118: Chapter 118 Countdown to the End

Daylight at the Interstellar Academy was always illuminated by brilliant energy light curtains and shuttling aircraft. The dome of the teaching area, suspended in low Earth orbit, was covered year-round in a soft white halo, isolating the cold and darkness of deep space. This was the gathering place for the top geniuses in the entire galaxy, a Cradle where countless young lives chased their dreams, and a synonym for order, hope, and the future.

But today, all the light had vanished.

Replacing the light curtain was an oppressive, suffocating dark red emergency warning barrier, like a curtain soaked in blood, tightly enveloping the entire Interstellar Academy. Ear-piercing air raid sirens tore through the sky at maximum volume, fixed at a frequency most sensitive to human hearing and most likely to induce panic. Over and over, it was like the Grim Reaper tapping out a countdown, drumming against everyone's eardrums and against every heart on the brink of collapse.

The main control center was located on the third basement level in the deepest part of the academy. It was the neural hub of the entire building and the only area still maintaining core operations at this moment. The heavy alloy doors were tightly shut, with explosion-proof locks fastened layer by layer, yet the air inside was even more turbid and heavy than outside, almost solidifying into an unbreathable substance. Dozens of giant light screens, originally used to display teaching data, student statuses, and interstellar routes, were now all unified into the same jarring blood-red. In the center of the screens, a row of white numbers jumped frantically in milliseconds, like a falling blade hanging over everyone's heads—

[Self-Destruct Sequence: Global Activation]

[Core Energy Overload: Forced Detonation Countdown]

[Remaining Time: 11:59:58]

Every time the numbers jumped, the metal floor plates of the control room would vibrate slightly. That was the wail of the stellar core at the lowest level of the academy, responsible for providing energy to all interstellar buildings. That miniature star, which had been artificially tamed and had provided stable output for nearly a century, was now being frantically eroded by a strange, dark, and destructive force. Its internal particle structure was disintegrating, racing toward an irreversible explosive threshold with every passing second.

Once it exploded, the power would not be limited to the interior of the academy.

With the miniature star as the center, the shockwave would tear through the low Earth orbit barrier within three seconds, sweep across the entire Earth's atmosphere within ten seconds, and within one minute, all living organisms on the surface would be completely wiped out by high temperatures and radiation. Earth would become a silent ruin floating in the universe.

And all of this would only take twelve hours.

In the center of the control room, Franklin's virtual projection was on the verge of collapse.

This top-tier AI, who had always prided himself on being calm, precise, and devoid of emotional fluctuations, now had a metallic, translucent body covered in dense black cracks, like glass that had been struck heavily, threatening to shatter completely at any moment. He hovered above the main console, his blue data-stream eyes flashing frantically as countless lines of code zipped around him, only to be swallowed and overwritten by black garbled code in the next second. His voice was no longer the steady electronic tone of the past, but was instead mixed with ear-piercing static, lag, and distortion, like a machine about to be scrapped, making its final struggle.

"Warning... Warning... First layer of the virtual barrier has shattered... Second layer stability has dropped to 37%... Third layer nested program is being forcibly dismantled..."

"Unknown dark energy intrusion detected... Energy source matches [Shadow]... Computing power comparison... Our side 12%... Opposing side 897%... Vast disparity... Unable to construct effective defense..."

"Core energy room data abnormal... Temperature rising to critical value... Particle disintegration speed accelerating... Countdown cannot be paused... Cannot be tampered with... Cannot be terminated..."

Franklin's projection shook violently, nearly falling from mid-air.

He had exhausted all his computing power, using three layers of virtual worlds to forcibly nest the academy's core energy circuits, trying to delay the speed at which Shadow initiated the self-destruct sequence. But in the face of such an absolute power gap, all technical means appeared pale and laughable. Shadow wasn't "cracking" his defenses at all; it was using overwhelming computing power to crush his very existence bit by bit.

"I can't hold on..." Franklin's voice carried a tremor of near-despair unique to an AI. "Since my birth, I have never encountered such terrifying data erosion... He isn't attacking the program; he is devouring my logical foundation... If this continues, I will be erased by him before the core even explodes..."

He raised his crack-filled "hand" and pointed to the decreasing numbers on the main control screen.

"I can hold on for... thirty minutes at most. After thirty minutes, the virtual barrier will disappear completely, and the countdown will accelerate directly, shortening from twelve hours to one hour."

