The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

The fires had died. The fight seemed over but this was the beginning of a chain of Despair which Sylves had now became an inseparable part of.

The night, once shattered by violence and chaos, fell into a heavy stillness.

Sylves sat motionless amidst the smoldering remains of the battlefield, his arms still wrapped around Sarah Glens. The weight of her body had grown colder, heavier—and yet he couldn't let go. His tears had dried, leaving only a dull ache behind his eyes and a silence pressing on his chest like stone.

Footsteps echoed.

"Ashia…?" he muttered, barely turning his head.

She rushed toward him and knelt beside him in alarm, eyes wide with worry.

"Master—Master, you're bleeding!" she exclaimed, trembling as she saw the deep gashes and bruises on his arms. "I'll tend to your wounds… Please, don't move, Master—just stay still!"

Her hands were already moving with practiced care, unwrapping gauze and salves from the emergency kit tucked into her satchel.

Behind her, Elas and Serena finally arrived.

Elas, usually calm and composed, dropped to his knees at Sylves's side, staring at the lifeless girl in his friend's arms. His lips parted, but no words came.

Serena stopped halfway. Her eyes met Sylves's—then dropped to Sarah.

She froze.

Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, and a strangled gasp escaped her throat.

Sylves didn't speak. He just looked at them—his closest friends—his family in this strange world—and let the silence explain what had happened.

Moments later, hurried footsteps sounded again. A group of students, first-years like them, came running from the dormitories, alerted by the explosions and alarms. Their voices were hushed with confusion, fear, and morbid curiosity.

But before they could come closer—

A commanding voice rang out:

"That's far enough!"

A team of sixth-year students strode onto the scene, wearing distinct gold-trimmed uniforms.

The Student Council.

They moved quickly, forming a protective circle around the scene. With expert precision, they diverted the onlookers, ushering them away from the wreckage and shielding the fallen Elite Force soldier from view.

"Return to your rooms," ordered the tall boy at the front, his voice firm yet calm. "The situation is under control."

Within minutes, the crowd thinned, murmurs fading as the younger students were escorted away.

Only Sylves, Ashia, Serena, and Elas remained.

And Sarah.

Ashia whispered through clenched teeth as she tied off the last bandage on Sylves's arm, "Master… Why did she…?"

Sylves looked down at Sarah's peaceful face, silver hair cascading over his arms.

"She said… I was like her " he murmured.

He didn't say it aloud, but they all knew: this was no ordinary battle.

This was a war that had finally reached their doorstep.

The storm clouds had gathered by the time they reached the graveyard.

The student council walked ahead, solemn and silent, followed closely by the professors. Behind them trailed Sylves, Ashia, Serena, and Prince Elas, the weight of the night's events still settling in their bones.

Sarah's body lay upon a white-draped bier, now still as the gray stone path beneath their feet. Her silver hair fluttered faintly in the growing wind, her armor bloodstained but peaceful. The students and faculty formed a wide circle around the resting Elite soldier as a final moment of mourning was observed.

A moment later,Professor William Whites—his white cloak drenched at the shoulders—guiding a young girl with hesitant steps, reached the graveyard

That was when it happened.

From the far edge of the path, the girl accompanying Professor Whites gasped.

Sylves looked at her face—and understood.

Same silver hair.

Same piercing violet eyes.

This was the sister Sarah had spoken of in her final moments.

Her breath hitched—then shattered into a scream.

"No—no!! SARAH!!"

She tore forward like lightning, her silver hair whipping behind her, violet eyes wide with horror and disbelief.

She didn't make it to the body.

Before she could reach her sister, Sylves stepped in, arms firm as he stopped her just short. He pulled her to him, holding her tightly as she struggled in grief.

"Don't look," he whispered, voice low but unwavering. "You wouldn't want that to be the memory you keep of her."

The girl froze in his arms, trembling.ww

His chest tightened. "It's my turn now," he thought, "she's mine to protect."

"She fought," Sylves said softly, but clearly—his words meant for her alone. "She fought like a warrior. And she didn't die in vain." She fought strong, she fought to protect… a stranger like me.

His voice cracked slightly, and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"She trusted you… to me. So don't cry… Not like this."

The girl looked up at him through a blur of tears. She saw something in his eyes—something powerful. Something familiar. Strength, loss, grief… and unspoken promise.

And in that moment, she collapsed into his arms.

Tears came like rain.

Her sobs wracked her small frame as she buried her face in his chest. Sylves held her firmly. Not as a stranger—but as someone who had been chosen to stand between her and the cruel world. Ashia moved forward without a word and wrapped her arms around them both, her presence warm and steady.

They stood like that for a long time.

As if answering the grief in their hearts, the clouds released their tears.

Rain began to fall—soft at first, then steady—drenching the earth as the funeral began.

Sylves stepped forward as the one appointed to lead the burial.

The headmaster gave him a respectful nod, stepping back.

Headmaster Gardinant's voice rang clear above the sound of falling rain as Sylves and other professors carried out the burial.

"Sarah Glens of the Asphalia Royal Elite Force. Defender of peace. A light in the night. She gave her life in the protection of others… and entrusted her final hope to us. Let this ground remember her name… as will we."

The soil was laid over the casket by spell-formed shovels, but the memory was carved deeply into every heart present.

