As the sun finally set, Ignis looked at Ava one last time and gave her a small, tired smile before leaving the room quietly. The nurses passing by only gave him a quick glance before returning to their work — to them he looked calm, as if nothing had happened at all.
Remembering Captain Clement's request, Ignis headed out for the evening tea meeting.
Only then did he realise — no one had actually told him where it was supposed to be. He paused for a moment outside the hospital gate, confused. How was he supposed to find Clement?
Just then, a man appeared in front of him.
He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with a blue tie, his face mostly hidden in the dim light. He stood tall — at least six and a half feet — and his white gloves gave him an almost ceremonial appearance. His presence felt official… and strangely intimidating.
"Hello, Ignis. My name is Phobius Richard. Nice to meet you."
His tone was calm and perfectly measured — the kind that comes from years of discipline. "Captain Clement has ordered me to escort you. Would you please follow me?"
Before Ignis could even respond, Richard had already started walking forward.
"Ah— yes, Mr. Richard, nice to meet you too," Ignis said as he hurried to catch up beside him. "May I know where we're going?"
Richard did not turn his head. "I'm afraid I cannot share the location. It is confidential. I hope you understand."
"Okay then," Ignis replied quietly. He didn't press for details — he simply followed. Still, he couldn't ignore the way Richard walked. His posture was upright, shoulders firm, and every step looked rehearsed, almost ceremonial. Ignis had never seen anyone walk so formally.
They continued in silence.
Rrring—
A call suddenly rang on Ignis's phone. He answered it without thinking, completely missing Richard's subtle hand gesture warning him not to pick up.
"Ignis! Where are you?! Have you eaten yet?!"
The voice exploded from the speaker — loud, panicked, and trembling in the most dramatic way possible.
Ignis didn't even need to check the screen.
It was Butch.
"No… but I will," Ignis replied softly.
"But you should rest right now! Do you hear me?!" Butch's voice rose again, halfway between anger and worry.
Ignis didn't answer.
He simply ended the call.
For a moment, he stared at the dark screen of his phone — a faint reflection of his own tired eyes looking back at him.
He knew Butch wasn't angry… he was scared.
To Butch, Ignis wasn't just a friend — he was family. The very last person he couldn't afford to lose.
But tonight's destination was confidential.
Even a single misplaced word could cost something far greater than trust.
So Ignis placed the phone back into his pocket… and kept walking.
They walked down a narrow, empty lane — a road made of packed mud rather than stone — the kind of path Ignis had never taken before. He kept his hands tucked into his pockets, silent, only the sound of their footsteps breaking the stillness.
All of a sudden, Richard slowed… then abruptly turned and headed back toward the main street without a word. Ignis didn't question him — he simply followed.
Soon, a large, luxurious restaurant came into view. Richard walked straight in.
"Is he… taking me to eat first?"
Ignis glanced toward the grand entrance, then at the tables inside — juicy steaks sizzling fresh from the kitchen, seasoned and steaming…
His mouth nearly watered.
"Richard is such a nice guy…"
But the hope was short-lived.
Instead of leading him to a seat, Richard turned toward the side staircase and motioned calmly with one gloved hand.
Ignis froze for a moment, devastation washing over him like a betrayed puppy.
His expression said one thing: "You stole my food… my heart… and my dreams."
But there was nothing he could do.
With silent resignation, he followed Richard up the stairs — like a child reluctantly giving up his favorite toy.
Ignis could feel his heartbeat quickening as they neared the room. He had countless unanswered questions — and an empty stomach gnawing at him since morning. Richard opened the door and stepped aside.
Inside was a long, polished table surrounded by chairs — twelve people already seated. Every face carried power, discipline, and a presence heavy enough to bend the air around them. Ignis instantly felt it:
this was no ordinary meeting.
