Instantly, Henry felt the connection, profound and undeniable.

The Sanctuary Seal on his chest, that hidden wellspring of power, pulsed like a second heart, drawing with intoxicating eagerness the torrent of emerald aether surging from the awakened Lifestream vein. A warm, pure, and potent stream of life energy flooded his weary body. It felt utterly unlike Raum's cold, brutal dark aether.

This was the energy of life itself, of regeneration, of hope. It flowed through every fiber of his flesh, every aching blood vessel, soothing physical pain, washing away mental fatigue and despair. The minor wounds and contusions from the brutal battle vanished as if they had never been. His body, moments before exhausted to the point of collapse, was again suffused with boundless vitality.

The resonance between him, the Sanctuary Seal, and this newborn Lifestream vein was miraculous and perfect, as if they were intrinsically designed to belong together.

He no longer had time for conscious thought or doubt. A primal instinct, deep and sure, told him what he must do. He looked at the shattered remnants of the steel sword in his hand, then towards the blood-soaked Altar.

Raum, now a grotesque silhouette against the swirling dark vortex, was engrossed in absorbing the unholy energies of his profane ritual. His shadowy body was growing larger, his terrifying power palpably more menacing with each passing second.

Henry clenched the hilt of his broken sword. He poured all the emerald Lifestream aether he had just absorbed, all his will, all his grief and rage for his fallen comrades into the shattered remnant of steel. Then, the unbelievable happened.

From the broken, jagged hilt, an ethereal blade of pure emerald green light slowly, inexorably, formed. It wasn't dazzlingly bright or fiery like Neil's blade; instead, it radiated a soft, pure luminescence, as if forged from captured moonlight and the first dew of a new dawn.

That light carried a refined, almost delicate beauty, yet concealed within its gentle glow was an immeasurable, unimaginable power. He felt this new, vibrant power surging through his revitalized body, felt a deep, symbiotic connection with that blade of pure light.

He charged. Straight towards the Altar. Straight into the heart of the dark, howling whirlwind. A strange, almost surreal scene unfolded. The thick, oppressive dark energy, the destructive black wind that howled madly around the Altar, which had so easily routed powerful, seasoned Rankers, seemed utterly harmless before the resolute advance of the emerald green light blade.

As Henry approached, the clinging darkness and the shrieking black wind parted, recoiling as if in mortal fear. The pure, incandescent light seemed to purify and banish them, clearing a direct path straight to the desecrated Altar.

Raum, caught at the most critical, vulnerable stage of his unholy ascension ritual, seemed to sense the unexpected, catastrophic threat. He let out an angry, frustrated roar, trying desperately to control the raging whirlwind, to redirect its destructive power to annihilate this insignificant insect, but to no avail. The emerald light that enveloped Henry was like an invisible, impenetrable shield, protecting him completely from the fury of the storm.

Henry stood before the Altar. The black stone slab, still wet and glistening with freshly spilled innocent blood, was vibrating violently, uncontrollably, under the immense, unstable power of the now-disrupted ritual.

He raised the light sword high above his head. All his strength, all his focused will, all his desperate hope, all his grief and burning rage for Neil, for Cole, for Halb, for Brena, for every innocent soul extinguished in this valley of death, poured into a single, devastating strike.

With a resounding, defiant roar, a cry that seemed to carry the anguish of thousands of murdered children who had perished in this unhallowed place, Henry swung the sword down with all the force he could muster.

"This is for you, Neil!"

A deafening, shattering explosion sounded, but it was not the explosion of dark magic. It was the sound of pure, concentrated life energy striking corrupt, ancient stone with extreme, focused force, followed by a series of crisp, definitive cracking sounds.

The emerald green light blade, imbued with the Lifestream's righteous fury, had pierced Raum's hastily erected shadow defense on the Altar and struck hard, true, against the profane black stone slab. Spiderweb cracks spread rapidly across the Altar's polished, bloodstained surface. Black stone fragments, imbued with centuries of dark energy, flew everywhere.

And then, from the main, gaping crack that now split the Altar in two, a light even more brilliant, more dazzling than Henry's sword, erupted. White light, pure and absolute, mingled with the vibrant emerald green of the Lifestream, a powerful, cleansing radiance, like the first light of dawn tearing through the deepest, darkest night.

