As Axen prepared to leave, Elif, Arham, and Ammarah (still in Omar’s form) followed him to the door. Axen turned back to them, his expression solemn. "Stay in this area until things settle down," he said, his voice steady. "Remaan isn’t far from here. After a while, you can continue your businesses from here." His eyes then locked onto Ammarah. "Omar, don’t make any rash decisions. And trust me."

Ammarah, posing as Omar, nodded with a reassuring smile, as did the others. As Axen reached for the door to say his final goodbye, the doorbell rang.

"I’ll get it," Axen said, his hand already on the knob. He opened the door and froze. Robis stood on the other side, a bouquet of flowers in hand, his face immediately hardening as his eyes widened in disbelief. Seeing Axen, Robis thought it's Omar.

A tense silence fell over the doorway, only broken when Ammarah (as Omar), quick to respond, stepped forward with a gracious smile. "Oh… I can’t believe it! Mr. Robis has come to visit us." She glanced at Elif, her tone bright. "Mom, it’s our lucky day."

Robis’ sharp eyes flicked between Ammarah and Axen. Seeing Omar right there confirmed: Omar wasn’t Axen. The realization brought a brief smirk to his face, but he quickly masked it. Elif and Arham, as if following an unspoken script, began their own performance.

"Oh, welcome, sir," Elif said, smiling warmly, gesturing for him to come inside. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Robis, still holding Axen’s gaze with icy intensity, stepped into the house. They all made their way back to the living room, the air charged with tension. Elif and Arham sat side by side on the sofa, while Axen and Ammarah (as Omar) took seats across from them. Robis settled in a chair directly facing them, his eyes lingering on Axen with false remorse.

"Mr. and Mrs. Azdar," Robis began, his voice soft, almost broken. "I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I should have come sooner, but…" He paused, lowering his gaze as if gathering the courage to speak. "I didn’t know how to face you. You have every right to hate me. Some people believe I’m responsible for what happened to your son."

Arham, controlling his emotions with remarkable poise, smiled kindly. "Please, Mr. Robis. Don’t embarrass us by saying that. We know it’s all a misunderstanding. How could the Guardian Angel of Remaan harm anyone?"

Robis’ eyes shimmered with crocodile tears as he clasped his hands together. "I’m not as good as you say," he said with a heavy sigh. "Hassan was an incredible man. We worked together so closely, and I considered him my best companion. But the Gwazans… our enemies… they knew that if Hassan and I remained united, we’d destroy them. So, they turned us against each other." He wiped his eyes, a dramatic gesture that reeked of insincerity. "I couldn’t save him. Please, forgive me."

Elif leaned forward slightly, her smile gentle and composed. "There’s nothing to forgive, Mr. Robis. It was his fate."

Robis turned to Axen, his eyes narrowing. "Axen, you’re a smart man. I could have responded to your accusations in that video, but I didn’t. Know your real enemies, my son."

Axen held his gaze, his fists clenched beneath the table. His tone was cold, deliberate. "I know them well enough. You don’t need to worry."

A flicker of something dark passed through Robis’ eyes before he smiled thinly. "I hope you’re right." He glanced back at Arham and Elif, his tone becoming softer. "I won’t take up more of your time. But I give you my word—no one will harm you again. I’ll make sure of it myself."

Before Robis could finish his performance, Axen interrupted, his voice low and commanding. "That’s my duty."

Elif, playing her part flawlessly, turned to Axen with a worried expression. "Axen, the Gwazans are dangerous. We need someone powerful, like Mr. Robis, to protect us. I hope you’ll work together to ensure our safety."

Robis’ lips curved into a satisfied smirk, one he quickly masked with a nod of gratitude. Axen forced a smile. "Of course, Mrs. Azdar," he said, his voice tinged with irony.

Robis rose from his seat, smoothing down his suit. "I should take my leave now. There’s much to be done. Thank you for your kindness and support."

They all stood, seeing Robis to the door. Once outside, as the door closed behind him, Robis stood still for a moment, looking up at the sky with a twisted smile. Closing his eyes, he whispered to himself, "Nothing is more satisfying than blind trust." He chuckled softly to himself before walking away into the shadows.

Inside, Axen and Ammarah exchanged a glance. The game was far from over, and Robis had just revealed his hand.

