A distorted, animalistic smile curled on the alchemist’s lips.

  "You…" the word tore from his throat, and in the next moment he lunged at the Jester barehanded, like a beast.

  The Jester slipped aside from the first strike, then another—swift, almost graceful, as if dancing between the blows. His cloak flared through the air, leaving bloody streaks in its wake. But Elios’s attacks didn’t cease—one after another, relentless, mindless. Only fury and instinct.

  The Jester leapt back several meters, and at once watery projectiles—sharp as spears—shot at him. But he raised his hand just in time—a luminous barrier flared before him, absorbing the attack with only a faint crackle of mana.

  At the same moment, his other hand slid into his inventory, and a moment later he pulled out a syringe.

  "Sorry, my friend," the Jester whispered, "but it’s time to end this little dance."

  Elios charged forward again, and the Jester rushed to meet him. He dodged a fist that grazed past his face, slipped under an arm, slid to the side, moved behind—and plunged the needle into Elios’s neck.

  The syringe clicked—the potion entered the blood.

  Elios staggered a few more steps away. His arms jerked uncontrollably, his hands clutched at his head, his legs gave out. His vision blurred, his aura began to fade.

  He froze, breathing heavily, but without that wild frenzy in his eyes anymore. He lifted his head and looked at the Jester.

  This was no longer a raging beast. This was him again.

  "Are you alright?" the Jester asked quietly, wiping a bead of sweat from his face.

  Elios nodded. His eyes no longer glowed with madness, though a shadow of what had just escaped still lingered in them.

  The Jester silently approached a chair that lay overturned and set it upright. Then, gently, as if tending to the wounded, he rolled it closer to his friend. Elios collapsed into it, leaning back, sitting with his eyes shut for several seconds as he tried to steady his breath.

  Standing nearby, the Jester spoke calmly:

  "Forgive me. I shouldn’t have brought him here. I truly didn’t think he would dare to say… what he said."

  Elios only waved a hand wearily, as if brushing away needless words.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "It’s fine. The important thing is that you stopped me. Nothing else matters."

  His voice was still hoarse, but his gaze was steady again. He silently glanced toward what was left of Lorenzo—the blood, the scattered organs, the chunks of flesh covering the laboratory floor as though after a battle with a demon. Elios smiled bitterly.

  "Although I must admit. In the moment I tore him apart… I was still partly in control. And it was actually pleasant."

  "Then it seems I didn’t bring him here in vain after all," the Jester smiled.

  Elios let his eyes wander across the laboratory. On the walls and floor, among instruments, scrolls, reagents—bloodstains everywhere. Some were already drying into dark streaks, others still glistened wet.

  "Well…" the alchemist sighed, "looks like I’ll be scrubbing this mess for a long, boring time until morning."

  " I can help," said the Jester with a slight smile. "Nothing soothes better after a crazy night than some boring monotonous work."

  Elios lifted his gaze to him, and a faint smile also touched his lips.

  "Gladly I’ll take your help… But first…" He paused for a moment, thinking. "I want to see the orphans you saved."

  "Then let’s not waste time."

  Elios rose from the chair, now standing steadily on his feet.

  With a single smooth motion, the Jester conjured a magic circle that flared with light beneath both of them. In an instant, their figures vanished into the glow, leaving behind the bloody laboratory in silent disorder.

  Alex lay in his room at the Academy, staring at the ceiling. Night had long since covered the sky, silence reigned outside the window, broken only by the rustling of leaves or the creak of branches. Nearby, in his own bed, Adam was snoring deeply, already lost in carefree sleep. Yet Alex’s body, despite exhaustion, stubbornly refused to rest. His mind kept working, grinding over memories, words, doubts.

  "What do you think about this whole situation with the Jester?" he asked Siren in thought.

  The girl’s voice, always calm and gentle, sounded in his mind:

  "My opinion hasn’t changed since the last time we spoke about it."

  Alex sighed heavily.

  "But… it doesn’t feel like he’s just pretending to be kind, does it? Everything he does, everything he says… This doesn’t seem like the Jester I remember from the past. If it weren’t for what I know… If it weren’t for the knowledge of his role in starting the war… I think I’d already trust him completely."

  His fingers nervously kneaded the edge of the blanket.

  "And honestly, I’m not even sure our upcoming conversation will change anything."

  Siren fell silent for a moment, then her voice once again softly flowed into his thoughts:

  "You are programming yourself for failure, My Lord. If you expect the worst—you will get exactly that. You are right, without doubt—you mustn’t forget who the Jester was in your past. But you also shouldn’t dismiss who he is now. Perhaps your presence beside him, your influence…" She paused. "Perhaps that is what will change everything. Perhaps working with him is exactly the path through which you can protect the future. Prevent the war."

  "Perhaps," whispered Alex.

  "But that is only my assumption," Siren finished. "The final decision will always remain yours. And whatever you choose—I will always stand by your side."

  Alex smiled faintly in the darkness.

  "I already know that."

  He turned onto his side, the blanket folding softly beneath him. One last thought flickered in his head before sleep: “Could it really be that an alliance with the Jester will become the thread that saves the future? That this is how I’ll keep my promise to Lumenia?..”

  His eyes gradually closed, his breathing steadied.

  A moment later, Alex was already asleep.