Chapter 45 Epilogue - Second Chance

I blinked, disoriented, and the first thing I realized was the warmth in my arms. My fingers twitched, brushing against soft hair, and for a moment I froze, wondering if the sensation was real. But it was. Nira was there, nestled against me, her breathing shallow but steady. She stirred as I shifted, eyelids fluttering open.

When her gaze met mine, her eyes glistened with fresh tears, the kind that reflected both fear and relief. “Dad?”

The word carried weight, heavier than chains, yet I welcomed it. I drew her closer, steadying my voice. “I am here.”

For a long heartbeat, I allowed myself to just exist in that embrace. No illusions, no lies, no games. Just me and the little girl who had chosen me to be her father. Yet underneath the comfort of that moment was something else, There was a shift inside me, a strangeness I could not ignore.

After devouring Anira, my body felt… different. No longer weightless or brittle like smoke. I could feel the ground beneath me, the pulse of life in my fingertips. I had regained the sense of touch, something I thought I had lost forever when the freak accident ended my mortal life. More than that, I could control the weight of my being now, thinning myself into a ghostly shimmer or solidifying until I could be perceived without Lydia’s magic. It was liberation, but it left me feeling hung between worlds.

Lydia’s weak voice broke the silence. “Renzo…” She stood shakily, leaning on Stabs for support. Her pale face still bore the exhaustion of battle, yet her eyes were fixed on me, sharp and searching. “What happened?”

I looked at her, then down at Nira, who clung to me like she feared I would vanish again. With a slow exhale, I gave the only answer that mattered. “It’s done. Nira is fine. She’s healed.”

Nira had returned to her original shape, that of a little girl.

Lydia’s shoulders sagged, tension melting away as her lips parted in a shaky breath. Relief flickered across her face, but her gaze returned to me, tracing the edges of my form. “And how about you?”

I managed a dry chuckle, running a hand over my arm, marveling at the sensation. “Yeah, I know… I look different. I guess I had several level ups.”

It sounded ridiculous, but somehow it was the truth. I wasn’t sure what I was anymore, but I had clawed something new out of Anira’s end.

Stabs finally spoke, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment. “What now, boss?”

I glanced at him, then at Lydia, then back down to Nira, who had tucked her head against my chest as though daring the world to try taking her again. The answer came without hesitation. “We go home.”

And so, with Nira in my arms and Lydia leaning against Stabs for strength, we left the dungeon’s suffocating halls. The cold stone and stale air gave way to the faint glimmer of daylight filtering through the exit, each step pulling us closer to the surface.

The world outside greeted us with the sharp chill of wind, a reminder that we were still alive, still moving forward. Our carriage waited where we had left it, yet it felt like a sanctuary after everything. We climbed aboard, and as the wheels began to turn, carrying us away from that cursed place, I let myself believe for the first time in a long while that we were going home.

“Dad,” cried Nira, “Thank you for everything.”

The orphanage had changed. It wasn’t just walls and beds anymore; it had become a place that breathed life again. Children laughed as they ran across the courtyard, their voices carrying into the streets. Among them was Nira, her small frame weaving between the others. She no longer looked frail or haunted by shadows. Her cheeks carried color, her hair caught the sunlight as she turned her head to smile at one of the girls. For the first time, she looked like every other child: happy, secure, and alive.

Beyond the walls of the city, the factories stood tall. Smoke curled from chimneys, but instead of choking despair, it carried the scent of work, of sustenance. Inside, men and women pushed machines, their brows damp but their voices steady. They spoke of wages, of meals, of tomorrow. There was hope in their eyes, fragile but real, and it reminded me that change could come not with miracles, but with the promise of something better to hold onto.

The old church was no longer silent either. Its ruined halls, once cold and lifeless, now filled with light. Candles flickered against worn stone as people gathered, their whispers of prayer merging into something greater. They came not out of fear, but out of the need for belonging. Where there had been emptiness, there was now faith,not in some distant god alone, but in the shared strength of people who had survived life the way they were.

I lay on the roof of that same church, the night sky stretched above me. The stars were scattered like shards of glass, each one distant yet shining enough to pierce the darkness. I let the silence sink into me, a silence I had learned to treasure after so much chaos.

A shift in the tiles signaled Lydia’s arrival. She climbed up carefully, her habit brushing the stone, and settled beside me with her usual calm grace. She gazed up for a long moment before asking quietly, “What now?”

I turned my head toward her, the stars reflecting faintly in her eyes. “I don’t know.”

Her lips curved into something between a smile and a frown. “With you absorbing Anira, I don’t think moving on is going to happen anytime soon. Your nature as an evil spirit has mutated beyond comprehension. I can say with confidence that not even a saint could exorcise you now.”

Her words might have unsettled me once, but now I simply breathed and answered, “I don’t mind.”

Her brow lifted, curiosity sparking. “What changed?”

I let my gaze drift back to the stars. “I guess there are still some things for me to do.”

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly, and then said in a teasing tone. “What? You’re going to save the world next?”

A laugh slipped out of me, surprising in its ease. “No. Nothing that grand.”

“Then what?” she pressed.

I smiled faintly. “I guess I want to become a father.”

Her cheeks colored in the moonlight, and she turned her face away quickly. I raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”

She shook her head, too flustered to answer, and I continued, “Nira would need a dad, right? And besides, I’d like to see her grow up. I want to see how far I can go too… thanks to you.” I smiled at her fully this time, unguarded, letting her see the truth in it.

Before Lydia could reply, a small voice cut through the night. “Dad!”

Nira clambered up onto the roof, her steps careful but her grin unstoppable. Her face glowed brighter than the stars above as she stood there, triumphant, as if she had uncovered a great secret. “I knew it!”

Her joy was contagious, and I couldn’t help but laugh again.

Lying there, with Lydia beside me and Nira’s voice filling the night, I realized something I had never admitted to myself. Even as a ghost, nothing was stopping me from continuing to live. I decided, right there, that I wanted to live after all. If not for Nira, or for Lydia, then for myself.

I had always been afraid of death, more than I wanted to admit, because deep down I knew I still wanted more. I wanted to matter. This was my second chance, and I would not waste it.

Yes… I was going to embrace it.

FIN.