(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)
Rodnick Hot Springs – Morning
No POV
The morning mist still lingered like a sleepy veil over Rodnick, curling around the rooftops and winding between the villa's pine-shaded paths. Birds chirped lazily from the treetops, and somewhere nearby, steam hissed gently from the natural springs as the sun climbed above the cliffs.
Inside the modest kitchen lodge, something strange stirred.
Something... delicious.
Mila's nose twitched before her eyes even opened. A warm, sweet scent tickled her senses—rich, buttery, and faintly nutty. She blinked slowly, sitting up on the futon as sunlight bled through the window.
She wasn't sure what time it was. But the smell?
That was unmistakable.
She rose, stretched, and pulled on her outer robe with practiced grace before stepping into the hallway. The aroma grew stronger with each step—soft notes of vanilla, something almost floral, and a warm caramel edge that made her stomach whisper in anticipation.
She wasn't the only one lured by it.
"Morning," came Sofya's voice as she stepped out of her room, dressed in a loose blouse and her hair loosely braided over one shoulder. "You smell that?"
Mila nodded once. "I thought it was a dream."
"Or divine intervention."
Together, they padded down the wooden corridor until they reached the small common kitchen. What they found inside was not divine intervention—but close enough.
Adriel stood behind the wooden counter, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in focus. A large iron pan hissed gently as he flipped something golden and round with a fluid flick of the wrist. A stack of perfect pancakes rose beside him, fluffy and evenly browned, still steaming.
A pot simmered nearby—maple syrup made from scratch, bubbling thick and slow.
"Is this what war generals do when they're not conquering?" Mila asked dryly from the doorway.
Adriel glanced over his shoulder. "Only when bribery is needed."
Sofya practically glided into the room. "Oh, this isn't bribery," she said, eyes locked on the pancakes. "This is a gift from the heavens. And I accept."
"You've had this before?" Mila asked, skeptical.
Sofya nodded with reverence. "Once. Briefly. Off duty. I thought about it for three days after."
Adriel handed her a plate, topped with three pancakes and a generous pour of syrup. She took a single bite—and made the sound Mila associated with temple priestesses during epiphanies.
"Oh... gods above..."
Adriel smirked, plating another stack for Mila.
"Didn't think pancakes could be... this," Sofya said around another bite. "What did you do to them?"
Adriel shrugged. "Balanced the flour with crushed almonds. Whipped the batter until airy. Added essence of vanilla. Syrup's made with boiled bark and raw honey."
"You just described wizardry," Mila deadpanned, watching Sofya sway slightly with each bite like she was in a trance.
"It's just cooking," Adriel said.
"You keep saying that like it means something simple."
He passed her a plate without ceremony, and Mila hesitated.
Then took a bite.
Her mouth exploded with warmth. Soft, golden sweetness flooded her tongue, grounded by just the right crispness around the edges. The syrup melted across her teeth like caramelized magic, sweet without overwhelming, with just a hint of something herbal beneath the sugar.
She blinked once. Then again.
"...You've bewitched this," she accused, chewing slowly.
Adriel crossed his arms. "I warned you."
"You said you cook. You didn't say you transcend breakfast."
Sofya leaned against the counter, her plate already half-devoured. "Welcome to my nightmare," she said to Mila. "He cooks like this every time. And pretends like it's no big deal."
"It's not," Adriel replied.
"It is," Mila said, then quickly added, "...objectively."
She took another bite, then another, before catching herself. Her eyes flicked to him as he turned back to the pan, now working on the third round. She opened her mouth to say something else—but the words came out faster than her filter.
"You really don't make sense," Mila said, a little too casually between bites. "First you command an army. Then you win political war games. And now... you make pancakes that taste like seduction."
Sofya, mid-sip, sputtered into her tea and coughed violently.
Mila blinked. Her brain caught up with her mouth.
"I meant—!"
"Oh my~," Sofya wheezed, thumping her chest. "That was so not what I expected with breakfast!"
Adriel stopped flipping pancakes mid-air.
Even the syrup in the pan seemed to bubble louder in the silence that followed.
Mila's ears burned. "It was a figure of speech!"
"No, no, don't walk it back," Sofya said, barely holding in her laughter. "I want it etched in stone. On a plaque. 'Pancakes that taste like seduction.' —Ludmila Lourie, Ice Vanadis of Olmutz.'"
"I hate you."
"You love me. But not as much as you love that stack of golden, fluffy—what did you say?—'seduction.'"
Adriel finally turned around, flipping the last pancake onto a plate like nothing had happened. But his smirk betrayed him.
"I'm glad my culinary reputation is blossoming," he said dryly.
"I'm going to blossom your face with this plate," Mila muttered, glaring at both of them as she took another deliberately aggressive bite.
Sofya leaned over, whispering just loud enough. "So... does this make him the dish or the chef of your heart?"
Mila choked.
Adriel, now setting silverware with absolute neutrality, didn't intervene. He simply exhaled as if bracing for a second battlefield.
"You two sound like war brides bickering over rations," he said. "And I'm the camp cook who just wanted to sleep in today."
"I'm not bickering," Sofya replied sweetly. "I'm just celebrating Mila's awakening. She's blushing, Adriel. You see it, right?"
"I'm not blushing," Mila snapped. "This is breakfast-induced heatstroke."
"Mmhm."
"If I had a spear right now—"
"You'd stab your pancakes," Sofya said, smiling innocently. "Which would be a crime."
Adriel finally turned and placed the last two plates on the table.
"That's enough syrup-flirting," he said flatly. "If the universe hears this conversation, we'll never have peace again."
Mila groaned and shoved another bite into her mouth to avoid responding.
Sofya kept laughing quietly to herself, savoring the moment as much as the food.
Adriel plated the final round and joined them at the table, sitting between them like some long-suffering envoy trying to keep peace between rival nations. He reached for the coffee pot with a sigh that said: this is my life now.
"Better than the battlefield," he muttered, swirling the cup absently before taking a sip.
"Depends," Mila said without looking at him, fork poised. "You've never seen Elen throw a ladle during strategy meetings."
Sofya chuckled. "Or Lim when someone drinks the last of her black tea. That's when she becomes a true commander."
"I'll take corrupted dragons over tea-deprived Vanadis," Adriel muttered, and Mila actually smirked around a bite of pancake.
"You're lucky, Adriel," Sofya said suddenly, her tone teasing but thoughtful. "Two weeks ago, Mila wouldn't have even sat at the same table with someone like you."
Mila stopped chewing. "Someone like him?"
"A dangerous, mysterious outsider who upended a kingdom in under an hour and has a god-complex hidden under a pancake addiction."
"That's not inaccurate," Mila admitted without shame.
Adriel sipped his coffee. "I'm right here, by the way."
Sofya leaned toward him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "By the way... was last night your idea of diplomacy or just a fluke?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze shifted—first to Mila, who had frozen slightly with her fork halfway to her mouth, then back to Sofya. His expression softened for just a breath.
"Let's call it..." he said slowly, "an alliance in progress."
Mila muttered under her breath. "Hmph."
Sofya grinned, satisfied.
The air still smelled like syrup and steam. The sun was warm through the windows. For a heartbeat, everything was calm.
But then—
Adriel stilled.
He didn't flinch or startle. He simply...ceased all motion.
The warmth left his face. His fingers relaxed around the coffee cup, but he didn't lift it again. His expression didn't shift so much as it emptied, like he was somewhere else entirely.
It happened so quickly, the air seemed to change with him.
Sofya was the first to notice.
"Adriel?" she asked, her voice lower now. Measured.
His eyes narrowed, not at her, but at something miles away—through walls, distance, and perhaps something stranger. His irises flickered faintly, like threads of code were writing themselves across his vision.
"They're close," he murmured.
Sofya sat straighter. "Who?"
"Elen. Limlisha. Tigre."
Mila looked up sharply from her plate. "Wait—what?"
"They're traveling through the basin forest. Half a mile out."
Sofya's brow furrowed. "Why are they—? You never said they were coming, at least not when."
Adriel blinked—once—and spoke softly, almost to himself. "I didn't."
"You forgot to tell us?" Mila asked, incredulous.
"I didn't think they'd arrive this early," he said absently, standing. "They were supposed to take a longer route, but... Tigre cut across the basin. He's following the old marked path."