Omar stepped out of his room, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low as he spoke to Anum. "Yeah... send me her contact," he said, chuckling softly at something she mentioned. "No, we’re just friends... for now." His tone was playful, but there was something else behind his words, a hint of uncertainty. "Okay, thanks. I’ll be waiting... Bye."

As he walked into the living room, he stopped short. His father, Arham, was sitting in one of the two leather chairs near the fireplace, the soft glow of embers casting flickering shadows across his face. A half-empty bottle of red wine rested on the small table between them, its rich color deepening in the dim light. Arham stared into his nearly empty glass, lost in thought.

Omar moved silently, seating himself in the other chair. He glanced at his father, noticing the heavy sadness in his expression. "Father?" he asked softly.

Arham blinked, breaking from his reverie. "Yeah, Omar."

"What are you thinking about?" Omar asked, his voice gentle.

Arham sighed deeply. "I’m not thinking," he replied after a pause. "I’m regretting."

Omar frowned slightly, leaning forward. "Regretting? Why?"

Arham’s gaze fell to the glass in his hand, "I hated your brother for two years," he said quietly. "I didn’t understand what he was going through. I didn’t know..." His voice caught for a moment before he continued. "I didn’t know I’d never get the chance to see him again. Not even to say goodbye."

Omar leaned back, his heart heavy with the familiar pain of loss. "You can’t blame yourself for that, Dad," Omar said softly. "If I were in your shoes, I’d probably have done the same. No father ever truly hates his children."

Arham gave him a small, sad smile. He reached for the bottle, but Omar was quicker. Rising from his chair, he gently grasped his father’s hand before it touched the bottle. "That’s enough for tonight," Omar said, his voice firm but kind. "Let me help you to your room."

Arham chuckled, a little resigned. "I’m not that drunk, don’t worry," he said, but allowed Omar to help him up. He moved with the slow, deliberate steps of someone weighed down by more than just alcohol.

Omar guided him down the hall and into his room, making sure he was settled, he looked at his mom sleeping peacefully before heading back to the living room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, Omar returned to his chair, staring at the bottle his father had left behind. For a moment, he just looked at it. Then, with a sigh, he poured himself a glass.

He swirled the wine around, letting its aroma fill the air before taking a sip. The bitterness lingered on his tongue as he leaned back in his chair, his mind wandering.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. A message from Anum flashed on the screen. She’d sent Noor’s number.

Omar called the number. As the phone rang in his ear, he finished his glass.

Meanwhile, Noor sat in her living room, her foot tapping nervously on the floor. She’d been waiting for something—his call. When her phone rang, she snatched it up quickly, answering in a soft voice. "Hello?"

Omar leaned forward in his chair, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Hey... it’s me."

Noor’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her voice steady. "Omar... I was waiting for you. But I didn’t have your number."

Omar chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. "Really? Actually, I called to apologize. We had some unexpected guests tonight, so I couldn’t make it. But tomorrow..." He smiled, letting the pause linger. "Tomorrow, we’ll definitely have that date... I mean, dinner."

Noor smiled into the phone, a warmth spreading through her chest. "It’s okay. So..."

"So?" Omar raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair.

"So, anything else?" Noor teased, her voice light.

Omar took a deep breath, his heart beating a little faster. "Your voice..." He said softly, almost to himself. "Even over the phone, it’s... sweet."

Noor blushed, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "You say that to every girl. Good night, Omar."

Omar laughed, a genuine sound that echoed in the quiet room. "No, really. I’ve changed. And I’m not flirting. I’m just... telling the truth."

Noor smiled, her heart doing that strange little flip it always did when she thought about him. But as she hung up the phone, her smile slowly faded. She stared at the dark screen for a long moment, her fingers gently tracing the edge of the phone.

"I hope you aren’t Axen," she whispered to herself, the uncertainty weighing heavily in her voice.

As Omar reached for the bottle again, he froze at the sudden appearance of Ammarah in the chair opposite him. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice sharp, her eyes locking onto his.

Omar pulling his hand back. "Ahh, you scared me," he muttered, his heart still racing. He tried to play it off, but there was an edge of guilt in his voice.

"Are you drinking?" she pressed, her gaze unwavering, cutting through any excuses he might have been forming.

He shook his head quickly, leaning back. "No. I wasn’t drinking, just... smelling it." He forced a chuckle, hoping to shift the conversation. "Anyway, where were you?"

