CHAPTER 78 — THE DEATH OF PERCY GRANT

Some sentences did not stay where they were spoken. A person would leave the room. The sentence would follow. A person would close their eyes. The sentence would wait in the dark.

Clara learned this that night.

She sat alone on the edge of the bed in Percy’s room. The house was silent. The entire world outside was talking about how Holar Jun had killed the four King Monsters, but in that room, there was only the emptiness left by a boy.

An ivory dress rested on the bed. Clara had seen it in the market and adored it. When she noticed the price, she had put it back without a word.

Percy hated shopping.

After the ninth outfit, he had collapsed into a corner, staring at the ceiling as if he had given up on life. Clara had teased him. Percy had grumbled, swearing he would never go shopping with her again.

But he had gone back. He had bought the dress in secret. He had left it here without Clara knowing. Perhaps he would have given it to her if they hadn't fought.

Perhaps if Clara had told him. Perhaps if Percy hadn't had to wait for a month. Clara's fingers trembled as she touched the dress.

She remembered calling Holar "Uncle" once. Percy had not liked that at all. He didn't want to share his grandfather. Every time Clara said it, he would frown and correct her.

Then, one day, he had allowed it. He had allowed Clara to touch that family. To call his grandfather 'grandfather', to call Eleanor 'aunt'... To live in that house as if she had a place of her own...

Clara pressed the dress to her chest.

"Percy let me touch his family."

Her voice sounded tiny in the empty room. Tears streamed from her eyes.

"Because of me, his family was touched."

She had hidden Leon. Galahad had been injured. Eleanor had been enraged. Holar had been forced to show the world the face he had hidden for years. And Percy...

He had waited for a month. Clara closed her eyes. Percy’s voice immediately answered within her mind.

"I waited for a month."

Clara's breath hitched. She shook her head.

"No..."

"You used to tell me if you tripped over a stone."

Clara brought her hands to her ears. The voice wasn't coming from the outside.

"I waited every day for you to tell me."

She stood up. She wanted to leave the room, but with her first step toward the door, another memory stepped in front of her. Percy's bloodshot eyes. His trembling voice.

"I don't want to like you anymore."

Clara held onto the edge of the bed.

"Stop."

But the memories did not stop. The way they looked at each other as children returned.

"Pain in my ass."

Followed by Percy's unhesitating reply:

"Me more."

Percy's extended hand...

"Now."

His voice rising in the middle of the camp...

"That's my Clara!"

And finally, Percy standing before her in the middle of the school. Percy, walking away from her while crying.

"The era of Percy and Clara is over."

Clara's knees gave out. She fell to the floor.

She didn't know how long she cried. Minutes blurred into each other in the darkness of the room. After a point, the tears continued, but her voice faded.

Finally, she lifted her head. The ivory dress was still on the bed. Clara slowly stood up and slipped it on. She stepped in front of the mirror. The dress fit her perfectly.

How Percy had found her size, she didn't know. Perhaps he had asked the woman at the store. Perhaps he had guessed by looking at the other clothes Clara tried on. Or perhaps he already knew because he watched her more carefully than anyone else.

Clara looked at the girl in the mirror. She looked tiny wrapped in the ivory fabric. But the pain behind her eyes did not belong to a child. It came from much farther away.

It felt as though it had passed through something much older to reach her. Clara touched the mirror.

"What have I done?"

The room did not answer. Percy’s voice did.

"Seeing you makes me sick to my stomach."

Clara's face twisted.

"I didn't mean to."

Silence.

"I didn't want to lose you."

Again, no answer came. Clara opened her palm. White light gathered between her fingers. It was as beautiful as ever. Warm and clean.

The light that hadn't harmed Percy when it enveloped him... Now began to elongate in Clara's trembling palm. It turned into a spear. Clara looked at its sharp tip. Her fingers loosened.

The light seemed to waver for a moment. Then Percy's voice returned.

"I waited for a month."

Clara gritted her teeth.

"You didn't tell me."

She gripped the spear's shaft with both hands.

"I always waited."

She turned the tip toward her chest.

"This is it, Clara."

Clara closed her eyes.

"I can't take it anymore."

The light moved. The tip of the spear pierced the ivory fabric. But the moment it touched her skin, Clara's eyes shot open. The pain hadn't arrived yet. Beneath her mind, which thought it wanted to die, a child who wanted to live screamed in terror.

Clara's hands slipped at the last second. The spear missed her heart by a few centimeters. It pierced right through her body. The light extinguished at the same time. Clara fell backward.

A tiny redness formed on the ivory fabric first. Then the stain grew. It swallowed the elegant embroidery of the dress and reached the rug on the floor.