"Why would that matter?" Sofya asked slowly. "It's just a shortcut, isn't it?"
Adriel didn't answer.
Not in words.
His hands were already glowing with golden circuit-like lines, pulsing with layered energy. The room dimmed as the hum of unseen code began to crackle in the air.
Mila stood up, cautious now. "Adriel...?"
His face hardened.
"That forest was tagged as unstable. I didn't think anything would be drawn there this early."
Sofya took a step closer to him. "Drawn? By what?"
His head snapped up. His gaze focused in like a razor's edge.
"They're already there," he said, almost under his breath. "And the narrative field is bending around them... warping."
Mila looked to Sofya, unease now deepening in her eyes. "What's he talking about?"
Before Sofya could answer, the temperature dropped—and light fractured.
Adriel raised a hand.
The air split with a crack.
Not a magical ripple. Not a summoned gate.
A breach in space itself.
The tear was jagged, golden-edged, and spiraling with lines of ancient text, logic diagrams, and alien symbols. It didn't hum like magic—it hissed, like the universe hated the intrusion but couldn't stop it.
A rift.
Reality hacked open.
Mila backed up instinctively, hand reaching for a blade that wasn't there. "Adriel... what are you—?"
"I don't have time to explain," he said, stepping toward the breach.
"Wait, what's even in that forest?" Sofya called.
Adriel's eyes flicked to her for the briefest second. "Something I hoped never reached Tigre."
And then he stepped through.
Gone.
Just like that.
The tear remained.
Hovering open. Still glowing. Still humming.
And on the other side—they saw it.
A forest clearing. Tall trees. Three familiar silhouettes—Lim, Elen, Tigre—facing down something massive and wrong. Shadowed figures, flickering unnaturally.
Then—
An arrow. Black and malformed.
Void-infused.
Slicing through the air toward Tigre.
And from the other side of the rift—
SNAP.
Adriel caught it in two fingers.
Sofya's breath caught. "By the gods..."
Mila whispered, "He...intercepted it... across dimensions..."
The portal flickered.
They saw Adriel fully emerge into the scene. His cloak whipped around his legs. Sparks of bio-electricity arced along his arms.
No magic circle. No chant.
Just power.
Raw. Controlled. Barely held back.
Sofya stared. "He didn't teleport."
"He broke the physics," Mila said quietly.
They watched him move forward.
And on the other side—something moved with him.
Seven shapes. Dripping corruption. Chains and steel and darkness.
Darks.
The air on both sides of the portal tightened.
Mila took a step back.
Sofya whispered, "We've never seen him fight, have we?"
"No," Mila said.
"But we're about to."
Forest Basin – Near RodnickTigre POV
The arrow should've killed me.
It was aimed perfectly—black, silent, laced with some oily light that my instincts screamed at me to avoid. But I was too slow. Too human.
Then it stopped.
Two fingers.
Adriel stood between us and the tree line, cloak billowing from his sudden arrival.
He held the void-tipped arrow like a snapped twig.
Elen exhaled a sharp breath beside me. "The same thing you mentioned back in the lodge..."
Adriel's body tensed.
So did the air.
His fingers didn't just snap the arrow—they crushed it like glass, and something in the forest shuddered.
Slowly, he turned to face us. His gaze passed over Elen first... then Lim. Then landed on me.
"You told them," he said quietly.
I couldn't speak. Not right away.
Lim stepped forward, her voice level. "He didn't mean to. He—"
"You told them," Adriel repeated. "You said the word. Out loud."
I stepped forward, shame already boiling in my chest. "Adriel, I didn't mean to—"
"You think meaning changes what's listening?"
His voice wasn't loud.
But it shook.
He looked at Elen again—really looked at her—and something sharp cracked behind his eyes.
"You weren't supposed to know," he said, lower now. "Neither of you. That's why I left you out."
Elen's expression hardened. "You used me. And then ghosted us. And you're surprised I'm angry?"
"You weren't supposed to be
in danger
," Adriel snapped. "I did everything—everything—to make sure you wouldn't get pulled into this!"
Lim was deadly quiet. "And yet we're here."
She didn't raise her voice.
Didn't need to.
Her silence said everything.
Betrayal. Disappointment. Cold, strategic calculation. And just under that—something brittle.
Tigre swallowed hard. "I only told them a piece of it. I didn't—"
"You don't understand," Adriel growled, cutting me off. "Sentry wasn't just watching. He was listening. You named him. You pulled his eye straight to you. And now?"
He gestured toward the trees.
Seven shadows moved at once—silent, smooth, hungry.
"The Seven Chains," Lim breathed.
"Corrupted," Elen said.
"Turned into Darks," Adriel confirmed. "Buffed with void enhancements straight from the Sentry himself."
He didn't turn to us as he spoke. His posture shifted. Looser. Lethal.
The kind of stillness before a storm breaks.
Lim stepped protectively in front of Elen. "We're fighting too."
"No," Adriel said sharply.
"Adriel—" I tried.
"No!" His voice cracked through the air like a whip. "They're coded. You can't hurt them. Not unless your weapons have Guardian Blessings, and last I checked, none of you brought a divine forge on the way here."
Lim flinched. Just slightly. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.
"You're always like this," she said, her voice dangerously even. "Hoarding knowledge. Playing savior. Telling everyone to stay put while you bleed for us in secret."
"I'd rather bleed than bury any of you!" Adriel snapped back. "Is that what you want? To see what happens when someone Tigre's bonded to dies?"
Everyone froze.
My throat dried instantly.
Adriel's eyes were locked on me now—haunted.
"That's what you don't understand," he said, breath shaking now. "If one of you falls... especially you, Elen... he doesn't break like a soldier. He breaks like a law of this universe just got rewritten."
Silence.
Elen's face paled. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came.
Lim stared at me now—searching, reevaluating every word I hadn't told her.
Adriel turned back toward the trees, voice tightening.
"You three stay out of this. Or you'll hand Sentry more than just your lives—you'll give him a crack in the anchor he's been starving to exploit."
Then he moved.
No war cry.
No dramatic windup.
Just... vanishing.
Like the air forgot he existed for a second.
Then— impact.
One of the Darks slammed into the dirt, body twitching as arcs of gold-crackling energy ran up its limbs. Another blurred forward—Adriel spun behind it and tore the void corruption out with his bare hand, flinging the essence into the air like smoke.
We could only watch.
None of us moved.
Not even Elen.
Not even Lim.
He was untouchable.
No POV
The first Dark lunged.
Its movements were fluid but broken—like a puppet being manipulated by too many strings. Jagged black energy cracked across its arms as its blade sliced downward, aiming straight for Adriel's neck.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't raise his arm to block.
He simply sidestepped—one inch.
The blade missed by a breath.
Adriel's fingers snapped upward, latching onto the attacker's wrist with surgical precision. The moment he touched it, the void-infused limb began to writhe, resisting him like a snake caught mid-strike.
But his grip didn't budge.
With one sharp twist, he ripped the arm completely out of its socket—not by brute force, but by snapping its internal logic. The assassin didn't scream. It couldn't. Its body convulsed in static as it stumbled backward, collapsing into shards of code and smoke.
From behind, two more Darks blurred forward.
Their feet barely touched the ground. They moved with corrupted velocity, forming half-formed glyphs beneath each step, bending gravity with every bound.
Tigre barely tracked their approach. "Adriel—!"
No need.
Adriel spun mid-air, lifted by a controlled burst of golden electricity from his palm. He caught one of the assassins by the neck mid-leap and hurled it like a hammer into the other. The impact created a shockwave that split bark from nearby trees and sent dust spiraling in every direction.
But even that wasn't enough.
Both figures reformed
—twisting their bodies back into shape with glitching, unnatural movements. Their joints dislocated and reset. Their limbs bent the wrong way and
snapped back into motion.
They didn't bleed.
They didn't breathe.
They were wrong.
Adriel touched the ground again—and the moment his boots kissed the soil, glyphs of gold erupted beneath him, spreading like sacred circuitry.
"Enough," he muttered.
He raised his hand and opened his fingers wide.
The air shimmered. A net of light formed—golden threads of narrative reprogramming. The moment it activated, two of the approaching Darks stopped in mid-air. Frozen. Like flies caught in divine amber.
