Meanwhile, back at the academy, deep underground…
“P-Please… B-Believe… me… I… I…”
Clanngg, Clang
Drip, Drip
A broken voice echoed through the dimly lit chamber, blending with the harsh clanking of chains and the steady drip of blood onto the cold stone floor.
Dora stood motionless, her gaze fixed on Alaric’s pitiful state. He was broken… No, she had broken him—far too much.
And yet, even now, after everything, he kept repeating those same words over and over, like a shattered record stuck on its final note.
No matter how much she tortured him, no matter how many bones she shattered, he stubbornly clung to those words as if they were the only truth that existed in his world.
‘Fuck!’ Dora screamed inwardly, her frustration boiling over. Aether had never explicitly told her to let her guard down, and yet, as she looked at Alaric now—his torn, bleeding form barely hanging onto consciousness—doubt gnawed at her.
What if he was telling the truth?
‘Maybe I missed something… Maybe I got it wrong…’ she wondered, but her thoughts clashed violently against the overwhelming evidence from her investigation and Aether’s unshakable certainty. Everything pointed to Alaric being guilty. And yet, standing here, watching him, her conviction wavered.
For the first time, she was truly conflicted.
She exhaled sharply, pressing her fingers against her temple.
“Sigh… Please, Alaric… I can’t keep this up forever…” Her voice softened, almost pleading. “You know how this works, don’t you?” She ran a hand down her face, her exhaustion palpable. “I’m not enjoying this. I don’t want to be doing this… so just fucking tell me the truth already!”
Her last words came out in a furious snarl as she swung her fist, landing a brutal punch into his left rib.
Crack!
“ARRHH!!”
Alaric’s agonized scream tore through the air as a fresh surge of blood spilled from his lips, staining his chin. His entire body convulsed in pain, his breathing ragged and uneven. But despite the sheer agony coursing through him, his lips curled into a weak, almost delirious smile.
And then, barely above a whisper, he uttered those same words again.
“B-Believe… me….”
Dora clenched her jaw, her teeth grinding in frustration.
“Arh!” she groaned, rubbing her forehead aggressively before slumping onto the nearby chair. She exhaled heavily, her fingers digging into her temples as she tried to push past her growing irritation.
This was going nowhere.
She needed to end this.
Time was slipping through her fingers. Aqualina had been kidnapped, and she had no idea what kind of hell Marisandra would unleash once she found out her academy was responsible for this disaster.
‘Maybe I should just fucking ask Aether directly?’
The thought flickered through her mind, but she dismissed it just as quickly. That wasn’t an option.
Something—someone—was watching.
She wasn’t blind to the fact that unknown entities were observing both her and Aether.
‘Think, Dora… Think… There has to be more to this!’
Dora lowered her head, her hands covering her face as she struggled to find the missing piece. There had to be something—something she was overlooking.
Meanwhile, Alaric hung limply from the chains, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Blood dripped from a deep wound on his forehead, trailing down into his eyes, blinding him. His breath came in slow, laboured pants as he stared at Dora through his blurred vision.
There was betrayal in his expression—a deep, raw disbelief that she would do this to him.
But then… just for the briefest second…
His lips curled ever so slightly.
It was almost imperceptible—so subtle that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. But in that instant, it was there.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same mask of pain.
Alaric knew Dora better than anyone—especially her methods. He had spent hundreds of years by her side, watching her, learning every single detail of how her mind worked… And of course, he knew exactly how to plant the seeds of doubt within her.
It wasn’t just about repeating the same words over and over—it was about the foundation he had built with her over centuries.
Belief!
Trust!
Friendship!
That foundation was his weapon.
And as long as it held… he would survive.
Hell, she wasn’t even using her full arsenal of torture on him yet—not because she couldn’t, but because of that foundation.
‘Hundreds of years, and it’s finally paying off!’ Alaric thought, smirking inwardly.
But outwardly, his expression remained one of pure suffering.
“P-Please… B-Believe… me… I… I—”
But then—
“Is Master Snape still alive?”
The moment those words left her lips, everything changed.
Alaric flinched.
It was barely a second—his eyes widened in sheer horror before he forced himself to mask it.
But that fraction of a second—that millisecond—was enough.
Dora felt her heart skip a beat, pure shock shooting through her veins.
‘I-Is he r-really…?’ Dora’s mind was a scrambled mess, a whirlwind of confusion and shock crashing against her usual unwavering logic.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, an uncomfortable pressure building in her chest. Something wasn’t right. No—everything wasn’t right.
