“Papa, wake up or you’ll be late,” a sweet voice pierces through the fog of my dreams, gently pulling me back to consciousness. I feel small hands shaking my shoulder, insistent but careful. Slowly, I pry my eyes open, blinking away the remnants of sleep to find Spica’s bright eyes peering down at me, her face a mix of excitement and mild concern.

“Morning, sweetie,” I mumble, my voice still rough with sleep. I reach out to pat her head, my fingers running through her soft hair. The simple gesture floods me with warmth — a reminder of the family I’ve found, against all odds.

“Mama said breakfast is ready!” Spica chirps, her energy seemingly boundless even at this early hour. She tugs at my shirt, eager to get me moving. “Come on, Papa!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” I chuckle, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. As I stand, I take a moment to stretch, feeling the satisfying pop of joints aligning. The fatigue settling deep in my bones tells me I’ve had another late night, but the smell of breakfast wafting through the air is motivation enough to get moving.

As I follow Spica’s bouncing form down the hallway, I can’t help but marvel at how much has changed in just three months. The house around us is still new enough that sometimes I wake up disoriented, momentarily forgetting where I am. But then I’ll hear Noarin’s humming from the kitchen or Spica’s laughter from her room, and I’m grounded again.

By “normal,” of course, I mean we’re still knee-deep in ornament-related crimes. It’s a strange realization that this has become my version of normal — juggling domestic bliss with the constant threat of supernatural danger. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The biggest change, undoubtedly, has been moving in with Noarin and Spica. Despite the earth-shattering revelations about my true nature, I’m grateful that it hasn’t changed how they see me. Their unconditional acceptance is a gift I never thought I’d receive, let alone deserve.

As we enter the kitchen, the aroma of fresh coffee and something sweetly spiced — cinnamon, maybe? — envelops us. Noarin stands at the stove, her hair tied back in a messy bun, spatula in hand. The sight of her, so at home in our shared space, never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she greets me, a teasing lilt to her voice as she places a stack of pancakes on the table. Her eyes, warm but sharp, scan my face. “Let me guess, staying up all night again to work on the Chaos Bringers case?”

I rub my neck sheepishly as I sink into a chair, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “You read me like a book,” I admit, unable to keep the fondness out of my voice.

“Hell yeah, I do,” Noarin replies, settling into the chair next to me. Her tone softens as she continues, “Maybe I’ve said it too many times, but you work too hard, Aruta.”

“Am I?” I respond flatly, shoving a forkful of pancake into my mouth. It’s delicious, as always, but I’m too preoccupied to fully appreciate it. In the back of my mind, the Chaos Bringers case file looms large, along with the unsettling silence from Belzad. The longer he stays quiet, the more uneasy I feel. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I can’t shake the feeling that when it does, it’s going to hit hard.

Noarin sighs, and I can hear the concern beneath her exasperation. “Don’t forget to count on us, please…” She pulls out her phone, tapping the screen a few times before holding it out to me.

I stop mid-chew, my eyes widening as I take in the information on the screen. “Wait, did you find him?” I ask, surprise coloring my voice.

Noarin nods, a hint of pride in her eyes. “He’s hiding in Grim City, 12 miles south of the capital.”

“How did you find him?” I can’t keep the awe out of my voice. We’ve been chasing this particular member of the Chaos Bringers for weeks with no luck.

“With a clear mind after enough rest,” Noarin says pointedly, her gaze fixed on me. “You keep overworking your mind, Aruta. Take a rest so you can see more insight into the case.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I reply playfully, though her words hit home more than I’d like to admit. “Well then, today we’ll catch him. This guy has already caused too much trouble.”

Noarin’s frown deepens, concern etched in the furrow of her brow. “Are you even listening… You need rest!”

I feel a pang of guilt at the worry in her voice. She’s right, of course. I’ve been pushing myself too hard, driven by the constant threat hanging over our heads. But old habits die hard. “Alright, well… who will handle this case then?”

“Lyra and Darius should be enough,” Noarin says, her tone brooking no argument. “His attribute is glass, anyway. Mother Earth can easily shatter them.” She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing, “We can just monitor and guide them from the base control room.”

As I open my mouth to protest, I catch sight of Spica watching us intently, her pancakes forgotten. The worry in her young eyes hits me like a punch to the gut. I’m not just responsible for saving the world anymore — I’m responsible for this family we’ve built.