"Unstable constructs," Adriel said coldly. "You're held together by corrupted plot-threads. Let me help you unravel."
He clenched his fist.
The trapped Darks convulsed, spasming violently. Their forms began to break apart—code lines disassembling, revealing fragments of their original human identities underneath the void corruption. Just for a moment, their true faces flickered in the glitching static.
Then they screamed—but not aloud.
They screamed through the world itself.
A psychic shockwave rolled through the trees.
Tigre, Elen, and Lim staggered back from the force of it. The trees wilted. The very forest seemed to recoil.
And still, Adriel moved forward.
The remaining three attacked in perfect sync, chains and blackened blades striking from all sides. Their movements had no form, no martial rhythm—just chaos, amplified by their void enhancements. Each hit fractured the air, bending time in flashes of red and gray.
Elen raised Arifal instinctively to shield herself and Lim. "They're stronger than anything we've faced."
"They're not even real anymore," Lim said quietly. "They're... decayed reflections. Like ghosts wearing steel."
Tigre's voice was tight. "And Adriel's fighting all of them."
Not just fighting.
He was dissecting.
He ducked beneath a sweeping chain, grabbed the void-weapon mid-spin, and absorbed the momentum. His feet slid backwards in a perfect arc—then he countered, his palm lashing upward with a venom-charged pulse.
The assassin reeled—shaking violently as tendrils of crackling gold burrowed into its corrupted armor, disassembling it from within.
Adriel flipped over its shoulder, landed with one hand on the ground, and whispered:
"Break."
The corrupted glyph on the assassin's chest shattered.
Its body followed—dispersing into black mist and flecks of shattered narrative.
The final two lunged together—one high, one low. Coordinated, precise. Their bodies blurred with residual hacking from Sentry's influence.
This time, Adriel grinned.
His right hand became a glowing claw—an ethereal projection of raw energy, jagged and electric.
He intercepted the high attacker in mid-air, plunging the claw through its chest.
Then—pivoted.
With his left hand, he drew a stinger blade from his wrist. Sleek. Elegant. Deadly.
The blade extended mid-spin and drove through the final assassin's midsection. Not just piercing it, but locking onto its code—a pulse of bio-electricity surged from the hilt, frying whatever void enhancement remained.
Both assassins froze.
Then disintegrated.
Not in chunks.
Not in blood.
But like shattered glass made of storylines, reality, and corruption.
Adriel stood in the wreckage.
His cloak settled. His breath was slow. Controlled.
No wounds.
No weakness.
Just calm.
The portal didn't close.
It hovered, humming softly like a heartbeat made of light and code, its golden edges fraying into shimmering glyphs that defied all natural logic. The pancakes sat forgotten. The coffee pot, still warm. But the moment Adriel vanished through the rift—
The room changed.
Sofya was the first to react. She stood instantly, her chair scraping back.
"Mila," she said sharply.
Mila was already rising, her eyes glued to the swirling portal.
They stepped closer.
And what they saw through that glowing tear in space—
It wasn't a battlefield.
It wasn't a skirmish.
It was a storm. A divine one. Controlled by a single man.
Adriel.
Their companion. Their commander. Their quiet, sardonic pain-in-the-ass ally...
Was tearing through monsters like a force of nature wrapped in a man's body.
They didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Tigre's knees buckled slightly as the pressure lifted.
The air felt lighter.
The forest—quieter.
Elen didn't speak. Her grip on Arifal slackened, but her knuckles were still white.
She couldn't look away from him.
From Adriel, standing at the center of it all—barely breathing hard.
Lim's fingers trembled faintly at her side. She looked at the scorched, fractured clearing. At the way the earth had folded under Adriel's power. At the raw pieces of unreality still evaporating into the air.
Her mouth opened once—then closed.
Back through the portal, Mila watched with wide eyes.
Her hand gripped the edge of the table.
She didn't blink.
Couldn't blink.
"By the heavens," she breathed.
Sofya was equally still, but there was something deeper in her stare. Not just shock. Not just fear.
Recognition.
"...I thought he was holding back," Sofya whispered.
Mila turned her head slowly. "He is."
None of them spoke for a long moment.
Not Mila. Not Sofya. Not Elen, nor Lim.
Even Tigre, who'd been prepared to throw himself in front of the others if it meant keeping them alive—he couldn't make his voice rise.
They hadn't seen war.
Not like this.
Not what it meant to fight outside the rules of their world.
And I understood now—
Why he kept us at arm's length.
Why he played villain to our eyes.
Why he would've rather been hated than seen like this.
Because the truth wasn't noble.
It was terrifying.
He didn't fight like a man.
He fought like someone who'd been written into the margins of reality—rejected, rewritten, reforged.
And the worst part?
This wasn't even his full strength.
He was still holding back.
Back through the portal, Mila finally broke her silence.
"Why... didn't he tell us?"
Sofya didn't answer right away.
She watched as Adriel stood amidst the aftermath, his shoulders taut, his eyes distant.
"I don't think he wants us to know," Sofya murmured. "Not really."
"But why?" Mila demanded. "Why lie? Why keep this from—"
"Because he's scared," Sofya cut in. Her voice was quiet. Not dismissive. Just honest.
Mila turned, startled. "Of what?"
Sofya's gaze softened.
"Of how we'd look at him after."
Location: Rodnick Estate – Kitchen
Minutes Later...
The portal crackled at the edge of the kitchen—still open.
It shimmered like molten glass, golden and unstable, twisting reality around its edges. The hum of disrupted air vibrated through the floorboards, a pulse felt more than heard. And beyond it, through that tear in space—
Mila and Sofya had seen everything.
They had watched from the safety of their world as Adriel tore through seven Dark Assassins—creatures twisted by something unnatural, something beyond blade or spell—with precision that defied anything they understood.
It wasn't swordsmanship. It wasn't sorcery.
It was something else.
And now, through that same portal, he returned.
First came the breeze—cold and unnatural. Then a sound, like static folding in on itself. And then the four of them stepped through.
Adriel emerged first, walking calmly but with an eerie stillness in his shoulders.
Behind him came Tigre, jaw clenched, eyes low—not injured, but shaken. Then Lim, her armor scorched from the warped energy of the forest, but otherwise intact. Elen followed last, face unreadable but pale.
The portal behind them flickered... and closed.
The room fell into silence.
Adriel's boots tapped across the wooden floor as he crossed to the table. He didn't sit. He didn't even glance at the half-eaten pancakes or the scent of tea still lingering.
Sofya was the first to speak, her voice unusually quiet.
"That was..."
She couldn't finish.
Because how do you describe something like that?
Mila, standing beside her, didn't speak at all. Her arms were crossed, but the tension in her fingers showed she was processing every movement she'd seen through the portal. And failing.
Adriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just..." His voice cracked. "Sit."
The weight behind the word was enough to anchor them. Lim, Elen, and Tigre obeyed without question.
Adriel didn't speak for a moment.
Then, softly—quietly, but with weight—he said, "The moment you said it, I knew."
Elen's head lifted slightly. "What?"
"In the forest," Adriel said, eyes locked on her now. "You said—'The same thing you mentioned back in the lodge.' That's when I knew. You didn't guess. You knew."
His voice sharpened. "And the only way you could've known..."
He turned to Tigre.
"You told them."
Tigre flinched. "Adriel, I didn't mean to. I swear, it just—"
"You didn't mean to," Adriel echoed. "I know."
He rubbed a hand across his face, frustration flickering through him like a storm just barely contained beneath the surface.
"You're not at fault for the emotion," Adriel continued. "You were cracking. I could feel it. And that's when he reached you."
Elen raised a brow.
"Wait—you felt him?" she asked.
"Of course I did,"
Adriel answered, his voice sharp but not cruel.
"But because he slipped, I couldn't tell if he was being watched or manipulated. The protection I gave him—the warding I left on his soul—it cracked the moment his emotions spiraled. And once that broke... Sentry could sink his claws in."
Tigre shifted uncomfortably.
"I didn't even know that kind of protection existed."
Adriel shot him a look.
"It's not the kind you see. Or feel. That's the point. It's like stitching up a wound you don't know you have. The moment you tear it open again, something worse leaks in."
A long pause settled in again.
