A pressure dropped over him and the possibility died in his hand.
Something got stripped out of his mind. "What did you—"
Astrael's voice stayed flat. "Your intention to reach the sword."
"You judged my intention?"
"I judged the outcome." Nothing shifted in his face. "Your choice never became real."
His fingers curled. Even choosing could be taken away from him.
"So that's your Authority."
Astrael didn't answer that either.
Lucien smiled. "Now you understand."
His eyes went hard. The six weren't just attacking him. Each one had been forcing something into his head that he hadn't grasped before — one lesson at a time.
Blood. Chains. Death. War. Oblivion. Judgment. Six different ways to end a thing.
Or maybe six different ways the world had decided an ending should look.
And the Fool was the one thing that refused the premise entirely.
"Fine."
He raised his hand. The air beside his fingers warped — one version of his hand drifting left, another right, neither one actually happening, the gap between them flickering like a bad signal.
Lucien's smile fell away. His focus sharpened on the distortion — a look he hadn't worn all fight. He'd seen it too, and that meant it was real.
It was the start of something.
He stared at his own shaking fingers. "Possibility." The word sat strange in his mouth. He still didn't know what it was. He could feel it, though. A path.
No. Not one.
Paths — every decision splitting into a hundred branches at once. He'd spent his whole life watching for the safest one, never walking it himself.
The Fool in him was asking a different question.
What if there's no safe path to find?
"Then I'll make one."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
"I said—" his fist closed "—I'll make my own."
The air split. A single black-red line cut through the space beside him, gone almost instantly.
This time, neither of them could pretend they hadn't seen it. Nobody moved to break it
Silence held the sanctuary.
Then Lucien stood — the first time he'd left the throne since Zekai had walked in.
Jerom straightened. Hella's fingers tensed. Even Fenros shifted its weight, ready.
Lucien's white robe settled around him as he moved, golden eyes locked on Zekai. "You've learned fast."
Zekai's smile disappeared.
Lucien came down one step. "Learning isn't the same as understanding."
Another step. "And understanding—" his gaze slid to Null Drakular "—isn't the same as surviving."
His whole body went rigid.
Lucien stopped. No attack came. He looked at Hella instead.
"Release the sword."
Her silver eyes widened a fraction. "Lord Lucien?"
"Release it."
His attention stayed on the blade. "We've tested his strength enough. Now I want to test its loyalty."
She obeyed. The chains binding Null Drakular loosened one link at a time.
One. Another. Another.
The sword stayed still. His pulse hammered as he watched it.
Lucien's eyes stayed on the steel. "Let's find out." Then back to Zekai. "Will it choose you a second time?"
Something about handing it back felt wrong.
"Go ahead."
He reached for it. Only a few meters between them. His legs didn't believe it.
One step. Nothing happened.
Another. His whole frame shook.
A third. His fingers stretched out.
The instant they closed around the hilt—
Null Drakular shattered its last binding and surged free — not toward Lucien, not toward Hella. Toward him. It ripped through the last chain on its own, black-red veins igniting down the length of the blade, like it had only been half-awake until now.
The chains hadn't broken from force. They'd simply stopped having any authority over it.
CRACK!
The sword flew the distance in a blink. He caught it, the impact driving him back several steps, fingers locking around the grip as dark crimson energy crawled across the blade.
He looked at Lucien, running on nothing but exhaustion and stubbornness. Frost Heal had closed every wound his body carried. The strain underneath it hadn't gone anywhere.
His eyes had, though. They'd changed.
"I don't know what this power actually is." The blade hummed under his palm. "Don't know why it picked me."
His grip tightened. "Don't know how I survive six of you."
A thin smile. "But I can learn."
Lucien studied him a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed — quiet, genuine, the sound of a man who hadn't been surprised in a long time.
"Good." His eyes lit gold. "Then show me."
The sanctuary shuddered.
Deep in his Arcana, something stirred, and the system answered.
[FOOL AUTHORITY — RESPONSE DETECTED]
[PATH INSTABILITY: INCREASING]
[REALITY GLITCH: ACTIVE]
[UNKNOWN POSSIBILITY — FORMING]
His pupils shrank. The message cut off before he could finish reading it — the six were already moving.
Jerom drew his weapon. Hella's chains tore up from the floor. Ossian's green eyes opened wide as the whip uncoiled across his forearm. Fenros dropped low, ready to spring. Nihil opened the Grimoire. Astrael lifted one hand.
Six Authorities woke up around him at once.
His grip closed harder around the hilt. Every instinct told him to run. Every rational thought told him to stop.
Underneath the exhaustion, the cold of Frost Heal still lingered in his chest, steady, and he'd stopped noticing it was even there.
Everything about this said impossible. The Fool in him answered anyway, and it didn't say survive, didn't say win.
Just something simpler.
There has to be another way.
He stepped forward.
Reality glitched around his own foot.
✦ End of Chapter 71 — The Fool Refuses to End ✦