Mark stood in midair, staring at Patrica, a frown appearing on his face.

"Hello, Lord of Brilliance, or should I call you something else?" he asked tartly.

Patrica's body shook her head.

"Right now, I'm simply lending my priestess my strength, call me whatever you see fit," she said.

As she did so, she looked out over the battlefield. When Yasha had died, the templars had frozen, at a loss for what to do. But now, as Mark looked down, he saw only two expressions.

The first was filled with rage and hate as they glared at Patrica, and the next was filled with sorrow and fear.

Either way, both groups were getting ready to act, charging at or fleeing the object of their hate.

Mark didn't have a lot of energy left, and a glance at Lisa told him that neither did she.

But it turned out that it didn't matter. Before anyone could take action, the dawn arrived in full, and the light hitting Patrica caused her to be bathed in an ethereal glow.

With a gentle clenching of her fist, all the bodies below them froze.

Some clutched their chests while others screamed in agony.

People collapsed to the ground as shaking fits wracked their bodies. Whatever she was doing was reaching even the templars with the mountains on their chests. Mark's head snapped around to find the High Priest he'd attacked lying dead on his back. Whatever protection his Ideal offered his people was gone as they withered on the floor.

Mark swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and his eyes narrowed at Patrica.

"What do you think you're doing to them?!" he growled.

Patrica didn't even glance at him.

"Correcting their behavior. For those who wish to join the fold, I hold only mercy. But after tonight's events, I think I am justified in my wrath, don't you?" she said with a hollow tone.

Mark ground his molars because she was right to an extent. These men and women had to have known what their actions meant here tonight. Those from the Church of Brilliance had turned their back on Partica and followed Yasha's poisoned version of their lord.

However, treating them like this still left a sour taste in Mark's mouth.

Before he could say anything, Patrica began to descend softly.

As she did, her power washed over the streets of tortured people, and one by one their eyes turned up towards her.

So much Power radiated off her person that even Mark could feel it. It was intoxicating as the allure of her Ideal descended on the area.

Patrica's light washed over all of them, spreading warmth through Mark as it chased away the night's cold.

The only thing Mark could compare it to was divinity descending.

Her support passed right into him, and Mark felt his heart swell with emotions as the shadows living there burned away.

The sensation was incredible, but it was also not something he could afford to give in to.

Grinding his teeth, Mark tore his eyes from her form, and though the pull never ceased, he was prepared for it.

The looks of rage and blame on people's faces had all but left, and in their place was that potent cocktail of euphoria and certainty. As they beheld Patricia's form, they fell to their knees one at a time. Rapture filled their bodies, as their pained expressions faded.

A few held out, turning away from her light, but they could only crawl away at best.

Mark descended and landed next to a man with a mountain embroidered on his chest, clawing at his own eyes.

As Mark's construct fell over him, his struggling faded into unconsciousness.

He could feel Patrica was still in their link, and Mark sent a message down the line.

'Enough Patrica, there is a limit to what you can force them to feel.'

What came back through the connection was screeching static as his mind bumped against the titanic entity residing there.

Mark grunted and severed the connection with Patrica.

Looking up, he saw she had hardly shifted in the air. At this point, Mark felt Sam, Jonathan, and Nathan's battle winding down.

A glance in their direction told him everything he needed to know. The massive eye in the sky had vanished from view, yet Sam's lightning was still going strong.

Mark sighed in relief when Lisa finally closed the distance between them.

"Patrica, are you alright?" she called out.

Patrica's smile had not faltered since she'd descended, but she did turn towards Lisa now.

"All is as it should be," she said as the pressure coming off her increased further.

Groans of ecstasy rippled through the people around them, and both Lisa and Mark grunted.

"My love, you need to relax your hold, you're hurting them," Lisa bit out.

Patrica's eyes had returned to the people below her, but she responded.

"After what they brought you, you would have me show them mercy?" she said, sounding very human at this moment.

"Yes. These people may have been the instrument, but they are not at fault. That was Yasha's influence, and he is gone."

The more Lisa spoke, the more Patrica's personality shone through.

"They should have known better," she said, and the dawn trembled beneath the weight of her disappointment. Mana began to pour freely from the surrounding templars. Not just that, but Aura and even some Prana.

Mark's eyes narrowed as he realized they were worshiping her even in this state. They were freely giving her their power and lives.

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If this continued, people would begin to pass out from lack of Prana.

"Patrica, listen to me. Of course, they will be punished, but not like this. They were misled. Let this be a warning," Mark shouted.

People began to drop like flies, yet she still held a frown on her face.

"They betrayed him, they failed me," she said with a look of sorrow on her face.

Her voice dropped, no longer that of the Ideal, but of the woman beneath. "I failed him."

She had come to the surface with guilt lacing her words.

Mark didn't know what to say. Luckily, Lisa did.

As she drifted forward, she pulled Patrica into a gentle hug.

"You haven't failed him. Not yet," she whispered. "Look at you, you're magnificent. Please. Don't use his power to do this. Forgive them, allow them another chance."

Mark watched their tender exchange as the dawn gathered around them like liquid gold.

He never would have thought Lisa would be the one to endorse forgiveness, and yet as they drifted through the sky, Mark had to wonder if it was for theirs or her sake.

Either way, her words seemed to get through, and when Patrica broke away from Lisa, there was a sense of peace on her face.

"To all who lie in my light, I offer you another chance. Devote yourself to the light, and I shall offer my forgiveness. For those who cannot follow me. Leave now, but know that my heart will be closed to you forever," she said with that same hollow voice.

It was hard to tell where Patrica started and the Lord of Brilliance began.

But this felt more like the Ideal than the woman.

Many reached out towards her, but with the way things were going, he could afford to sigh.

It was over.