The tension wasn't the kind that erupted into shouting—it was the cold, breath-held tension that came right before someone said something irreversible.
Sofya leaned forward slowly.
"Who is Sentry, exactly?"
Adriel didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned toward the hearth, as if speaking to the fire instead of the room.
"Something that shouldn't exist," he said.
"A guardian who stopped protecting and decided he deserved more. So he took it. From everywhere."
Mila's voice, soft but steady:
"He's not from here, is he?"
Adriel gave the smallest nod.
"No. He comes from outside. From a place where destruction isn't an act of war, but a nature of being. Where laws unravel and histories... end."
Lim frowned.
"And the assassins?"
"They were puppets,"
Adriel said.
"Once elite killers from Serash. Now just hollow shells, filled with his essence. That void you saw on them—that isn't corruption. It's infection. And it's spreading."
Elen stood a little straighter.
"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?"
That hit like a knife.
Adriel didn't flinch.
But his voice grew tight.
"Because you weren't supposed to be part of this," he said.
"You, Lim, even Tigre—you were supposed to stay in the part of the world that still made sense. The parts where swords could win battles. Where politics and armies still mattered. Where people weren't unmade just because they felt too much."
Tigre looked away.
"And now?"
"Now?"
Adriel laughed under his breath, bitter and worn.
"Now the Darks know your names. Now I have to rewrite everything. Again."
Mila tilted her head, narrowing her gaze on Tigre.
"That still doesn't explain why he's the one you care about protecting the most."
"You're all important,"
Adriel said.
"But he's special," Sofya added softly, reading between the lines. "Isn't he?"
Adriel didn't answer at first. He paced—just once—and then finally turned.
"He's the axis," Adriel said. "The anchor. The one the world bends around without even realizing it. The land knows him. The story clings to him. If he breaks, so does the rest of this reality."
"Anchor?" Mila repeated, glancing at Sofya. "You never mentioned that term before."
"Because I never heard it," Sofya said honestly. "He never used it around us."
Adriel gave Tigre a flat look.
"He wasn't supposed to say it at all."
Tigre winced.
"I remembered the word, but I didn't know what it meant. I said it during the argument with Elen and Lim, when things got... heated."
"That argument..."
Adriel's tone darkened.
"That moment is when Sentry started watching. That's when started following you. My protection doesn't shield you when your emotional core is exposed. And thanks to that slip, he latched onto the thread between you and the others."
Elen stiffened.
"So that's why those things came after us."
"It was a test,"
Adriel muttered.
"A strike meant to see how you'd break under pressure. He already knew Tigre couldn't harm his pawns—only I can fight them. The rest was bait."
Lim's jaw tightened.
"You thought we'd die."
"No," Adriel said with sudden heat.
"I knew I wouldn't let that happen."
Silence again.
Heavy.
Stifling.
And then—
Mila asked, "Why not just tell us all this from the beginning?"
Adriel looked at her, tired. Old.
Not in body—but in soul.
"Because knowing what you're up against invites it in. And if you don't understand the full depth of it, it consumes you."
He turned toward Tigre once more.
"This isn't just about you," he said.
"But you're the fault line. If you crack in the wrong place... the whole world caves in."
That silence returned again, dense like fog, and no one knew how to cut through it.
Tigre lowered his gaze. He didn't argue. He didn't try to be brave. He just... listened.
For the first time since walking into that kitchen,
Adriel's shoulders slumped.
Not in surrender. Not in defeat.
In exhaustion.
He looked at the group, gaze resting briefly on each of them—
Lim's cold composure, Elen's wounded silence, Mila's sharp intelligence—and finally, Sofya's calm, steady expression.
That's when he made his decision.
"I need air," Adriel muttered, stepping back from the table.
Everyone stirred, but no one moved to stop him.
Until he paused at the door.
"Sofya. Walk with me."
The words weren't commanding.
They were... asking.
Soft. Almost vulnerable.
Sofya blinked, surprised—but not confused.
She stood without hesitation.
"Of course."
That, more than anything, caused a ripple.
Mila frowned, watching them both carefully.
But it was Elen whose eyes narrowed the most.
A flicker of confusion crossed her face. Then something deeper.
Something sharp.
But she said nothing.
Not yet.
Adriel didn't look back as he pushed the door open. The cold morning air met him like a silent wave—and then he stepped through it, vanishing into the corridor with Sofya right behind him.
The door clicked softly shut.
And the rest were left in that kitchen.
Alone with their questions.
Alone with the weight of everything that had just been said... and everything that still wasn't.
Location: Rodnick Estate – Outer WalkwayShortly After
The wind outside carried a biting chill, but Sofya didn't seem to notice it.
Her cloak fluttered behind her as she followed Adriel down the narrow stone path that traced the estate's edge. It wound between patches of frost-covered grass and low hedges now dusted white by the early morning cold. The sun had begun to rise, painting the far hills in pale gold—but neither of them looked up.
Sofya kept her gaze on Adriel's back.
He hadn't said a word since they left the kitchen.
And that silence wasn't the quiet she'd come to expect from him. It wasn't strategy. It wasn't distance. It was weight.
It was pain held too long.
He finally stopped near a bend in the path, where an old tree twisted out over the slope, its bare branches creaking faintly in the breeze. He leaned a hand against the bark and exhaled.
Sofya caught up slowly, standing beside him, arms wrapped loosely around herself.
"You're shaking," she said softly.
Adriel didn't look at her. "I'm fine."
"You're not."
Still, he didn't answer.
She took a breath, then glanced out at the frozen field below.
"I saw your hands at the table," she said. "How tightly you were holding yourself together. Like if you moved too suddenly, everything would unravel."
At that, Adriel finally glanced at her.
"Because it almost did," he said.
The wind rustled through the branches above them.
"You've seen a lot," Sofya said carefully. "More than any of us can guess. But even now... I've never seen you like this."
Adriel leaned back against the tree, looking upward at the gray sky.
"I've faced monsters before," he said. "Things no blade could pierce. Things that erased cities by breathing on them. But this?" He exhaled again. "Sentry is something else."
Sofya hesitated. "You said he used to be like you."
"A guardian," Adriel nodded. "But he lost himself. He reached for power that didn't belong in mortal hands. His heart twisted in the process. And something older... darker... fused with him."
He paused, then added, "It isn't just strength that makes him dangerous. It's the hunger. He's not satisfied with conquest. He devours histories. People. Meaning."
Sofya's brow furrowed. "Devours?"
Adriel struggled for the right words—words that didn't come from realms beyond Sofya's understanding.
"In this world," he said carefully, "everything is held together by the will of the people who live in it. Their belief. Their hope. Their love. Even their grief."
He looked at her now, voice quieter.
"And Tigre... he's become the center of that. The world leans into him."
"Because of his kindness?" she asked.
"Because he inspires," Adriel said. "He gives people a reason to stand. That makes him... vital. A force of stability. But Sentry doesn't want stability. He wants collapse. If Tigre dies in a war? Maybe the world can survive. The tale will adapt. But if Tigre dies while Sentry is watching—if he's broken outside the bounds of fate—"
He shook his head.
"It won't just be death. It'll be erasure. The kind that swallows entire kingdoms in silence."
Sofya blinked slowly, letting that settle.
"He's the world's thread," she whispered.
"Yes," Adriel said. "And if it snaps outside the weave, it unravels everything."
They stood quietly a moment longer.
Then Sofya turned to him.
"And what about you?" she asked. "You act like your only role is to keep us safe. Like your life ends where ours begin. But that isn't balance either."
Adriel looked at her.
Her voice lowered. "What happens if you fall?"
Adriel didn't answer right away.
Then he said, "It's easier if I do."
"Don't say that," Sofya said immediately, stepping closer.
Adriel's gaze dropped. "I'm not the one this world leans on. I'm not its hope."
"No," she said. "You're its shield."
He flinched, just barely.
Sofya continued. "And a shield doesn't hold forever if it never rests."
For the first time since they stepped outside, Adriel smiled—tired, but real.
"I didn't expect you to say that."
"I've had two weeks of watching you fall apart one crack at a time," Sofya said. "It's hard not to notice when the dam finally buckles."
He laughed softly under his breath.
Sofya reached out and touched his shoulder gently.
"You don't have to carry the storm alone," she said.