Ammarah's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing as she glanced away. "Remaan is under attack, and you're busy in chatting with girls and sniffing wine?" Her tone was furious, almost accusing.

Omar blinked, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor. "What?" he asked, confusion and concern mixing in his voice.

She met his gaze again, this time with grim determination. "Seven Gwazans have attacked the city. They’re near the Central Bank."

The air seemed to shift around them. Omar shot to his feet, the lethargy from earlier vanishing in an instant. "How fast can we get there?"

Ammarah stood as well, her presence commanding. "In a minute, if we use the Purple Thunder."

Omar hesitated, shaking his head. "No. It’ll drain all my energy. I can’t afford that right now."

Without missing a beat, Ammarah started walking toward the door, her steps quick and deliberate. "Don’t worry. I’ll take you."

They moved silently through the house, slipping into the night without a word. The cool night air pressed against them as they stepped outside. Ammarah scanned the surroundings, her senses sharp. "Activate your stone," she ordered quietly.

Omar took a deep breath, closing his eyes. In a few seconds, the transformation began. The power of the Circe stone surged through him, his body shifting, muscles tensing as he became Axen. His eyes snapped open, glowing red with intensity.

Ammarah extended her hand, her expression unreadable. Axen looked down at it for a moment, then grasped it firmly. With a single flash of purple lightning, they shot upward into the sky, disappearing into the storm of their shared power.

The city of Remaan waited below, and the battle ahead loomed like a storm on the horizon.

Just as Ammarah had said, they landed with a powerful thud in front of the Central Bank. The sound of sirens blared all around them. Police cars were scattered, some flipped over with shattered windows littering the street. Officers took cover behind their vehicles, eyes wide with panic and uncertainty. Axen surveyed the scene, his tone calm but firm. "Be careful," he called out to the officers. "They have powers more dangerous than any weapon you've ever seen." With that, he stepped forward, scanning the area, but the Gwazans were nowhere in sight.

Suddenly, a thunderous crack split the air.

"Watch out!" Ammarah’s voice cut through the chaos.

Axen barely had time to turn before a bolt of white lightning struck him, sending him crashing backward. Dazed, he shook his head and forced himself to his feet. As the dust settled, he found himself surrounded by all seven Gwazans, their faces hidden behind identical masks, their dark outfits blending into the night.

"Newborn Axen," one of them sneered.

Axen wiped the corner of his mouth and smiled, unfazed by the danger. "Hello." He gave a small, mocking wave. "You know, I’ve never used Red Fire in a real fight before."

The middle one of the group tilted his head. "What should we do?" he asked the others as they all raised their hands toward Axen.

Axen winked, his voice dripping with confidence. "Watch and learn." His fist began to glow red, the heat radiating from it like a burning star. With all his strength, he punched the ground, sending a massive shockwave through the street. The impact tore through the road, creating a deep crater and flinging the Gwazans back, their bodies hurtling through the air.

Even Axen looked at his own hand in awe. "Whoa... It really is dangerous."

But the Gwazans quickly recovered, rising to their feet as the battle resumed. Axen moved swiftly, dodging one attack only to be struck by another. He grabbed one of the Gwazans by the collar and hurled him into a group of three, knocking them down like dominoes.

The fight raged on when a voice echoed through the chaos. "Need some help?"

Axen turned toward the voice, and there, descending gracefully from above, was Hira. "You can fly?" Axen asked, his surprise evident.

Hira blasted one of the Gwazans with white lightning before landing beside him. "Yeah. But I don't think this is the right time for questions," she said, her tone playful but focused.

The two of them fought side by side, an effortless rhythm forming between them. In a matter of moments, the Gwazans lay scattered on the ground, defeated.

Axen brushed off his hands and turned to Hira. She extended her hand toward him, and Axen, catching on, did the same. In unison, they unleashed strikes of white thunder, missing each other by inches. Their strikes, hit two Gwazans who had been attempting a sneak attack from behind, sending them crashing back to the ground.

The two turned toward each other, eyes meeting, both wearing slight smiles. The Gwazans’ bodies shimmered and then reverted to their true forms—ordinary civilians who appeared confused and disoriented, with no memory of what had happened. Axen was taken aback, surprised by their transformation. With Ammarah’s help, they restored the street to its original state. The police and civilians, seeing the threat neutralized, erupted in applause, but Axen and the others slipped away before anyone could ask questions.