Clara struggled to breathe. The pain in her chest had silenced all the voices in her mind. She no longer heard what Percy said. She was only afraid. Of dying.

Of never seeing Percy again. Of leaving without even being able to give him a real apology. Her lips moved with difficulty.

"Percy..."

Her vision darkened.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes closed.

Eleanor heard the sound of the fall first. Then she smelled the blood. When she reached the room, the door was still ajar. She pushed it open and stopped on the threshold.

Clara was lying on the floor. Half of the ivory dress had turned red.

Eleanor's mind refused to accept what she saw for a few seconds. She knew it was Clara lying on the floor. She saw the blood. She saw the wound.

But she thought these couldn't possibly be pieces of the same image.

"Clara?"

Her voice was nothing but a whisper. Clara didn't stir. All the color drained from Eleanor's face.

"CLARA!"

She rushed to her side, falling to her knees. She brought her hands to the wound but didn't know where to touch. Blood was flowing through her fingers.

"Look at me."

She held Clara's face.

"Clara, open your eyes. Look at me!"

No answer came.

Eleanor's Orin surged uncontrollably. The windows rattled. The objects in the room shifted from their places.

Right at that moment, Holar returned home. Outside, he had left the corpses of four King Monsters and the silence of millions of creatures. The blood on him hadn't yet dried.

The moment he heard Eleanor's voice, he materialized in the room. He saw Clara. For a moment, the face of the man who stood before millions vanished. In its place, a grandfather remained.

Holar knelt. He placed two fingers on Clara's neck. There was a pulse. It was very weak. But it was there.

"Academy," he said.

Eleanor looked at him. Her eyes were fixated on what she saw. Holar spoke more harshly this time.

"The best healers are at the academy. Now."

He gathered Clara in his arms. The ivory dress touched Holar's bloody jacket. Monster blood mixed with Clara's blood. In the next moment, all three of them vanished from the room.

The doors of the medical ward flew open as if they were going to be ripped off their hinges. When the healers saw Holar, they attempted to ask questions. Then they noticed Clara in his arms.

Elizabeth Olsen was the first to arrive. She saw the blood on the dress, the angle of the wound, and Clara's pale face in a single glance.

"Lay her on the table."

Holar let go of Clara. Olsen joined her hands over the wound. Green Orin spread through Clara's body.

"Right next to the heart. The lung is damaged."

Two more healers approached.

"Blood pressure is dropping."

"Stabilize the healing layer."

Eleanor stood at the head of the table.

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"Save her."

Olsen didn't take her eyes off the wound.

"I'm working on it."

"Save her!"

"Eleanor."

Olsen's voice wasn't that of a teacher, but of a healer.

Sharp.

Controlled.

"Either help me or step back."

Eleanor fell silent. She placed her hands on Clara's head and connected her own Orin to the layer the healers had established. Olsen looked at the wound again.

"What happened?"

This time, Holar answered.

"She did it to herself."

Olsen's hands paused for a second. Only a second. Then the light began to burn stronger.

"We are continuing."

By the time Wycliffe reached the door, only the short commands of the healers could be heard inside. He saw Clara. He saw the ivory dress. He saw the monster blood on Holar and Clara's blood on Eleanor's hands.

He didn't ask anything. He stood by the door and bowed his head. Minutes passed. Olsen closed the wound, then began to rebuild the disrupted tissue. The other healers kept Clara's respiration and heart rhythm stable.

Finally, the drop in the monitors stopped. Olsen didn't lower her hands. She waited for another minute. Only when Clara's pulse became regular did she exhale.

"She's alive."

Eleanor's knees gave way. She stayed on her feet by holding onto the table. Holar's shoulders dropped slightly. No relief was visible on his face, but one could notice how tightly his fingers were clenched.

Clara's eyes fluttered open a while later. Her vision was blurry. Her lips moved.

"Percy..."

Eleanor leaned in immediately.

"I'm here."

Clara didn't look at her.

"Where is Percy?"

Eleanor couldn't answer.

Clara tried to sit up. The wound on her chest ached again. Olsen held her by the shoulders and pressed her back onto the bed.

"Don't move."

"I have to go to Percy."

"You can't go anywhere right now."

Clara's breathing quickened.

"I need to see him."

Holar approached the bed.

"Clara."

Clara turned her head to him. Her eyes welled up with tears.

"Grandfather..."

That word pierced through all the harshness on Holar's face. Clara reached her hand out to him.

"Bring Percy."

Holar couldn't speak for a few seconds. Finally, he took out his Shiri.

