Orist found Adam alone in one of the quieter hallways, his eyes sharp and serious. Without a word, he gripped Adam’s arm firmly, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind them. The room was empty, cold, and dimly lit, with only a single chair in the center. Orist gestured for Adam to sit, his gaze unyielding as he prepared to dig into something he’d long suspected.
Adam raised an eyebrow, amused but wary, as he sat. “What’s all this about?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.
Orist crossed his arms, his expression a mixture of irritation and disappointment. “Why did you lie?” he demanded, his voice a low rumble.
Adam blinked, frowning. “Lie? About what, exactly? I haven’t lied to you, Orist.”
“Oh, spare me the games, Adam. You told everyone you retired to be with your family. That’s what you said, right? But I know the truth,” Orist’s tone softened, but his gaze remained firm. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Adam’s easygoing expression faltered, and something raw flickered across his face before he quickly masked it. “And what truth do you think you know, Orist?” he replied, his voice laced with bitterness.
Orist took a deep breath. “I know what happened, Adam. I know about the kidnapping. I know about your wife and child.” He leaned forward, his voice softer now but steady. “You don’t need to lie to me. Why didn’t you just tell us?”
Adam clenched his jaw, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned white. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his voice low and cracking under the weight of emotion. “What was I supposed to say, Orist?” he muttered, each word a struggle. “‘Hey, everyone, my family was taken from me, and instead of doing everything in my power to save them, I came all the way to a different continent to help out an old friend.’”
Orist’s voice softened, but his expression remained firm. “Just don’t pretend everything is fine. We’re friends, Adam. Whatever it is, I can help you.”
Adam looked away, his face tense, his eyes reflecting a deep, unyielding fear. “My wife… she’s already gone, Orist,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I found her body myself. As for my daughter, she's still alive… at least, that’s what they’re telling me.” He paused, letting the confession hang heavily in the air. “I’ve been working for a man I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw him. He gave me a job around here, and said if I complete it, I will get her back.”
Orist’s brows furrowed as he took in his friend’s haunted expression. “How bad is it, Adam? Just tell me, how far are you being asked to go?”
Adam’s voice was barely audible, edged with shame. “I swore not to kill anyone. All I have to do is play bodyguard during an exchange. But what he’s trading…” His words trailed off, his eyes darkening.
Orist placed a steady hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You don’t need to tell me everything. Just remember, if you need anything, if it all falls apart—I'm here, and I’ll stand by you, no matter what. You’re not alone in this.”
Adam looked up, relief flooding his face. “Thank you, Orist. Thank you… more than you know.”
The next day, a figure rode into town under a pale morning sky, casting long shadows across the streets. A lone knight, clad in tarnished silver armor etched with battle-worn scars, approached the heart of the village. Tattered but regal, a crimson cape billowed behind them, hinting at a storied past. A massive sword, nearly as tall as the knight themselves, rested at their side, its blade glinting with faint traces of past conflicts.
Most striking was the jack o'lantern atop their shoulders, a carved, grinning pumpkin with flickering embers within, casting an eerie glow through its hollow eyes. Villagers scattered in wary silence as the knight passed, the pumpkin’s face seeming to track each of their fearful movements.
The knight walked into the manor, and as they approached Cyrus waved to them from the window.
“Hey Lucy, thanks for joining us. I’m really grateful!” Cyrus yelled from the window.
The pumpkin on her head began to rot and dissolve as her face was revealed. Her dirty green hair was tied into a ponytail, her emerald eyes gazed with glee as she saw Cyrus. Circular glasses sat on her face. Two small moles were on her face, under her right eye. She waved back to him, clearly happy.
As she stepped into the manor’s dimly lit hall, Lucy’s eyes darted around, taking in the grand yet slightly decayed surroundings. She spotted her companion, Cyrus, waiting in the entryway, his posture tense yet determined.
“Cyrus, do you think Jasper will really be alright? I… I can’t shake this awful feeling,” Lucy murmured, a hint of worry breaking through her usually calm tone.
“If we succeed in this mission, Lucy, we can save him. That much I promise,” Cyrus replied, his voice steady and reassuring.
Lucy nodded, the weight of hope mingling with her concern. “Alright. Then let’s do this.”
He led her down the echoing halls and into the manor’s meeting room, where the rest of the group was gathered around a large, worn table. As she entered, all eyes turned to her.