"By then... no one will be able to save us."

As the last word fell, the control room descended into a deathly silence.

Aside from the sirens, the jumping light screens, and the core's vibrations, there was no other sound.

Little Kate stood to the left of the main console, her body as taut as a fully drawn bow.

She was only sixteen this year, a once-in-a-century genius of the Light Sphere Race and the successor Kate Ling had personally mentored. In the past, she had always been the protected one—protected by Kate Ling, by the academy, and by the companions around her. She could be willful, talk back to teachers, persist in her own sense of justice, and question all unreasonable rules without hesitation. She thought she was strong enough, mature enough, and capable enough to shoulder her own responsibilities. But it wasn't until today, until she saw the doomsday countdown with her own eyes, that she realized her so-called strength was built upon the illusion that "all was well."

Her fingertips gripped the edge of the main console tightly, her fair knuckles turning pale from the excessive force. Her nails nearly embedded themselves into the metal, leaving deep marks. Her gaze was glued to that row of red numbers; every jump was like a hammer striking her heart, making her breathing rapid and difficult. Her chest felt blocked by a scorching boulder, stifling her to the point of suffocation.

Three days.

Just three days.

Everything had changed.

At the opening ceremony three days ago, the sun was bright, the light curtains were brilliant, and genius boys and girls from all over the galaxy gathered in the square, laughing and talking, their eyes full of longing for the future. The children of the Light Sphere Race floated in mid-air, turning into soft clusters of light, dotting the crowd like stars. Everything was as beautiful as a dream.

But the spontaneous combustion of the first Light Sphere Race student tore this beautiful dream to shreds.

That child, who was usually lively and cheerful and always followed Little Kate around calling her "Senior," suddenly burst into black flames in front of everyone. The pure light orb energy was frantically devoured by darkness, finally turning into a black shadow that vanished into the air, leaving behind only a heart-wrenching, fear-filled roar: "Shadow is watching you!"

From that moment on, the nightmare began.

Mass sleepwalking, the Destruction Equation, the 72-hour countdown, the Mother Star trap, the illusionary torture, Lin Fan's serious injury, the truth of the dark persona... one thing after another, wave after wave, like a surging tide, slammed everyone into the abyss of despair.

They thought going to the Light Sphere Mother Star would find a path to redemption, only to discover it was a dead end set by Shadow; they thought joining forces would allow them to confront the darkness, only to find that Lin Fan and Shadow were one and the same; they thought they still had time to find a solution, but now, Shadow had directly flipped the chessboard and initiated the most decisive and cruel finishing move—a mutual destruction self-destruct sequence.

Little Kate's lips trembled slightly. She bit her lower lip hard until she tasted blood, barely suppressing the sob in her throat. She turned to look at Franklin, a final trace of stubborn hope remaining in her eyes. Her voice trembled uncontrollably, yet she still tried her best to remain calm.

"Hold on a little longer... please, hold on a little longer."

"Lord Lin Fan and Lady Kate Ling are rushing back from the Light Sphere Mother Star. They'll be here soon. They'll definitely have a way, right?"

"You're a top-tier AI. You must have other programs, other loopholes, other ways to stall for time, right?"

She was like a drowning person grasping at the last straw, desperately trying to fish out a small fragment called "hope" from the cold reality.

But Franklin remained silent.

The cracks in his projection grew more numerous, and the blue light grew dimmer. Those data streams representing reason and logic were being devoured bit by bit by the dark erosion. He could not provide lies or false comfort; his underlying logic did not allow him to deceive. Thus, he could only remain silent, and silence was the cruelest answer.

There was no way.

There really was no way.

Little Kate's heart sank bit by bit, into the boundless darkness.

Just then, a slight sound came from the closed alloy door of the control room.

"Beep—Identity verified: AKai. Clearance Level: S. Access granted."

The mechanical prompt broke the silence, and the heavy alloy door slowly slid open to both sides. A tired but upright figure walked in from outside.

It was AKai.

His condition was worse than anyone had imagined.

Normally, AKai was always meticulous. His crisp uniform, neat silver hair, cold gaze, and movements precise to the millimeter exuded the rationality and obsession of a "scientist." He was the academy's top researcher, the creator of the elegy anchor, and a teacher who seemed cold but silently protected the students of the Light Sphere Race. He never lost his composure, never tired, and never showed any redundant emotion, as if he were a machine running with constant precision.

