Clive stood atop the outlook at The Hideaway, gazing out over the vast expanse of water surrounding the ruins they've come to call home. It had only been a few moons since Ultima’s defeat, but he could already see the subtle changes— Valisthea was healing and the blight was beginning to recede.

The dust had settled, and with it, the dawn of a new Valisthea. It was a world without Mothercrystals, magic, and the blight, just as he and Cid had once dreamed.

Their long battle had ended, and they had emerged victorious. Yet despite this, Clive could feel anything but joy.

When he woke after the battle, he found himself back at The Hideaway, unconscious for over a month. The curse had taken hold of his left arm, and Tarja was forced to make an impossible decision. To stop the spread, they had no choice but to amputate his arm.

Waking up had been a moment of sheer anguish. He was in excruciating pain, and he was missing an arm. Mid reassured him that she was already working on a prosthetic, but it didn’t matter. The fact remained: he was now incomplete. Disabled.

The loss of his arm was one thing, but worse news awaited him. Dion and Joshua had been confirmed among the fallen. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. The funeral had taken place while he was still unconscious.

It's been some time since he woke up. Without magic, everyone struggled to continue with their lives. Magic had been so deeply ingrained in their daily living that suddenly losing it plunged Valistheia into a different kind of chaos. Clive knew that this was because of him, because of the choices he made.

Clive’s eyes lingered on the water, the stillness of it so tempting. At that moment, it seemed so easy. All he had to do was step forward, and everything would be as it should be. He shouldn’t have woken up. He should pay for making everyone's lives miserable. Just one more step...

"What are you doing?!" A voice rang out behind him, jolting him from his thoughts. Clive closed his eyes and let out a deep, anguished sigh.