Adriel looked at her—really looked—and something inside his expression loosened.
He nodded once.
And for that moment, under the cold breath of the wind and the frost-lined sky, he allowed himself to feel seen.
Location: Rodnick Estate – KitchenMoments Later
The door clicked softly behind Adriel and Sofya, shutting out the cold air and the crackling echo of the portal that had just sealed shut.
For a few seconds, the silence left behind was almost sacred.
But it didn't feel peaceful.
It felt like standing in the eye of a storm.
Tigre remained seated at the far end of the table. His hands were clasped together, knuckles pale, and his gaze fixed somewhere beneath the grain of the wood. Lim sat opposite him—rigid, silent. Her armor bore scorch marks from the corrupted energies of the forest, yet she hadn't said a word about it.
Even Mila and Elen, standing nearest the hearth, said nothing.
The room didn't breathe.
Then Tigre stood.
"I'm going to wash up," he muttered, his voice rough but even. "I need... a moment."
No one stopped him. No one even looked at him.
The soft clatter of his boots disappeared into the hallway.
Not long after, Lim pushed away from the table. Her movements were quiet and smooth, but something in them screamed tension held too tightly for too long.
"I'll be in the guest room," she said, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I need time to think."
And then she was gone, too.
Which left only Mila and Elen.
Stillness again.
But not the same kind.
This was charged. Fragile. Ready to fracture.
Elen didn't look at Mila, but she didn't have to. Her body was tense, her jaw set like a blade she hadn't yet drawn.
Mila turned to the fire. Her expression was unreadable.
Then, quietly: "You're angry."
Elen's answer was too fast. "I'm not."
Mila raised a brow, still facing the flames. "Could've fooled me."
The silence that followed cracked with the strain Elen didn't want to show.
Mila finally turned to face her.
"Are you going to keep pretending I don't see it, or are you going to speak like the war maiden everyone says you are?"
Elen's gaze snapped to her. "You don't get to lecture me."
"Then say what you're thinking."
"You knew."
The accusation dropped like a weight between them.
"You and Sofya. You knew about the Darks. About him. And you said nothing."
"I knew pieces," Mila said calmly. "He never told us the full picture. Just enough to understand what not to do."
"Still more than what he gave us," Elen muttered, eyes narrowing. "More than what he gave me."
Mila folded her arms. "And this is about you now?"
Elen's jaw tensed. "He used me. Back in the capital. Took my trust, my loyalty, and walked out with a throne."
"He left the crown behind," Mila said. "He didn't want power. He wanted protection."
"And he chose to protect you instead," Elen shot back.
Now Mila's expression finally shifted—just slightly. Not guilt. Not triumph.
Understanding.
"You're not upset because he lied," Mila said softly. "You're upset because he didn't lie to me."
Elen stiffened.
"I'm not jealous."
"Then what are you?" Mila asked, stepping forward. "Because from where I stand, it looks like you've been picking a fight with the wrong person since the moment that portal closed."
Elen looked away, fingers curling against her sides.
"You've known him for two weeks."
"And in that time, I didn't push. I listened. I tried to understand the way he moved, the way he doesn't say what he's feeling. He's terrified, Elen. Not of you. Not even of Sentry. But of failing."
Elen didn't respond.
So Mila kept going.
"Do you know what he said the first night he stayed here?" she asked, her voice gentler now. "He said, 'The moment people get close, they die.' He didn't say it like a warrior. He said it like a man who's seen it."
Elen's throat moved, but no words came out.
Mila stepped closer. "He didn't open up to me because I'm special. He opened up because I didn't demand it. I earned it."
That finally got a reaction.
Elen's head whipped around, eyes blazing. "And what, I didn't?! I've been beside him longer than you have! I trusted him."
"You trusted the version of him that made you comfortable," Mila replied. "Not the version terrified of dragging you into a war that breaks people."
"That's not fair—"
"No," Mila said. "It's not. None of this is. But this isn't about fair. It's about who he thinks he can afford to lose."
That broke something behind Elen's eyes.
Mila took a breath and stepped back.
"I'm not trying to take your place," she said, voice softer now. "And I'm not trying to win anything. But if you're going to resent me for knowing him... for trying to help him carry what none of us can see... then say it. Out loud."
Elen didn't speak.
She just stared at the table, hands shaking slightly, lips pressed into a line that tried not to tremble.
Mila gave her one last glance.
Then turned.
And walked out of the kitchen.
Leaving Elen alone with everything she couldn't bring herself to say.
Location: Rodnick Estate – Far Past the Gardens
Late Afternoon
The sun had shifted by now—migrated halfway across the sky like a lazy observer too polite to interrupt the tension below.
Their walk hadn't ended.
Not really.
They'd just... kept going. Past the eastern field. Beyond the old well. Into the low hills behind the Rodnick estate, where frost hadn't quite surrendered to sun and winter still whispered in the roots.
Sofy walked beside him still, but quieter now. Watching.
Adriel didn't speak.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because he didn't know where to start.
The cold helped.
It slowed the world. Quieted the noise.
But it didn't silence his thoughts.
She was right, he thought, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. I'm unraveling.
It wasn't just the war, the battles, or Sentry.
It was everything.
The plan—his beautiful, careful, surgically precise plan—had shattered the moment Tigre cracked.
And maybe it was stupid to build everything around someone so young. So kind. So human.
But now...
Now he'd been found.
If it had worked, he thought bitterly.
If Tigre hadn't spoken...
Adriel clenched his jaw.
He could see it so clearly in his head still:
He would've taken the Kingdom's army—leveraged the chaos he created in the capital. Mila and Sofy would've backed him, their own forces pledged, weapons blessed by his hand.
They would've marched into Thenardier's corrupted territories with divine-bonded steel and carved out the rot piece by piece. Systematically. Quietly. With Tigre safe, hidden under the Guardian's narrative veil, protected by distance and by ignorance.
And he could've held it.
He could've stopped Sentry's spread.
Could've kept this story from becoming another tomb.
Instead...
Sentry knew.
Knew where they were. Knew who Tigre was close to. Knew the fear that tugged at their hearts like a puppeteer stringing bone.
Now every thread of stability he'd woven had unraveled.
He had to stay. Couldn't leave yet.
And yet, every second he did...
Artoria. Peter. Ace.
They were still fighting.
Still bleeding somewhere far beyond the Anime layer, trapped inside the League's Omniverse with creatures Adriel could barely contain even when he was whole.
But he wasn't whole anymore.
He could feel the parasite inside him—Void Sentry's curse—still gnawing at his core. Still slowing his thoughts. Still weighing his limbs like sandbags wrapped in steel.
And he perhaps might be late.
He doesn't know how long he can speed up times perception. So he can return only seconds after he had left the League Of Legends Verse.
What if they'd already fallen?
What if—
"Adriel."
Sofy's voice broke the spiral. Not sharp. Not urgent.
But sure.
He blinked and realized he'd stopped walking. His hands were trembling again, breath coming too fast. He hadn't even noticed.
He turned toward her.
"You're somewhere far away again," she said softly.
"I never really left," he murmured.
Sofy stepped in front of him. She wasn't smiling now. Not like before.
Not gentle.
But firm.
"You're burning yourself from both ends. I don't know where your mind just went, but it wasn't anywhere near here—and it's not the first time you've looked like that since we stepped out."
Adriel hesitated. Then forced out, "I had a plan."
"I figured."
"It was a good one."
"I believe you."
He exhaled hard, and for a moment, she thought he might scream. But he didn't. Just scrubbed his hands through his hair and turned away, pacing a few steps before stopping again.
"I was going to keep them all here," he said. "Tigre, Elen, Lim. Hidden. Safe. I had the army. I had your forces. Mila's. The capital was rattled—perfect for a misdirection. I could've struck Thenardier's corrupted territory with divine-cleansed steel before Sentry ever knew we were coming."
"And now?"
Adriel looked over his shoulder. His eyes glowed faintly. Not with power.
With exhaustion.
"Now he knows everything," he whispered. "Everything. Because the Anchor couldn't hold."
"You don't blame him," Sofy said.
"No," he agreed. "But I hate that I don't."
She took a step toward him. "So what now?"
