The psychic shriek of the Mind Jacker was a physical blow, a wave of emerald nausea that sent Alaric to his knees. The monster sensed its prize slipping away. The tentacles around Seraphina’s waist flared with a sickly green light, dragging her toward the vertical maw that dripped with acidic hunger.
"NO!" Alaric’s roar was no longer that of a Prince, but of a man who had seen enough stolen lives.
The Final Purge
Michael Packwood moved like a falling star. He didn't care about the psychic pressure; his hatred for his brother's legacy acted as a perfect insulator. He vaulted over the line of dazed knights, his greatsword trailing a wake of white-hot fire.
"Cinder-Art: Eternal Pyre!"
Michael slammed his blade into the ground at the base of the monster. A pillar of purifying flame erupted, severing the tentacles holding Seraphina. As she fell, Alaric was there, catching her against his chest. She was shivering, her skin cold and damp, her eyes still clouded with the remnants of the Void.
"Clara! Now!" Alaric yelled, shielding Seraphina’s body with his own.
Clara stepped forward, her staff glowing with a blinding, celestial blue. She didn't use a combat spell. She used "The Waters of Lethe." A massive wave of pure, sanctified water crashed over the clearing, washing away the green spores and the hypnotic scent of the monster.
The Ghost is Broken
As the water hit the Mind Jacker, it hissed and shriveled. The monster was made of "fear and hatred"—elements that couldn't survive the combined truth of the Trinity's bond.
Alaric stood up, holding Seraphina with one arm while raising his other toward the sky. "You are nothing but a memory," he snarled. "Royal Decree: Heaven’s Judgment!"
A massive bolt of blue-white lightning descended from the roof of the cavern, striking the center of the Anomaly. Michael’s fire and Alaric’s lightning fused, creating a thermal explosion that vaporized the Mind Jacker down to its last cell.
With a final, pathetic whimper that sounded uncannily like Marek's voice, the ghost of Floor 44 vanished into ash.
The Bitter Aftermath
Silence returned to the clearing—a real silence, not the heavy hum of the Void.
All around them, the knights and adventurers collapsed as the hypnosis snapped. Jace and Kaelen lay on the stone, gasping for air, clutching their heads in shame as they realized they were standing in their underwear in the middle of a battlefield.
But Alaric only had eyes for the woman in his arms.
Seraphina’s eyes finally cleared. She looked down at her bare arms, then at the discarded armor littering the ground, and finally up at Alaric. The realization of what had happened—the "mantra," the stripping, the total loss of her will—hit her like a physical blow.
"I... I was walking to it," she whispered, her voice trembling with a vulnerability he had never heard. "Alaric, I was smiling. I wanted it."
"It wasn't you, Seras," Alaric said firmly, pulling her closer and wrapping his royal cloak around her shoulders to hide her from the gaze of the recovering knights. "It was the monster. It’s over. Marek is gone. Truly gone this time."
Michael stood a few paces away, his back turned to give them privacy. He looked at Clara, who was helping a shivering Jace stand up. Michael’s expression was one of grim satisfaction. He had helped kill his brother for the second time, and this time, he had done it to save the people his brother tried to destroy.
A New Resolve
Seraphina gripped Alaric’s tunic, burying her face in his chest. For the first time, the "Iron Commander" allowed herself to cry, the tears washing away the last of the Mind Jacker’s filth.
They had survived the Anomaly, but the scars of Floor 44 would remain. As they prepared to escort the half-clothed, traumatized knights back to the lower floors, Alaric knew one thing for certain: they weren't just climbing a tower anymore. They were purging a world.
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and then Add to home screen.