Erza’s voice was cold when she spoke, but beneath the coldness, something else stirred, curiosity, perhaps, or the hunger for answers that had been denied to her for too long.

"I would like to meet her."

Fiona lifted her head, surprise flickering across her tired features.

She had done it. She had made the cold, unyielding dragon queen agree to a meeting. She had not been certain the mention of Nova would work, it had been a gamble, a desperate throw of the dice.

But she remembered the way Erza’s eyes had blazed when she first mentioned Nova, the way her voice had dropped, dangerous and sharp: How dare you, a human, know about Nova? And she had used Chief Sara’s background as a shield, as a key, as a bridge between worlds.

Good thing Sara had told her about her dynasty long ago, when Fiona was still a child sitting at the chief’s feet, listening to stories of a world beyond worlds. She had not understood them then. She was not sure she understood them now. But they had been useful.

Fiona reached for her phone, her fingers already moving to call her contacts, to prepare a neutral base, to arrange a meeting that would not compromise the Agency’s security.

"Okay," she said. "I will prepare a neutral base. Somewhere safe. Somewhere."

"No."

The word was sharp, absolute, cutting through Fiona’s planning like a blade through silk.

Erza’s violet eyes were fixed on the garden below, on the tiny figures of Yuuta and Elena, on the peaceful life she had built and was about to leave.

"I want to visit your secret main base."

Fiona’s hand froze. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering softly against the wooden floor. "Pardon?"

"I said I want to visit your main base." Erza turned from the window, her expression unreadable.

"Do not prepare a meeting base. Do not arrange a neutral location. I want to see where you operate. I want to see the heart of your so-called Agency."

She paused, her gaze drifting back to Yuuta, to his small figure bent over his notebook, to his futile attempts to understand words that were never meant for him.

"Guide me to your base. I wish to meet your chief there."

Fiona’s mind raced.

The Agency had strict policies, absolute, unbreakable policies, about the secrecy of their main base. Not even the World Government knew where it was located. The base was hidden beneath layers of magic, technology, and misdirection, accessible only to those who had been vetted and cleared and bound by oaths of secrecy.

If she brought Erza there, a stranger, an unknown, a being of immense and unpredictable power, she would be breaking every rule the Agency had.

She would be risking exposure, infiltration, destruction.

She would be risking her career, her rank, her life.

But her revenge was everything. Her father’s killer was still out there, still breathing, still laughing. And Erza was the only one who could help her end him.

"Okay," Fiona said. "I will guide you there."

Erza did not look at her. Her eyes remained on Yuuta, on the tiny figure in the garden, on the man she loved and was about to leave.

Fiona watched her.

She saw the warmth in Erza’s eyes, the warmth that the dragon queen tried so hard to hide, the warmth that seeped through the cracks in her cold armor. She saw the regret, the sorrow, the weight of a decision that had already been made and could not be unmade.

It was the same look her father had worn, years ago, when he had kissed her forehead and told her he would be right back. The same look he had worn when he knew he was walking toward something that might kill him. The look of someone preparing to sacrifice themselves for the ones they loved.

Fiona shook her head, pushing the memory away. "If you want," she said, "we can tell Yuuta before we leave. So he knows. So he does not worry."

"No."

Erza’s voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was no room for argument in it.

"Do not involve him in this. He has already suffered so much. I will not add to his burden by making him watch me leave." She paused, her hand pressing against the cold glass of the window.

"Let him live in peace, even if it is only for a little while longer. Let him think I am still here. Let him believe that everything is normal."

She turned away from the window.

"Let us depart without him knowing."

Fiona said nothing.

She simply nodded and rose from the floor, brushing dust from her uniform.

Erza looked one last time at the garden.

Yuuta was sitting on the grass now, his notebook open in his lap, his pen moving across the page. Elena was curled beside him, her head resting on his thigh, her ice cream cone finally finished. The morning sun painted them both in shades of gold.

I will come back, Erza thought. I will come back, and this world will be safe for you. No demons. No nightmares. No fear.

She turned away.

"Let us go," she said.

Fiona opened the door.

They stepped into the hallway, and the door closed behind them, sealing away the warmth, the laughter, the ordinary happiness that Erza had found in a place she never expected to call home.

