Arc 2 chapter 14 The fractured dawn
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"It's easier to explain what was once there—something so long forgotten that not even the gods can make sense of it anymore.
I stand in the midst of what remains, alone at the edge of dawn. Time threads itself like a tapestry, weaving stories and lives into a fabric that eventually frays. The ancient becomes dust. The living will watch it fade. And even the immortals… they too, die in time.
The skies that once held beauty now lie fractured. The stars above are shallow, hollowed like the void. Emptiness follows everything.
And yet, here I am—lying still, staring up at this broken wall, trying to piece our lives back together."
Time moved slowly, like thick mist dragging across the ruins of a forgotten world.
In the quiet of the room, Retro held Lea close. Her breathing, soft and steady, was the only thing grounding him in this moment. His arms wrapped gently around her, protective yet weary.
His eyes, once heavy with purpose, began to close. The weight of everything—of loss, time, and the battles yet to come—pressed down on him. But here, for now, there was silence.
No whispers of gods.
No echoes of war.
Only the faint warmth of the child he fought so hard to return to.
His mind began to blur, thoughts unspooling like loose threads, drifting off into the void. A blankness took hold—not painful, not peaceful—just... still.
And then, sleep took him.
I woke to something soft—like grass brushing against my skin.
Blinking slowly, I shifted from my side and looked up. The sky above me stretched wide, painted in hues I couldn't quite place—light at first, then darkening into heavy greys and deep black.
Where am I?
I sat up, my tail swaying gently around me as I tried to gather my bearings. But the more I looked, the more the world around me began to melt away. The sky twisted, the ground trembled—panic started to gnaw at my chest.
I stood, hands curled into fists, ready for something—anything. But nothing came.
Just silence.
And then... I fell.
Weightless. Spinning through the void.
No sound. No ground. No sky.
Only the sinking feeling of being lost.
Suddenly, my breath caught—I jolted awake.
My heart raced as I clung tightly to something warm—someone.
Dad.
The evening light poured in gently through the cracks in the room. I blinked again, this time seeing the worn walls of the guild, the blanket around us, his arms still gently resting where they had been.
He was asleep.
My breathing steadied. I was safe. It was just a dream—just a memory, maybe.
I wouldn't disturb him. Not now.
Instead, I pulled closer into his embrace, resting my head against his chest. His heartbeat was slow, steady. Calming.
Just a little longer, I told myself. I'll stay like this… just a little longer.
He's still here…
It still doesn't feel real. After five years of silence, of fear, of loss—I'm finally beside him again.
So much has changed. I've changed. The world… it's broken in ways I can't even explain. And yet, being here in his arms, I feel like the little girl I used to be. The one who'd run up to him after a long day. The one who believed nothing could hurt her as long as he was there.
But I was hurt. We all were.
And he wasn't there. ..Not by choice, I know that.
But the ache still lingered, even now.
I look at his face—peaceful, soft, tired. He's fought so much. Still fights, even now.
Is it selfish of me to want him to stay like this? Just asleep, safe, resting?
He doesn't even know half of what happened while he was gone.
Would it break him? Or make him stronger?
...Maybe both.
I curled closer. My hand slowly moved to his, fingers tracing the lines of his palm.
It's bigger than I remember… stronger. But it still held the same warmth.
I'll be stronger too, I thought. For him. For us. For what's left of this world.
Whatever comes next—I'm not letting go again.
Not of him.
Not of hope.
I told him about Mother…
But not everything.
How could I?
How do you explain that the person you both loved…
…the one who protected us…
…turned into something unrecognizable?
I only said she was corrupted.
But that word… it doesn't even scratch the surface.
She didn't just lose control—
She enjoyed the destruction. The chaos.
Her eyes weren't hers anymore. Her voice, twisted. Her magic… monstrous.
I fought her, yes. But it wasn't a fight—it was survival.
She told me I wasn't her daughter.
That I was weak. That I should've been the one to vanish, not him.
And even though I knew it wasn't really her…
It still cut deeper than anything else ever has.
And now he's back.
Dad's here, and I'm terrified.
Not of him—but of what will happen if he finds out the truth.
What if he sees her like I did? What if… what if he has to fight her?
I don't want to lose him again.
But I also don't want to see him break.
So for now… I'll keep it to myself.
Just for a little while longer.
Let him rest. Let him smile.
Let him believe there's still a chance to save her.
Because if he gives up hope…
…I don't know what's left for any of us.
Lea lay still, curled beside her father, the faint warmth of his breath brushing against her forehead.
Her eyes remained open just a little longer, staring into the dim ceiling above—silent, unmoving.
"What if he breaks?"