Alaric coughed painfully, his breath ragged as fresh blood dripped from his cracked lips, painting his chin crimson. His body trembled, each shallow breath a struggle, but even so, he forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse yet urgent.
“W-What are you talking about? H-Have you lost your mind? You are the one who killed him with your own two hands! And… w-who told you he’s alive?”
At first, his words were soaked in agony, but as the weight of what he had just heard settled, desperation crept into his tone. His dull, pain-clouded eyes suddenly sharpened, reflecting something close to panic.
Dora’s expression turned to ice.
She blinked slowly before straightening from her chair, her every movement calculated, deliberate, as if restraining something far more dangerous beneath the surface. Her gaze bored into him like twin daggers, chilling and unyielding.
“And what makes you think…” her voice was eerily calm, “that someone told me?”
She took a slow step forward.
Alaric’s stomach twisted violently. ‘Shit…’ He must’ve slipped up. He had let his guard down—just for a moment—but that was all Dora needed.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, attempting to regain control of the conversation.
“I-I mean… I—” He coughed violently, his chest rattling as more blood stained his torn shirt. “Cough, cough—I mean… Y-You never talked about him after that day…”
Dora halted directly in front of him.
Something flickered in her gaze—something dark, unreadable—but whatever lingering emotion had once existed between them… was gone.
Alaric’s face twisted in pain, but for the first time, it wasn’t just from his wounds.
“B-Believe me…” His voice cracked, desperate. “I just—when you suddenly brought up his name out of nowhere, I thought… someone must have told you something. Maybe someone mentioned him, or—”
Dora didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Then, slowly, her lips parted.
“Hmm… Come to think of it, you always looked up to him, didn’t you?” Her tone was almost detached, her fingers tapping idly against her arm. “I mean… you and I—we never admired anyone. Not once. No matter what. The only person we ever followed was our big brother… whether we were friends with each other or not.”
Her gaze darkened, and her hand lifted.
A single finger pressed against Alaric’s blood-slicked forehead, a slow, deliberate touch that sent a shiver down his spine.
“And you—” Her voice dropped to a whisper, venomous, deadly. “You always followed him. Always stood by his side. And—” Her eyes narrowed, something sharp and predatory lurking beneath them, “you always obeyed him… without question… for you he is more like a Fatherly figure than a big brother!”
A flicker of panic flashed across Alaric’s features.
“W-What are you talking about?” His voice wavered—barely noticeable, but to Dora, it was like an open wound. He tried to mask it, tried to keep his composure, but she felt it. That moment of hesitation. That split second of fear.
Dora bit down hard on her lower lip, so hard that she tasted iron.
Blood welled up, a single droplet slipping down her chin.
‘So he is still alive… But how…?’
Her thoughts spiraled, a thousand possibilities swarming in her mind, each one more impossible than the last.
Then, finally, she spoke.
“I cut his fate. There is no power in existence that should’ve been able to bring him back. What the hell could have possibly revived him?”
Alaric stiffened.
His lips parted slightly, as if to deny it, but before he could even attempt a response—
“Was it Necromancy?” Dora asked flatly.
Alaric inhaled sharply.
But before he could answer, she continued as if she hadn’t expected him to.
“No… If it were necromancy, you wouldn’t have allowed it. You would never let anyone taint our big brother’s body with such an abomination.”
“L-Listen to me—”
“Was it a new spell?”
“Dora, stop—”
“Nah… Creating a spell that can defy fate? That’s impossible.” She tilted her head. “Even I can only cut fate—I can’t reconnect it.”
“I-Isadora, you need to calm do—”
“Is it some kind of newly desired weapon? Something that can bring back the dead?”
Alaric’s breathing turned uneven.
“Hmm… Possible. But no… Bringing back the dead—” Dora narrowed her eyes. “Even the gods wouldn’t allow such an act. It’s against the natural law itself.”
“ISADORA!!”
Dora’s thoughts came to a screeching halt.
She blinked, finally focusing on him.
“Tell me, Alaric…”
Her fingers ghosted toward his throat, slow, deliberate, as if she was savouring the moment before she snapped his neck like a twig.
“Where. Is. He?”
But—
TRRRRRR!!!
The entire academy shook.
Dora’s head snapped up, and she felt a stronger entity inside her academy all of a sudden…. Her brow furrowed, irritation flashing across her face.
‘An intruder?’
A second later, she vanished!
When she reappeared above the academy, she saw….
A sea of monsters—thousands of them—swarmed the academy grounds out of nowhere!!