“This is my ally, Lucy,” Cyrus announced. “Her skills will be invaluable to our cause.”
Lucy stepped forward, offering a slight nod to the others. “I’ll do whatever it takes to save my friend. My ability is called Decay, any plant life I touch withers to rot. And as you might have guessed, I am a dryad; I can command and manipulate plants at will.”
The others watched her, sizing up her capabilities as they began sharing their own powers and backgrounds, an unspoken bond of trust forming as they prepared to face the challenges ahead.
Lucy’s gaze lingered thoughtfully over each of them. “I understand why I’m here… but what’s driving the rest of you?”
Ava’s eyes sparkled with determination. “I’m here to protect Noah, my beloved. There’s nothing I won’t do for him.”
Adam gave a short, knowing nod. “I was passing through the area when an old friend—” he gestured toward Orist—“asked me to join in. And I never turn my back on friends.”
“The God of Monsters personally assigned me this task,” Noah spoke up, his voice carrying a quiet resolve.
“I would like to mention that I plan to force him to make you his apostle once this mission is over,” Lux said.
Cyrus folded his arms, his expression taking on a serious air. “I see, then I shall offer the same thing to you, young Noah.”
Noah looked startled. “What do you mean?”
Cyrus folded his arms, his expression taking on a serious air. “I too, am a god, though not by birth. By title and deed. I am the God of Time.”
Noah’s jaw dropped, surprise flitting across his face. “Wait… you’re—”
Lux interjected with a shrug. “Yes, gods aren’t always born. Most earn their titles through feats that defy the impossible. Cyrus here achieved something so profound that the world itself crowned him with godhood.”
With a calm and almost solemn gesture, Cyrus raised his hand, and above his head, a large, glowing azure halo appeared. The halo was intricate, a perfect circle adorned with two clock hands that glowed with a soft, mystical light. They ticked slowly, each movement resonating through the room like a quiet heartbeat, reminding everyone present of the vast power this seemingly ordinary man wielded.
“Yes,” Cyrus continued. “Through a great feat, I earned the title of God of Time. And now, that title has its own weight and obligations.” His gaze swept over them all, lingering on Noah. “I’ll offer you the same opportunity, Noah, if you prove yourself in this mission, I will support you.”
Noah swallowed, overwhelmed but inspired. “I won’t let you down.”
Lux crossed his arms with a smirk. “I have to say, becoming an apostle to three different gods within barely a week of your journey as a hero is no small feat, Noah. But you might want to check your arm—I think you’ll find something special.”
Curious, Noah rolled up his sleeve, eyes widening as he took in the intricate tattoo now etched onto his skin. It depicted angelic wings, detailed with feathers that seemed to shimmer with a faint but powerful glow. The tattoo radiated an intense energy, pulsing with each beat of his heart.
“That’s the mark that signifies you as my apostle,” Lux explained, his tone shifting to something almost reverent. “This tattoo grants you a portion of my divine power. Every apostle’s gift is unique, so I can’t say for certain what yours will be. But whatever it is, it will be formidable.”
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Noah took a deep breath, feeling a swell of determination. “Thank you, Lux. I won’t waste this gift.” He turned to the group, resolve hardening in his gaze. “Now, let’s begin planning our raid against the Black Witch.”
Cyrus stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding. “We know her primary force will be the Black Mist. Noah and I will lead the offensive. Unless we encounter candidates for the throne or similarly powerful enemies, the rest of you will take supportive roles.”
Noah’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Why me? I know ice is effective against them, but what about my own powers?”
Cyrus’s eyes darkened with a hint of sorrow as he continued. “It’s more than just a theory. You see, the Black Mist was born from the resentment of my father. When humans tore the skin from his body to create a relic, they unknowingly sowed the seeds of a curse. The negative emotions within that cloak festered, devouring anyone who wore it. Over time, it absorbed so much hate and darkness that it began to generate the Black Mist itself.”
Noah’s grip tightened. “So, my powers might have an edge over it... I understand.”
Cyrus nodded, his expression grim. “We need to move quickly. Tomorrow would be ideal—I’m not sure how much longer my brother can hold out under the Mist’s influence.”
Lucy stepped forward, her voice soft but urgent. “When I checked on him, his condition was stable. But each moment we wait gives the Mist more time to spread and corrupt. We’re on a tight clock.”