Before he could go down to see what was going on, his attention was drawn to the wall in the middle of the street. He could feel Sam just behind it as she rose and landed on the wall.

Less than a second later, Jonathan's bulky form appeared next to her in a flash. His chitonous, gleaming armor coated him from head to toe.

Mark's eyes widened further when he saw the savage slash across Jonathan's midsection. The black plates that interlocked so perfectly had been torn asunder, leaving a gash large enough to kill a lesser man.

Whatever had done that had to be catastrophic, because Mark knew just how resilient Jonathan's transformed body was.

Mark moved towards them as Nathan flew past. He was battered a bruised, but clearly still had enough energy to go and check on his people.

Mark landed on the wall shakily and inspected Jonathan's wound. Luckily, Sam was unhurt

"Are you guys okay?" he asked the obvious question, but only got a mischievous glint on Sam's face.

Jonathan's expression was hard to read, but Mark could feel amusement coming through the link.

"It was touch and go there for a second, but the advice helped. One of them controlled lightning, and the other had a big disapproving eye. Luckily, Jon completely ignored her."

Mark snorted. He highly doubted that all a high priest was capable of was shooting a withering glare. But they dealt with it, and as long as they were safe, Mark was happy.

"You beat an Ideal focused on lighting?" Mark asked Sam somewhat in disbelief.

Sam shook her head.

"Powerwise, I probably wouldn't have been its match, but outsmarting a high priest is much easier."

Mark opened his mouth to argue and then paused. He glanced over the wall and saw absolute destruction, but from the looks of things, they had incapacitated most of the templars and both high priests.

Mark's head snapped back to their side, searching. When his eyes fell on the high priest lying in the rubble below, a sickly sweet taste clawed at the back of his throat.

On their side, both Yasha and the unknown high priest had died.

Mark couldn't help but feel a sense of loss.

Fights like these always ended badly. Either way, humanity lost some of its dwindling numbers, but if someone offered him a do-over, Mark would make the same decision he did.

He hadn't meant to attack the high priest in that way, and now that things were a little calmer, he needed to know what had happened.

Sam could see something was bothering him, and she closed the distance between them.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

Mark pursed his lips and spoke.

"Follow me, I need your guys' help," he said as he turned and drifted down. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Mark felt an incredible sense of exhaustion overcoming him.

Sam and Jon glance at one another before following behind.

Floating down to the alley where the man had died, Mark noticed a handful of templars had gathered in this area. They were the ones who had resisted Patrica until the end. None of them were doing well after what she had put them through, but Mark moved to the body.

Those with strength left squeezed their weapons.

As Mark got closer, he could see the man was dead. The high priest lay on his back, sprawled out on rubble as he stared up into the brightening skies.

Mark glanced to the side to see the man he had protected earlier standing there, trembling.

"Please… don't come any closer," he eked out.

Mark clutched his forehead as waves of dizziness assaulted him, but he used what little Prana he had left to ignite [invigoration]. When last had he this little Prana? He in the single digits if his guess was correct.

Turning to the man, Mark spoke quietly.

"We mean no disrespect, all I ask is his name and a moment to pay my respects,".

Because of the nature of the attack, they probably had no idea Mark was the killer, but it was exactly because of this unknown that Mark needed to figure out what was going on.

How had he done that?

The man in front of them wrung his hands.

"His name was Lukcus, and he was more than just my high priest was my friend."

Mark's eye twitched, but he nodded.

With labored breathing, Mark sent Sam and Jonathan a message down the link.

'Listen, I'm going to use my Spiritual Limit release. I killed this man, and I think it had to do with my Prana.'

Mark felt Sam's shock echo from the connection.

'You killed him with Prana? How?'

'I don't know what it was, but I owe it to him and myself to figure out how.' Mark sent back.

Sam had more questions, but Mark didn't have any answers for her yet, so he activated the skill.

Right away, the world greyed, and the marionettes returned, but there was one distinction. The body of Lukcus was ruptured like broken shards of ceramics as they drifted through the air, ignoring gravity. Inside, there was a small hollow recess where something must have been housed but the vessel had ruptured and freed it.

Mark's eyes dilated as he looked at the other people; their bodies were whole. Mark's breathing came out rush as he realised what he'd done. He'd attack Lukcus's soul, or at least his core. The system said they were all still building their cores, but Mark had the beginnings of one. Had he used this to attack?

Then he heard it in this world of grey silence.

The gentlest 'plink' of glass cracking crept into his ears.

A deep, resonating pain spread through Mark's body, and he groaned as he looked down at himself. There on his chest was a hairline crack running from his left shoulder to the right side of his pelvis.

Mark canceled the skill, feeling like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

The world's colors had returned, but everything was washed out as the scene moved again.

"Mark?!" Sam said beside him, concern etched into her words.

"What's going on, man?" Jonathan growled.

Mark couldn't catch his breath, and the strength in his legs left him, causing them to buckle.

Sam and Jonathan caught him, but he was struggling to remain focused.

The knowledge of what he had done to Lukcus was horrible, but this was something else.

It felt like a rebound for overextending himself

His body felt weak, and every breath was strangled, barely offering any relief.

Mark reached for his Prana but found barely a trickle of power. It was still in single digits, which was impossible; by now, his natural regeneration should have gathered more than this.

However, instead of regenerating his strength, he could feel Prana leaking from his chest almost imperceptibly.

He hadn't noticed it because he was busy with other things; he was broken.

The link Mark had been maintaining fizzled as his concentration waned.

Mark grabbed Sam by the back of the neck with what little strength he had left.

"I need…" he started as the world spun and shadows rose to meet him.

Unable to claw his way back, Mark fell into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was the sky and two pairs of worried eyes looking down at him.

One was a brilliant blue and the other a simmering red.

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