As the final rites ended, Sylves turned to the young girl—so small in the rain, so fragile beneath the storm clouds—and gently held her by the shoulders.

His gaze locked with hers.

"I will avenge your sister," he said, voice like steel. "With these hands, I will bring justice. Keep your eyes on me."

And the rain bore witness to a promise.

Here is your scene refined into polished novel-style English, retaining all emotional intensity and deepening the narrative impact:

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After the Burial

The rain had faded, but the weight in everyone's hearts remained.

Elza Glens was silent, her eyes unfocused as if drifting in a world no one else could reach. She walked beside Sylves without resistance, her hand still clutching the pendant that had once belonged to her sister.

Headmaster Gardinant Blackwood stepped forward, solemn as ever, and placed a hand gently on Sylves's shoulder.

"Mr. Ellesmere," he said quietly, "Take Miss Glens with you tonight. It would be for the best. She… sees her sister in your eyes. They truly do resemble hers. I fear what she might do if left alone."

Sylves simply nodded.

No words were needed.

Room 104

As they entered, Ashia quickly cleared a space near the bed, readying a folded futon.

"Master," she said softly, "Let Miss Glens take my place tonight. She can sleep with comfort. I'll sleep on the floor."

But Sylves shook his head.

"No," he said gently. "Go to Serena's room. She lives alone, and what she saw tonight—she needs someone with her. She trusts you."

Ashia hesitated, then bowed slightly. "Understood." She turned to Elza, gave her a kind look, and left the room.

Sylves closed the door and led Elza to the bed. Her eyes were vacant, her steps mechanical. He helped her sit and slowly unfastened the buttons of her blazer, careful not to startle her.

As he laid her down, tucking the blanket up to her chin, he whispered, "It's alright. Goodnight."

He turned off the lantern.

But sleep never truly came.

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Midnight

A sudden chill swept the room. Sylves stirred awake.

The bed was empty.

The door was ajar.

His heart jolted.

"Elza…?"

He stood up, quickly invoking a low-level mana tracing spell—a technique his mother had taught him when he was young. A faint glow followed the air, guiding him like a trail of scent.

Anxiety. Fear. Sorrow. The atmosphere was saturated with it.

His eyes widened as the trail led him to the rooftop of the first-year dormitory.

There she was.

Barefoot. Standing at the edge.

Hair disheveled, clothes slightly fluttering in the wind. The moonlight bathed her figure in a pale glow.

"Elza!!" he called out—but she didn't respond.

He acted immediately.

With a surge of spatial magic, he appeared behind her and snatched her away just as her feet began to slip. They landed roughly on the rooftop tiles.

She struggled.

"No! Let me go! Please let me go!" she screamed, thrashing in his grasp.

Sylves held her tightly by the shoulders, firm yet gentle. "ELZA!"

She froze at the sound of her name.

He spoke again—his voice trembling but kind.

"It's alright… You don't need to die."

Tears pooled in her eyes. Her lips trembled.

"I don't want to live," she whispered. "My sister was the only reason I agreed to come here… I wanted to become strong… to be someone she could lean on—but now…"

"No." Sylves cut her off softly but firmly. "You don't need to be strong. Not now. Do you think your sister would be happy… if you gave up? If you joined her in the afterlife?"

He looked into her violet eyes, the same shade as his own.

"No," he said again. "Absolutely not."

Elza's shoulders shook.

And then the dam broke.

She collapsed forward, clutching Sylves's chest, and began to sob. Not loud or dramatic—but deep, heartbreaking sobs that came from a soul shattered by grief.

He held her.

Letting her cry.

No more words were needed.

Not tonight.

They sat in silence on the rooftop, the cool wind brushing past them, carrying away the last echoes of Elza's cries. The stars above shimmered gently, and the moon cast a silver glow over the academy grounds, softening the shadows of the night.

Elza rested her head lightly against Sylves's shoulder, her breath finally steady, her eyes gazing up at the endless sky.

After a long pause, she whispered, "Do you think… my sister became a star too?"

Sylves looked up at the heavens, letting her words settle in the silence between them. He replied quietly, "She would have… Far from here, maybe. But I'm sure she's looking at you right now. At us."

Elza turned her face toward him, tears no longer falling, but glistening under her lashes. She reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold—trembling still from the weight of the night—but she seemed to find comfort in the warmth of his.

"You're warm…" she murmured, almost like a child. "Do I really not have to be strong? Then… how will I protect myself?"

Sylves looked down at her, a faint smile in his eyes. He rose to his feet, then bent and gently took her by the arms—lifting her upright by her armpits like one would help a sister stand after a fall.

"You don't have to protect yourself," he said with steady conviction. "Because I'll protect you. Your sister entrusted you to me… She said it herself—she and I are similar. That makes you my responsibility now."

Elza looked at him, eyes wide—searching for doubt, but finding none. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something like peace flickered inside her chest.

Hand in hand, they walked back toward the dormitory, their shadows stretching together under the moonlight.

At the doorway, Elza paused. She turned to him, her voice small but sincere.

"Goodnight… Sylves."

He smiled gently. "Goodnight, Elza."

They closed the door behind them and, for that night, both drifted into sleep without fear.

The crystal which Sarah entrusted in Sylves's hands.... Now glows dimly in his pocket.

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