The thought echoed one last time, soft like a whisper that wouldn't fade.
She shifted slightly, her arms tightening around him—not out of fear, but out of a desperate need for this moment to last.
For this calm, however fleeting, to stay a little longer.
His presence comforted her… but the storm in her chest refused to quiet.
And yet…
The weight of exhaustion—emotional, physical, spiritual—finally caught up with her.
Her breathing slowed.
Her grip loosened.
And her thoughts blurred into dreams.
With one last whisper in her mind—
"Please… let this be enough, just for tonight."
Lea finally let herself fall asleep.
The stars above didn't shine through the cracked ceiling.
But in that moment, next to him, she didn't need them to.
Dawn's golden light slipped gently through the cracks in the broken wall, casting soft patterns across the dusty floor.
Retro stirred as the warmth touched his face, his eyes fluttering open. The world was quiet—calm in a way he hadn't felt in years.
That's when he noticed the weight beside him.
Lea, curled tightly against his chest, her arms wrapped around him as if afraid he'd disappear again.
He gave a tired smile, eyes softening.
"Still holding on, huh…" he whispered.
Retro gently shifted, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.
Her expression was peaceful—still caught in the safety of sleep.
With one arm, he slowly returned the embrace, holding her close for a moment longer.
Then, with great care, he began to ease her grip, trying not to wake her.
Retro (softly):
"Just for a minute, kiddo… I need to get up."
Her arms resisted slightly, as if even in sleep, she could sense him pulling away.
He paused, rested his forehead against hers briefly, and whispered,
"I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
With that, he finally managed to slip free, laying her gently back against the bedding, tucking the blanket around her.
He stood, stretching silently as the light of morning grew stronger.
And for the first time in a long time, he felt… grounded.
Retro stepped quietly into the hallway, his boots softly brushing against the old wooden floor. The air was still, with only the faint scent of cooked grains and herbs drifting from further down the corridor. His stomach growled slightly, reminding him how long it had been since he had a proper meal.
As he turned the corner into the dining area, he saw Gronn sitting alone at a sturdy, worn-out table. The older man leaned forward, elbows resting beside a large wooden bowl filled with what looked like some kind of stew—steam still rising lazily from it. He wasn't eating though. Just… staring into the bowl, spoon untouched.
Retro blinked and raised an eyebrow.
"Did the food offend you or something?" he asked with a dry chuckle.
Gronn didn't look up at first. Then, slowly, he shifted his eyes toward Retro, his face unreadable.
"…Just thinking," he muttered. "Not often I get quiet mornings like this anymore."
Retro moved to grab a bowl of his own, ladling in the warm stew and settling across from Gronn.
"Yeah… quiet's rare these days," he said, stirring the food absently.
A silence hung between them for a moment before Gronn finally spoke again, more solemn this time.
"You being alive… still feels like a damn miracle. But you've noticed it, haven't you?"
Retro looked up, his expression hardening slightly.
"The weight in the air. The pressure. It's not just the isle anymore."
Gronn gave a slow nod.
"Something's stirring. Has been ever since that seal broke… You might've cut the dragon down, but the real threat? It's just waking up."
Retro looked down at his food, appetite suddenly gone.
Then, quietly:
"Then I guess I woke up just in time."
Gronn leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. He picked up the spoon, finally taking a bite of the stew. The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was the kind of silence only two people who had seen too much could share without needing to speak.
Retro slowly ate as well, the warmth of the food a small comfort.
Gronn eventually spoke again, eyes still fixed on the bowl.
"You know… back before all this, before the corruption, the war, the gods getting involved… I used to think the world could be fixed. You know, like a broken wall. Patch it up, reinforce it, good as new." He exhaled, setting the spoon down. "But some walls… they weren't built to last forever."
Retro didn't reply right away. He looked out the nearby window where sunlight barely trickled in through the warped glass, catching flecks of dust in the air. His voice was soft when it finally came.
"I don't think the point was to fix the wall."
Gronn glanced at him, brow raised.
Retro continued, "Maybe… maybe we were just supposed to keep it standing long enough. So the ones after us could build something better."
The old man grunted thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw.
"I hope you're right, Retro… gods know we've sacrificed enough trying."
They both fell silent again, chewing slowly.
Then Gronn added with a faint smirk, "Lea's grown. Fierce like her mom. But you already saw that, huh?"
Retro chuckled lightly, lowering his spoon. "Yeah… she's got her mother's fire. And maybe… a little of my stubbornness too."
Gronn huffed in amusement. "That's a dangerous mix."
The quiet stretched again, but it was peaceful. For now, there were no titans, no dark dragons, no shattered skies—just two worn warriors, sharing a quiet morning in the ruins of a once-hopeful world.
