_____MI'KAEL SERAPHANE_____

We walked side by side in silence down the obsidian corridor, the distant hum of the estate’s internal systems thrumming like a heartbeat beneath our feet. Azrael’s steps were as measured as ever—shoulders relaxed, but that ever-present edge of focus in his posture. Me? My pulse was picking up. Couldn’t help it.

At the end of the corridor, the smooth black doors of the Chamber of Eternal Petals loomed before us. Cold, monolithic, and silent.

Azrael lifted his left hand, pressing his thumb against the biometric scanner embedded into the panel beside the doorway. A soft chime sounded, followed by a faint hiss—then the doors split apart with mechanical grace.

Inside was... nothing special. At least not yet.

The chamber was just a massive, dimly lit expanse. Smooth white floors, no defining features. Just a blank, hollow room bathed in pale overhead lights. No cherry blossoms, no sunlit sky. Just the waiting silence.

Azrael stepped in first, rolling his neck slightly before lifting his right hand. A flick of his wrist, and a holographic console materialized midair in front of him, light-blue panels rippling with code.

I took a step closer. “What are you doing? It better not be another kill-counter mode again.”

Azrael angled his body to shield the screen from me and let out a low chuckle. “Oh? Who knows?”

I groaned. “Seriously? You and your damn scoreboard obsession—”

He tapped a button.

Suddenly, the whole chamber rippled.

The walls shimmered and began to break apart—pixel by pixel—melting into raw data. The floor beneath us transformed, its texture shifting like sand falling into place. A brilliant desert landscape emerged around us. Golden dunes, crystalline cliffs in the distance, the sky painted in burnt orange. A Large sun hovered overhead, casting long shadows across the digital terrain.

Across the battlefield, a series of AI Combatants flickered into existence—armored silhouettes with glowing joints, all facing us with weapons drawn.

Then: the familiar chime of competitive mode. Two holographic score tabs appeared beside us in midair. One marked Azrael, the other Mi’kael. Zeroed.

I stared at the score, then glanced at Azrael, who was already raising his palm. “Wait—how do we even activate these weapons again? Do we just—think about it or something?”

Azrael didn’t answer. He was already moving.

He turned his palm outward, bringing his left hand near his opposite shoulder—then sliced it across his body in a sharp, fluid motion. In that instant, a crimson surge of energy sparked around his arm. His broadsword materialized in a blaze of angular crimson lines, forming from the hilt outward until it snapped into full existence.

Thick. Heavy. Brutal.

The energy around it crackled violently, like restrained lightning.

“Showoff,” I muttered. “You could’ve told me how.”

He just smirked over his shoulder. “Figure it out. That’s how I did.”

And just like that, he surged forward.

Boost activated in his limbs—his speed tripled instantly. Within seconds, he was carving through the first line of AI Combatants. The ground shook with each swing of that broadsword, his movements sharp and savage. A flurry of sparks erupted with every hit. His score counter beeped in steady rhythm—1, 3, 5, 8...

“Of course,” I muttered, standing alone now in the middle of a digitized desert. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes.

Deep breath in. Focus.

I reached inward—into the tether between me and the blade. I could feel it now. Like a breath waiting to be drawn. A whisper echoing inside my chest.

The occasional clang of Azrael’s blade and the beeping of his score counter faded into the background.

And then—

Instinct.

I raised my right hand near the side of my face, fingers curled.

A pause.

Then I rotated my palm, facing it toward my left shoulder, and in a single, swift motion, I brought it down in a diagonal slice across my chest.

The reaction was immediate.

A snap of light—brilliant blue—and my katana began to manifest from nothingness. Line by line, energy flowed into a slender, curved shape. Its edge gleamed with radiant blue plasma. Not raw power like Azrael’s—it was precise. Elegant. Measured.

I felt it hum in my grip. Like it remembered who I was.

The moment I touched the hilt, my body surged with energy.

[Boost].

