CHAPTER 529: TIME TO LEAVE

After grasping the truth of himself—Reason and Instinct no longer clashing, but flowing as one—Liam found the battle shifting in a way that felt almost unreal. The illusion still stood before him, its posture honed, its movements sharp with calculation, yet the clash that had once shaken the world now seemed muted. What had been a storm became a fleeting gust. What had been a furious struggle collapsed into a sequence of moments so brief they barely registered as a fight at all.

Liam moved with a precision that was no longer born from conscious thought nor from primal impulse alone. Each step, each swing, each shift of his weight felt inevitable, as though the world itself had aligned to make room for his actions. His perception had deepened into something quiet yet all-encompassing. He could see the seams between motions—his own and the illusion’s—the rigid lines where Reason had once dictated his choices. He witnessed the openings he used to overlook, the flaws in his old patterns, the predictable habits he had once believed were strengths. The illusion, a perfect embodiment of the Liam he had been, suddenly looked... small. Sharp, yes. Efficient, absolutely. But small nonetheless.

The more the illusion fought, the clearer it became that it was straining. Its movements grew tighter, its attacks sharper but more desperate. It attempted misdirection, complex angles, feints woven from years of Liam’s practiced discipline—yet Liam flowed through everything effortlessly. He didn’t counter reason with instinct. He didn’t out-think calculations nor out-react reflexes. He simply existed in both states at once, and that transcended everything the illusion could ever be.

Strike after strike slipped past the illusion’s guard without resistance. Dodges turned meaningless. Counters dissolved into nothing. The ground sang beneath Liam’s movements, cracking softly under the pressure of his newfound balance. The illusion—his Reason, his past—crumpled under the weight of a self that had finally become whole.

In its final moment, the illusion’s form fractured like weakened glass. Darkness and flame—the same energies that once fueled its relentless pursuit—fell apart in drifting motes that dissolved into the air. Liam landed lightly where it had once stood, boots settling on the shattered earth as the dust of his former self faded around him.

"Well, that was a long fight," he muttered, voice low and almost bored as he let himself collapse backward onto the uneven ground. The terrain, jagged from the earlier carnage, felt strangely comfortable beneath him. His limbs ached, his heart still thrummed with the fading echoes of battle, yet he felt more grounded than he had in years.

He stared up at the strange cosmic sky of Aesmirius’s domain, its swirling galaxies and drifting colors reflected faintly in his cold, detached red eyes. The silence wrapped around him like a blanket, soft and undisturbed, and he sank into it with a rare sense of ease.

’Honestly, I’m glad that thing was only half of me... and not the whole,’ he thought as he slowed his breathing. ’If Aesmirius had created a perfect illusion the way he claimed he did, I doubt I’d have lasted this long. Even if I figured out the answer in time, Reason and Instinct together... If the illusion had both, just like me...’ he exhaled deeply, almost a sigh. ’We’d have been stuck again. Stuck in an endless loop of equilibrium just like before.’

The thought lingered, rolling around in his mind as the tension slowly drained from his body. If he, as he was now, faced an illusion of his complete self—one who wielded both halves with equal harmony—what then? Would it be another stalemate? Another endless exchange of blow for blow, neither able to surpass the other?

Or... was there still something missing?

His brow twitched faintly as the idea formed and settled like a weight in his chest.

’If there is a way to beat a perfect version of myself... then that means there’s something deeper I haven’t embraced yet.’

Something beyond Reason.

Beyond Instinct.

A third vector, perhaps.

Or a truth buried beneath everything he thought he understood about himself.

’Hmm. It’s possible,’ he admitted inwardly. ’I’d be a fool to think this is the end of my growth. There’s more—there has to be more. And I’ll figure it out... eventually. But not now.’

He released a breath and let his shoulders fall completely against the warm ground.

"For now, it’s best I just let myself heal... then get back to that old bastard so I can finally leave this place," he muttered without opening his eyes.

Aesmirius’s domain responded at once. The soft, subtle hum of mystic energy seeped into him, threading through his muscles, knitting torn flesh, soothing bruised bone. The warmth spread outward, and in its wake, the devastation of the battlefield slowly reversed. Scorched earth regained its color. Cracked stone veined together. Flame-kissed soil sprouted delicate gold-touched grass. The air grew clearer, the sky more serene, as though time itself had chosen to heal alongside him.

He felt the world settle. Felt the quiet. Felt the balance he had earned settle into his core like a flame that finally found its rightful shape.

For the first time in a very long time, Liam allowed himself to simply be still.

***

Moments later, back at the Aether, Liam ascended the final stretch of the golden staircase leading to the summit of the massive pyramid. Each step shimmered faintly beneath his boots, carrying him toward the familiar throne perched at the very peak. When he reached the top, he found Aesmirius exactly where he expected him to be: lazily reclined on his throne, head tilted back slightly, eyes closed as though in a deep, peaceful slumber.

Liam’s brow arched in dry disbelief. "I thought sleeping was impossible in here," he muttered beneath his breath as he stood there staring at the godlike being.

He exhaled sharply, shrugged, and lifted his hand. "Well... guess I should wake him up." With no hesitation, he pressed his middle finger down with his thumb, channeling Shadow Solidification. The darkness pooled at his fingertip, condensing into a perfectly round, polished black marble—small, quiet, but packed with enough force to snap a boulder in half if he flicked it with intent.

He aimed squarely at Aesmirius’s forehead and pulled his thumb back—

"You better not act stupid, kid."

Aesmirius’s voice cut through the air with casual authority, his eyes opening slowly, revealing brilliant gold irises that glowed with a faint, ancient amusement.

Liam paused, then casually lowered his hand as the shadow marble dissolved into smoke. "I doubt that counts as stupid. I was just trying to wake you up."

Aesmirius stared at him in silence for a moment before he sighed and shifted upright in his throne, studying Liam more carefully. It didn’t take long for his expression to twist into something bordering on disgust. His gaze traveled from Liam’s hair to his boots, and then narrowed sharply.

"...What are you wearing?"

Liam looked down at himself, unimpressed. "I should be asking that. This is your domain, remember? I woke up dressed like this, and for some reason, I can’t change it or summon anything else."

The outfit was absurdly pristine—long white sleeves, white pants, white boots. Not a trace of his usual dark tones. He looked like an offended angel who wandered into the wrong realm.

Aesmirius’s frown deepened. For the first time in a long while, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Even he seemed genuinely confused. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he waved a hand dismissively.

"Whatever. It doesn’t matter," he said. "Since you managed to make it up here, I’ll assume you succeeded in beating yourself and discovering the thing I sent you in there to find. And it seems you did it faster than I expected."

"Yeah, I did." Liam nodded, voice calm. "And as much as I hate admitting this... I’m grateful you didn’t tell me the answer outright. I needed to figure it out myself."

A long, heavy silence settled between them after that. Both stared at each other with slowly twisting grimaces. A moment later, their faces contorted simultaneously as if they were fighting back the urge to gag.

Aesmirius recoiled. "Never again try to sound normal in my presence."

"Trust me, it won’t ever happen again," Liam shot back with equal disgust.

The unpleasant moment passed, tension dissolving into the quiet hum of the Aether. Aesmirius leaned back slightly, crossing one leg over the other, adopting a posture that suggested he was finally ready to move on.

"Well," he said, "I suppose that means it’s time for you to leave."

"Yeah."

"But before you do," Aesmirius continued, lowering his leg and leaning forward slightly, his tone shifting into something far more deliberate, "there are things I need to tell you... and things I want you to do once you return to reality."

Liam’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, as he braced himself for whatever came next.