"Finish up," Gronn said after a while, standing and stretching his arms. "We've still got pieces of that wall to hold up."
Retro nodded slowly, savoring one last bite.
"Yeah… just a little longer."
Retro stood from his seat, quietly placing the bowl down with a soft clink. The warmth of the stew still lingered in his chest, but his thoughts were already drifting back to the room. Back to Lea.
His boots echoed softly against the cracked stone floor as he made his way down the hall. The morning light filtered through old stained windows, casting muted colors along the walls—like faded memories trying to shine again.
When he reached the room, he opened the door slowly.
Lea was still curled up where he'd left her, blankets pulled up around her shoulders, breathing steady. Her ears twitched slightly at the sound of the creaking door, but she didn't stir much. The light touched her face just enough to see her expression—peaceful, but worn.
Retro stepped in and sat beside her on the edge of the bed.
"Still sleeping, huh…" he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. His hand lingered just a moment longer than he intended before pulling back. "That's good. You need it."
He leaned back against the headboard, arms folded, closing his eyes just for a second—but the weight of everything never quite left his shoulders. The silence was heavy again, but it was warm this time.
And then—
A soft murmur.
"Dad…?" Lea's voice was groggy, thick with sleep.
"Right here, kiddo," Retro answered without hesitation, turning slightly to face her.
She blinked slowly, half-awake. "You smell like food…"
Retro snorted. "Well, I did eat without you. You needed the rest."
Lea let out a sleepy, exaggerated sigh before scooting over and resting her head against his shoulder.
"I had a dream," she said softly. "You were gone again. I kept running, but the world kept turning to ash."
Retro didn't respond at first. He wrapped an arm gently around her and held her close.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said firmly, but gently. "Not again."
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, letting the moment stretch—quiet, steady, grounded.
Eventually, Lea looked up at him.
"So what now?"
Retro smiled faintly.
"Now… we keep moving forward. One step at a time."
Retro gave her one last squeeze before slowly getting up, ruffling her hair with a tired grin.
Retro:
"But for now… let's get you some food, Lea."
Lea yawned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Lea:
"Only if it's not whatever Gronn makes. He still burns stew somehow."
Retro chuckled, offering her a hand.
Retro:
"Fair point. Come on, I'll see what I can find that isn't burnt to ash."
Lea took his hand and stood up, wobbling just a little before finding her balance.
Lea:
"Okay… but I want something sweet after. I've earned it."
Retro:
"You did, huh?"
He raised a brow, smirking.
Retro:
"Fine. We'll see what we can dig up. Maybe someone stashed some honey bread."
The two headed toward the hallway, side by side, the light from outside stretching just a little longer through the cracked walls. Despite the ruins around them, there was a small, quiet peace—one more morning survived. One step closer.
The pair strolled quietly down the cracked stone hallway, Lea walking just a bit behind Retro, still half-waking and rubbing her eyes. The light from the early sun leaked in through the shattered windows, illuminating the dust in the air and the faded murals on the walls that once depicted ancient legends—now barely more than ghosts of the past.
They reached the kitchen—or what remained of it.
The wooden door hung slightly ajar, one hinge broken. Inside, a few cupboards were still intact, and a makeshift stove had been set up with a small mana crystal gently burning within it for heat. Scattered crates filled with salvaged supplies lined the wall. Gronn must've been through recently.
Retro let go of Lea's hand and stepped forward, scanning the room.
Retro (softly):
"Alright, let's see what we've got here..."
He opened one crate—vegetables, mostly root-based. Another—dry bread and a small jar of jam. But what caught his eye was a cloth-wrapped bundle on the back counter.
Retro:
"Jackpot."
He unwrapped it to reveal a small loaf of honey bread, still soft and fragrant.
Lea (eyes lighting up):
"No way! You actually found some!"
Retro (grinning):
"I told you, kiddo. I deliver."
He cut a few slices and warmed them over the crystal stove, placing them gently on two old ceramic plates. He found a small pot of tea still warm from earlier—Gronn must've brewed it before leaving—and poured two cups.
They sat down at a makeshift wooden table, its legs uneven but stable enough.
Lea took a bite and her tail swayed a little behind her.
Lea (mouth full):
"Mmm… this is the best thing I've had in days."
Retro (chuckling):
"You say that every time we find honey bread."
She just smiled.
For a moment, the silence that settled over them wasn't heavy. It wasn't haunted or tense. It was warm. Comfortable.
Retro (quietly, staring at his tea):
"You've grown a lot… I'm sorry I wasn't there for it."