My vision sharpened—every grain of artificial sand, every shimmer of heat in the air, every slight movement of the AI ahead. My eyes burned crimson, and a rush of raw power coursed through me.

I tightened my grip.

“Alright,” I whispered, and smiled. “Let’s play.”

I launched forward, the katana humming like a drawn breath.

The first AI moved to intercept—but it was too slow. I sidestepped, dragging my blade through its midsection. It shattered into pixels instantly. Another turned its weapon toward me—I dropped low and swept its leg, finishing it with an upward diagonal slash that carved through its torso.

My counter ticked up—3… 5… 7…

One after another, I wove through their ranks like a storm. My blade was weightless in my hand, an extension of thought and instinct. Boost made my movements blur to the untrained eye—grace where Azrael had force, speed where he had pressure.

Behind me, Azrael barked a laugh. “Took you long enough.”

I didn’t look back. “Better late than never.”

We were neck and neck now, our counters rising in tandem, cutting down wave after wave of combatants across a golden battlefield that shimmered like a dream.

The last combatant shattered into a thousand flickering fragments of light, disappearing into the simulated desert air.

Silence settled over the dunes, broken only by the faint digital wind. Heat rippled across the horizon, fake but oppressive.

Draw.

Score: 36–36.

My katana lowered slightly, my breath ragged. Sweat clung to my back under the weight of exertion. Across from me, Azrael stood, chest rising and falling, broadsword still crackling faintly with residual energy. He looked... calm.

We stared at each other — no words, just a tension drawn tight between us like a string ready to snap.

Then we moved.

No callout. No countdown. Our bodies just knew.

The simulation flickered.

Suddenly we were back in the chamber — cold steel floors, dim lighting — then the desert again, sand scattering beneath our feet as we clashed mid-charge.

Steel met steel with a sound that split the silence.

Each blow vibrated through my bones. My katana cut tight, angled, measured — everything I had honed through endless hours. But Azrael’s strikes were... perfect. Broad sweeps with bone-breaking force, yet somehow precise. Clean. He wasn’t just reacting — he was reading me. Each time I adapted, he was already a step ahead.

The room glitched again — reality fragmented. Desert. Chamber. Desert again. Then the chamber once more.

Our blades slammed together with a sharp crack.

The room froze.

The clash forced us chest to chest, swords grinding in deadlock.

Our eyes met.

My Boost pulsed harder — blood surging, muscles primed. I could feel the power in me rise, my irises glowing bright crimson from the surge. But across from me...

Azrael’s eyes burned blue. Cold. Focused. Unshaken.

We were both using Boost.

And yet…

I felt it. A weight in my chest I didn’t want to name.

That tiny, stubborn truth:

I was still chasing him.

My arms trembled against the lock. Not from fear — from fury. Frustration.

He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

I gritted my teeth, pushing harder, refusing to give in. Refusing to let this be the point where I fell behind.

Not now.

_____TAHLIA SERAPHANE_____

The meeting hall loomed before me, a place I once entered with pride. Now, an invisible hand of dread gripped my heart.

Why had they summoned me?

Had they discovered the Mark on Mik’ael’s arm?

Or... was it something even worse?

I forced the dark thoughts away, steeling my breath. Hold yourself together, Tahlia.

The Chamber doors slid open with a hiss. I stepped inside.

The light inside was sterile, too bright. A table of steel and obsidian stretched across the center like a surgical platform. Around it stood the Elders.

Conversations died instantly, as if the room itself recoiled from me.

Every elder’s gaze locked onto mine, heavy with accusation and fear, thick enough to choke on.

I stepped forward.

Eyes followed. No greetings. No warmth.

And at the far end of the room—he stood.

Valekar Seraphane. My Father.

Still as stone. Regal in posture. Cold in gaze.

There was a time when I could look at him and see the strength that raised me. Now, all I saw was calculation. Duty carved too deep. A stranger wearing a familiar face.

“Tahlia,” he said.

His voice cut through the room like a blade. Calm, authoritative — and utterly hollow.