"I don't know," Adriel said. "I don't know, Sofy. I've fought titans. Walked between worlds most people can't even imagine. I've held collapsing realities in my arms and stitched them back together with nothing but blood and memory. But this?" His hand curled into a fist. "I have no answer for this."
"You'll find one."
"I don't have time to find one."
Sofy didn't argue.
Because she knew he wasn't just being dramatic.
If he didn't go back soon...
Others would die.
Others might have already died.
He'd left them to buy time. But now he had none left to spend.
Adriel's shoulders slumped.
His voice was quiet, but each syllable cracked like glass underfoot.
"I was going to end this war before it ever started... Not with politics. Not with compromise. Just—surgical precision. Clean, brutal efficiency. Then rebuild after. I knew how to do that. I knew how to win."
He turned away from her, just slightly. As if ashamed.
"But now? It's like playing against a god who's already read the script and scribbled over the margins in blood."
He exhaled harshly. "And every time I try to adjust, it's like I'm moving slower. Like he's already predicted my next move five moves ago."
Sofy watched him—not the Guardian, not the warrior.
The man.
And right now, he looked so tired it made her chest ache.
She stepped closer.
"You're not wrong to feel this," she said quietly.
"I don't have the luxury of feeling anything," he replied, his voice hoarse.
"That's a lie," she said, firmer now.
Adriel's jaw tightened.
"You think the world allows me that?"
"No," she said. "But I do."
That made him go still.
Completely still.
She took another step, slowly, like approaching a wounded beast that hadn't realized it was bleeding.
"You've spent the last two weeks helping us understand this war, even when you wouldn't explain it. You protected Tigre before anyone else even realized why. You risked yourself over and over—"
"Because it's my job," he growled, voice cracking.
"No," Sofy said, stepping in front of him now, voice low but intense. "You don't throw yourself into the jaws of death just because it's written in some sacred contract. You do it because you care. And that's not something you get to pretend away, Adriel."
He looked at her—really looked at her.
His breathing was uneven now. Like it was catching in his chest.
And behind those gold-flecked eyes, there was too much.
Too much pain. Too much pressure. Too much of everything, stuffed into a vessel that wasn't meant to carry it all alone.
"I failed them," he murmured. "I failed everyone."
Sofy reached out.
She didn't hug him.
Didn't pull him into some grand emotional gesture.
She just placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart, and said:
"You're still here."
Adriel blinked, startled by how soft it sounded.
Sofy's voice dropped.
"You're still here, Adriel. Not broken. Not erased. You're still fighting. That's not failure. That's defiance."
He stared at her. And for a moment—just a moment—his composure cracked.
Not fully.
Just enough for the storm to be seen behind the clouds.
"...I don't know if I can win this," he admitted.
Sofy gave the faintest smile.
"I don't think anyone truly knows if they can win a war like this. But the fact you're still asking the question? Still thinking? Still trying?"
She stepped even closer now, her hand not leaving his chest.
"That's more hope than most people ever get."
Adriel didn't speak.
Couldn't.
He didn't need to.
Because the look he gave her said enough.
Thank you.
And I'm sorry.
And I don't know what to do.
And she answered all of it in the simplest way she could:
By not moving.
By not letting go.
And when the wind shifted around them again—cold but calm—Adriel finally allowed himself to breathe.
To stand still.
To be held by something other than duty.
And in the hush of the late afternoon, her silence did more than words ever could.
Location: Rodnick Estate – Inner Hallway
The estate had fallen quiet. Afternoon light streamed in through the high windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
Adriel and Sofya rounded a corner, their footsteps soft on the stone. They'd been walking for hours. Neither had spoken for the past several minutes.
And then, turning a bend, they ran into her.
Lim.
She froze mid-step, a cup balanced carefully in her hands. Her silver cloak shifted slightly as the air between them thinned with tension.
"You two," she said flatly. "Took your time."
Sofya smiled faintly, the kind of smile that meant well but knew it wouldn't land. "We needed the air."
Adriel met Lim's eyes.
She didn't flinch. But she didn't smile either.
"Can I speak with you?" he asked.
Lim set the cup down gently on a nearby table. "If it's about what you did in the capital, don't bother."
Adriel took a slow step forward. "It is. But I'd like to explain."
"I already heard the explanation," Lim said, tone clipped. "Elen told me everything. And Tigre filled in the gaps. How you lied. Used her. Took the Zhcted army without asking. And vanished."
Adriel paused. "I didn't vanish. I was preparing—"
"You didn't tell her anything," Lim cut in. "And you didn't tell me anything either. Even when we met at Rodnick. Even when we agreed to work together."
He exhaled through his nose. "I didn't think you'd forgive me. I only hoped you'd understand."
She crossed her arms. "Understand what, Adriel? That you could've asked for help but chose manipulation instead?"
"I didn't want to use anyone—"
"But you did," she said sharply. "Even if you thought it was for a good reason, you did. And that's the part I can't ignore."
There was a moment where Adriel said nothing. He stood still, tense but not defensive.
"I trusted you," Lim added. Her voice was quieter now. More tired than angry. "Not because of titles. Not because of Tigre or Elen. But because I thought you meant what you said. I thought you respected us."
"I did," he said quickly. "I do. That's why I'm here."
He took another cautious step forward.
"You weren't in the capital, Lim. You didn't see how quickly things were falling apart. I needed the army ready before Sentry made his first move. I didn't have time for diplomacy. Not with something like that approaching."
"You could've told us," Lim said, softer now. "You could've told me. Elen would've rallied the army regardless. We would've followed you."
Adriel hesitated. "I thought that by keeping you out of it, I was keeping you safe."
"That's not your decision to make."
There it was. Not shouted. Not dramatic. Just a firm wall she had built between them.
He nodded slowly. "You're right."
Lim blinked at him, a flicker of surprise in her otherwise impassive face.
"I made that call," he said. "And it was wrong. I should've trusted you the way you trusted me."
She looked at him carefully. "And now?"
"Now," Adriel said, "I can't afford to make the same mistake again."
Lim's jaw tightened. She didn't speak for a while.
Then, finally: "Elen cared about you."
"I know," Adriel said.
"You broke her trust."
"I know that too."
Her voice dipped lower. "And it hurt to watch."
He met her gaze, and this time—this one time—there was no wall behind his expression. Just quiet guilt.
"I saw you," Lim added, her tone more hesitant. "Before this happened. Back at the estate. I saw the way you carried yourself. How you held people's eyes. I thought... maybe you were different."
"I wanted to be."
"Then prove it."
The words weren't a challenge.
They were hope. Bitter, cautious hope.
"I will," Adriel said quietly.
Lim exhaled through her nose, then reached for the teacup again.
"We'll see."
She turned to leave, but paused just once.
"And for what it's worth," she said without looking at him, "I really was starting to like you. That makes this sting even more."
Then she walked away, leaving Adriel and Sofya alone in the hall.
Adriel didn't speak for a long time.
Then, quietly to himself:
"I keep trying to shield everyone from the fire... and all I do is burn bridges."
Sofya stood beside him again.
And this time, she said nothing at all.
Adriel's QuartersThe Next day, Morning
The morning light crept in slowly.
Not with warmth or welcome, but with a cold, pale hue that barely pierced the frost-hazed windows.
Adriel lay still in the dark for a long time after waking.
The ceiling above him blurred at the edges of his vision. He blinked once. Twice. His limbs ached—not with injury, but with weight. An unnatural exhaustion that refused to lift, no matter how deeply he slept.
Eight hours. Maybe more.
And yet, he felt like he'd been digging himself out of a grave with every breath.
His pulse drummed faintly. A whisper beneath his skin.
The parasite was still there. Still latched somewhere inside the seams of his power. Still coiling through his soul like oil in clear water.
He sat up slowly.
The air in his room was still. Cold.
He reached for the cloak draped over the nearby chair and pulled it over his shoulders, moving with the sluggishness of a man who'd aged a decade overnight. His body was healing fine.
But his mind was—
Drifting.
He rose, boots silent against the wood. No armor. No weapons. Just the steps of a man trying to think through the fog in his skull.
He needed to check on Tigre.
His instincts screamed it.
Maybe it was leftover guilt. Maybe it was the ever-present echo of the Sentry's touch hovering just beyond the edges of the Rodnick estate. Or maybe, just maybe—it was because the dream he'd had wasn't just a dream at all.