I take a deep breath, feeling some of the tension leave my body. “You’re right,” I concede, reaching out to take Noarin’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’ll rest today, and we’ll guide the team from the control room.”

The relief in Noarin's smile is palpable, and I feel Spica relax beside me. As we finish our breakfast, the conversation turns to lighter topics — Spica’s progress in her studies, plans for the weekend, the latest gossip from the ADF base.

But in the back of my mind, thoughts of Belzad and the looming threat still simmer. I know I need to find a balance between my duty as a Holder and my role in this family. It won’t be easy, but looking at Noarin and Spica, I know it’s worth the effort.

I lean forward in my chair, my eyes darting between the multiple screens flickering to life in the ADF control room. The tension in the air is palpable as we watch Lyra and Darius navigate the maze of abandoned warehouses in Grim City’s industrial district. My hands grip the armrests tightly, a mixture of anticipation and worry churning in my gut.

“Visual on the target,” Noarin’s voice breaks the silence, and I follow her pointing finger to a screen showing a shadowy figure darting between buildings. “Lyra, Darius,” I say into the mic, “he’s heading towards the old glass factory. Be careful, he’ll have the home advantage there.”

“Roger that,” Lyra’s determined voice crackles through the comms. I watch as she and Darius pick up their pace, their movements fluid and coordinated. Years of working together have honed their teamwork to near perfection.

As they approach the dilapidated factory, a glint of light catches my eye on one of the drone feeds. My body tenses instinctively, recognizing the telltale sign of the Glass Chaos Bringer’s power.

“Watch out!” I bark into the mic, my heart racing. “He’s setting up traps!”

No sooner have the words left my mouth than a barrage of glass shards erupts from the factory windows, hurtling towards Lyra and Darius like a deadly hailstorm. I hold my breath, my knuckles turning white as I grip the console.

Darius reacts instantly, his wind attribute springing to life. A powerful gust swirls around them, creating a barrier that deflects most of the shards. But I can see a few slip through, and I wince as Lyra grunts in pain, a shard slicing her arm.

“Lyra!” Darius calls out, his concern evident even through the tinny speakers of our comm system.

“I’m fine,” she grits out, and I can see her eyes narrow as she focuses on the factory. “Let’s end this.”

With a swift motion, Lyra slams her palm against the ground. The earth rumbles in response, and I watch in awe as a wave of soil and rock surges towards the factory, smashing through its lower windows and forcing their target to retreat further inside.

“Nice one, Lyra,” I comment, unable to keep a hint of pride from my voice. “But be careful. He’s cornered now, which makes him more dangerous.”

As if to prove my point, a brilliant flash erupts from within the factory. I shield my eyes instinctively, even though I’m miles away. When the glare fades, I see that the entire building has been transformed into a shimmering fortress of glass, refracting light in dizzying patterns.

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“Well, that’s not good,” Darius mutters, and I silently agree.

Lyra doesn’t waste time with words. She charges forward, the ground beneath her feet rippling like water as her power flows through it. But as she nears the glass fortress, razor-sharp spikes erupt from its surface, forcing her to dodge and weave. I find myself leaning left and right in my chair, as if my movements could help her avoid the deadly glass.

Darius takes to the air, using his wind to propel himself upwards. He sends gusts of wind against the glass structure, but it holds firm. I frown, realizing the Chaos Bringer’s power is stronger than we anticipated.

“This isn’t working,” Lyra growls, and I can hear the frustration in her voice as she narrowly avoids another volley of glass shards.

My mind races, trying to find a solution. “The glass is too strong for direct attacks,” I think aloud, running a hand through my hair. “We need to think outside the box.”

Beside me, Noarin’s eyes light up. “Lyra, Darius,” she calls into the mic. “Remember your combination move from the Sandstorm Incident?”

A moment of silence, then Darius lets out a laugh. “Oh, you’re brilliant, Noarin!”

I watch intently as Lyra and Darius exchange a nod on screen. Lyra plants her feet firmly, closing her eyes in concentration. The ground around the glass fortress begins to tremble, then crack. Suddenly, a massive cloud of fine sand erupts from the fissures, enveloping the entire structure.

At the same time, Darius rises higher into the air, his arms outstretched. The wind picks up, swirling the sand into a raging sandstorm that completely obscures the glass fortress.

image [https://i.imgur.com/rrYn16l.jpeg]

“I can’t see!” the Chaos Bringer’s panicked voice comes through the comms.

