Extra's Ascent-Chapter 83: Blame And A Wondering Surprise

His eyes remained fixed on her still form, lying peacefully on the bed. Her once vibrant blonde hair now lay damp and lifeless, devoid of its former radiance. Every detail of her pallor and stillness cut him deeply.

A gentle tap on his shoulder interrupted his silent vigil. Turning slightly, he saw Saldrich, her eyes full of compassion.

"They say she will come through, Al!" she murmured, offering a measure of reassurance. Yet her comforting words barely penetrated the storm of anguish within him. At that moment, nothing mattered except the sight of Fiona, motionless and fragile.

"It wasn’t your fault, you know…" she began softly.

"We don’t know that… If only—" he faltered, his voice choking on the weight of his self-reproach.

"No, Al, we do. And there is no ’if only’ in what happened."

Aldrich’s self-blame gnawed at him relentlessly. Every moment he watched Fiona lie unconscious, he replayed the moment he had failed her. If only he had been stronger, faster, or more perceptive. The relentless "if only" haunted him, echoing in the silence of the room.

Fiona had been treated; the gaping wound in her chest had sealed. Yet, for the past three days since their return, she had remained unresponsive, as though time itself had frozen around her.

"He did this. Kyle Dandada did. A second-year, and not just any second-year, but one of the Banquet participants who dominated the stage alongside Dwayne Aldaman. There was nothing any first-year student, or even you, could have done against someone of that calibre," Saldrich explained, her tone mixing sorrow and admonition.

The Banquet? A term coined in the aftermath of the great world war that united members of all five races had become a poetic symbol of interracial contest and camaraderie.

Each year, the best students from the participating races clashed in a friendly, yet fiercely competitive match. For Eldora, the brightest second-year students were chosen during their first term, and last year, both Dwayne and Kyle had been among the elite. They had dominated the competition, with Dwayne shining brilliantly while Kyle emerged as a formidable force in his own right.

"There was nothing you could do against someone like that," Saldrich continued. "No matter how strong you were, no amount of power could have stopped him. The fault lies in Kyle’s baseless uncontrolled aggression."

"No. It wasn’t for no reason," Aldrich replied bitterly.

He recalled the brief, penetrating glance he had shared with Kyle. Those eyes spoke a silent message: I am here for you, for the disappointment you have become.

What did he truly know of Kyle from the novel? Although Kyle had barely made an impression overall, his early display of power marked him as a dangerous, almost untouchable mystic. Even though his prominence later faded in the shadow of the main cast, at first he had been an awe-inspiring presence.

"There is nothing else to say about him, except that he appeared strong initially before being overshadowed," Aldrich murmured, his tone heavy with regret.

"You think he acted with purpose? What could his motives be?" Saldrich pressed gently.

Aldrich’s expression darkened as he recalled the raw aggression in Kyle’s eyes, a personal vendetta, a challenge aimed directly at him. "I don’t know, Sal. Can I just… I want to be alone right now," he whispered, unable to bear the flood of conflicting emotions

At that moment, all he craved was to clear his mind and focus solely on tending to Fiona’s fragile health.

"Okay, Al. But don’t beat yourself up. Even if Kyle Dandada had ulterior motives, there was nothing you could have done to stop him," Saldrich said, her words gentle yet resolute.

Aldrich offered a curt nod. "Thank you, Sal. I understand," he replied, his voice hollow.

With that, Saldrich quietly exited the room, leaving him alone with the silent, unmoving Fiona. Her departure stung, as it forced him to face the full poundage of his guilt in isolation.

The room settled into a profound silence, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of Aldrich’s breathing. His mind churned with thoughts of blame and inadequacy.

"She believes you’re not enough. That you would never measure up to Kyle!" came a sudden, bitter whisper from within him.

Overcome with a surge of emotion, Aldrich sprang to his feet, punching the air in defiance. "Do you share her thoughts?" he demanded, addressing Aldrich with thought ease.

Before Aldrich’s fist could continue forward, a larger, more imposing hand clamped down on it, restraining him effortlessly. Aldrich’s eyes lifted to meet those of a stern, silver-haired figure whose gaze was both cold and unforgiving.

"Dwayne Aldaman!" Aldrich gasped, a mix of shock and a twisted relief in his tone.

The sight of Dwayne stirred something inside him. Excitement mingled with trepidation.

"Do you really think you have no chance against Kyle Dandada… even with your clairvoyance?!" Dwayne’s tone was challenging, his eyes piercing.

Aldrich’s mind reeled. How had Dwayne arrived? Why hadn’t he sensed his presence until this very moment? What purpose did he serve here?

None of that mattered now. What mattered was that Dwayne was here, a LORD’S candidate, addressing him with an authority that demanded calm.

Aldrich knew he had no time for panic; he had to remain composed in front of Dwayne Aldaman.

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"You heard what she said! Even if I possessed great strength, Kyle operates on a different level!" Aldrich replied, his voice trembling with a mix of frustration and despair.

Dwayne’s gaze remained unyielding. "You hold advantages that surpass those of most mystics, and yet you believe you are destined to lose to Kyle Dandada?!"

A hint of disappointment coloured his tone, though his face remained impassive. "Perhaps Kyle was right. Perhaps you do not deserve the clairvoyance. It might be best if I take it away from you right now."

Before Aldrich could respond, a firm, resolute voice interrupted. "Alright, that’s enough!"

The locked door burst open, and Dante rushed in, his fist raised and aimed directly at Dwayne.