He moved into the hall, fingers brushing the wall as he turned toward Tigre's quarters. The estate was quiet, too quiet for a place that housed six people, a combined army's worth of anxiety, and the looming threat of invasion.
The silence always came first before the world shifted. He knew that. He'd lived it.
He paused in front of Tigre's door.
No sound. No movement inside.
He didn't knock.
Instead, he placed a hand lightly on the wood. Not to open it—just to feel.
A whisper of presence beyond the threshold. Familiar. Stable. But faint.
Tigre was alive. Resting. But troubled.
His energy had shifted.
The boy wasn't breaking... not yet. But the fractures were spreading. Quiet cracks, just under the surface.
Adriel exhaled slowly.
He didn't open the door.
He just stood there for a moment longer—listening. Not with his ears, but with the sense only Guardians had. That deep resonance in the weave of a world's breath. The pulse of its chosen.
Tigre's thread still held.
Barely.
Adriel whispered, voice low and rasped from disuse: "Just a little longer. Hold on."
Then he turned away, cloak brushing the edge of the frame as he vanished back into the corridor.
The estate halls were quiet this early, the kind of stillness that made every footstep feel like it echoed too loud. The morning frost still clung to the windowpanes. Pale gold light slid through the cracks in the wooden beams above as he made his way to the kitchen.
He slowed near the door.
She was already there.
Elen.
Standing at the far side of the room near the stone counter, silver-white hair catching the sunlight in that wild, elegant way of hers. No armor. Just a dark blue tunic pulled over a fitted blouse, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere out the window.
Her sword leaned against the wall nearby.
Adriel exhaled quietly, pushing the door open with the gentlest nudge.
The wooden creak didn't startle her.
She didn't even turn.
He entered, footsteps soft across the floorboards, more cautious than quiet. The moment she registered his presence, the tension in the room thickened—not in hostility, but in the weight of
everything left unsaid.
"Morning," he offered, voice low.
A pause. Then:
"You're late," Elen said without looking at him. "Everyone else was up an hour ago."
"I overslept."
Her shoulders rose faintly, then settled. "I didn't know you could."
He gave a tired smile. "Neither did I."
For a moment, he considered retreating. Back to the hallway. To silence. But instead, he moved to the far side of the kitchen, opening the stone pantry and gathering ingredients—just enough for something simple.
Eggs. Bread. Local herbs. Goat cheese. A spice pouch only he had the skill to balance without overwhelming the palate.
"You cooking?" Elen finally asked, glancing over her shoulder.
Adriel arched a brow. "Unless you want something charred."
She snorted. "Your tea is a crime against the gods. I assumed your food followed the same trajectory."
"You wound me," he said, mock-offended as he cracked an egg one-handed into the hot pan, letting the sizzle fill the air. "I'll have you know, even Primordials would fight each other for my omelets."
"Primordials?" she said dryly, turning fully to face him now. "That supposed to impress me?"
Adriel smirked without looking back. "Only if you taste it."
The kitchen began to fill with the smell of butter and spice, herbs and warmth. Even the cold morning air couldn't push it away. Elen's nose twitched involuntarily. She hated that it smelled good. Really, really good.
"You're cheating," she muttered.
"I like to think of it as strategic hospitality."
She didn't answer that.
Instead, she watched him.
The way he moved. Confident, calm, precise. Like this—cooking in a quiet morning light—was a far more dangerous task than the battles he fought.
It was infuriating.
Because that was the version of him she'd once admired.
The version that laughed too easily, fought like a storm, and had the wisdom of someone who always knew just enough not to explain everything. But then he used her—took her trust, her army, her openness—and handed it to someone else.
To Mila.
To Sofy.
She'd hated him for it.
And the worst part?
She still didn't know how to stop caring.
Adriel plated two dishes and brought them to the table. He didn't ask if she wanted one. He just set it down, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat with a long exhale.
She sat slowly, arms still folded.
They stared at their plates for a moment. The food looked like something from a royal banquet. Fluffy herbs folded into the eggs. Toasted cheese bread beside it. Some kind of spiced root drizzled with honey. Warm, inviting.
She didn't eat.
Adriel didn't push her.
"I'm not here to play the same conversation again," he said finally.
Elen glanced at him. "Good. Because I wouldn't survive another round."
A small beat passed. Almost a laugh. Almost.
"I meant what I said yesterday," Adriel went on. "I didn't want any of you involved. Not because I thought you couldn't handle it. But because you're tied to Tigre."
"You keep saying that like it's a curse."
"For me?" He looked at her. "It is."
That stung.
She didn't show it.
"I trusted you," she said instead. "Before Mila. Before Sofy. Before all the godsdamned secrets. I tried. I really did."
"I know."
He looked down at his food. The fork sat untouched in his hand.
"I know," he repeated, softer this time. "That's why I hated pushing you away. And why I regret how I did it."
Elen's jaw tensed, but her voice was quieter now. "Then why are you still trying to fix it?"
Adriel leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly.
"Because I'd rather rebuild with broken pieces than throw everything away."
That silenced her.
A few moments passed.
Then Elen picked up her fork and took a small bite.
Her eyes widened. "...You weren't kidding."
"I told you."
"This is divine."
"Told you."
She ate another bite.
"Still not forgiven, though," she said.
Adriel smiled faintly. "Wasn't expecting absolution. Just... maybe a chance to sit here like old friends for five minutes."
Elen didn't answer.
But she didn't leave either.
That was something.
The kitchen had settled into something strange.
Not peaceful, exactly—but no longer hostile. Elen still sat across from Adriel, chewing slowly, letting the taste of his cooking do what no apology could. It softened the edge. It soothed her pride, if only slightly.
Adriel, for his part, remained still. Guarded, but open—less like a warrior waiting for a strike and more like a man hoping it wouldn't come this time.
Then the door creaked open again.
Mila stepped in.
Still dressed in a light robe, hair pulled into a loose braid, her sharp gaze locked instantly on the two of them at the table. She paused only a second—and that pause said everything.
The tension. The proximity. Elen eating his cooking. Adriel sitting calmly across from her.
Her brow lifted. "Huh. Thought I'd walk in on a duel."
Elen's eye twitched. "Not everything needs a blade."
"No, but you do tend to carry one when you're emotional."
Elen scowled.
Adriel cleared his throat. "Good morning to you too, Mila."
She looked at him now, properly.
Not tired.
But... heavy.
Worn.
"Morning," she said, her tone cooling as she walked to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of water. "Heard you were awake. Figured I'd find you brooding somewhere, not bonding with the woman who wanted to punch you two weeks ago."
"She still might," Elen muttered.
"I might help her," Mila shot back.
Adriel exhaled. "You two really missed your calling as comedians."
Mila leaned against the counter, arms crossed now. She didn't sit. Just observed. Studied him.
"Jokes aside," she said, "what's the plan?"
The question cut through the room like a blade—clean, necessary.
Adriel met her eyes.
And for a long second, he didn't say anything.
Elen, watching closely now, caught the flicker in his expression. The weight behind the silence.
"...You don't have one," Mila said.
It wasn't an accusation.
It wasn't even surprise.
Just fact.
Adriel lowered his gaze for a breath.
"No," he admitted. "Not yet."
The air shifted slightly.
Mila blinked. Elen frowned.
"I had one," Adriel added. "A damn good one. I was going to take the army from Zhcted—yours, Mila, Sofy's, Elen's. I'd leave Tigre, Lim, and Elen here, out of harm's way. Focus all efforts on burning through the corruption in Thenardier's territory before Sentry could dig deeper roots."
He shook his head. "But now Sentry knows where we are. He knows what we've discussed. And I... I don't know how much more he's heard. I don't know how many steps ahead he already is."
Elen swallowed. "So what now?"
Adriel looked at her first, then at Mila.
"I don't know yet," he repeated, quieter now. "But what I do know is that I won't make the next move without knowing everyone's safe. That comes first."
Mila's expression shifted—not softened, but more... thoughtful.
"And if keeping us safe means standing still?" she asked.
Adriel's jaw clenched. "Then I'll stall gods themselves if I have to."
He leaned forward slightly now, voice low but firm.
"You three, Tigre, Lim—none of you were supposed to be caught in this war the way I've seen it play out elsewhere. You're strong, but you weren't made for that level of corruption. I was. I can survive it. But if any of you fall, especially near Tigre..."
