Damian stood up slowly, the empty bottle dangling from his fingers.

The amber liquid had run dry, the last drops already soaked into frozen earth beside Brian’s grave.

He looked down at the carved stone one final time, his white hair falling forward to obscure his expression.

"As much as I would love to spend more time with you..."

His whisper emerged soft but carrying clearly across the empty mountainside.

"There are many things that I must do."

The wind picked up, pulling at his clothes, scattering snow across the fresh grave.

"And if everything works out in my favor, if I manage to see this through to whatever end awaits..."

His hand settled on the stone marker, fingers tracing the carved letters.

"We will meet again someday."

A pause, weighted with meaning that pressed against the silence.

"Till then..."

His hand lifted, pulling away from the cold stone.

"Rest in peace."

Then he turned, his boots crunching through snow as he started walking down the mountain.

The black fog that had poured from him like endless smoke began retreating, pulling back through his skin in thin wisps.

And as the darkness withdrew, his hair began shifting, white strands starting to darken from the roots outward.

Within moments, crimson had replaced the pale coloring completely, his natural hair restored as if the despair had never marked him at all.

Damian kept walking, never looking back, descending into the night with steady steps that carried him away from grief and toward whatever came next.

The grave sat alone on the mountain peak, marked by stone and memory, while the boy who’d dug it by hand disappeared into falling snow.

****

The walk back to Military Police Headquarters stretched before him, snow-covered ground reflecting pale light.

Damian moved with steady purpose, his breathing calm, his expression peaceful despite everything.

’It has only been a day since the Giants attacked Lufen Portal.’

His thoughts came measured and clear.

’And a few hours since Chief Inquisitor Vraka Scarlet brought us to the far north.’

His boots found rhythm against frozen earth.

’Yet so much has happened in so little time... again.’

The headquarters remained distant, small against the horizon.

’Well, that’s what my life is all about, isn’t it?’

A small smile touched his lips, there and gone before it could settle.

’I’m starting to get used to it by now.’

His gaze tracked upward toward stars scattered across darkness.

’But at least I know the fate of my Big Brother now.’

His mind pulled backward through the day’s events, finding Kinsley’s voice delivering the terrible truth: "I still remember their screams to this day."

’Looks like... he really didn’t survive.’

The words settled in his chest without weight, without the crushing grief he’d expected.

His mind had already known, had already accepted what his heart refused to acknowledge until now.

Hope was a fragile thing, easily broken but slow to die completely.

Now even that final fragment had been ground to dust.

’Forget it.’

His pace never slowed, his breathing never changed.

’At least there’s someone like the Director.’

His thoughts shifted, finding steadier ground.

’She called herself Grandpa’s servant and even kept the Bloodworth family name despite everything...’

The image of Ignis flashed through his mind, her crimson mask and absolute conviction when declaring war to protect him.

’I need to have a talk with her. Find out exactly what her relationship with my family was and what she knows about that night.’

Then his mind moved again, landing on another unexpected piece.

’Never expected Vice Director Felix to put his life on the line for me.’

The memory surfaced clearly despite the chaos it had emerged from.

Felix materializing between him and the Patriarchs, his body language screaming defiance despite the suicidal odds.

’But I guess he loves his daughter more than I thought. I don’t think he would do it just for my sake...’

The observation came without judgment, just acknowledgment of fact.

’And Marshal... he protected me from the start today.’

Damian’s hand rose unconsciously, fingers brushing against his temple where Lysander’s desperate mental voice had resonated.

’He even sacrificed his Time Law Seed in the end to make sure I survived.’

The weight of that settled differently, heavier than Felix’s intervention.

A Law Seed wasn’t something that could be easily regained.

And Lysander had sacrificed the foundation of his power without hesitation to make sure he made a different choice.

’Wait.’

Suddenly, Damian’s steps paused, his mind recalling a detail buried under everything else.

Whoosh

Light flashed as a book materialized from his spatial ring, settling into his palm with familiar weight.

His fingers opened the cover, eyes scanning the first page.

And his breath escaped slowly, forming mist in the cold air.

’It really is... Time Reversal.’

The skill book the Marshal had given him days ago at the Mind Tower, back when everything had seemed simpler.

’Did he come to the tower that day specifically to give this skill to me?’

The question hung in his thoughts, unanswered but weighted with implication.

He remembered Lysander’s expression, the way the Marshal had looked at him with something approaching hate, and yet...

Silence stretched across the empty landscape.

After a long moment, the book disappeared back into his spatial ring.

’After remembering the details, I should give it back to him.’

His steps resumed, carrying him forward again.

’With his talent, he should be able to learn the principles again. It’s the least I can do after everything he did for me.’

The headquarters grew larger as he approached, lights visible in windows, military personnel moving like distant shadows.

Whenever he passed soldiers on patrol, they would snap to attention immediately.

"Sir!"

Backs straight, hands saluting, eyes looking forward but respect bleeding through.

Damian walked past them without acknowledgment, his mind elsewhere.

’If I remember correctly, he talked about some sort of promise he made to someone. Who was it?’

The question sat unanswered, pieces that didn’t quite fit together.

His thoughts shifted again, cataloging the day’s unexpected protectors.

’Director, Vice Director and Marshal... all of them had their reasons to protect me.’

Each one made sense in their own way, motivations clear even if the depth surprised him.

’But the only one I don’t understand...’

His pace slowed fractionally as the headquarters entrance came into view.

’Is the Sage.’

That one sat wrong, the pieces refusing to fit together properly.

The Sage had been there seventeen years ago, had witnessed the massacre, had done nothing to prevent it...

And today, when Kinsley demanded confirmation of Damian’s identity, the Sage had lied.

Openly and deliberately, protecting a secret he should have exposed.

’Why would he–’

"Big Brother! Wait!"

The voice cut through his thoughts like a blade, high and clear, carrying across the snow-covered ground.