When the Shiri vibrated, Percy and Galahad were quite far from the city. Percy looked at the screen. Seeing the caller, a faint smile formed on his face.

"Grandfather?"

Holar didn't answer immediately. Percy's smile faded.

"I heard you killed the four Kings," he said. "You did it alone again."

The silence continued. Percy straightened up.

"Grandfather?"

Holar's voice came.

"Percy, there is something I have to tell you."

Percy's hand clenched involuntarily.

"Is it Clara?"

Holar closed his eyes.

"Clara hurt herself."

Percy didn't move. Holar had to continue.

"She wore the dress you bought."

Percy's fingers began to tremble.

"She tried to kill herself."

The world didn't go silent. The wind was still blowing. The trees were still moving. Galahad was breathing a few steps away. But Percy heard none of it.

Only that sentence remained. Clara tried to kill herself. The anger and resentment that had squeezed his stomach for a month lost their meaning in that moment. A much greater, much colder fear took their place.

Clara's face appeared in his mind.

Laughing.

Getting angry at him. Holding his hand. Standing opposite him in the arena. Then falling to the ground... Percy's own voice intervened.

"The era of Percy and Clara is over."

That sentence felt as if it no longer belonged to him.

"Is she alive?"

His voice was too low to be heard. Holar answered immediately.

"She is alive. The healers closed the wound."

Percy closed his eyes. The strength in his legs waned. Galahad came over and grabbed his shoulder. From the other side of the Shiri, Clara's weak voice was heard.

"Percy..."

Percy's breath caught. He tried to speak. No sound came from his throat.

"Percy, come here."

Percy bowed his head. Tears fell to the ground. He wanted to see her. He wanted to run to Clara, hold her hand, and see with his own eyes that she was alive.

But he didn't know what to say when he saw her. He couldn't say his anger was gone.

It wasn't.

He couldn't say he had forgotten everything. He hadn't. He wasn't ready to say he forgave her. But he was absolutely not ready to lose her.

"I..." Percy said.

The rest didn't follow. Holar waited. Percy wiped his tears.

"I'm not ready right now."

Clara's breath was heard from the other end of the connection. Percy's voice broke.

"I miss her so much, Grandfather."

Galahad didn't remove his hand from his shoulder.

"But I can't handle what missing her does to me. If I see her now... I don't know what to say."

Holar could have ordered his grandson to return.

He didn't.

"Alright, Percy."

Percy lifted his head.

"We are here," Holar said. "Come when you are ready."

Percy closed his eyes.

"Thank you, Grandfather."

He closed the connection. The Shiri slipped from his hand. Galahad caught it before it fell. Percy tried to stand for a few seconds. Then he rested his face against his older brother's chest.

His crying started silently. Then his whole body began to tremble. Galahad hugged him. He didn't give advice. He didn't defend Clara.

He didn't say Percy was wrong either. He only held him.

By the time Percy calmed down, the sun had begun to set. Galahad crouched in front of him.

"Let's go somewhere."

Percy looked at him with red eyes.

"Where?"

"To the old camp."

Percy thought for a few seconds. Then he nodded. Galahad pulled him onto his back. The ground was suddenly swept from under their feet.

When Percy opened his eyes, they were above the trees. The wind was hitting his face, the city shrinking rapidly behind them. The journey, which normally would take hours, shortened under Galahad's strides.

When they reached the old camp lake, it had gotten dark. Percy walked to the shore. The water carried the last light of the sky. Everything was there. The moment he truly held Clara's hand for the first time.

The days he fought alongside his friends. His fears. His laughter. His wounds. The nights he tore himself apart to improve.

And Clara. Percy fell to his knees. He looked at his reflection on the water.

"Brother."

Galahad came to his side.

"I'm here."

Percy's eyes filled with tears again.

"What if she had died?"

Galahad didn't answer.

"If she had really died..." Percy's voice trembled. "What would I have done?"

Galahad sat down next to Percy.

"I don't know."

Percy looked at him. Galahad didn't lie.

"There is no right way to carry this, brother."

Percy turned back to the lake. He remained silent for a long time. Then he pressed his palms to his eyes.

"I want to see her."

Galahad touched his shoulder.

"Then let's go."

Percy stood up. His pain hadn't passed. Neither had his resentment. There were still things he needed to say to Clara. But he wanted to say them to a living Clara.

"Let's go, brother."

Galahad nodded. Just as they were about to turn, the sound of a snapping branch came from the bushes. Galahad turned his head. He was one second too late.

Leon had been following them since the moment they left the city. Holar's voice was still echoing in his mind. That calm voice saying his life was over. His academy had been taken from him.