Noah squared his shoulders, his expression fierce. “Then tomorrow, we face the Black Witch. Together, we’ll end this.”
That night, the manor was cloaked in silence as each member retreated to their rooms, mentally steeling themselves for the trials that lay ahead. But while the others rested, Adam sat alone in his dimly lit chamber, his heart heavy with conflict.
A faint shimmer broke the quiet, and a dark portal materialized in front of him. Stepping out was a tall figure cloaked in shadows—Blank, the enigmatic and feared leader of the Crows. He moved with an unsettling calm, his masked face giving nothing away as he drew a small crystal from his pocket, crushed it between his fingers, and let the fragments dissolve into the air.
“Just in case,” Blank murmured, his voice silkily ominous. “I wouldn’t want anyone overhearing our little conversation, my dear friend.”
Adam's shoulders tensed, but he maintained his composure. “I know you wanted me as a bodyguard tomorrow, but... that might be a problem.” He chose his words carefully, testing the waters.
Blank gave a slow, dismissive wave. “Not at all, Adam. I planned for this, actually. Stay with them, help weaken the Black Witch. I’ll stop the fight before it gets truly dangerous. All I need is for her to be sufficiently... softened up. After that, I’ll keep my promise.” His voice lowered, filled with unsettling certainty. “You’ll have your daughter back.”
Adam’s throat tightened. “Can I… see her?”
Blank’s gaze darkened. “I wouldn’t recommend it. When we found her, she was… damaged. Both eyes were removed. But her condition is stable. If you stay in line, I’ll restore her sight for you.” He let the offer hang in the air, his tone smooth but sharp.
Adam’s control slipped, a tear catching the dim light as it fell. “Thank you. Please… just help her.”
Blank inclined his head, almost as if in sympathy. “Of course. I’m a father myself. What’s been done to her… what the mob does every day… is a travesty.” A thin smile twisted under his mask. “I want you with us, Adam. Permanently. Your task will be clear: rid that rotten continent of the vermin who masquerade as the righteous and bring their wealth to me.”
Adam clenched his fists. “I… I don’t know. I’m not sure your organization is the right place for her to grow up.”
Blank’s gaze sharpened, as if studying Adam’s resolve. “Are you so certain? She’ll have companions her own age—my own son, for instance. And we just brought in another, a girl named… Isabelle, I believe.”
Adam hesitated, a quiet resolve sparking in his eyes. “I’ll consider it. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to prepare for tomorrow.”
Blank paused, his dark silhouette still in the doorway, before giving a low chuckle. “Don’t take me for an evil man, Adam. I’m simply doing what’s necessary for this world.”
With that, he turned and vanished back into the portal, the darkness swallowing him whole.
Adam sat there, silence settling heavily around him, the weight of his choices pressing down on his chest. His gaze drifted downward, guilt shadowing his features. “Orist… I’m so sorry. So sorry,” he whispered, as if his words could somehow reach his old friend and ease the regret lodged in his heart.
Noah sat alone in his room, the quiet weighing down on him as he prepared himself for tomorrow. The silence was suddenly interrupted by a soft scuffle outside his door, followed by the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the floor. Before he could react, the door creaked open, and Ava stepped inside, her eyes shining with a blend of irritation and affection. Behind her, several guards lay unconscious, a testament to her resolve.
"My father is so overprotective," she huffed, crossing her arms. "Honestly, what harm is there in visiting my own fiancé's room? He acts like I’m sneaking into the enemy camp."
Noah sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "He’s definitely not going to be thrilled that you knocked out all his guards, Ava."
She rolled her eyes, chuckling. "Oh, please. Adam did the same thing the other day, and besides, if they’re so easily taken down, they’re hardly protection at all."
Her smile faded, replaced by a shadow of worry as she looked at Noah. "Noah… are you sure about this? Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with it?"
Noah took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I can’t turn back now, Ava. It’s my duty as the hero. This is what I’m meant to do."
She stepped closer, searching his face, her voice barely a whisper. "I don’t care about your duty, Noah. I’m asking if you want this. Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. Be honest… with me and with yourself."
Noah hesitated, then forced a smile. "You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine."
Ava’s lips tightened, and she clenched her fists. "You always say that! Every single time you ran off on those reckless hunts, coming back bruised and battered, you’d give me that same smile. And every time, I’d be the one patching you up, worrying if the next hunt would be the last time I saw you."