“Neither can we,” I mutter, leaning closer to the screens that now show nothing but a swirling vortex of sand. The lack of visibility makes my heart race. Are Lyra and Darius okay? Is their plan working?

For several tense minutes, the sandstorm rages. I can hear the sound of glass cracking and shattering, the Chaos Bringer’s cries of frustration, and the determined grunts of Lyra and Darius as they maintain their assault. My fingers drum nervously on the console, every fiber of my being wishing I could be there to help.

But the Chaos Bringer isn’t going down without a fight. Suddenly, a massive shard of glass erupts from the sandstorm, nearly impaling Darius. He manages to dodge at the last second, but the distraction causes his wind to falter.

“Darius!” I shout into the mic. “Focus on defense. Lyra, can you handle the offense?”

“On it!” Lyra’s voice is strained but determined.

The sandstorm begins to dissipate as Darius shifts his focus to creating a protective wind barrier around himself and Lyra. As visibility improves, I can see the Glass Chaos Bringer more clearly. He’s created a swirling vortex of glass shards around himself, a deadly tornado that matches Darius’s wind in intensity.

Lyra charges forward, summoning pillars of earth to shield herself from the glass assault. She gets close, almost within striking distance, when the Chaos Bringer makes his move. The glass tornado expands explosively, sending shards flying in every direction.

“Lyra, get down!” I yell, my heart in my throat.

She drops and rolls, the earth rising up to cocoon her. But I can see spots of red on her uniform where shards have found their mark. Beside me, Noarin gasps, her hand finding mine and squeezing tightly.

“We need to end this now,” I mutter, racking my brain for a solution. Then it hits me. “Lyra, the factory foundation! Darius, give her an opening!”

They don’t question my order. Darius swoops low, sending a massive gust of wind that momentarily disrupts the Chaos Bringer’s glass tornado. In that split second, Lyra strikes. Her fist slams into the ground, and I can feel the tremor even through the video feed.

The earth beneath the glass fortress rumbles, then suddenly gives way. The entire structure begins to sink, thrown off balance by the shifting foundation. The Chaos Bringer cries out in surprise, his concentration broken.

“Now!” I shout, though I don’t need to. Lyra and Darius move in perfect sync, years of partnership evident in their flawless teamwork.

Darius whips up a whirlwind, lifting the Chaos Bringer off his feet. At the same time, Lyra summons a wave of earth, hardening it into a rocky fist that slams into their opponent. The combination of forces proves too much, and the Chaos Bringer finally crumples to the ground, his glass armor shattering around him.

For a moment, all is still. Then Lyra’s voice comes through, tired but triumphant. “Target secured.”

The control room erupts in cheers, the tension of the past hour finally breaking. I slump back in my chair, exhaustion and relief washing over me in equal measure. Noarin’s arms wrap around me, and I lean into her embrace, grateful for her steady presence.

“Great work, both of you,” I say into the mic, my voice thick with emotion. “Come on home.”

----------------------------------------

Hours later, the sterile smell of antiseptic mingles with the metallic tang of blood in the infirmary. My hands hover over Lyra’s arm, emitting a soft, pulsating light that bathes her wounds in a warm glow. Across the room, Rishia’s water ability shimmers like liquid crystal, enveloping Darius’ injuries in a healing cocoon. Spica perches on a nearby chair, her eyes wide with fascination, drinking in every detail of our healing process.

“You two were phenomenal out there,” I say, my brow furrowed in concentration as I focus on a particularly nasty gash on Lyra’s forearm. The torn flesh slowly knits itself back together under my touch.

Lyra’s lips curve into a rare smile, a flash of vulnerability in her usually stoic demeanor. “Thanks, though I really need to work on my ranged fighting. I felt like a sitting duck out there.”

“Tell me about it,” Darius chimes in, his voice strained as Rishia works on a bruised rib. He sucks in a sharp breath before continuing, “Man, I hope the next Chaos Bringer has a less… sharp attribute. I feel like I’ve been through a human paper shredder.”

A ripple of laughter breaks the tension, the sound oddly comforting in the clinical setting. It’s cut short as Noarin and Keller stride in, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

Noarin’s eyes immediately scan over our injured comrades. “How are your wounds?” she asks, pulling up a chair. Spica, sensing her arrival, scrambles off her perch and climbs into Noarin’s lap, snuggling close.

I finish the last of Lyra’s healing, the glow fading from my hands. Lyra flexes her arm experimentally, nodding in satisfaction. “Good as new, thanks to Aruta’s magic touch.”

