The heavy oak doors of Elshua's bedroom closed with a soft thud, the sound echoing faintly in the vast, opulent chamber.
The frescoed ceiling, with its swirling depictions of Aeloria's triumphs, seemed to watch over him, the golds and blues glowing in the morning light that spilled through the arched windows.
The tapestries of white silk, embroidered with silver stars and suns, swayed gently, catching the breeze that carried the scent of lavender and incense.
Elshua lay against the plush pillows, the cream-colored silken tunic and trousers of his sleepwear soft against his skin, the fabric finer than anything Jun had ever known.
The bed's canopy of translucent gauze drifted like a cloud, and the marble floor, inlaid with golden vines, gleamed under the light.
The Holy Palace's grandeur was still overwhelming, its ancient designs a far cry from any luxury Jun could have imagined, but Elshua's heart was steady, his mind sharp despite the weakness lingering in his limbs.
Lirien and Caldor's departure left a quiet that felt both peaceful and heavy, their warm banter a fleeting comfort. Elshua's fingers traced the edge of the teacup on the bedside table, its floral warmth now faded, and he closed his eyes, focusing inward.
A golden pulse flickered in his vision, and with a thought, he summoned his status window, the translucent panel shimmering before him like a divine mirror.
The system's familiar glow was a grounding force, a reminder of his role as the Spark of Aeloria—and of Jun's knowledge of the novel Requiem of the Fallen, the story that shaped this world.
⟪System Notification: Status Update⟫
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Character: Elshua (Saint of Aeloria)
Title: Spark of Aeloria
Status: Divine Energy (Recovered: 80%)
Health: Unstable (Severe physical exhaustion, minor cuts healed, muscle weakness)
Level: 1
Affiliation: Lion Hearts Knight Order (Allied), Holy Empire of Aeloria (Saint)
Role: Support (Divine Caster)
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Skills:
- Healing (Support): Heals one ally's wounds, restoring moderate health. Cooldown: 30 seconds. Cost: Low divine energy.
- Shield (Support): Grants one ally a protective barrier, absorbing one attack. Duration: 10 seconds. Cooldown: 10 seconds. Cost: Low divine energy.
- Courage (Buff): Imbues allies within a 20-meter radius with enhanced strength and resilience, increasing attack and defense by 20% for 30 seconds. Cooldown: 60 seconds. Cost: Significant divine energy.
༺═════════════════༻
⟪Objective: None Active⟫
⟪Note: Your divine energy has been restored to 80% by the Grand Basilica's healers, but your physical body remains weakened. Strengthening your physique is essential to fully harness your original power, Saint Elshua.⟫
Elshua's breath caught, his golden eyes scanning the window. Eighty percent—his divine energy was a radiant torrent, far from the flicker it had been in the quarry, when it dwindled to a mere 5%.
Now, thanks to Lumora's healers, it surged, but his body was a cracked vessel, unable to contain its full power. His muscles ached, his limbs trembled when he tried to stand, and his head spun with every effort.
The system's note confirmed his suspicion: he needed to strengthen his body to match his divine energy, to reclaim the ocean he once wielded.
He dismissed the window, his mind calm despite the challenge. Jun's knowledge of Requiem of the Fallen gave him a strange advantage. In the novel, Elshua's death came after a three-year time skip, a tragic end that set the story's darker tone.
That gave him time—three years to grow, to change his fate, and to uncover the truth behind his drained energy. For now, he'd focus on recovery, strengthening his body, and learning about this world, its faith, and his role as the Spark.
The Holy Palace, with its resources and allies like Lirien and Caldor, was the perfect place to start. He took a pastry from the tray, its sugary flakes crumbling on his tongue, and chewed thoughtfully, the sweetness grounding him in the moment.
A soft knock at the door broke his reverie, the sound tentative but familiar.
"Your Holiness? It's Caelan," came a voice, warm but tinged with something heavy—sadness, perhaps.
Elshua's heart lifted, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Come in," he called, his voice stronger than he felt, and he pushed himself up against the pillows, ignoring the tremor in his arms.
The door opened, and Caelan Herdos stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a burst of sunlight.
His dark curls were tamed, his armor replaced by a simple tunic of deep blue, its hem embroidered with the Lion Hearts' crest—a golden lion encircled by stars.
His blue eyes, usually bright with devotion, were clouded, his smile strained as he closed the door and approached the bed.
He carried a small leather satchel, its strap worn, and his boots scuffed the marble floor, a contrast to the room's pristine elegance.
"You're awake," he said, his voice soft, relief mingling with that strange sadness.
"I… I heard from Lirien, but I had to see for myself."
He stopped at the bedside, his hands fidgeting, as if unsure whether to reach for Elshua or stay still.
Elshua's smile widened, though he noted Caelan's expression, the way his shoulders slumped.
"I'm here, Caelan," he said, his tone gentle, trying to ease the paladin's worry.
"A bit wobbly, but alive. Thanks to you."
He gestured to the chair by the bed, its carved vines gleaming.
"Sit. You look like you're carrying the whole empire on your back."
Caelan chuckled, a faint sound, and sank into the chair, his satchel resting on his lap.
"You're one to talk, Your Holiness," he said, his eyes scanning Elshua's face, lingering on his pale skin, the faint shadows under his golden eyes.
"You scared me half to death in that quarry. I thought…"
He trailed off, his jaw tightening, and Elshua felt a pang, the memory of Caelan's arms, his desperate run, vivid despite the haze.
"I'm sorry,"
Elshua said, his voice quiet, letting Jun's sincerity slip through.
"I didn't mean to worry you. But you kept me safe, like you always do."
He meant it, the covenant between them—a bond he didn't fully understand—warming his chest, a faint echo only visible for Caelan's.