The world was about to change.

___________

In the apartment yard,

Yuuta lay flat on his back, his chest heaving, his arms spread wide, his body screaming in protest. The grass was damp beneath him, the morning sun warm on his face, but he felt none of the peace that such a morning should bring.

He had tried everything, ninety-nine push-ups, ninety-nine sit-ups, ninety-nine squats. Not a hundred, because he had heard somewhere that a hundred push-ups made you go bald, and he was not willing to risk his hair for the sake of aura.

It had not worked.

Nothing had worked.

He was still as ordinary as he had been when he woke up, still as powerless, still as hopeless.

Instead of aura, he should have asked Erza about magic, how she froze the port, how she shattered Container, how she did the impossible things that made her who she was. But for some reason, aura seemed cooler than magic. More primal. More connected to the self.

And he could not learn it. He could not even begin to understand it.

He was defeated.

Above him, in the branches of an old oak tree, Isvarn watched. The ancient dragon lay along a thick branch, his back against the bark, his eyes half-closed, his expression unreadable. He had been watching Yuuta for hours, observing every failed attempt, every frustrated sigh, every moment of despair.

He did not blame the mortal.

He understood, perhaps better than Yuuta himself, that the task was impossible. Without guidance, without a teacher who truly wanted him to succeed, Yuuta would never unlock the power that slept within him.

But Isvarn was not that teacher. He had not come to Earth to guide a human. He had come to protect his queen, to safeguard her kingdom, to ensure that the bloodline of Atlantis did not end in weakness and regret.

Still, the sunlight was pleasant.

It had been so long since he had simply rested, since he had allowed himself to enjoy the warmth of a sun that was not filtered through the cold atmosphere of Nova. He closed his eyes and let the light wash over him.

Below, Elena played.

Elena was in her own world.

She darted through the bushes, her silver hair catching the light, her red eyes sparkling with joy. A butterfly fluttered ahead of her, orange and black, its wings beating in lazy arcs, and she was determined to catch it.

"Come back!" she called, her small hands reaching for the sky. "Elena wants to see you! Elena is friendly!"

The butterfly ignored her.

Passersby stopped to watch her.

An old woman smiled, her wrinkled face softening at the sight of such innocent joy. A young couple held hands, whispering about how beautiful their own children might one day be. A man walking his dog paused, his eyes following the silver-haired girl as she leaped and spun and laughed.

She looked like a fairy, a creature from a storybook, too perfect to be real. Her hair shone like starlight, her eyes gleamed like rubies, and her laughter rang through the garden like wind chimes in a summer breeze.

Not everyone was charmed.

Three teenage boys sat on a bench near the edge of the garden, their legs spread wide, their postures lazy and arrogant.

They were the kind of boys who had never been told no, who had grown up believing that the world owed them something, who had learned cruelty as a language and spoke it fluently.

The first boy was tall and wiry, with a narrow face and eyes that seemed to slide over everything they saw without ever truly seeing.

He leaned back against the bench, one arm draped over the back, the other holding the leash of a massive pitbull. The dog was restless, its muscles tense, its eyes fixed on something in the distance. It could sense its owner’s mood, the coiled cruelty, the hunger for entertainment.

The second boy was short and stocky, with thick shoulders and a neck that seemed to merge directly into his head.

His face was flat, his eyes small, his mouth perpetually curled in a sneer. He had the look of someone who had been in fights and enjoyed them, who liked the feeling of his fist connecting with something softer than bone.

The third boy was fat. Not chubby, fat, with rolls of flesh that spilled over his waistband and cheeks that jiggled when he laughed. His eyes were greedy, hungry, always searching for something to consume.

He was the one who came up with the worst ideas, the cruelest plans, the kind of thoughts that lived in the dark corners of human nature where most people never ventured.

They were not friends.

They were co-conspirators. Bound not by loyalty or affection, but by the shared understanding that they were better than everyone else, smarter, stronger, more entitled to the pleasures of the world.

And they were bored.

"Look," the fat boy said, pointing toward the bushes where Elena was hiding. "There’s a rabbit."

The others followed his gaze. The short one squinted, struggling to see through the leaves.

"Where?"