His eyes scanned the room until he finally spotted Clement. The Captain was dressed simply — a deep blue shirt, sleeves folded neatly, a familiar watch on his wrist. But today he looked…different. Not just strict — towering, confident, almost regal. Clement met Ignis's gaze for a moment and offered the faintest smile.
A smile?
Ignis blinked in disbelief. Is this… because I defeated Nocturo?
He looked away before his own surprise showed too clearly. That's when he noticed another face — the man who had once struck him in the chest, the very one Ava had shielded him from. Their eyes did not meet for long. Ignis quietly turned his head aside, refusing to acknowledge him.
"You may sit, kid," a deep voice spoke.
It came from a man in a long white coat and black sunglasses — the kind of presence that made Ignis straighten unconsciously. He gestured toward an empty chair.
Ignis sat down slowly. A moment later, one of the attendants — dressed like a waiter — stepped forward and placed a cup of tea gently in front of him.
The room was quiet, too quiet — like the calm before lightning strikes.
Ignis took a small breath.
This was it.
Behind closed doors… the real conversation was about to begin.
Ignis settled into the chair, his hands resting on his knees. "I know why I'm supposed to be here," he began, voice steady but edged with tension, "but what I really want to know is… why did the Hellborne appear yesterday? This place has been safe for years, yet…" His words trailed off, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.
Clement raised a hand, cutting him off gently but firmly. "Patience, Ignis. You'll have your answers soon enough. First, let me introduce you to everyone present." He scanned the room, his gaze sharp and deliberate.
"The man who offered you the chair is Doctor Tobey Froster," Clement said, pointing toward the figure sitting on the chair. "He attended to you when you were unconscious and ensured your recovery."
Next, Clement's finger swept across the far end of the table. "And she is Miss Elina Vale, one of the most powerful Lumo."
Ignis's eyes followed the gesture. The girl sitting there radiated confidence, every movement measured and precise. Her striking orange hair clip contrasted sharply with her composed demeanor. When she finally spoke, it was a quiet, deliberate "Hello" that carried both warmth and authority.
Clement continued naming several others, their introductions flowing in a practiced rhythm, yet Ignis found it impossible to remember them all. Each name seemed to carry weight, a presence beyond mere words. Polite and measured, he nodded to each, softly saying, "Nice to meet you," though his mind remained partially elsewhere, still haunted by the events of yesterday.
"Now, we can begin. I request Dr. Froster to share his observations first," Clement announced, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable authority.
Dr. Froster straightened in his chair, adjusting his posture as if preparing for a delicate revelation. His eyes met Ignis's, steady and analytical. "Ignis," he began, voice measured, "as you know, the Hellborne of Trauma appeared, and you faced him directly. By all accounts, you held your ground."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words settle in the room. "But according to the reports, after your victory, you collapsed into unconsciousness. They also noted something unusual—your left hand." He leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "When you were brought here, your aura… it was unlike anything I've ever recorded. Stronger than any Lumo on record. And yet… you had no pulse. No heartbeat. I was about to declare you dead."
A faint shiver passed through the air as he continued, "Then, as if by sheer will, your heartbeat returned. What's more… there was a subtle presence of the Authority of Thrilling Horror surrounding you. It was faint, but undeniably there."
The room fell into a tense silence. Every eye remained on Ignis, the weight of Froster's words pressing heavily on him. It wasn't just a victory—it was an event that had shaken even the most seasoned observers.
"We don't know if you're connected to it," Dr. Froster's voice was calm but edged with caution. "If you know anything… anything at all, now is the time to say it. Your previous records don't show this kind of power."
Ignis straightened slightly, his tone polite but firm. "Wait, Dr. Froster… I want to explain something."
"The battle… it was intense. I thought I was going to die. Nocturo… he cut my left hand…" His voice trembled, memories flashing across his mind.
Dr. Froster's eyes widened, surprise breaking through his usual composure. "Wait, Ignis… Nocturo is the Hellborne, correct? Then… how is your hand… perfect? You must clarify this."
