The Return Of The Exiled Villain-Chapter 195: Perhaps... A Last Goodbye?

They spent over two hours watching numerous fights and discussing them with each other, which caused Lyra to refine herself even further.

By the time they finally stood up to leave, the roar of the crowd was already starting to feel distant, echoing behind them like a fading storm.

As they stepped out of the arena, the noise dulled instantly, replaced by the hum of the city streets and the warm glow of lanterns being lit one by one.

Lyra exhaled deeply.

"...That last fight," she said, still thinking about it.

"That lightning user..."

"The one with the short spear." Gray hummed.

"Yeah. At first I thought he was sloppy," she frowned slightly, trying to recall every detail. "But then... he threw that liquid on the ground."

"You noticed," Gray nodded in approval.

"Of course I did," she shot him a look.

"That bottle wasn’t mana, it was something else."

They walked side by side through the street.

"It was a conductive fluid," Gray explained calmly. "Not rare, but not cheap either. When lightning touches it, it spreads instead of dissipating."

Lyra’s steps slowed.

"...So when the opponent stepped on it..."

"The lightning didn’t need to hit directly," Gray finished. "It traveled through the liquid, up the legs, into the nerves."

She sucked in a quiet breath.

"And that’s why his opponent froze instantly," she murmured.

"That guy was using his brain, and not simply raw force..."

Gray glanced at her, seeing the way her fingers moved unconsciously, as if tracing invisible lines on the ground.

"Lightning doesn’t exactly have to be violent," he said.

"It just needs a path to travel. Think of this as... a chemical reaction?"

"Chemical reaction? Do you actually believe in those maniacal scientists?" Lyra gave Gray an odd look.

Gray stopped walking for a moment, turning to face her fully.

"Not everything they say is nonsense," he repeated calmly. "Some of it is just... badly explained."

"They talk about invisible things reacting with other invisible things. Sounds fake." Lyra crossed her arms, still unconvinced.

He sighed softly.

"Then let me put it in a way you already understand."

He reached down, picked up a small wooden splinter from a broken crate near the street, and held it between his fingers.

"Lightning strikes wood," he said.

"What happens?"

"...It burns," Lyra replied instantly.

"Exactly. But lightning isn’t fire."

She frowned.

"But it creates fire."

"Because wood resists it," Gray continued.

"Lightning hates resistance. When it meets something that doesn’t let it pass freely, all that energy has nowhere to go. So it turns into heat."

He crushed the splinter lightly between his fingers and let it fall.

"Now imagine metal," he went on. "Lightning loves metal. It runs through it smoothly. Fast, and clean, but doesn’t create fire or an explosion."

Lyra’s eyes slowly narrowed.

"...So the material decides what lightning becomes."

"Now you’re getting it," Gray nodded. "Lightning isn’t just destruction. It’s movement. Flow. Reaction."

He lifted his hand and created a small ball of mana threads before then touching Lyra’s left hand, who was unconsciously creating golden lightning.

Crackle!

Gray imprisoned the thin thread of golden lightning in the small and, using mana, he controlled it, causing it to start humming softly instead of cracking violently.

"Your mistake is treating lightning like a hammer. You swing it, smash everything, and then wonder why you’re exhausted."

Lyra stared at the thin strand, her breath slowing.

"But if I treat it like water..." she murmured.

Gray smiled faintly.

"...then you guide it."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"So if I change what it touches," she continued, her voice gaining speed, "or where it passes, wet ground, metal, certain liquids..."

"You don’t need more power. You need better paths for your lightning to flow through," Gray finished.

For a moment, she said nothing.

"...Oh."

Her shoulders relaxed as if something heavy had finally settled into place.

"...I always try to overwhelm them," she admitted, biting her lip. "More power, more speed. I never thought about controlling where the lightning goes after it leaves my body."

"That’s because you’ve never needed to," Gray replied. "Your raw output is fucking ridiculous. Most people can’t even stand near it."

"That’s not a compliment." She pouted faintly.

"It is," he said flatly.

"But it’s also a weakness."

She sighed, then nodded.

"...If I had something like that liquid," she said slowly, "I could limit how much lightning I release. I wouldn’t need to drain myself every time."

"Exactly, and you wouldn’t destroy half the battlefield in the process."

She shot him a glare.

"That happened once."

"Twice."

"...Okay, twice."

Crackle!

Golden sparks flickered around her again, but this time, they didn’t lash out between her fingers. They curved, bending around her fingers like obedient strings.

Seeing this, Lyra looked up at him, her golden eyes bright, almost glowing.

"...I get it now."

She suddenly grabbed his hand, excitement bubbling through her.

"Gray! I really get it!"

"That’s great," Gray chuckled at her excitement.

They slowed their pace as the crowd thinned, the noise of the arena fading behind them.

"Uh... by the way," Lyra said, tone turning a little sheepish as she glanced around, "where exactly is the hotel the academy arranged for us?"

Gray didn’t even hesitate.

"The Last Meal."

"...That’s the name?" She blinked.

"Mhm." He nodded once. "And based on the map I checked earlier, the arena is a bit far from it. If we take this right path and keep going straight, we should get there in no time."

"Good," Lyra said, stretching her arms lightly.

"I’m exhausted."

They walked side by side through the illuminated streets, the city slowly settling into its night rhythm.

Lanterns glowed softly, merchants were closing their stalls, and the smell of cooked meat and spices lingered in the air.

Soon enough, a large, dignified building came into view.

The Last Meal.

The inn looked nothing like its ominous name suggested.

Wide stone walls, warm lights spilling from the windows, and a carved wooden sign that radiated prestige rather than decay.