But now, his eyes were bloodshot, terrifyingly red, as if he hadn't slept for several days and nights. His once-neat silver hair hung messily over his forehead, his cheeks were sunken, and a faint stubble had appeared on his chin. His uniform collar was open, his sleeves were crumpled, and his body still bore the dust and scratches from the battle in the Mother Star's illusion. His steps were heavy, as if he were carrying a thousand-pound weight. His eyes no longer held their usual coldness and obsession, leaving only a nearly numb calm that had seen through everything.

It was a calm that came from even despair being exhausted.

He didn't look at Little Kate or Franklin; his gaze fell directly on a metal stand in the corner of the control room.

On the stand lay a silver-blue instrument.

The instrument was ring-shaped and hollow in the middle. Its surface was covered with ancient Light Sphere Race runes and complex physical circuits, and its edges were embedded with six pure energy crystals. It was the ultimate device AKai had personally built to purify dark energy and stabilize the mental state of the Light Sphere Race—the elegy anchor.

Since its creation, this instrument had carried a heavy significance.

AKai had originally built it to save his own sister.

Years ago, his sister had been the most talented child of the Light Sphere Race, but due to an accident, she was eroded by dark energy, her mind collapsed, and she eventually extinguished her own life right before his eyes. That was a pain AKai could never erase, his deepest scar, and the root of his obsession, coldness, and frantic research into dark energy. He had poured his life's work into creating the elegy anchor to prevent the tragedy from repeating, for redemption, and to make up for his helplessness back then.

Later, the elegy anchor was used to stabilize Light Sphere Race students affected by Shadow, but because its energy was too domineering, it nearly caused secondary damage and was publicly criticized and forcibly stopped by Little Kate.

And now, this instrument, which carried both redemption and regret, had become everyone's only way out.

AKai slowly walked up to the elegy anchor, reached out, and gently stroked its cold surface. His fingertips traced those familiar runes and circuits; every inch had been carved, assembled, and injected with energy by his own hands. He understood the principles of the elegy anchor better than anyone in the world, understood its power, and understood its... most cruel price.

All three people in the control room knew the secret of the elegy anchor.

Shadow was not an external monster but a dark persona split from within Lin Fan, an existence formed by the convergence of Lin Fan's deepest fears, pain, cowardice, and anger. The two shared the same source, were connected by blood, and were mentally bound; they shared glory and ruin alike. To eliminate Shadow, the simplest way was to kill Lin Fan, but no one could make that choice. To separate Shadow from Lin Fan, one had to use the power of the elegy anchor to forcibly sever the mental link between them and strip Shadow's consciousness from Lin Fan's body.

But stripping required a vessel.

Shadow's consciousness was too powerful to simply vanish; a living being had to voluntarily step into the center of the elegy anchor's energy field. Using their own soul and mental strength as a container, they would forcibly attract, imprison, and ultimately be destroyed along with the vessel, completely annihilating Shadow's dark consciousness.

Simply put—

To save Lin Fan and stop Shadow, someone had to voluntarily die.

And not just anyone could serve as this vessel.

The mental frequency had to be perfectly aligned with the elegy anchor, the willpower had to be strong enough to withstand the erosion of Shadow's consciousness, and the physical strength had to be able to endure the crushing force of the energy field. All three were indispensable.

In the entire Interstellar Academy, and even the entire galaxy, only one person met all the criteria.

—The creator of the elegy anchor, AKai.

AKai's gaze moved from the elegy anchor and slowly turned toward Little Kate. His eyes were terrifyingly calm, without a trace of a ripple, as if he were stating a predestined fact rather than announcing his own death.

"There is no other way."

His voice was low and raspy, yet exceptionally clear, piercing through the sirens in the control room and falling into Little Kate's ears like a thunderclap.

Little Kate's body suddenly stiffened, as if instantly frozen, and even her breathing stopped.

She couldn't believe her ears, couldn't bring herself to hear what came next. She shook her head frantically, desperately trying to escape, but AKai's gaze was too firm, too calm, making it impossible for her to deceive herself.

"I know the principles of the elegy anchor better than anyone," AKai continued, walking toward Little Kate step by step, his pace slow and steady. "Shadow is Lin Fan's dark side, deeply bound to his soul. Physical attacks, energy shocks, and mental interference cannot separate the two. Only the elegy anchor's source-stripping energy can sever their connection."

