When Lukas opened his eyes, he was neither alive nor dead. He stood in a colorless field, emptiness stretching into infinity. The air was too cold to be real, and every step echoed for miles.

  Ahead, César appeared — helmet with a red crest, intact Roman armor, shield on his arm, expression solemn as judgment itself.

  — So you finally agreed, boy. — said the Enchanted, arms crossed. — I thought you had given up.

  Lukas tried to speak, but no sound came out.

  Behind César, the calm waters began to ripple. A woman walked over them, wearing the same torn dress… but smiling. For the first time, without hatred in her eyes.

  Morgana.

  — I stole something that was never mine… — her voice was quiet. — And I used what little mana I had left, along with the energy from the Binding Seal you cut… to save you from death.

  César looked at her, tension written in his eyes. — You destroyed your own destiny to do that.

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  Morgana nodded. — Yes. And I don’t regret it.

  — You died, Lukas. — César pointed a finger at his chest. — You died… and you died fighting. But here… — his finger tapped Lukas's heart — there is still a flame. You chose the ending.

  The weight of memory hit him like a blow: Sorriso burning, Kyros falling, the empire in ruins, innocents dying in the crossfire… everything he had lost for being weak.

  — …Will I… come back? — he finally managed to say, voice hoarse.

  Morgana stepped forward, touching his face. — You will. And so will I. I will follow you back to the beginning… even if you hate me again. Even if you fight to kill me again. I want you to have another chance.

  — And I do too. — César planted his shield in the floor of the void. — The legend of the Empire died with me… but if you’re starting over, then I want to see how far you can go. As your legionary brother.

  The ground began to crack open in light.

  Morgana held out her hand firmly. — Let’s go back to where everything began.

  César gently lifted his spear, his tone stern, but with a glint of challenge in his eyes. — And this time, boy…

  Their voices overlapped:

  Morgana: — We will start again…

  César: — …and we will change history, boy.

  From the depths of the light, another voice thundered:

  — Heir of the Black Throne! It is truly you.

  Lukas froze. — Oh… Black Throne?

  The light engulfed them.

  Darkness.

  Then… the sound of a heartbeat. Lukas opened his eyes — and two familiar presences burned brightly in the depths of his mind.

  "Together."

  End of chapter