to begin. I couldn't help but glance at Thalamik, whose jaw was locked in tension.
Carmilla's eyes kept darting to Hale's coffin, as though wanting our mentor to open her eyes again suddenly.
An officer with a stern face stepped forward, clearing his throat. "We gather here to honor two warriors who served humanity fearlessly: Instructor Hale, a veteran soldier and beloved mentor, and Aric, a distinguished soldier who gave his life in active duty that stood by Hale's side." His voice echoed across the hushed crowd. "Their sacrifices will not be forgotten."
I swallowed hard, remembering Hale's final moments.
My heart squeezed painfully.
Carmilla trembled beside me, whispering, "She deserved more time. If only… we could've saved her."
I laid a hand on her shoulder, unsure what comfort to offer. "We did everything we could," I replied quietly, hoping my voice didn't sound as hollow as I felt.
When the trumpets ended, we were called up to place white chrysanthemums on the coffins.
The officer's voice broke as he read out Hale's accomplishments—her years of service and the countless trainees she guided, including us.
Stepping forward with the flower in my hand, I froze for a moment. Memories flooded my mind: Hale shouting commands, Hale giving me that rare, approving nod.
I managed to set the chrysanthemum on her coffin, murmuring, "I'll fulfill our promise."
Next to Hale's casket was Aric's, draped in the same ceremonial flag. Thalamik placed his flower on top of it and lingered, head bowed. Then, he abruptly opened his eyes as if he was surprised by something.
He then walked off as if trying to shrug it off.
Maybe he suddenly remembered something about Aric.
After the formal rites, an informal gathering started near a smaller memorial site where a pair of photographs—Hale in uniform and Aric in his gear—had been placed on stands. Mourners came forward one by one to share a memory or a farewell. Then, unexpectedly, a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks and shaking hands stepped in front of Hale's photograph.
"My name is Addison," she said, her voice cracking. "I'm… Hale's daughter."
Her hair was silver, and her eyes were those of Hale.
You know, now that I think about it, she's the spitting image of her.
A wave of shock rippled through the crowd.
Thalamik and I exchanged stunned looks.
Hale had never mentioned having a child.
Addison swallowed, gripping a stack of letters against her chest. "I was raised in an orphanage that my mother funded for years. She always said… that giving children a home was her way to atone for the lives she took as a soldier. She believed in creating life and protecting it. That was… her personal creed."
Carmilla stepped closer, eyes brimming with tears. "Why didn't she ever tell us?" she asked softly before hugging Addison.
Addison, who was hugged, gave a watery smile. "As always, Mom didn't want to be given any sympathy. She wanted you three to focus on becoming strong and not worrying about her personal responsibilities. But I do know all about you three." She held up a bundle of letters, edges frayed. "She wrote to me… constantly. She told me stories of a trio named Thalamik, Carmilla, and Raymed—the last survivors of L'arc Academy. She said you gave her hope."
I felt my heart ache.
That sounded exactly like Hale: never praising us face-to-face, yet quietly proud behind closed doors.
Addison's gaze swept over me and Thalamik. "I want to thank you. For standing by her, for letting her be who she was until the end."
Carmilla, still hugging her tight, gave a little distance and placed a gentle hand on Addison's shoulder. "She saved our lives. She saved all of us. She was a great person, and I bet she is a great mother."
Addison's tears finally spilled over. She leaned in; this time, she was the one hugging Carmilla. "I'm going to keep the orphanage alive in her memory. It's all I can do to carry on her legacy."
Thalamik listened, silent. I could see the turmoil in his eyes, but he said nothing, merely offering Addison a respectful nod.
Or maybe it was as if he was thinking about something else?
Night fell sooner than expected, and many of the mourners dispersed under the light drizzle. Addison stayed behind to talk with a few military officials about continuing the orphanage's funding. Carmilla hovered near her, trying to console and encourage her. I found myself drifting, memories echoing in my head, until I stopped near the fresh graves.
Two newly filled mounds of earth, side by side, marked the resting places of Hale and Aric. Each had a small, temporary nameplate stuck into the ground. I bowed my head. My thoughts tangled between guilt, sadness, and a faint sense of resolve—Hale's last words burned in my mind, a final mission entrusted to us.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I spotted Thalamik standing alone at the far edge of the field. He was so still that he almost blended into the shadows. As I walked closer, I sensed a sudden surge of mana swirling around him. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
"Thal…?" I began, but my voice caught in my throat. The mana around him flared, then coalesced into a flickering specter—a fiendish ghost with familiar features.
I froze. It looked like Aric.
The apparition hovered before Thalamik, half-formed and wavering in the damp night air. Its voice was impossible to make out, an otherworldly hiss that barely sounded human.
Thalamik spoke quietly, so quietly I almost couldn't hear him over the drizzling rain. "Are you sure you want to do this, Aric? Your soul… it'll be bound until we defeat the Demonfolk." He paused as if waiting for a response only he could understand.
So that means, back at the funeral. Thalamik heard Aric's voice.
But what about that time at the hospital?
Why were his eyes burning with mana?
The ghostly figure moved closer, its face twisted in sorrow or maybe determination. I couldn't tell which.
Whatever it was, Thalamik bowed his head. "Then I'll accept your will," he said, voice trembling. "Be my Fiend."
At that command, the specter surged forward and vanished into Thalamik's chest in a swirl of ghastly energy.
A pulse of mana rippled outward, rustling the grass at his feet and flickering the funeral lanterns. Then silence.
I stood there, hidden by the shadows, my heart pounding painfully. Part of me wanted to rush over, demand answers, maybe even yank that monstrous energy away from him.
But I hesitated. We've all made our choices in this war—some darker than others. If this was Thalamik's way to harness a new power, then who was I to stop him? All of what he did has been for the sole interest of humanity. He is the only one I can trust who uses this kind of power.
After a moment, Thalamik exhaled slowly. His posture slumped as if carrying some new, unbearable weight. I took a step back, deciding not to confront him.
I trust him.
Breathing out a shaky sigh, I cast one last glance at the graves, at the place where Hale and Aric now rested. Then I turned away, leaving Thalamik alone with his new burden.
Two more days left and our fight would continue. We will really be going to Vanguard Academy.
No turning back.
I'll fulfill that promise.