The privileges his family had accumulated over the years had been erased. The doors he could enter had been closed; the surname he carried had become meaningless in a matter of minutes. When Holar threw him into the sea, Leon hadn't died.

But his life had washed ashore before he did. He didn't look for the reason for all this within himself. He didn't look at what he had done to Clara.

He didn't look at the decisions he had made either. He had only one name in his mind. Percy Grant. When he found them by the edge of the lake, Percy had turned his back. Galahad's attention was also on him.

Leon stepped out from among the bushes.

"EVERYTHING WAS RUINED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Percy turned. Galahad's gaze slid to the lightning gathering in Leon's hand.

"Percy!"

Leon had already released the spell.

"LIGHTNING ANNIHILATION!"

The lake turned white. The lightning struck Percy's chest. His small body was lifted off the ground. After being thrown back a few meters, he fell flat on his back.

Galahad looked at Leon first. Then at Percy. The world shattered between the two of them.

"Percy?"

Percy didn't answer. Galahad appeared by his side in an instant and dropped to his knees. He pressed two fingers against his neck. There was no pulse. He placed his hand on Percy's chest.

His heart wasn't beating.

"Percy."

Healing light formed in his palm. He pressed it onto Percy's chest.

"Wake up."

Orin flowed into Percy's body. Nothing happened. Galahad's hands began to tremble. Leon took a step back. He saw that Percy wasn't getting up.

The magnitude of what he had done only then became stronger than his anger. Galahad lifted his head. Leon looked into his eyes. There was no threat there. There wasn't even anger.

Anger would show that there was still a side inside a person capable of making a decision. There was no decision left in Galahad's gaze. Leon turned his back and fled.

Galahad didn't go after him. He poured power into Percy's chest again.

"Percy, come on."

The heart didn't answer. He sent more Orin.

"You were just going home."

Percy's face was calm.

"You were going to go to Clara."

Tears streamed from Galahad's eyes.

"Get up."

Percy didn't get up. Galahad gathered him in his arms. He pressed his head to his chest. He heard nothing.

"I can't lose my brother again."

His voice broke.

"Please."

He stood up. And ran.

On the way back, the earth beneath his feet could not endure. Galahad used more power with every step. Trees shattered behind him; the air split before him. While holding Percy with one arm, he kept his other hand over his chest.

The healing spell never stopped.

"Percy."

A few seconds later, he said it again.

"Percy."

Maybe if he heard his name, he would come back.

"Percy."

Maybe he would remember where he needed to return to. But there was nothing under Galahad's palm. Not a single beat. Not a tremble. Nor an answer.

Galahad ran faster. By the time he reached the city, the muscles in his legs were torn. Blood flowed from under his feet. He didn't stop. The doors of the academy shattered before him.

"Healer!"

His voice echoed through the entire building.

"HEALER!"

When Olsen stepped out into the hallway, she saw Galahad first. Then Percy in his arms. Every expression on her face was wiped away.

"Bring him here."

Percy was carried to the medical room. The healers gathered around the bed. Olsen placed one hand over his heart, the other on his head.

"What happened?"

"Lightning Annihilation."

"How much time has passed?"

Galahad didn't answer. Olsen lifted her head.

"Galahad, how much?"

"I don't know."

His voice didn't sound like a human voice.

"A lot."

Olsen's eyes closed for a moment. Then green light rose from her hands.

"We're starting."

When Holar arrived, there was only the light of the healers in the room. Percy was lying on the bed. The soil from the edge of the lake was still under his shoes. The chest of his shirt was burned; black lines left by the lightning had spread across his skin.

Holar stood at the door. He looked at his grandson. The fear that hadn't been on his face when he stood against the four King Monsters on the northern front now settled into his eyes.

"Percy?"

No one answered. Holar walked to the side of the bed. He brought his hand to Percy's hair. He brushed a few scattered strands away from his forehead.

"The healers are working," Eleanor said.

It was obvious she was saying it neither to Holar nor to herself. Holar adjusted Percy's collar. Then he unfolded the folded edge of the blanket and covered him up to his shoulders.

He acted as if as long as he kept his hands busy, he wouldn't have to look at the truth. Sweat was dripping from Olsen's forehead.

She replaced the healing layer on Percy's chest. She repaired the burned tissue around the heart. She cleared the electrical charge left in the nerves.

The heart still didn't work.

"Again."

The healers poured in power. Percy didn't stir. Galahad was on his knees in a corner of the room. The blood on his hands had dried.

"I couldn't make it in time."

No one looked at him.

"I was right next to him."

He bowed his head.

"I couldn't make it in time again."

