Alastair opened his eyes slowly.
"He's awake. Hey—idiot demon," Vera's voice rang out.
"Wait, Vera. That's not him anymore," Henry said tensely.
Alastair took in his surroundings. He was still within the same dimension Hyde had brought them to. Vera, Carla, King, Henry, Simone, Milo, Delinda, Maya, Elijah, and Hyde were all present.
Belmuth, Charlotte, Sybil, and Talis were gone.
He realized he was seated upon the throne Belmuth had occupied before.
"Congratulations on your new body, my lord," Elijah said, kneeling before him.
Hyde followed suit. Maya and Delinda hesitated, then knelt as well.
They think I am Belmuth.
Good.
But I cannot hold him back for long.
Alastair could feel Belmuth pressing against his consciousness again, trying to reclaim control. He had less than three minutes.
What can you do with so little time?
Belmuth's voice thundered inside his mind.
The shadow that once represented Belmuth now crawled across Alastair's skin, dark veins surfacing as the possession neared completion.
"Vera," Alastair said sharply. "I will become your demon partner. Form the contract. Now."
"What?" Vera froze.
"Hurry. I can restrain him for less than three minutes."
"…Understood! Henry, what do I do?"
"You are not my lord!" Elijah shouted, moving forward, but Carla and the others blocked him.
"Repeat after me," Henry said urgently.
"Vera, say: I form a partnership contract with this demon from this moment on.
Alastair, you say the same, but replace 'demon' with 'human.'"
"That's it? No magic circle?" Vera blurted.
"Just say it! He's running out of time!"
"I form a partnership contract with this human from this moment on," Alastair declared.
"I form a partnership contract with this demon from this moment on," Vera echoed.
VOOM.
A warm surge of power flooded Alastair's body.
His power surged, amplified by Vera's strength.
He could feel her power rising in tandem.
At the same time, Vera suddenly gasped and grabbed her right arm.
"What—?!" Vera gasped, instinctively grabbing it.
Just above her right elbow, a mark was forming—
a pair of black wings, sharp and elegant, etched into her skin as if carved from shadow itself.
"…Wings?" Vera stared at it, breath caught in her throat.
"…Black wings?"
Vera's breath hitched.
Alastair's gaze flicked toward the symbol.
"…Tch," he clicked his tongue softly.
"Looks like the contract acknowledged me properly."
Vera swallowed hard, eyes still fixed on the wings.
He could move his fingers—barely.
I have no choice but to trust that child.
"Stab me through the heart," Alastair ordered.
"What?! Are you insane?!" Vera yelled.
"Do it! This is the only way to destroy him. I can hold him for less than two minutes. Now!"
Alastair did not intend to die.
But killing the host body would force the possessing soul—already weakened by the takeover—into dormancy for decades, perhaps centuries.
And once Belmuth entered hibernation, Vera would be able to revive him.
He trusted her.
Strangely enough, someone who never trusted anyone… trusted her.
"Move!" Alastair snapped.
Vera hesitated, trembling.
"Do it," Henry urged. "Afterward, you can revive him."
"I don't know if I can! He's too powerful!"
"Damn it—just stab me already!" Alastair roared as his control began to slip.
"…Fine. But if I fail to revive you, don't blame me."
She lunged forward.
Belmuth roared inside his mind, struggling violently.
Alastair dismissed all barriers and held himself still.
The blade pierced his chest.
He drew in a sharp breath as it drove straight through his heart.
He looked at Vera—her face twisted with grief, tears streaming, hands shaking as she still clutched the hilt.
…This child can be unexpectedly endearing.
He lifted a trembling hand and wiped her tears away, smiling gently.
"The rest… is in your hands."
His eyes closed.
Belmuth howled in rage.
"Die with me," Alastair murmured, a faint smile touching his lips.
"My lord."
Elijah screamed, struggling against those holding him back.
As Alastair's life faded, thousands of souls he had never fully absorbed burst free, escaping his body in a radiant torrent.
His power drained rapidly.
Among the escaping souls—one remained.
Emerald green.
Scented with pine.
"Grace…" Alastair whispered hoarsely.
For a moment, he was afraid to move—afraid she might vanish.
The soul took shape before him.
Grace smiled gently, her translucent hand brushing his cheek.
Her touch felt impossibly familiar.
"Alastair, my love. Does it hurt? Hold on—it's almost over."
"Is this real… or am I hallucinating?"
"It's really me."
She explained everything—how her soul had fractured upon death, how parts of her became Sybil and Charlotte… and how the final fragment had always remained within him.
Tears streamed freely down his face.
For once, he did not try to hide them.
"Come with me," she said softly.
He nodded.
Then he turned to Vera.
"Do not revive me."
"What? Why?!"
"If you reverse time…" His voice was barely a whisper.
"I will lose her again."
Vera stared at him, torn between shock and desperation.
"Promise me," he demanded weakly.
"…Fine."
"Thank you."
He smiled in peace.
As the strength left his body, the world around him began to dim.
Through his fading vision, he saw Vera stagger back slightly. She looked down at her arm.
The black wings etched into her skin were fading.
Within seconds, the mark vanished completely.
Good…
Then darkness took him.
.........….
His soul emerged, taking his familiar form once more.
Grace embraced him—
and this time, her touch was warm.
Truly warm.
He leaned in and kissed her gently.
"This time… I will protect you."
She let out a soft laugh.
"No. We will protect each other."
Together, they turned away—
leaving the world of the living behind.
The Lost Soul, indeed.