Mila's gaze narrowed. "He breaks."
Adriel nodded once. "And the world breaks with him."
A moment passed.
Then, to his surprise, Mila walked forward and placed her cup gently on the table. Her expression was unreadable—too calm, too calculating.
But her next words weren't sharp.
"Then figure out what comes next," she said. "Fast. Because we're not standing still forever. And whatever hell is coming, I'd rather face it knowing you're not about to fall apart under the weight."
Adriel looked at her.
And for once, he didn't respond with sarcasm.
Just a small nod.
Elen watched the exchange—silent, thoughtful. Her fingers curled loosely around the mug she hadn't touched in minutes.
Mila turned to her as if remembering she was still there. Their gazes met. Not cold. Not warm either.
Just... wary.
"I guess you're staying too," Mila said, more statement than question.
Elen met it without flinching. "I didn't come this far to run when things got ugly."
They held that look a moment longer.
Then Mila nodded once and turned away—heading toward the door again.
She paused at the frame.
"Adriel," she said over her shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Next time you cook, make enough for three."
And then she was gone.
Adriel let out a slow, tired breath.
Elen looked at him, her tone almost dry.
"She's not wrong."
"I know."
And for a flicker of a second—
They almost smiled.
Tigre POVLocation: Rodnick Estate – Guest RoomLate Morning
Sleep was never supposed to feel like this.
It started slow—just a chill in my bones, a sensation of something slithering too close to my heart. Then the dream took hold.
I don't remember when the field became fire. One moment I was lying in bed, the next—ash in the sky, earth split open. My body moved, but not like my own. My armor cracked with every step, bow heavy in my hand. There were no allies beside me. Only the dead.
And beyond the smoke—two figures.
One, a burning silhouette of gold and silver light. The other, pitch-black void, veins of blood-red malice threading through its core. They clashed again and again. No words, just force—just devastation. Mountains shattered. Skies bled. And time—it didn't move like it should. It warped, cracked, snapped under the weight of their power.
And I—I stood there.
A useless observer.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think.
Then the world began to unravel.
Like a painting melting, reality tore apart—ribbons of story, pages in the sky ripping away into a howling void. I saw... lines. Like strings holding the world together. And when the black figure's hand pierced the chest of the light—the lines snapped.
All of them.
The figure of light screamed, not in pain, but in failure. I felt it. I felt his scream like a chain wrapping around my lungs. Like something inside me recognized him.
Adriel?
I couldn't be sure. I couldn't be anything. Everything around me shattered—castles crumbled into sentences, forests became fading paragraphs. The world wasn't dying.
It was being undone.
The dark figure turned slowly. Its eyes—if I could call them that—were bottomless. Empty.
It walked toward me.
And then it spoke.
Not in voice.
In concept.
In absolute certainty.
"My army is here."
I screamed. I think I screamed.
The battlefield collapsed. I was falling—no, I was being unwritten. My skin burned with symbols I didn't understand. Names. Places. All fading.
I was vanishing.
Then I woke up.
Gasp.
I jolted upward, drenched in sweat. My breath came in jagged gasps, lungs fighting for air. My vision spun. The room felt wrong—too solid, too real.
I touched my chest.
Still there.
Alive.
But it lingered. That voice. That presence. That sensation of watching something sacred be defiled. It clawed at the back of my thoughts like fingernails on stone.
My sheets were soaked. My arms trembled.
And around me—barely visible, only in flickers—dark sparks danced in the air. Faint embers of that nightmare. Of him.
Of Sentry.
I forced myself out of bed, legs weak. My fingers clenched the edge of the nightstand as I tried to focus on the present.
Adriel...
He'd said something before—about being watched. About the things outside of this world that didn't belong. That shouldn't be.
And I'd laughed.
I thought he was exaggerating. Playing the part of the mysterious protector.
But that dream?
That wasn't a dream.
It was a warning.
And something deep inside me whispered the truth—if Adriel fell, if he really did lose to whatever that thing was...
Then there wouldn't be another morning like this.
Location: Rodnick Estate – KitchenPOV: Adriel
Mila had left through the hall, her mug empty, her words echoing louder than they should've:
"Then figure out what comes next. Fast."
Adriel stood alone by the sink, his hand loosely gripping the counter. He didn't say a word for several seconds. Elen stayed seated at the table, watching him with unreadable eyes. There was a strange stillness between them now—less fragile, more... unspoken. It hung there like breath before a storm.
"I get it now," Elen said softly.
Adriel glanced over.
"You're scared," she said.
He didn't flinch. He didn't joke. He didn't even sigh.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I am."
The admission surprised even her. Elen's gaze softened, and for the first time in weeks, there was no fire behind her stare. Only understanding. Maybe even a sliver of hope.
He pushed off the counter and stretched like a man who hadn't slept in days—even though he technically had. A full eight hours, and yet, he felt like his soul hadn't rested in a century.
"You need to eat something too," Elen said quietly.
Adriel looked down at the bread he hadn't touched, then gave a half-smile. "I will."
And just as he reached for it—
His heart stuttered.
Like a hand gripping his spine. Like time faltering for a breath.
The air in the kitchen didn't move—but
Adriel did.
He spun toward the corridor without explanation. Eyes wide. Hands trembling, only slightly. Elen bolted up.
"Adriel?"
But he was already gone.
He didn't walk. He teleported
—light bending and cracking around him like glass.
Rodnick Estate – Guest Room
The room was soaked in residual dark energy. It pulsed like rot behind plaster, like blood under skin.
And Tigre—
Tigre was trembling.
Adriel appeared at the foot of the bed in a blink, boots slamming into the floor with force. The moment his eyes landed on Tigre, his voice thundered through the room.
"WHAT DID IT SAY?! HURRY!"
Tigre's lips moved, choked by a shallow breath.
Elen and Mila rushed into the doorway, weapons half-drawn—then froze.
They had never seen Adriel like this.
Eyes wild. Voice cracking. Panic written across every line of his face.
Tigre's breath caught.
And then—
"My army is here."
The words dropped like a blade across Adriel's soul.
He stopped breathing.
Time didn't just slow—it bent. Warped around the certainty in Tigre's voice. That wasn't a prophecy.
It was a declaration.
He felt it. In his bones. In the threads of space around the estate. In the
sickening pull
of something ancient unfurling.
He didn't even hear the door open behind him—just felt Mila and Elen enter the room.
But they felt him. The way his shoulders had gone rigid. The way his body had stilled—not in readiness.
In terror.
Mila froze mid-step. "Adriel?"
Elen's voice followed, softer. "What is it—?"
Then—
Screams.
From outside.
Not just pain. Not just surprise.
Death.
"...No," Adriel whispered.
He turned toward the window.
His brown eyes—always calm, always watchful—now wide and wild
with dawning horror.
Mila rushed to the glass first, yanking the curtains open.
And all three of them saw it at the same time.
Black fissures in the sky.
Rift-like veins tearing open above the treeline.
Gates.
Pouring through them—creatures made of shadowed steel and corrupted flesh. Nothing like the assassins from the forest. These were worse. Faster. Armed. Organized.
Adriel backed up, breath caught.
"Sentry... he didn't wait—"
A burst of unnatural wind slammed the shutters against the frame as the temperature dropped.
He didn't hesitate.
One step back. Two steps. His hands raised.
The symbiote answered.
It surged.
Red and black streaks erupted from his skin, crawling over his clothes, wrapping his limbs, shaping around his face like a second skin. Sharp-lined, armored, lit from within with embers of crimson gold.
His cloak melted into the armor. The eyes of the mask narrowed with a predatory gleam.
Mila stumbled back half a step—not out of fear.
Out of awe.
Elen said nothing.
But her sword hand tensed.
Because they both saw it now.
The truth.
He wasn't just strong.
He wasn't just a guardian.
He was something else.
And then—
More screams.
Closer now.
Voices from the estate's outer wall. Zhcted's soldiers. His own men.
The ones he had blessed with trust, with orders.
"Adriel," Mila breathed, stepping forward.
But he was already turning.
Already moving.
He didn't give a speech.
He didn't say goodbye.
He just said—
"To hell with the plan."
And he dove through the window.
To be continued...