Holar's hand stopped in Percy's hair. When Galahad started to cry, no sound came out.

"I said I couldn't lose my brother again."

Olsen gritted her teeth.

"Again!"

Light enveloped Percy's entire body. A line on the monitor seemed to rise. Everyone looked at that tiny movement. The line flattened again. The door opened.

Wycliffe entered.

He didn't have his usual messy demeanor. He carried no papers in his hand. He wasn't complaining about retirement, nor grumbling to anyone.

He walked up to the head of the bed. He looked at Percy. For a long time, he said nothing. Then he pulled up the chair and sat down.

"Look at me," he said.

Percy's eyes were closed. Wycliffe waited.

"I want to retire."

His voice trembled.

"Get up."

He pressed his lips together, but he had to continue.

"I can't retire without you."

Percy didn't answer. Wycliffe bowed his head. Olsen averted her eyes from him. There was a movement outside the door. Clara had arrived.

She still had the ivory dress on. The blood on her chest hadn't been completely cleaned. Although her wound had been closed, her face contorted in pain with every step.

A healer was holding her by the arm. When Clara entered the room, no one stopped her. She saw Percy. A few hours ago, while lying on the brink of death, she had called for him.

Now Percy was lying in her place. Clara couldn't walk up to the bed. Her knees gave way. Eleanor caught her. Clara broke free from her arms and crawled on the floor.

"Percy..."

She reached the edge of the bed. She held Percy's hand. It was cold. Clara took it between her two hands and tried to warm it with her breath.

Once.

Once more. As if the only problem was that he was cold...

"His blanket isn't enough."

No one answered. Clara lifted her head.

"He's cold."

Holar's face looked as if it were about to shatter. Clara pressed Percy's hand to her chest. Her white light spread from between her fingers. It wrapped around Percy. This light knew him.

Once, it had passed through time to reach him. It had wandered over his skin, accepted him, hadn't harmed him. Now it enveloped the exact same body. But it couldn't find a way back to him.

"I'm here," Clara said.

Her light grew stronger.

"Percy, I'm here."

Olsen wanted to say something. Holar stopped her with a very slight shake of his head. Clara continued.

"I didn't tell you."

Her tears fell onto Percy's hand.

"I was late."

Her voice broke.

"But I will tell you everything now."

The light gathered over Percy's chest.

"Ask whatever you want."

The heart didn't beat.

"I won't stay silent again."

Nothing happened.

"You can get mad at me."

Clara's lips trembled.

"You can even hate me."

Percy's hand didn't warm up.

"Just wake up."

Olsen turned her head away. Holar continued to stroke his grandson's hair. He wasn't aware that he was brushing the same strand away from his forehead for the third time.

Clara touched Percy's cheek.

"Pain in my ass."

She waited. Everyone in that room knew what the answer was supposed to be. Percy's lips didn't move. The last resistance in Clara's face collapsed as well.

"Me more," she whispered.

She rested her head against Percy's hand. Her light slowly extinguished. Olsen's hands were still on Percy's chest. She didn't know how long she had been working. Her own Orin reserve was depleted; she had started drawing power from the other healers.

The thing she searched for inside Percy was still in the same place. The Flame of the Chaos Dragon. The synchronization rate hadn't changed. Nineteen percent. Olsen looked at that number.

She remembered their last conversation.

"Twenty percent is not a wall."

"Don't chase the fire."

"Twenty percent will find you."

She looked at Percy's lifeless face. A faint sentence slipped from her lips:

"I didn't tell it to find you like this."

The healing light weakened. Olsen tried to gather power again. Her hand trembled. A healer silently shook his head. Olsen ignored it.

"Again."

No one moved. Olsen lifted her head.

"I said again."

One of the healers lowered his eyes.

"My teacher..."

"Again!"

Olsen's voice struck the walls of the room. Holar finally lifted his head. Olsen looked into his eyes. The man who had killed four King Monsters in a matter of minutes could do nothing but adjust a child's hair.

The light in Olsen's hands extinguished. The room didn't go dark. But everyone felt something was missing. Wycliffe leaned forward in his chair and took his face between his hands.

Galahad was still on the floor. Eleanor knelt behind Clara, but didn't dare touch her. Holar adjusted the blanket one more time. Then he placed his hand on Percy's forehead.

He didn't pull it away for a long time. Clara didn't let go of his hand. No one announced the time of death. No one covered him completely. No one opened the door.

Because if anyone did any of these, they would be accepting the irreversible. But the truth didn't wait for their acceptance. Percy Grant was dead.

[Fire Element Synchronization: 19% → 20%]