Inside, the atmosphere was calm and refined.

As soon as Gray placed the Gloria Academy student insignia on the counter, the innkeeper’s posture straightened instantly.

"Oh, Gloria Academy?" the man said, eyes widening slightly.

"Please forgive me."

His gaze shifted between Gray and Lyra, then he smiled knowingly.

"We’ve already been informed. You’ll be staying in our finest room."

Lyra opened her mouth.

"The finest—?"

"The largest and most prestigious suite," the innkeeper continued smoothly.

"For honored guests. And," he added with a polite cough, "since you’re a couple, it seemed appropriate."

Gray didn’t react much. Lyra, on the other hand, turned red almost instantly.

"T-That was fast..."

Keys were handed over, and moments later, they were led upstairs.

The door opened to a spacious, elegant room.

Soft carpets, a large bed, tall windows overlooking the city, and a quiet warmth that immediately made the fatigue settle into their bones.

As the door closed behind them, silence followed.

Gray exhaled and walked forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders slightly.

"...The bed is really comfortable," he muttered.

"At least."

Before he could say anything else, Lyra suddenly climbed onto his lap.

His body stiffened for half a second before his hands moved on instinct, settling steadily at her waist to keep her from slipping.

She interlaced her arms around his neck, her face flushed, eyes avoiding his.

"G-Gray..."

"Yeah?"

She swallowed, lowering her face just a little, her forehead almost brushing his, her breath trembling against his lips.

"I–I think I’m... r-ready..."

Gray directly froze at her words, and just after, he glanced to his right, where a panel kept hovering, like some impending doom.

[Rank: Peak Grandmaster (99%)]

He simply looked at her, really looked, reading the tremble in her shoulders, the uneven breath, the mix of courage and nervousness tangled in her eyes.

His grip on her waist tightened just slightly.

"Lyra, I have something to tell you..."

Hearing his strangely sincere yet serious tone, Lyra suddenly lifted her head. Her face was still flushed, but it had some kind of... awariness on it.

"W-what is it? Gosh... y-you’re making me nervous!" she stammered lightly.

Gray bit his lip at her words.

He didn’t know how to say this, especially since he didn’t know if that spiritual powder would make him get enough mental energy to beat the other Gray.

After all, it was going to be a mental battle; the one with the biggest mental power would be the winner.

’...Fuck.’

His eyes suddenly regained a hint of coldness that was hidden from Lyra’s eyes. In them, a huge amount of obsessiveness crept in.

’If I can’t have her... then, that other fucker also can’t!’

His lips parted slighly.

"...I love you, Lyra."

Her breath hitched at his words.

His hand rose, thumb brushing her cheek with reverent slowness, as if he were memorizing her skin. Her face flushed deeper at the touch, her lips parting without meaning to.

"I truly, but truly love you..."

He paused slighly.

"However..."

Her smile faltered.

He met her gaze fully now, golden eyes locking onto hers.

"That’s exactly why I can’t just... accept you."

"H-huh...?"

Panic instantly flashed across her face.

And then, her eyes widened because something shimmered at the corners of his, something that didn’t belong there.

Tears.

They spilled over before he could stop them, sliding down his face in helpless streaks.

Gray... the coldest person she had ever known, and also the warmest one... was crying, actually crying, for the first time since she had ever met him.

She reached up instinctively, fingers brushing his cheeks, trying to wipe them away.

"G-Gray...? Why are you—?"

"Actually..." His voice cracked completely.

The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how desperately she tried to chase them away.

"...I cheated on you."

Her hand froze mid-air.

The world seemed to drop out from beneath her feet.

Her heart seized violently as memory slammed into her, just a week ago, that inn in the City of Pleasure, during the time she asked him multiple questions...

And one of them was...

Would you ever cheat on me?

And at that moment, Gray didn’t hesitate or pause, directly replying to her.

Never.

But now...

Now he stood in front of her, confessing the very thing he’d sworn he’d never do.

"Y-you’re lying," she whispered, shaking her head, her fingers trembling as they slipped from his face.

"Y-you... you have to be."

"I wish I were," he said hoarsely.

"God, Lyra, I wish I could tear those memories out of my own head."

Her breath shattered.

A sound ripped out of her chest, not quite a sob, not quite a scream. Tears flooded her eyes instantly, blurring him into something unrecognizable.

"When...?" she choked.

"Who...?"

"I..." He desperately reached for her again.

"Please, let me explain—"

"Don’t touch me!"

She stumbled back, like his hand burned or something. Her tears spilled freely now, streaking down her flushed face, her shoulders shaking so violently she could barely stand.

"I trusted you," she sobbed, voice breaking again and again.

I trusted you!"

"I know... that’s why this hurts so much."

"That’s why?" she cried, almost hysterical. "You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to decide how much this hurts me!"

She wiped her face harshly with her sleeve, as if ashamed of the tears even as more poured out.

"I gave you everything," she whispered.

"I was ready to—"

Her voice collapsed entirely.

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

The room felt too small, and the air too thick.

Every memory of him, every smile, every promise, twisted into something sharp and completely unbearable.

"Sniff..., I c-can’t..." She backed toward the door, sobbing openly now.

"I-I can’t be h-here."

"Lyra!"

She turned and ran.

The door flew open with a sharp crack, her footsteps uneven and frantic as she bolted down the corridor, her cries echoing behind her.

Step...

Gray walked towards the door before closing it slighly, and turning back to the bed before lying down on it.

Tears were dripping from his eyes, but he didn’t bother to wipe them.

"...I love you, Lyra, and I’m sorry for being weak."

He reluctantly closed his eyes, his lips curling up into a satisfied smile.