Pulling himself upright, Apollo had no time to recover. Pain throbbed through the back of his skull, but he pushed it aside and sprinted back into the fight.
The sleeper was holding his own, barely. The greatsword swung with power and desperation, but it was clear the boy wouldn't last long. His steps were slowing, defenses sloppy. One more hit, and he wouldn't be getting up.
Apollo couldn't hold back anymore.
He reached toward the Centurion, specifically the fractured wound he'd carved into its chest earlier. A faint glow still radiated from within—light lingering beneath the armor like a smoldering ember.
Focusing, he extended his hand and activated his aspect.
His essence surged, then plummeted. It was as if his soul were being wrung dry.
The glow ignited.
From within the Centurion's wound, light exploded outward—pure, white-hot brilliance. The creature shrieked, reeling back in agony. It tore at its own chest, trying to extinguish the light as it ate away at its body, but it was futile. The glow only intensified, the hole widening with each second, searing deeper and deeper.
Apollo dropped to one knee, sweat pouring down his face. His vision blurred, and the world swam before him.
He could feel the light—his light—devouring the creature from the inside. But the cost was extremely steep.
His essence was nearly gone.
Teeth clenched, muscles trembling, he forced his hand forward, fingers splayed in a last ditch effort to keep the light flowing.
"Arthur!" he yelled, voice breaking. "You have to finish it—now! I can't hold it much longer!"
His legs gave out. He collapsed to the ground, hand still reaching forward, every fiber of his will focused on maintaining the connection.
The sleeper looked at him shocked, how did he know his name? They had never met before.
However he had no time to think about it as, like he said he had to finish it.
The Centurion was staggering now, its body failing. Blue ichor poured from its mouth, steam rising from the light pouring out of its chest. Its limbs twitched in panic, trying to swat at the impossible radiance corroding it from the inside.
Arthur roared as he charged forward, his essence flaring in response. He raised the greatsword high, then brought it crashing down with everything he had left.
The blade sank deep.
It cleaved into the Centurion's shoulder, carving a jagged line through the chest and into the glowing wound. Muscle, chitin, and stone-like bone split open under the blow. One of the Centurion's arms lifted weakly in defense, but it hung limp—its tendons already seared through by the light.
It didn't even scream this time.
It just staggered.
And fell.
A low thud shook the ground as the Centurion's massive form collapsed onto the bluff. A few seconds passed in silence as the light in its eyes flickered, dimmed... and vanished.
A whisper echoed inside Arthur's mind:
[You have slain an Awakened Monster: Carapace Centurion]
He stood frozen, chest heaving, the weight of the moment catching up all at once. His knees buckled slightly. Blood trickled down his arm where the blade's recoil had torn skin, but he barely noticed.
He turned to find Apollo still lying on the ground nearby, a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips.
"Hey," Apollo muttered, voice hoarse. "Took you long enough."
Arthur rushed to his side, grabbing his forearm and pulling him up carefully. Apollo staggered but managed to stay on his feet, leaning heavily on Serpent as the blade anchored itself into the ground.
"You alright?" Arthur asked, panting.
"Been worse," Apollo said with a half-smirk.
Arthur stared at him for a moment, then asked the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since the battle began. "How do you know my name? We've never met. I never even told you."
Apollo hesitated, eyes scanning the horizon as if weighing his words. The bluff was quiet now, the wind finally beginning to calm.
"I'm an oracle," he said at last, voice measured but soft. "I saw your death before it happened."
Arthur blinked. "You… saw my death?"
"Yeah." Apollo looked at him, golden eyes reflecting the dim light of the rising star. "Over and over again."
What he was saying was the truth, though he wasn't an oracle he had enough information of the future to be considered one. And he had indeed witnessed the sleeper die many times before, during failed attempts to save him.
Arthur didn't speak for a long moment, still processing the weight of it all. Then he gave a slow nod. "Well… thank you."
He smiled, reaching out his hand for a handshake. "I'm Arthur it's nice to meet you, I don't know where the hell we even are but I'm glad you chose to save me. I will make sure you don't regret it."
Apollo looked down at the offered hand, his expression unreadable for a second.
Then he took it.
"Apollo," he said, gripping firmly. "And I hope so, too."
The shake ended, but Apollo's hand lingered just a heartbeat longer than it needed to—like he was grounding himself in the moment.
"And hey," he added, voice low. "Don't thank me yet. That thing was just one of many. And this place won't get any kinder."
His golden gaze drifted to the Centurion's corpse, its blue blood still steaming in the cracks of the stone.
"We should—"
"Wait!" Arthur interrupted, face suddenly lit with boyish excitement. "That light thing you did—what the hell was that? It looked like your light was eating the damn thing alive. That was insane!"
Apollo blinked, caught off guard by the question—and the grin that came with it.
He let out a quiet chuckle, a real one. "You're not wrong," he said. "That's… more or less what it does."
Seeing Arthurs excited attitude brought back good memories of previous life's. Of course, the smile vanished when a memory of Arthur dying during the second nightmare arose. It was unwanted, but he couldn't stop it, as his flaw commanded he was unable to ever forget.
"It's the true ability of my aspect. The light I control—it's not just illumination. It has a corrosive property to it. Eats through armor, flesh… even essence."
He had found out after becoming a transcendent for the first time that there was an underlying property to light itself. Controlling the light he enhanced the property and watched as it began to eat away at whatever it touched. Was the best way he could explain it, but the truth behind the phenomenon was ever a mystery even in his many lifetimes he still hadn't figured it out.
Of course there was no need to. He just needed to understand what effect it had, maybe one day if he ever became a Sacred rank he could uncover its secrets.
…A couple of days passed.
The journey to the next crimson coral spire was slow and brutal—filled with narrow escapes, scattered scavengers, and long stretches of silence. The tides rose and fell like breath, claiming the land each night and forcing them to shelter on what little high ground they could find.
Apollo moved with practiced purpose. Arthur followed, adapting quickly, learning how to step where the coral wouldn't tear his boots apart, how to stay quiet when the waters whispered too loud, and how to read the patterns of the realm's subtle hostility.
They killed a multitude of scavengers along the way. None posed a real threat, not with the two of them working in tandem.
Each night, they took turns sleeping. Apollo remained watchful, often staring into the distance with a look Arthur couldn't read. A blend of memory and weight.
Arthur didn't press him.
Finally, on the third morning, they reached the edge of the coral spire.
It towered above them—jagged, dark red, almost black where the coral had hardened. The formation twisted upward like petrified flame, its surface riddled with sharp protrusions and strange indentations that pulsed faintly with essence. At its base, a narrow path wound upward, part natural incline, part ruin.
It wasn't just coral. There were structures here—worn steps, shattered walls, the remains of something once lived in.
Arthur tilted his head, gazing up. "This the place?"
"This is it," Apollo said, gaze locked on the spire's peak. "We'll rest here and prepare."
Arthur glanced at him. "Prepare for what?"
"You see that headless statue far in the distance?" Apollo pointed, his tone even. "That's our next stop. We've got a few more to cross before we reach the Dark City."
He paused.
"Our journey's final destination."
The two stood in silence, side by side, staring at the headless statue in the distance. It sat motionless on the horizon, as if waiting for something.