Selena, Laurent's aide, closed the space-shifting gate with a soft 'fwoosh'. Henry was back in a damp, secluded alley on the outskirts of East Aerion. He returned in the late afternoon, as the day's last rays of sunlight fought to cling to the old rooftops before being swallowed by the darkness of night.

No one knew about his secret, lightning-fast trip to the icy lands of Iskadra, or his fateful meeting with Laurent, or rather, with Larsus, the legendary hero of Zephyros, whom everyone thought had been buried forever under a thousand years of snow.

The truth about Larsus and the Sanctuary Enclave was a huge shock, completely changing Henry's view of the world. Reality was vague, full of dangers and schemes. In that reality, the concepts of hero and villain, justice and evil, sacrifice and betrayal were more fragile and elusive than ever.

He was in a more complex state of mind than he had ever been in his short but eventful life. His initial anger towards Laurent, whom he had believed was behind the attack on Aerion and had indirectly caused so much grief and loss to his homeland and the people he loved, now gave way to a vague understanding, a reluctant admiration, and a fear of the world's complexity.

He admired the noble sacrifice and foresight of a man who had given up everything, fame, power, family, and even his own life in the eyes of the world, to bear a greater, heavier responsibility than even protecting a nation's existence. But he was also afraid of the Sanctuary Enclave's ruthless philosophy, an organization where the world's "balance" was sometimes bought with the blood and tears of countless innocent lives.

Could he accept that? Could he really become a part of such an organization, one that operated in the shadows, making decisions that could affect the fate of millions without having to explain or be accountable to anyone? In the days following his return from Iskadra, Henry spent most of his time thinking, trying to sort out the conflicting emotions in his heart.

He wandered Aerion's streets, watching people rebuild their lives after the tragedy, fixing destroyed homes, and sowing new seeds of hope on land still stained with grief.

He watched the Zephyros soldiers, who patrolled day and night to preserve the little peace left in the city, their young faces etched with worry and fatigue. Every face, every life story he saw, made the questions and torment in his heart more intense.

He looked back at his own short but tumultuous life: from a lonely orphan with no family, struggling to survive in the dirty, foul-smelling streets of a slum, to a nameless, obscure soldier in the Zephyros army, then a low-level investigator for the Central Investigation Bureau.

And now, a person with Mystic Sense, a special and dangerous ability, a person "chosen" by the Sanctuary Enclave in an unexpected way, and possibly a pawn in a power struggle he knew nothing about.

He remembered the heartbreaking losses and the scars that would never heal. The torment and self-reproach were still there, eating away at his heart every day. He had Mystic Sense and the Sanctuary Seal, abilities that others would envy, but he still couldn't protect the people he loved or prevent tragedies from happening.

He felt helpless, weak, and useless. But now, after his fateful meeting with Laurent and learning a part of the truth about the real threats the world of Tehra was facing, his initial prejudices began to give way to a new idea, a stronger resolve.

He understood that to protect Sophia, to avenge his mother, Jacobs, and all the comrades who had fallen, and perhaps, to truly find the answers to the mysteries of this world, he couldn't just rely on his current meager Rank 3 strength. He couldn't keep relying on the temporary protection of Mythris or the guidance of a mysterious, contradictory organization like the Sanctuary Enclave.

He needed to become stronger and more capable, to take control of his own destiny, and to find a way to face the dangerous forces and dark conspiracies that threatened to destroy this world.

Staying at the Investigation Bureau, while it might offer some safety for a year under Mythris's supervision, would not be enough to deal with a powerful and cunning enemy like Beleth, or the far greater threats that Laurent had hinted at.

That path, no matter how difficult or dangerous, and no matter what he might have to sacrifice, was the only one he could choose right now.

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One evening, as Sophia slept soundly next to him, her soft, steady breathing a balm to his constant nightmares, Henry looked at her gentle, serene face. He reached out and gently stroked the strands of hair on her forehead, his heart filled with an immense love and a vague fear. On one side was their cozy little apartment, Sophia's morning smile, and their simple dinners, a peaceful life.

That was all he had ever longed for. On the other side was the darkness of the Enclave, the secrets that could bring down the world, the heavy burden of millions of lives, and the curse of an uncontrollable power.

He clenched his fist. To go back? Could he really be at peace knowing that peace was paid for with the blood of others? To go forward? Did he have the right to make Sophia suffer any more pain? Which path was the truly selfish one?