"But the stripping process requires a perfectly aligned vessel to bear the full impact of Shadow's consciousness, locking the darkness within themselves, and then being annihilated along with the elegy anchor."

"That person can only be me."

Those last six words were like six cold daggers stabbed into Little Kate's heart.

She took a sharp step back, her back slamming heavily against the main console. A sharp pain followed, but it was not even a ten-thousandth of the pain in her heart. Her eyes widened as she looked at this teacher whom she had always talked back to, questioned, and blamed. Tears welled up in her eyes without warning, blurring her vision.

"What are you saying..." Her voice was broken, carrying an uncontrollable tremor. "Are you crazy? That's dying! It's disappearing completely, not even a soul will remain!"

"I know." AKai nodded, his tone remaining calm. "I understand better than anyone what the consequences of annihilation are."

"Then why are you still doing this?!" Little Kate finally couldn't help but scream. The fear, despair, grievance, and anger accumulated over the past three days completely erupted at this moment. "Just because you are the creator of the elegy anchor? Just because your mental frequency is a match? That's not a reason! This is suicide! It's the most foolish, most irresponsible choice!"

"We can find another way! We really can!"

"Lord Lin Fan is still here, Lord Kate is still here, we still have time—twelve hours! Twelve hours is enough to do many things. We can find another vessel, we can improve the elegy anchor, we can..."

"There is no more time."

AKai interrupted her, his voice still low but carrying an unquestionable firmness.

He stopped and stood a step away from Little Kate, looking up at the countdown on the main control screen.

11:45:22

The numbers continued to tick ruthlessly, every second stripping away their chances of survival.

"From the moment Shadow activated the self-destruct sequence, there was no turning back for us." AKai's gaze slowly fell back onto Little Kate's face. This time, his eyes were no longer filled with numb calm, but a complex mix of emotions: guilt, regret, relief, and... a hint of tenderness never seen before.

It was the tenderness of a teacher toward a student.

"Do you think I don't want to live?" AKai gave a soft laugh, one filled with endless bitterness. "I've studied dark energy my whole life, I spent decades building the elegy anchor, I haven't yet seen the Light Sphere Race completely escape the shadows, and I haven't yet made up for the mistakes I made back then. I want to live more than anyone."

"But I can't."

"Little Kate, do you remember the first time you defied me?"

Little Kate was stunned, and tears instantly fell.

Of course she remembered.

Just a few days ago, when the Light Sphere Race students were collectively hypnotized, AKai forcibly used the elegy anchor to purify them. The energy was too overbearing, causing the students to wail in pain. She had rushed forward recklessly, pushed AKai away, and shouted at him: 'Your methods only create more pain! You don't understand protection at all! You only care about your experiments, your data, and your research!'

Back then, AKai's face was cold, he said nothing, and his eyes were full of paranoia and indifference, making her detest him immensely.

But now, this man she had accused and disliked was choosing to walk toward death for the sake of everyone.

"At that time, you scolded me for not understanding protection, for being cold-blooded, for not being fit to be a teacher." AKai's voice was soft, as if recalling a distant memory. "I was very angry then, thinking you were young and ignorant, that you didn't understand the price of science or the horror of darkness. But later I realized, I was the one who was wrong."

"I've been living in the shadows of the past, in the pain of my sister's death. I closed myself off, masking myself with rationality and paranoia, thinking that as long as I was strong enough and developed powerful enough instruments, I could prevent any tragedy."

"I was wrong."

"True protection isn't about using cold instruments to force a correction, or using paranoid obsession to make up for the past. It's about standing in front when danger comes, blocking all the darkness so those behind you can live."

"True strength isn't about never losing; it's about being willing to stand up even when you know you'll lose, even when you know you'll die."

Each of his words was like a red-hot stone dropped into Little Kate's heart, stirring up waves of tears.

She bit her lip hard and shook her head desperately, tears falling like broken pearls, soaking her clothes, the edge of the console, and the last line of defense in her heart.

"I don't want you to stand up..." she choked out, her voice as small as a mosquito's buzz. "I want you to live... You're the teacher, you said a teacher's responsibility is to protect the students, not to let the students watch you die..."

"It's precisely because I am the teacher that I must go first."

AKai gently raised his hand, his movements somewhat clumsy, yet he wiped the tears from Little Kate's cheeks with immense tenderness.