In that light, a symbol appeared, hovering majestically above the shattered Altar: the ethereal image of a giant, ancient tree. Its roots delved deep into the earth, its vast canopy spreading wide as if to touch the sky. Its entire form radiated a gentle, warm, life-affirming emerald green aura.

The Light Tree symbol of the Sanctuary Enclave appeared in reality, here, amidst this valley of death and suffering. It was a resounding, irrefutable declaration of life and hope, a sign that the broken balance was now, finally, decisively, restored.

Raum, still hovering precariously in mid-air, was directly, catastrophically affected. He screamed in excruciating, soul-tearing pain - not physical pain, for his corrupted form was largely beyond such sensations, but the profound agony of his dark energy source being abruptly, violently severed, of his unholy ritual being completely, utterly destroyed.

The black energy enveloping his grotesque body fluctuated violently, uncontrollably, losing all cohesion. Streaks of black light flashed and died around him like fading fireworks. His body trembled, convulsed, twisted horribly as if caught in an invisible vise. Strange, sickening sizzling and crackling sounds echoed from within his frame, as if ancient, profane magical connections were being violently torn apart, his essence unraveling.

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Raum's crimson eyes, burning pinpricks of madness, bulged from their sockets, staring with horrified disbelief at the radiant Light Tree symbol that pulsed with a warm, life-giving aura. The hatred and madness that had defined his existence were now completely replaced by a primal horror and utter disbelief.

He clutched at his ravaged chest, his beak-like mouth agape, wanting to scream a final, blasphemous curse, but unable to form any words, only emitting choked, broken, gurgling sounds.

The dark energy he had so greedily accumulated, now no longer controlled by the destroyed ritual, became chaotic, wild, turning upon its master like a ferocious, untamed beast too long caged and now suddenly, violently, unleashed.

His bony, emaciated body began to swell rapidly, unnaturally, like a grotesque leather balloon being overinflated. His pale, decaying skin cracked and split, revealing pulsating black energy veins writhing beneath the surface like venomous snakes.

BOOOOOOOOM!

A world-shattering, apocalyptic explosion thundered through the valley, drowning out all other sounds.

Black light erupted from Raum's imploding body like a miniature dark sun, spreading outwards with terrifying, consuming speed.

A destructive, annihilating shockwave of pure dark energy swept through the valley, flinging Henry, the unconscious Brena, Halb, and Cole, and even the grievously wounded Griffin far away like dry leaves caught in a raging storm.

Henry felt the full force of the shockwave. But strangely, miraculously, the emerald green light still emanating from the fading Light Tree symbol and the ethereal sword hilt clutched in his hand seemed to form a protective, shimmering aura around him, significantly weakening the explosion's destructive force.

He was still thrown violently, but landed with a jarring thud on the bone-strewn ground, bruised and battered, but not severely injured like the others. A strange, almost comfortable feeling from the Lifestream aether still circulated warmly throughout his body, like a gentle, soothing stream, calming all shock, easing all pain.

He looked towards the valley's center, where Raum had so spectacularly, violently, exploded. Only a cloud of settling black dust and a lingering, scorched, acrid smell remained. The monster, the abomination that was Raum, had been utterly destroyed by his own accumulated evil power, consumed by the darkness he had sought to master.

The Light Tree symbol still hovered majestically for a few moments longer, radiating a soft, warm, cleansing aura. That gentle light spread throughout the valley, dispelling the choking fog, purifying the poisoned air. The mournful, tormented whispers that had plagued their minds fell silent at last. The suffocating stench of decay and death gradually, blessedly dissipated, replaced by a deep, profound sense of peace, of elemental balance restored.

Henry didn't fully understand the mechanism of this extraordinary light, of the Sanctuary Seal's true power, not yet. But the undeniable fact that it had aided him in destroying the cursed Altar, in defeating Raum, and ultimately, in saving his entire team, was more than enough for now. This power… it was extraordinary. Miraculous.

He looked towards his unconscious, broken comrades. Halb and Cole lay not far away, their breaths shallow but steady. Brena lay closer, her face pale but less contorted in pain, as minor wounds on her exposed skin slowly closed under the gentle, ambient emerald light.

The White Griffin beside her, miraculously, could also move slightly, one majestic feathered wing twitching, its looking towards the fading Light Tree with profound astonishment and unmistakable gratitude.