But he also knew that if he didn't try to face the harsh challenges ahead, that peace would be temporary, easily shattered by any unexpected gust of wind. He had to protect her, protect her radiant smile, and protect their happy future, at all costs, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. And to do that, he had to embrace the darkness, face his own demons, and face the demons of this world.

The next day, Henry went to see Mythris. The young Demigod was in a quiet garden hidden behind the Celestial Accord's temporary headquarters in Aerion, where he often went to meditate and recover his energy after stressful and tiring missions.

"Grand Master Mythris," Henry said, his voice filled with sincere respect. He carefully took off Stormbinder and offered it to the Demigod with both hands. "I would like to respectfully return this sword to you. And... thank you for lending it to me. It has helped me a lot."

Mythris took the sword from Henry's hands, his icy blue eyes scanning the sharp blade, where a faint trace of energy from the 'clash' with Laurent in Iskadra still lingered. He smirked, a rare, cunning smile that was completely different from his usual indifferent expression.

"So, Henry? Was Laurent 'impressed' with my welcoming gift? I bet he wasn't expecting this sword to 'act on its own' and launch such an unpredictable attack, was he?"

Henry could only give a wry smile. "Perhaps... Mr. Laurent was a little surprised. But our conversation afterward was far more surprising."

Mythris nodded for a moment, and his smile faded, replaced by a serious, expectant look. "I know. I felt a clear change in you when you returned from Iskadra. So, have you made your final decision? Your path ahead will not be easy at all. And time waits for no one." His eyes looked directly at Henry, full of scrutiny, a silent urge, a quiet expectation, and also trust.

And then, after so many long nights of thinking, after countless painful internal struggles, a crucial decision, an inevitable choice, had clearly formed in Henry's mind. He would contact Will, the mysterious messenger of the Sanctuary Enclave.

Perhaps this was the only way for him to protect the people he loved most, and more importantly, to truly take control of his own destiny and face any challenge this cruel world might throw at him.

In Bahm's Spiritual Domain, two auras were present. A warm, white aura belonging to Will and a brilliant, majestic golden aura belonging to Bahm.

"You still don't trust them, do you?" Will spoke, his spiritual voice a gentle melody that broke the silence.

Bahm's golden aura shifted slightly in contemplation. "My suspicion is not just for them, Will. It is for the entire human race, that 'Ashborn' race."

"But history has shown otherwise," Will replied, his tone tinged with a hint of objection. "Humanity, despite its short history of a little over eighty thousand years, has evolved incredibly quickly and brilliantly. I see in them a fierce vitality, a resilient will, and extraordinary courage. Their history is more remarkable than Tehra's five-million-year formation."

"Remarkable, or chaotic?" Bahm interjected, his voice deep and full of sarcasm. "Have you forgotten what happened? Their history is a series of wars, betrayals, and blind ambitions. They are too easily corrupted, too easily swayed by other forces. And you know well that the 'Ashborn' are the very tools those forces use to accelerate Tehra's destruction."

Will did not refute him. He knew Bahm was right. But he still believed in humanity.

"But, my Lord," Will said, his voice firm, "the history of the Sanctuary Enclave spans over a hundred thousand years. Of the more than eight hundred members who have joined, over five hundred of them were human. This was always the Lifestream's choice, which shows they also possess worthy qualities."

"And so what?" Bahm replied coldly. "Among those more than eight hundred members, there have still been traitors. And most of them were human."

"Are you doubting Henry? Or the others?" Will asked again, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

"I don't doubt them," Bahm said, his voice lowering with a distant sadness. "I just can't be careless. Even though we all serve the Sanctuary Enclave, we must always be cautious."

Bahm paused, and then continued, his voice becoming resolute, as if he had made up his mind. "I cannot fully trust any 'Ashborn' member of the Sanctuary Enclave, except for Socrost. He is the only one I can trust."

Will fell silent. He understood what Bahm meant. Socrost was a special case, a rare individual who could resist corruption.

Will replied to Bahm, his voice tinged with bitterness. "It is ironic. A race once considered the lowest of all, once threatened by the most ordinary monsters, is now the race that directly influences Tehra's survival." Will said no more.

Bahm was still haunted by the past. He still couldn't escape the tragedies and betrayals that had happened, and he himself was once a traitor. That haunting past had made him cynical and cold.

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