Ignis took a deep breath, his hands clenching slightly. "I… I don't fully understand it myself. When I felt I was about to die, an immense energy surged through my body. My vision… it turned red. All I knew was that I had to kill the monster… the one who killed my sister." His voice cracked, raw emotion spilling out.
He paused, staring at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. "Then… I don't know how it happened. When I stood again, my hand… it was whole. And it glowed… with a red aura."
Dr. Froster leaned back, absorbing the words. "A regeneration… do you know how you did it?"
Ignis shook his head, a mix of confusion and awe in his expression. "No… I don't."
"You know, Ignis…" Clement leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming heavier, "very few Lumos in history have ever been able to regenerate — and even fewer without training."
He paused.
"But the most surprising part is this — Nocturo's body was never found."
Ignis froze.
He had been about to speak, but his throat locked.
His mouth stayed half-open… breath caught.
A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek.
"H…His body… never found?" he whispered.
Clement nodded once.
Ignis's heart pounded. "Then… does that mean he's still alive?"
"No."
The voice came from across the table — Miss Elina. Calm, measured, certain.
"He died."
She folded her arms.
"But…"
Ignis leaned forward. "Then where is the body?"
A faint rustle spread through the table — tension gathering like a storm.
"If our readings aren't wrong…" Dr. Froster said, fixing his eyes on Ignis,
"…you absorbed him."
The room went silent.
Ignis blinked — breath stopping for a second. "Absorbed… him?"
His voice lowered. "Nocturo… inside me?"
Dr. Froster nodded slowly. "There was a clear spiritual trace — his aura — inside your own. Not outside your body… inside your soul."
Ignis's face lost color. His pulse raced.
"I… I don't remember anything."
The silence that followed was different now — heavier, doubtful.
Almost watchful.
Dozens of eyes fixed onto him…
and for the first time…
Ignis felt that in this room, he was not just being questioned.
He was being evaluated.
"Can someone say one thing?" Clement's voice cut through the room, heavy and demanding. "We never taught you how to kill a Hellborne. So how did you do it?"
Ignis closed his eyes, drew a slow, steady breath, and answered simply, "He told me how."
A murmur rose. Oliver — the Grade-A Lumo with the green jacket and red neck gem — exploded in disbelief and fury. "That bastard's lying! Why would you believe him? Kill him now—end it!" he spat.
"Control yourself!" Clement snapped, the word a blade. Then, instantly, he softened, composed. "Ignis—explain. Tell us exactly what happened."
Ignis opened his eyes. His voice trembled but held. "Before he died… Nocturo looked different. His eyes were wet, like someone who wanted to die. He asked me—asked if I could crush his heart."
Silence fell, heavy and stunned.
"Wait," someone murmured. "You expect us to accept that? You expect us to believe you took instruction from a Hellborne?" Dr. Froster's tone was sharp, skeptical.
Ignis's jaw clenched. "I'm not hiding anything." His words were tight, edged with tension. "I told you what happened."
"It happens," a voice echoed — calm, sharp, and unexpected.
The door swung open. Swarts stepped in.
The room, already silent, somehow grew quieter. His boots struck the floor in a slow, commanding rhythm, each step sounding like it was echoing straight through the nerves of everyone present.
"Hellbornes sometimes regret before death," Swarts said, eyes fixed on Clement's council. "Rare — but not impossible. I believe Ignis has said everything he knows."
Ignis stared, stunned. Why is Swarts… defending me?
"You were not invited, Swarts," Clement's tone turned cold. "You just broke council protocol."
"I don't care for rules made by others," Swarts replied, smiling as if the room belonged to him. "I follow my own."
He continued his steady walk across the long red carpet and sat — as if the chair had been reserved for him from the start.
No one moved. No one spoke.
But their faces burned with anger.
Swarts only looked at them — a single look — and the anger died into silence.
Ignis couldn't understand. What is going on?
The truth hung in the air, unspoken…