She changed how she addressed him.

No longer calling Noah “Aether,” she used his true name.

Seeing Aelia drop the act, Noah felt not tension—but relief.

An open, honest talk could spare them so much trouble.

At the very least, he now had a chance to figure out what the hell was happening here.

“So… who are you?” Noah asked the woman before him.

“Aelia,” she replied with a mysterious smile. “At least, that is who I am in my own understanding.”

Noah’s brow furrowed—he’d thought she’d keep hiding.

But Aelia shook her head. “I am Aelia. The Aelia who exists within The Spire. My memories have been trapped here for eons, forced again and again to accept false history, guiding trial-seekers to play the role of the false Lord Aether and fulfill fabricated missions.”

“Forced?” Noah caught the hint. “You mean… you weren’t pretending before?”

Aelia nodded. “Before the Spire collapsed, I drifted in a haze—half-dreaming, half-awake.”

“Only after its fall did I regain all my memories… and slowly realize this time… this feels like the true history.”

“The Spire’s will chose to show you the real past. Perhaps that’s why I woke.”

Her words sounded mystical.

Noah understood—just barely.

Aelia wasn’t the mastermind. It wasn’t her who dragged them here or barred their escape. It was the Spire’s will.

Pascal frowned in thought. Anna crossed her arms, scratching her head now and then.

Shirley still wrestled inwardly over whether to open her eyes.

After a pause, Noah seized the rare chance. “You mentioned the Spire’s will? So The Spire actually has consciousness?”

*If I kicked it from outside… would it feel pain?*

“Of course,” Aelia smiled faintly. “The Spire possesses a will—too mysterious, too lofty. I sense its presence, but cannot speak with it.”

Noah wondered: was that inner pull to climb the Aether Spire… its call?

Was its true purpose to have him witness history?

Just then, Anna’s voice cut in. She glanced around, unmoved by the devastation. “We’ve witnessed history. Why can’t we leave?”

Aelia met the junior Undying One’s gaze earnestly. “Because it isn’t over.”

*Not over?!*

Anna shuddered—she’d died too many times today.

Sensing her unease, Aelia shifted gently. “May I ask… in your era, what became of me—the Undying One, Aelia?”

A difficult question. Most only knew she vanished after aiding the Rockrat Clan’s revolution.

Only Pascal, historian at heart, spoke slowly: “No one knows. Recent relics suggest she secluded herself in deep mountains… to reappear only if the Rockrat Clan faced extinction again.”

“If only that were true,” Aelia murmured, a bitter smile touching her lips.

Suddenly, her vision darkened.

Her slender frame swayed, nearly collapsing into Noah’s arms.

He steadied her shoulders. “You don’t look well.”

“This is the price,” she whispered with a weak chuckle. “Every Undying One pays one. Mine… is multiplied pain.”

“Multiplied?” Noah glanced at Anna.

Anna’s eyes widened in realization. “I read it once… your immortality costs you five times ordinary pain.”

“Correct.” Aelia nodded faintly. “The Sacred Flame’s burn still lingers. My soles feel searing heat—so…”

Noah pointed. “You’re standing on the priest’s flaming scepter.”

“Ah! Oh~ That explains it!” She hopped, kicked the scepter away, stamped out the embers. “Much better.”

Noah: “….”

*Are all Undying Ones this ditzy?*

Aelia cleared her throat, flustered. “Anyway—the history isn’t finished. My fate isn’t some peaceful mountain retreat.”

“But you—”

Before Noah could finish, scorching heat surged without warning.

The four white-robed priests erupted in flame—the fleshy orb, the one Anna had knocked out, all of them.

Amid agonized cries, their ashes swirled upward, coalescing into a smooth, ink-black sphere.

Space around it warped from heat.

Within seconds, Noah’s throat went dry. Sweat evaporated mid-fall. His skin cracked.

Fear flickered in Aelia’s eyes—then vanished beneath resolve.

“This is it,” she breathed, lowering her sword. “Their final Sacred Flame.”

Noah stared at the deceptively small orb. “What are they doing?”

“Sacrificing themselves to the flame,” Aelia said calmly. “A seal buried deep in their souls activates upon unconsciousness—offering them to the Sacred Flame. The Grand Duchy of Alvia’s last resort.”

“In the original history, I sent Lord Aether away, held the priests until they collapsed… then the seal triggered this flame.”

“If it erupts… everything within a hundred thousand meters turns to ash.”

Noah glanced toward the distant human camp.

They’d abandon their own soldiers—just to annihilate the Rockrat Clan.

Or rather… to destroy their hero. The future Mediator, Aether.

“This is the final chapter. Thank you for witnessing it.”

Aelia gave Noah a warm, fleeting smile.

Then she turned, walking toward the descending sphere.

Each step heavy as lead. Her delicate face twisted in silent agony.

“Any other way?” Noah gestured to Anna. “Like… sending her?”

Anna: “???”

*Yep. Guild President’s at it again.*

“History cannot be changed,” Aelia said softly. “It must remain true.”

Step by step, she advanced.

Her fresh armor melted into molten gold, trickling down snow-white skin.

Cracks spiderwebbed across her body. Blood seeped—vanished as crimson mist.

*Whoosh.* Her silver hair ignited.

Flames consumed flesh, muscle, sinew—leaving only bone.

Yet the skeleton walked on.

“Remember and respect history, my friends.”

Beneath the sphere, her bones trembled—burned, regenerated, burned again.

No words could capture her agony. Or her resolve.

She glanced back.

“This flame vanishes only after erasing all life. Unfortunately… it cannot erase me.”

“What you see is history. In your time… I am still burning.”

“But do not worry. If fate allows… we may meet again.”

Noah watched silently.

Shirley’s eyes were wide open, fixed on the burning skeleton.

Pascal prayed. Anna stood rigid, fists clenched.

They knew—they couldn’t change the past. Only witness it.

The true Undying One, Aelia, had accepted this fate nine centuries ago.

Aelia lifted her skull toward the sphere.

Noah believed her eyes remained clear—untouched by flame.

She reached out.

*Boom.*

The sphere exploded into a golden pillar of fire, piercing the heavens.

Clouds shattered, vaporized.

Starry skies lit as white beams streaked like meteors, circling the pillar before landing on Noah and the others.

Aelia waved from the flames. A farewell.

Noah narrowed his eyes. Curiosity sparked.

*He wanted to try.*

As white light flashed to send him away—he lunged.

Grabbed the skeletal hand.

Aelia froze. “Eh?”

*He’ll burn!* she thought. *Ordinary humans can’t touch this flame!*

But the Sacred Flames recoiled from his palm.

“Come with me!”

He yanked her close.

The bony figure tumbled into his arms. The flames shrank back in fear.

Flash.

Vanished—Aelia and Noah—amidst shock and disbelief.

…

…

Seconds later.

Outside The Spire.

Night cascaded over the canyon.

Before a fragrant grassy mound, Noah and the others blinked back into reality—stunned, silent, then slowly stirring.

The group exchanged uncertain glances, then all turned toward Noah.

Noah lowered his head, gazing at the strangely familiar skeleton on the ground.

He blinked once, then tentatively called out,

"Aelia?"

The skeleton remained silent for a long moment—then *click, click*—it shifted twice.

Slowly, it raised its right hand, pressed its fingers together, brought them to its temple, and executed a crisp military salute.

Noah recognized Aelia’s signature gesture and mentally let out a quiet *wow*.

Now this was getting interesting.

He’d actually done it—he’d brought someone out of The Spire!