Caelan's smile flickered, but the sadness remained, his fingers tracing the satchel's strap.
"I'd do it again, Your Holiness," he said, his voice low.
"Always. But… there's something I need to tell you."
He hesitated, his blue eyes dropping to the floor, and Elshua's stomach twisted, sensing the weight of his words.
"What is it?"
Elshua asked, leaning forward, his hands gripping the blanket, the silken fabric cool under his fingers.
"Caelan, you're making me nervous. Just say it."
Caelan exhaled, his curls bouncing as he met Elshua's gaze, his expression a mix of guilt and resolve.
"I've been accepted to the World Academy," he said, the words heavy, as if each one cost him.
"It's… the most prestigious school in Philan, for anyone aged fifteen and up, from nobles to knights to mages. Five years of training—combat, magic, strategy, everything. I leave in a week."
Elshua's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and pride swelling in his chest. The World Academy was legendary, even in Jun's fragmented knowledge of Requiem of the Fallen.
A neutral institution, open to all of Philan's continents, it forged leaders, heroes, and scholars, its campus a sprawling city of knowledge guarded by ancient wards. Caelan, at fifteen, earning a place there was no small feat.
"That's amazing, Caelan!"
Elshua said, his voice bright, though he caught the sadness in Caelan's eyes.
"You've earned it. Why the long face?"
Caelan's fingers tightened on the satchel, his voice dropping.
"Because I don't want to leave you, Your Holiness," he said, his words raw, almost a confession.
"The Academy's rules are strict—no leaving except for vacations or emergencies. Five years, with only short visits. After everything—finding you, the demon, almost losing you—I…"
He swallowed, his blue eyes glistening. "I swore to protect you, and now I'm being sent away."
Elshua's heart ached, Caelan's devotion a weight he hadn't fully grasped. The paladin's sadness was palpable, the covenant amplifying it, a quiet grief that tugged at Elshua's chest.
He reached out, his hand trembling but steady, and rested it on Caelan's arm, the tunic's fabric warm under his fingers.
"Caelan," he said, his voice gentle but firm, "you're not abandoning me. You're going to grow stronger, to become someone who can protect not just me, but all of Aeloria. The World Academy is a chance to do that."
Caelan's eyes searched his, a flicker of hope breaking through the sadness.
"You think so?" he asked, his voice small, almost boyish, and Elshua nodded, his smile warm, drawing on Jun's knack for reassurance.
"I know so,"
Elshua said, squeezing his arm.
"You're already a hero—my hero, in that quarry. But imagine what you'll be in five years. A Templar Commander with skills to make demons run screaming."
He chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood, and Caelan's lips twitched, a reluctant smile forming.
"You make it sound easy, Your Holiness,"
Caelan said, his voice softer, his hand covering Elshua's, the touch grounding them both.
"But leaving you here, after everything… it feels wrong. What if you need me? What if another demon comes?"
His brow furrowed, the covenant pulsing with his worry, and Elshua's heart warmed, touched by his care.
"I'll be fine," Elshua said, his tone reassuring, though his own doubts lingered.
"I've got Lirien, Caldor, and the whole Holy Palace watching over me. And I'm not helpless—I've got my skills, and I'll get stronger, too."
He paused, an idea sparking, and his golden eyes lit up.
"Besides, I'll join you at the Academy when I'm fifteen. That's only… what, a year and a half? We'll be there together."
Caelan's eyes widened, a laugh escaping him, the sound brightening the room.
"You, at the Academy?" he said, his voice teasing, the sadness easing.
"You'll have the instructors praying to Aeloria for patience. But… I'd like that, Your Holiness. You and me, training together."
His smile grew, genuine now, and Elshua grinned, the image of them sparring or studying under ancient oaks a warm promise.
"Then it's settled,"
Elshua said, leaning back, his arms trembling slightly but his spirit buoyed.
"You go, become the best knight Philan's ever seen, and I'll catch up. Deal?"
He held out his hand, a playful gesture, and Caelan took it, his grip firm, his blue eyes shining.
"Deal,"
Caelan said, his voice steady, the covenant warming with shared resolve. He hesitated, then reached into his satchel, pulling out a small, carved wooden lion, its mane etched with tiny stars.
"I… made this for you," he said, his cheeks reddening, handing it to Elshua. "To remind you I'm not far, even at the Academy. Keep it close, alright?"
Elshua's fingers closed around the lion, its wood smooth and warm, the craftsmanship simple but heartfelt.
"It's perfect," he said, his voice soft, his chest tight with emotion. "I'll keep it with me, Caelan. Thank you."
He set it on the bedside table, beside the pastries, its presence a quiet anchor.
Caelan stood, his satchel slung over his shoulder, his smile bittersweet.
"I should go," he said, his voice reluctant. "The Pope wants another report, and I need to prepare for the journey. But I'll visit before I leave, I promise."
He paused at the door, turning back, his curls catching the light. "Take care of yourself, Your Holiness. Get strong, for both of us."
"I will," Elshua said, his voice firm, his golden eyes bright.
"And you, don't let those Academy students outshine you. Aeloria's watching."
He winked, and Caelan laughed, the sound lingering as he left, the door closing softly behind him.
Elshua sank into the pillows, the wooden lion in his hand, his thumb tracing its stars. Caelan's departure was a loss, but it was also a spark, igniting his resolve.
He had three years before Requiem of the Fallen's tragic arc, time to strengthen his body, master his skills, and uncover the truth behind his drained energy.
The Holy Palace, the World Academy, and allies like Caelan and Lirien were his path forward. The Spark of Aeloria would shine, and Elshua—both Jun and saint—would carve a future where he'd live, not just survive.