The fat boy grinned, revealing yellow, uneven teeth. "There. Hiding in the bushes. Little rabbit. Little dumb rabbit."

The tall boy tilted his head and studied the figure hidden among the greenery. His pitbull stood beside him, its muscles tense beneath its short coat. The dog let out a low growl as if it had already noticed what its owner was looking at.

"She’s just a kid," the tall boy said. "What’s the point?"

The fat boy’s grin widened.

"That is the point. Look at her. She’s tiny. Weak. No one is around to protect her." He nudged the short boy with his elbow before continuing. "Wouldn’t it be funny to watch her run around crying?"

The short boy immediately laughed.

"Oh, that would be hilarious. We could send Tommy after her and see what happens."

The tall boy looked down at the pitbull. Tommy was bigger than most dogs, with a broad chest and jaws powerful enough to crush bone. The animal had been raised for fighting. It knew how to chase. It knew how to bite. It knew how to tear things apart. What it had never been taught was kindness.

The fat boy suddenly chuckled as a memory surfaced in his mind.

"Dude, remember when Tommy attacked that pregnant woman near the market?"

The short boy burst into laughter.

"Oh, man. I remember that. Your dad was screaming at all of us afterward."

The tall boy simply shrugged.

"So what? I told him Tommy slipped the leash."

"And he believed that?" the fat boy asked.

"He wanted to believe it."

The tall boy scratched Tommy behind the ears. The pitbull’s tail moved slightly as it continued staring toward the bushes.

"Besides, Tommy didn’t do anything wrong."

The fat boy laughed.

"Yeah, right."

The tall boy’s eyes remained fixed on Elena.

"Tommy’s been hungry lately," he said casually. "Dad keeps complaining about how much food costs, so I haven’t fed him much this week."

The fat boy’s eyes immediately lit up.

"Seriously?"

The short boy licked his lips and stared toward the bushes.

"Oh, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Tommy hunt something."

The fat boy slowly smiled.

"Poor little rabbit."

The short boy let out a whistle.

"Now that’s going to be interesting."

A strange excitement settled over the group. It wasn’t normal excitement. It wasn’t the thrill of a game or a competition. It was something uglier. Something cruel. The kind of excitement that came from knowing someone weaker was about to suffer.

The tall boy slowly reached down and unclipped the leash. The metallic click seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet afternoon.

Tommy immediately became alert. His ears rose. His muscles tightened. His predatory eyes locked onto the bushes.

The tall boy pointed toward Elena’s hiding place.

"Go on, Tommy."

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"There’s food over there."

The pitbull’s eyes locked onto the small figure hiding in the bushes. It did not see a child. It saw prey, flesh, blood, meat. It had been trained to obey, to attack, to kill. It did not hesitate.

It lunged.

Elena did not see it coming. She was still playing, still chasing her butterfly, still living in the innocent world where nothing bad ever happened and everyone was kind. She had not yet learned that there were people in the world who would hurt her for no reason, who would destroy beautiful things simply because they could.

She was four years old.

The butterfly landed on a branch just above her head. She reached up, her small fingers stretching, her tongue poking out in concentration.

She did not see the dog. She did not hear its growls. She did not know that death was charging toward her on four legs, its jaws open, its teeth bared.

But Yuuta felt it.

He felt the chill before he understood it.

He had been lying on the grass, defeated, ready to give up on aura and magic and all the impossible things he could not understand. His body was tired. His mind was tired. He had nothing left.

Then something shifted inside him.

It was not a thought. It was not a decision. It was deeper than that, older than consciousness, more primal than reason. It was the instinct of a father who knew, without knowing how, that his child was in danger.

His eyes snapped open.

He sat up. His head turned. His gaze found Elena near the bushes, her silver hair bright against the green leaves, her small hands reaching for a butterfly that had landed on a branch.

And he saw the pitbull.

It was three feet away from her. Then two. Then one.

Yuuta moved.

He did not think. He did not plan. He did not calculate the distance, the speed, the likelihood of reaching her in time. His body moved before his mind could catch up, driven by something older than reason, something deeper than fear.

He stood in front of Elena.

His body blocked hers. His arms spread wide, shielding her from the beast. His eyes locked onto the pitbull’s, and for a moment, just a moment, the world was silent.