"That was different," Noah replied, his voice softening. "I’m stronger now. I can handle this."
Ava’s eyes flashed, a mixture of fear and anger. "We’re up against the Black Witch—someone who could crush armies single handedly. How could I not be worried?"
"Ava," he murmured, reaching for her hand, "you have to trust me. I won’t let anything happen to us."
She shook her head, her gaze fierce as she stepped closer until she stood right before him. "Trust you? I want to, but you’re so focused on being strong for everyone else that you won’t even look at your own pain, your own limits." Her voice broke as she whispered, "I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Noah."
Before he could respond, she pressed him back onto the bed, her power flaring instinctively. Noah’s limbs went rigid, a gentle paralysis overtaking him as her ability surged. His eyes widened, struggling to speak.
"A-Ava… please… I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you tomorrow."
She looked down at him, her expression a mix of frustration and heartbreak. "You idiot. I don’t care about what happens to me. It’s you I’m terrified of losing. Just once—just once—could you care about yourself, too?"
Tears began to fall, her hand gripping his shoulder with trembling fingers as she let her fears spill out. Her tears dripped onto his face, mingling with the silent plea in her eyes.
"Ava…" His voice was soft, filled with unspoken promises and the ache of his own fears. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her everything would be all right. But deep down, he knew that facing the Black Witch was a risk none of them could fully prepare for.
In that moment, her tear-streaked face hovered over him, and he knew he couldn’t bear to see her heart break any further.
Noah managed a shaky smile, his eyes softening as he looked up at Ava. "Please, Ava… I swear I'll be careful. I’ll come back to you, no matter what."
Ava’s grip on him eased just slightly, but she didn’t let go entirely. Instead, she collapsed onto him, her breathing heavy with exhaustion as she clung to him, her ability still holding his body immobile.
"A-Ava," Noah murmured gently, "could you maybe… turn off your ability?"
She nestled closer, her voice muffled as she whispered, "Shut up, you dummy. Just let me stay like this… just for a little while."
Noah’s heart ached at the vulnerable warmth in her words, and he closed his eyes, helpless yet comforted by her embrace. She eventually drifted off to sleep, her power finally fading. Noah remained still, feeling the weight of her steady breathing against him, and he let the warmth of her arms around him ease his own fears. In the quiet of the night, he fell asleep, the world outside forgotten in the tender, sleepy embrace.
Meanwhile, across the manor, Cyrus sat alone in his dimly lit room. He reached into his cloak, pulling out a small, glimmering purple crystal and held it to his mouth.
“Hey, sister… can you hear me?” he asked, his voice low but steady.
The crystal flickered, and a familiar voice resonated through it, calm and laced with a hint of amusement. “Cyrus, what’s going on? It’s rare for you to call me out of the blue,” Cynthia replied.
“Are you still keeping an eye on the Black Witch?” he asked, his tone turning serious.
“Of course. Why?” Cynthia’s voice sharpened slightly, sensing his purpose.
“We’ll be storming her castle tomorrow. I need to know everything you have on her,” Cyrus replied, a hard edge to his words.
A long silence followed before Cynthia spoke, her voice tense with warning. “Are you insane, brother? Even for you, this is reckless. She’s not just powerful—she’s dangerous in ways even I can’t fully grasp.”
“Cynthia,” he pressed, “if you know anything that could help, now is the time. What can you tell me?”
With a reluctant sigh, she replied, “She has a Demonic Eye… the Alchemist’s Eye. She’s had it since the day our father died.”
Cyrus’s grip tightened around the crystal, his eyes darkening with fury. “That means she was there. She was involved in his death… she must have been one of the heroes in that cursed party.”
“I think you’re right,” Cynthia said softly. “She’s more than just a target, isn’t she?”
“I’m going to end her,” Cyrus said, his voice simmering with restrained rage. “For father. For everything she’s taken from us.”
A pause, then a low sigh from Cynthia. “Then I’ll be there to back you up when you arrive. Stay sharp, brother. Good luck.”
“Thank you, Cynthia. I’ll see you soon.”
The crystal dimmed as the connection faded, leaving Cyrus alone with the quiet hum of his anger and determination. The thought of avenging his father sharpened his resolve, and he closed his eyes, his mind running through every detail of the coming raid. Tomorrow, he would finally confront the woman who tore his family apart.