“You summoned me,” I replied. “Without detail.”

“Details,” he said, “require trust.”

A cold wave moved through my chest. So that was the game today.

“You think I’ve broken yours?” I asked. Even. Controlled.

He didn’t answer — not directly.

Instead, he gestured to a screen on the wall.

A still image blinked to life.

Mi’kael.

A frame frozen mid-swing, the mark exposed on the face of his hand, eyes crimson from Boost.

My heart skipped.

They’d seen it.

In their eyes, this wasn’t a warning… it was preparation.

They weren’t judging me — they were getting ready to hunt him.

One of the Elders, a thin, cruel man, sneered at me.

"The Mark," he said, spitting the words like poison. "The cursed blood you’ve hidden from us."

My gaze snapped to Caelus, standing quietly at the back.

Bastard.

My father spoke again, voice sharp as a blade.

"There is still a path open for you, Tahlia. Redemption."

Redemption? For protecting my child?

"And what does your version of redemption cost?" I asked, forcing my voice steady.

“You already know what must be done.”

Better to kill the snake before it bites, they said.

Better to destroy what they didn't understand.

His gaze pinned me in place.

Valekar spoke again, slow and deliberate. “He’s not just a soldier, Tahlia. He is marked. You feel it. You see it.”

I clenched my fists at my sides. “What I see is my son. And he is not a danger.”

“Yet,” someone muttered.

My gaze swept the room. “If you brought me here to ask me to surrender him—”

“We’re offering you a choice,” Valekar cut in, sharp now. “Your loyalty. Or your silence.”

The room held its breath.

And for a moment — just a moment — I wasn’t the Commander, wasn’t the diplomat.

I was a mother.

"You used to know this," one of the Elders said. "Once, you were strong enough to make cruel decisions. Why falter now?"

"This is your final warning," said Valekar. "Refuse us... and you will be judged a traitor."

My father’s eyes, once warm when I was young, were now winter-cold.

The ground seemed to fall away beneath me.

Was there ever love there at all? Or was it always duty, always cold prosperity over blood?

“If any of you,” I said, voice barely above a whisper, “lay a hand on my son…”

I lifted my eyes to Valekar’s, letting the full weight of my warning settle.

“…you’ll regret it.”

No one spoke.

But I saw it.

A flicker — at the corner of the room.

Caelus. His eyes narrow. And smiling.

The kind of smile that doesn’t reach the soul.

The kind that signals a plan already in motion.

They weren’t going to wait.

I turned, boots clicking sharp against the floor, cloak brushing behind me like a drawn blade.

I had to get home.

Now.

Mi’kael—

I bolted through the corridors, feet pounding against the marble floors, racing the darkness that was hurtling toward my home.

_____MI'KAEL SERAPHANE_____

The sun dipped behind Vel’Serah’s skyline, bathing the towers in amber and violet. Neon danced across the glass as I stepped into the inner halls, clutching a small silk-wrapped package. Her birthday gift — weeks of work, finally done.

I slipped through the corridor, heart kicking with excitement. I’d catch her as she walked in. Surprise her. Make her smile.

Footsteps approached — fast, sharp, familiar.

Mother.

Grinning, I ducked into the storage cupboard beside the entry console, crouching behind the holo-paneled wall. Through a thin slit, I waited.

The biometrics disengaged with a soft hiss. The door slid open. She stepped inside —

—and froze.

Her shoulders were tight. Her breathing uneven. Something was wrong.

Then I saw it.

A shadow slipped in behind her. Silent. Precise. Wrong.

The lights flickered. The entry sensors blinked once, then died — like they didn’t detect him at all.
A static hum crawled through the walls. The security console flashed red for a heartbeat before going dark entirely.

Someone had overridden everything.

My throat tightened. I tried to shout — nothing. Fear pinned me, crushing, suffocating.

Move. MOVE—

But before I could force a sound out—

A rupture tore through the air.

Silent. Clean. Final.

The hum of our home shattered.

And the world I knew—

—was gone.