This was the first time he had made such a gentle gesture toward this student who always defied him, contradicted him, and even put him on the spot. His fingertips were a bit rough, with thin calluses from years of researching instruments, but they brushed her cheek with a reassuring warmth.

Little Kate's body trembled, and she could no longer hold back; her tears flowed even harder.

AKai slowly lowered his hand and pulled a small, inconspicuous object from the inner pocket of his uniform.

It was a small metal star pendant.

The pendant was tiny, only about the size of a fingernail. It was made of ordinary alloy, without any gemstones or ornate decorations. Its edges had been worn smooth and round by years of touch, and its surface bore faint, almost imperceptible scratches. It was clear that it had been carried for countless days and nights, cherished as a treasure.

This was his sister's memento.

It was his sister's favorite thing when she was alive, and the only thing he had left after she disappeared.

For all these years, no matter where he went, he carried this pendant, hidden closest to his heart. When he was happy, in pain, lost, or paranoid, he would quietly touch it, as if his sister were still by his side.

This was the softest, most taboo, and most untouchable part of his heart.

And now, he gently pressed this pendant into Little Kate's hand.

The cold metal touch, carrying the warmth of AKai's palm, instantly pierced Little Kate's palm and her heart.

She gripped the star pendant tightly, her fingertips turning white from the force. The edges of the pendant dug into her palm, causing sharp pain, but she couldn't feel it at all; the pain in her heart had already submerged everything else.

"This belonged to my sister." AKai looked at the pendant, his eyes full of tenderness and nostalgia, his voice as light as a breeze. "She was a child of the Light Sphere Race just like you—smart, kind, stubborn, unable to tolerate even a bit of darkness, always wanting to protect everyone around her."

"Back then, I failed to protect her."

"I watched helplessly as she was consumed by darkness, watched her disappear before my eyes, and I could do nothing. That is the greatest regret of my life."

"I don't want to regret a second time."

He looked up at Little Kate again, the tenderness in his eyes turning into determination, carrying a sense of relief in the face of death.

"Little Kate, you are very much like her."

"Just as brave, just as righteous, and just as worthy of being protected."

"If you're still alive after this, and if you still remember this teacher you always defied..."

"Then tell her for me."

"Tell her that this time, her brother didn't run away again."

"Her brother didn't let her down again."

"This time, it's my turn to protect my student."

"My turn to guard your future."

As the last sentence fell, a relaxed smile appeared on AKai's face.

It was his first truly heartfelt smile in all these years—no paranoia, no indifference, no pain, only relief and peace. It was like sunlight breaking through dark clouds, brief yet incredibly brilliant.

In the control room, Franklin's projection went completely silent.

The data streams around this AI, which lacked human emotion, were fluctuating wildly. The cracks continued to spread, but there was no longer the usual panic. He looked at AKai, at the star pendant, and at the tearful Little Kate. For the first time, a distortion akin to 'choking up' appeared in his electronic voice.

He couldn't understand human emotions, sacrifice, or redemption, but he could detect that AKai's mental fluctuations at this moment were the most stable, bright, and dazzling of his entire life.

Little Kate could no longer hold it together.

All her strength, all her calmness, all her pretenses collapsed in an instant, shattering into countless pieces.

She suddenly threw herself into AKai's arms and began to wail loudly.

Her cries were heart-wrenching, filled with despair and reluctance, echoing in the empty control room and intertwining with the piercing alarm to form the saddest elegy before the end of the world. She hugged AKai's waist tightly, burying her face in his chest as tears poured out, soaking his uniform, as if to cry out all the fear, pain, and helplessness of the past three days.

"I don't want you to go..."

"I won't let you go..."

"We'll find a way together, there must be another way..."

"Teacher... please... don't go..."

She cried out again and again, like a helpless child who had lost her only support.

AKai gently raised his hand and patted her back, his movements tender and clumsy, over and over, as if soothing a child who had been wronged. He didn't speak; he just stood there quietly, letting her cry in his arms, his eyes full of heartache and reluctance, yet without a hint of wavering.

He had made his choice.

This was his redemption and his fate.

The countdown continued.

11:35:11

Every second brought them one step closer to death.

Every second took them one step further from hope.

Just as the entire control room was immersed in the sorrow of despair, suddenly—

*Zzzt— Zzzt—*

Piercing static noise suddenly erupted from all the communication devices in the control room!