The pitbull lunged.

But he did not care.

He reached Elena just as the pitbull leaped.

Without hesitation, Yuuta threw himself in front of her. His body became a shield. His arms spread wide as he positioned himself between his daughter and the charging beast. He did not run. He did not retreat. He stared directly into the animal’s wild eyes and stood his ground.

The collision was brutal.

The pitbull slammed into him with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. Before he could recover, powerful jaws clamped around his forearm.

Pain exploded through his body.

The dog’s teeth sank deep into flesh as it violently shook its head from side to side. Yuuta felt something tear inside his arm. Hot blood splashed onto the grass.

"AAAAAHHH!"

His scream echoed through the park.

The pitbull growled savagely, tightening its grip as if determined to rip the meat from his bones. Every shake sent fresh agony through his body.

Behind him, Elena stood frozen in place.

She didn’t understand.

Only moments ago she had been happily playing in the bushes. The sun had been warm. The flowers had been beautiful. Her father had been nearby.

Now blood covered the grass.

Now a monster was attacking him.

The sudden change was too much for her young mind to process. She could only stare at the horrifying scene unfolding before her as tears slowly gathered in her eyes.

Normally, whenever something scary happened, Erza would appear. Just like she had at the zoo when danger approached, Erza had always been there to protect them. In Elena’s eyes, her mother could solve any problem.

But this time was different.

This wasn’t a monster attacking from the shadows.

This wasn’t a dangerous animal escaping its cage.

This was her father being torn apart right in front of her.

And Erza wasn’t here.

For the first time, Elena found herself completely alone, forced to watch as blood stained the grass beneath Yuuta’s feet.

"Pa-Papa..."

Her voice barely escaped her lips.

Yuuta gritted his teeth and grabbed the dog’s neck with his free hand. He tried to pry the jaws apart. He tried to punch it. Tried to scare it.

Nothing worked.

The beast was too strong.

His body was exhausted from the morning’s training. The hundred push-ups. The exercises. The sleepless night studying aura theory.

Everything he had done to become stronger was now betraying him.

His muscles screamed.

His injured arm burned.

The dog continued dragging him across the ground.

Around them, people had begun gathering.

Some screamed.

Some pulled out phones.

Others simply stood there in shock.

Nobody moved.

Nobody helped.

Fear rooted them in place.

High above, hidden among the branches of a large oak tree, Isvarn observed everything with cold eyes. Disappointment crossed the old dragon’s face as he watched Yuuta struggle against a mere beast.

Pathetic.

The word formed in his mind immediately.

This was the man who wished to stand beside Erza. The man who wanted to challenge fate itself. Yet here he was, being dragged across the ground by a common animal.

Isvarn clicked his tongue in annoyance. For Elena’s sake, he had decided to intervene. The child did not deserve the trauma of watching her father die. If Yuuta proved too weak to survive, then perhaps he had never belonged on the path he had chosen.

Just as Isvarn prepared to move, something made him stop.

A strange sensation passed through the air.

The old dragon frowned.

His gaze immediately returned to Yuuta.

The human was still wrestling with the pitbull. Blood continued dripping from his arm. His breathing was ragged and uneven. Nothing appeared different.

Yet something felt wrong.

No.

Not wrong.

Dangerous.

The sensation caused Isvarn’s eyes to narrow.

For the first time since arriving in the human world, he felt a faint chill crawl down his spine.

His attention focused completely on Yuuta.

A dark pressure had begun leaking from the young man’s body. It was weak. Incredibly weak. Yet there was something ancient hidden within it. Something that did not belong.

The pitbull felt it first.

Its violent movements gradually slowed. The growling weakened. The savage confidence that had filled its eyes vanished, replaced by confusion and then fear.

Yuuta slowly raised his head.

Blood covered his arm. Sweat ran down his face. Every part of his body screamed in pain.

Yet his eyes had changed.

A deep crimson glow burned within them.

The surrounding air grew heavy.

The pitbull whimpered.

Yuuta stared directly into the animal’s eyes. The leaking aura thickened around him, carrying with it a suffocating pressure that seemed to silence the world itself.

Then he spoke.

His voice was low.

Calm.

Absolute.

"Die."

To be Contiuned....