“Glad I could help,” I reply, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow. “So, did the interrogation yield anything useful?”

Noarin’s face tightens, a muscle twitching in her jaw. “That guy’s got a mouth like a steel trap. He’s not letting anything slip.”

“But,” Keller interjects, his voice gravelly as he pulls a file from his jacket, “we might have caught a break with his belongings.” He hands the file to Rishia, who immediately starts poring over its contents, her eyes darting back and forth as she processes the information.

Rishia’s brow furrows, her brilliant mind clearly piecing together a puzzle we can’t yet see. “I knew it,” she murmurs, more to herself than to us. “They’re targeting corporations with significant influence in the capital.”

I lean forward, intrigued. “So they’re aiming for internal destabilization?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it,” Rishia says, her voice tight with concern as she pulls out a map of the Capital. It’s covered in intricate markings, like some bizarre connect-the-dots puzzle. “Look at this pattern. These attacks aren’t random at all.”

Lyra peers at the map, her eyes widening. “Wait, are those markings… they’ve hit every major border point of the city?”

Rishia nods grimly. “Precisely. I can’t say for certain what they’re trying to achieve, but my gut tells me it’s nothing good.”

Noarin leans in, her arms tightening protectively around Spica. “Do we have any leads on their next move?”

Rishia’s fingers trace the pattern on the map, her face paling as she reaches a conclusion. “Based on this… their next target is…” she pauses, swallowing hard, “the Yosuga family residence.”

The room goes deathly quiet as the implications sink in. Kai’s family is in the crosshairs.

As if summoned by our collective dread, Kai bursts into the room with Chen in tow, his usual carefree demeanor at odds with the tension permeating the air. “Hey, gu- whoa,” he stops short, sensing the shift in atmosphere. “Who died?”

Rishia breaks the heavy silence, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Kai, we need to contact Kaden immediately. Your family… they might be in danger.”

“What?” Kai’s jovial mask slips, revealing a flash of fear before he schools his features.

As Rishia explains the situation, Kai’s face grows increasingly serious, a stark contrast to his usual lighthearted demeanor. When she finishes, he nods slowly, his jaw set. “I see. I’ll get in touch with Kaden right away. But first,” he exchanges a meaningful look with Chen, “we’ve got some intel of our own.”

I turn to Chen, curiosity piqued. “What have you found?”

Chen produces a tablet from her jacket, her fingers flying across the screen. “A social media post that’s causing quite a stir. Someone spotted an… unusual animal in the park last night.”

She turns the tablet towards us, revealing an image that sends a chill down my spine. The creature in the photo is vaguely lupine, but wrong in ways that defy description. Its eyes glow an unnatural crimson, and a miasma of darkness seems to cling to its form like a second skin.

Noarin leans in, her face a mask of concern. “What in the world is that thing?”

As if in answer to her question, Saria materializes on Noarin’s shoulder in a shimmer of magic. Her delicate ears twitch as she speaks. “That, my friends, is a magical beast from our world. And its presence here is… troubling, to say the least.”

Lyra’s eyebrows shoot up, her voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Magical beasts? Just when I thought this job couldn’t get any more complicated…”

I feel a chill run down my spine, my mind already racing to the most likely conclusion. Still, I voice the question aloud, my tone laced with a combination of dread and resignation, “How the hell did they get into this world?” The words taste bitter in my mouth, as if speaking them makes the situation all too real.

Saria’s tiny form seems to grow heavier on Noarin’s shoulder, her usual playful demeanor replaced by a grave seriousness. Her luminous eyes lock onto mine, piercing and knowing. “I’m pretty sure we all already know the answer…” Her voice, though soft, carries a weight that seems to press down on all of us.

A profound silence descends upon the room, thick and suffocating. The unspoken truth hangs between us, a specter we’ve all been dreading. I can feel the tension radiating from my teammates – Noarin’s grip on Spica tightens imperceptibly, Kai’s usually relaxed posture stiffens, and even Darius, still recovering, seems to hold his breath.

She’s right, of course. There’s only one person capable of such a monumental feat – a space attribute Holder of immense power. Someone who’s been unnervingly quiet for months after our last encounter, biding his time, meticulously crafting his grand design.

The name forms in my mind, a dark whisper that sends tendrils of fear and anger coursing through my veins. I can see the same realization reflected in the eyes of my companions, a shared understanding that our greatest challenge is far from over.

Belzad.