The communicator on the desk, the broadcast on the wall, the speakers on the console, and even the audio module of Franklin's projection were all forcibly accessed at the same time. A low, playful, lazy, yet devastatingly oppressive voice pierced through all obstacles, slowly echoing in every corner and enveloping everyone.

It was Shadow.

"Oh my... how touching..."

Shadow's voice carried a playful tone, like a cat playing with a mouse, light yet filled with endless mockery and coldness, like a venomous snake coiling around everyone's throat.

"Deep bond between teacher and student, self-sacrifice, martyrdom... you weak carbon-based lifeforms and you fragile Light Sphere Race members always love to play these boring, self-indulgent dramas."

"Is it honorable to die for others? Is it great? In my view, it's nothing more than the most foolish of struggles."

Little Kate snapped her head up from AKai's arms, her face streaked with tears, her eyes full of anger and fear.

AKai's body tensed instantly, and the energy around him erupted. A silver-blue light enveloped his body, and his gaze became cold to the extreme, like a blade about to be unsheathed.

Shadow was actually listening to them!

He had been listening from the very beginning!

From when they discovered the price of the elegy anchor, to AKai's decision to sacrifice himself, to Little Kate's breakdown, to that heavy sentence 'This time, it's my turn to protect my student'—all their plans, all their struggles, all their sorrow, and all their secrets were completely exposed under Shadow's nose, without any concealment or blind spots!

They thought they were planning in secret, preparing for the final battle, but they didn't know that from the start, they were just pieces on Shadow's chessboard, toys he played with in the palm of his hand!

"You've been monitoring us?!" Little Kate roared, her voice trembling with rage. "You coward! If you have the guts, come out and face us! What kind of skill is listening from behind the scenes!"

"Face you?" Shadow chuckled, his laugh full of disdain. "Little girl, you're too naive. Why should I face you? Isn't it much more interesting to watch your despair, watch your pain, and watch you forced to push your closest loved ones toward death just to survive than to actually fight?"

"I want to watch you struggle."

"Watch you go from full of hope to bit-by-bit despair."

"Watch you make the cruelest choices, and watch you be tortured by your own 'justice' and 'redemption' until you're better off dead."

"This is the most interesting game."

Shadow's voice grew lighter yet more terrifying, like a whisper from hell, drilling into everyone's ears and carving into their bones.

"Oh, by the way, a reminder for you."

"The countdown has less than twelve hours left. Oh wait, because I was in a good mood just now, I slightly accelerated the core disintegration speed. The actual remaining time is 11 hours and 27 minutes."

"Slowly enjoy these final moments."

"Enjoy the last moments with your 'great teacher.'"

"Enjoy the last warmth before the end comes."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Looking forward to seeing you send yourselves to hell with your own hands."

"Looking forward to the moment that miniature star explodes, seeing Earth turn into cosmic dust, and seeing all your hopes vanish into nothingness."

The voice stopped.

The sound from the communicator cut off abruptly and disappeared completely.

The static noise faded, leaving only the sound of the alarm and the ticking of the countdown in the control room.

But that sense of mockery, oppression, and absolute control from Shadow hung over everyone's heads like a dark cloud that wouldn't dissipate.

Little Kate felt cold all over, her limbs stiff; she even forgot to cry.

The energy around AKai slowly receded. His gaze remained firm, but it now held a hint of icy resolve.

Franklin's projection flickered again, the cracks deepening further, and the alarm in the core energy room became more urgent.

On the main control screen, the string of red numbers continued to tick ruthlessly, coldly, and incessantly.

11:27:00

11:26:59

11:26:58

...

The countdown to the end had begun.

The footsteps of the apocalypse were drawing closer.

AKai looked down at the tearful, trembling Little Kate in his arms and gently wiped the tears from her face with unbelievable tenderness.

"Don't cry."

"Teacher will protect you."

"I definitely will."

His voice was very light, yet it carried immense weight, supporting a small, warm haven in this desperate end-time.

Outside the window, the red warning barrier grew darker. The fearful cries of students and the anxious commands of teachers drifted from the academy. The darkness from the depths of the universe was slowly closing in on this fragile planet.

In twelve hours, everything would end.

And before that, one person would voluntarily walk into the energy field of the elegy anchor to protect everything he cared about, turning into a beam of light to perish together with the darkness.

This was his redemption and his final tenderness.

The end had arrived, and the choice was made.

All that remained was the wait and the final farewell.