Chapter 199: Beautiful In Death

Adam and Remedy stopped before a towering door carved from dark, seamless stone, its surface pulsing faintly like a living thing. Even without touching it, Adam felt the pressure leaking through, heavy and suffocating that it pressed against his chest. Yet Remedy didn’t rush forward. She stood still, calm, as if there was no immediate danger here.

That alone told Adam everything he needed to know.

They weren’t at risk of being trapped anymore. Not here. Not at this point.

He exhaled quietly, eyes narrowing as he studied the door again, then shifted his gaze to Remedy’s back. “What’s in there?” he asked, voice low but steady, already bracing himself for something complicated.

Remedy didn’t hesitate. “A memory.”

Adam’s eyes sharpened instantly at that. His posture stiffened, the tension returning as quickly as it had faded. “A memory?” he repeated, slower this time. “So we’re going back to the soul flame?”

His jaw tightened slightly as the thought connected. “Wouldn’t that just bring the Soul Protectors back?”

Remedy shook her head before he even finished, her expression unchanged. “No. This one is different.” She paused briefly, then added, “This memory is in my core.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard by that answer. For a moment, he just stared at her, as if waiting for her to correct herself. When she didn’t, his brows pulled together. “Rem—”

“What is it, Adam?” she asked, turning slightly toward him.

He opened his mouth, then stopped, clearly searching for the right words. His expression twisted between confusion and disbelief before he finally gave up trying to soften it. “You know you’re a freak, right?”

Remedy didn’t react the way most people would. She simply looked at him and replied evenly, “You should probably look in a mirror yourself.”

Adam shook his head, but he wasn’t joking. Not even a little.

A soul wasn’t supposed to work like this. Memories belonged to the mind, not the soul. The soul flame had been one thing, it mimicked mental processes, so it made some sense. Barely. But the core? That was different. That shouldn’t be possible at all.

And yet, here they were.

As if reading his thoughts, Remedy spoke again, her tone calm but firm. “Don’t worry. It’s only one.”

Before Adam could question that further, she stepped forward and placed her hand against the door and the massive structure shifted smoothly under her touch, opening with a slow, heavy motion.

The pressure intensified for a brief moment as the gap widened, then stabilized.

Remedy walked in without hesitation.

Adam lingered for half a second longer, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the threshold. Then he exhaled once, steadying himself, and followed her inside.

****

Adam stepped through the door and the world shifted instantly around him, the darkness snapping into something real. The ground beneath his feet turned solid, uneven and soaked. The air was thick, heavy with iron and ash.

When his vision cleared, he froze.

They were standing in the middle of a battlefield.

The fight was already over. That was the first thing he noticed. Just silence stretching endlessly across broken ground. Bodies were scattered everywhere, twisted in unnatural positions, frozen in their final moments.

Pain was written on every face.

Adam’s breath slowed as his gaze moved across the scene, trying to process it. His instincts told him this wasn’t just any memory. There was something heavier here. Something personal. Something final.

Then he saw them.

Ivy lay ahead, her chest completely pierced through, the wound clean and fatal. Her eyes were open, staring at nothing, while her pink hair had been soaked through, dyed dark red with dried blood.

She wasn’t moving.

A few steps away, Felicia was on her knees, her body leaning forward slightly as if she had tried to keep going even at the end. Both her arms were gone, severed cleanly, and her face was locked in pain.

Even in death, it hadn’t left her.

Adam’s jaw tightened as his gaze shifted again, landing on a massive red demon collapsed beside her. Half of its body was missing, torn away completely. The remaining form was barely recognizable.

But Adam knew.

Scott.

His disguise had dropped the moment he died.

Adam didn’t say anything after that. He didn’t need to. The battlefield, the bodies, the silence, and the look on Remedy’s face told him everything he needed to know.

This was their last stand.

Remedy moved before he could speak, her steps steady, controlled, as if she had already accepted what she was seeing. “The exit is just around here,” she said, her voice calm, almost detached.

Adam nodded slowly, forcing his eyes away from the bodies.

But something didn’t sit right.

If this was the final battle… then where were they?

His gaze sharpened as he scanned the area again, searching more carefully this time. It didn’t take long. The answer revealed itself sooner than he expected.

And when it did, his steps stopped completely.

He found her.

Remedy’s body lay ahead, collapsed among the rest, unmoving and silent like all the others.

****

Adam’s steps slowed as he approached the body, his eyes locking onto every detail whether he wanted to or not. Like the others, she looked older. Not just older, worn down. The kind of exhaustion that didn’t come from a single battle, but from far too many.

Her armor was damaged beyond repair, the defensive armament cracked and barely holding together. The conduit rapier in her hand was broken cleanly at the midpoint, its edge dulled and lifeless. Even so, she still looked composed.

Even in death, she looked… beautiful.

Adam’s gaze lingered for a second longer than it should have before he forced himself to look away. The weight in his chest tightened slightly, but he pushed it down, keeping his expression steady as he turned back to the living Remedy beside him.

Remedy didn’t look at her body for long. When she spoke, her voice was calm, almost clinical, as if she were explaining something distant rather than standing in the middle of it. “I created this space during what I believe was my two-hundredth regression.”

Adam’s eyes snapped back to her instantly.

That was the first real number relating to her regressions she had ever given him.

Two hundred.

The weight of it hit harder than the battlefield itself. He said nothing, but the way his gaze sharpened showed he understood exactly what that meant.

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