This emerald light… it possessed healing properties? Henry clearly felt the warm, life-affirming energy seeping into his own body, soothing remaining aches and bruises.

But he couldn't let anyone know the true origin of this power. The events that had just transpired were too strange, too extraordinary, too far beyond conventional understanding. If the Investigation Bureau, or worse, the Church, found out about his connection to the Lifestream, about the Sanctuary Enclave… the consequences would be unpredictable, potentially catastrophic. He remembered Will's cryptic warnings, Ragley's incisive scrutiny. Safety, secrecy, was paramount.

With a deep, weary sigh, Henry carefully, deliberately withdrew the focused Lifestream energy from his sword. The ethereal emerald blade dissolved into air, leaving only the broken, mundane hilt in his hand. He glanced at the fading Light Tree symbol one last time; it too was slowly, gently dissolving, merging back into the unseen fabric of reality.

He staggered towards Brena's still form, then carefully lay down on the bone-strewn ground beside her, closing his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing, pretending to be unconscious like the others, waiting for them to wake, to face the aftermath of this horrific victory.

When the battered, depleted remnants of the investigation team returned to Aerion, carrying Neil's honored remains and their own exhausted, traumatized bodies, a mournful, somber atmosphere enveloped the Central Investigation Bureau.

Losing Neil, a brave and capable Rank 4 captain, a talented and deeply respected investigator, was a grievous blow, a great and tragic loss for the Bureau and for Zephyros. Sighs of sorrow, sympathetic handshakes offered in hushed silence, eyes filled with shared grief and profound regret were everywhere.

Henry silently observed it all, the pain of losing his second captain in such a short, brutal span of time etched deep within his heart. Neil, like Jacobs before him, had been a strong, trustworthy, honorable leader. His heroic sacrifice in the hellish Valley of Screaming Bones would forever be a painful, indelible memory, a grim, sobering reminder of the terrible price of justice, and of the myriad, unimaginable dangers that still lurked in the forgotten shadows of their world.

Brena, though still visibly haunted by the horrors she had witnessed, by the loss of her comrade and friend, tried to complete the most detailed, accurate report possible.

She didn't hide Raum's unimaginable brutality, the sheer, mind-numbing horror of the Altar and the Valley of Screaming Bones. She recounted the desperate, brutal battle, and Neil's ultimate, heroic sacrifice.

When it came to describing the final, cataclysmic event, she paused, her pen hovering over the parchment, weighing each word with extreme care.

Finally, she wrote as concisely and objectively as she possibly could, like a detached observer merely recording a strange, inexplicable natural phenomenon:

"...The subject Raum's ascension ritual appeared to suffer a critical, catastrophic malfunction, likely due to instability in its power source, causing a chaotic, uncontrollable surge of dark energy. Simultaneously, an unusual, intense light phenomenon, emerald green in color and vaguely resembling the shape of a large tree, unexpectedly appeared at the center of the ritual area immediately after the Altar was destroyed by the team's final, desperate efforts. The origin and precise nature of this light are, at present, undetermined, but it radiated a strong, palpable purifying energy, which seemed to contribute significantly to exacerbating Raum's existing energy imbalance, leading directly to the subject's violent self-destruction in a massive dark energy explosion. The strange, beneficial light then briefly enveloped the valley, appearing to have a mild, generalized healing effect on the surviving members of the team before dissipating completely."

She put down her pen, rereading the passage, her expression carefully neutral, concise, objective, no speculation. Just recording the observable events. She hoped, with a fervent prayer to any listening Angels, that it would be enough.

But Brena couldn't have guessed, in that moment of profound exhaustion and grief, that the ambiguity and strangeness inherent in that brief, carefully worded description, when read and analyzed by the keen minds within the Investigation Bureau, the Church, and perhaps other, more shadowy, hidden forces, would sow potent seeds of intense curiosity, deep suspicion, and a special, focused attention.

A small, seemingly insignificant detail, an inexplicable light phenomenon occurring amidst the carnage of a deadly C-rank mission, could, and indeed would, become the focal point of hidden currents, of power plays and ancient prophecies, spreading unseen throughout the complex, dangerous world of Tehra, heralding the coming of even greater, more world-shattering upheavals yet to unfold.

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