Lea glanced at him, swallowed her bite, and then reached out to hold his hand again.
Lea:
"You're here now. That's all that matters."
They sat like that for a while, sharing breakfast and watching the soft glow of morning paint the broken kitchen walls.
After finishing breakfast, Retro gathered their dishes and stacked them neatly beside the makeshift stove. Lea stretched, her tail swishing lazily behind her as she stepped away from the table.
Retro glanced over at her, a faint smile forming.
Retro: "You ready for a bit of early practice?"
Lea's ears perked, a glint of excitement flickering in her eyes.
Lea: "Always. I've got a few new moves I wanna show you."
Retro chuckled, gesturing down the hallway.
Retro: "Lead the way, then."
The halls felt more alive now, warmed by morning sunbeams filtering through the cracks. They arrived at the old training area, a room lined with chipped stone pillars, practice dummies worn from years of use, and faded marks along the walls that told stories of countless sparring matches.
Retro took a deep breath, stepping into the open center of the hall.
Retro: "Alright, kiddo. Show me what you've learned while I was out."
Lea moved to stand opposite him, dropping into a ready stance, eyes focused and determined. Her stance was confident—stronger, steadier than he remembered. A small smile crossed Retro's face; she truly had grown.
Retro (softly): "Whenever you're ready."
Lea lunged forward, quick and precise, unleashing a combination of agile strikes. Retro calmly blocked, dodged, and countered, matching her pace without pushing too hard. He noticed the confidence in her movements, each strike measured, controlled—impressive.
Between breaths, Lea grinned, showing genuine excitement.
Lea: "Not bad for someone who had to teach herself, right?"
Retro smirked, sidestepping gracefully.
Retro: "I'll admit—you surprise me more every second."
Their session continued, weaving seamlessly from strikes to blocks, maneuvers practiced and familiar. The room echoed softly with their movements—a comforting, rhythmic dance.
Eventually, Retro raised a hand, signaling a pause. He smiled warmly.
Retro: "You've come a long way, Lea. Truly."
She wiped sweat from her forehead, her eyes bright with pride.
Lea: "Thanks, Dad. But don't go easy next time—I know you held back."
Retro laughed lightly, shaking his head.
Retro: "You got it."
They stood for a moment, catching their breath, the warmth of accomplishment hanging gently between them.
The rhythmic sounds of fists colliding with open palms, the hum of mana through the air, and the faint echoes of movement reverberated through the halls like a song of discipline and power.
One by one, people from the nearby areas began to gather just outside the entrance to the training hall—adventurers, guild members, civilians who had heard the rumors—whispers of Retro's return were still fresh. Their footsteps slowed as they caught sight of the pair inside.
Retro, steady and composed, moved with precise control—his body reacting without thought, like he was made for this. His ghost-like version of the Night Slayer flickered occasionally during certain motions, casting faint green glows with each parried strike.
Lea, tall and fierce, held her own against him, her footwork sharp, her strikes elegant yet strong. Her tail moved in sync with her body, and even in moments of overextension, she quickly corrected with fluid grace.
Whispers ran through the crowd.
"That's her… the Leopard girl. That's Retro's daughter?"
"And that's really him… Retro. I thought he was dead."
"Look at the way they move—it's like watching a storm dance."
But Retro and Lea paid the murmuring no mind.
With each exchange, their movements grew sharper, faster—sweat glistening under the morning light that poured through the cracked dome of the hall's roof. Retro stepped in with a feint, and Lea spun to dodge, countering with a burst of mana-infused energy from her palm. Retro deflected it, the force shaking the ground slightly, but he grinned in response.
Retro: "Better. Again."
They moved like echoes of each other. The crowd fell silent, entranced not just by the power on display, but by the bond they witnessed—father and daughter, warrior and student, both forged by loss and years of survival.
And still, neither looked away. Neither faltered.
The world around them could crumble, but in this moment, it was just the two of them.
A soft murmur rolled through the crowd, but amidst it, a few figures stood out—watching, remembering, or simply stunned.
---
An Older Adventurer – Bronze-rank, scarred but sharp-eyed
He crossed his arms, watching Retro and Lea spar. His weathered face, once full of skepticism, now bore quiet awe.
"I remember when I first saw Retro fight," he muttered to no one in particular.
"Back then he was just a rumor—something whispered among the upper ranks. To see him now… fighting alongside his kid?" He exhaled slowly. "It's like watching a legend train his legacy."
---
A Young Trainee – Barely 15, wide-eyed
The boy clutched a training staff to his chest. His mouth was slightly agape as he whispered to his friend.
"I didn't even know people could move like that... I thought the stories were exaggerations."
His friend nodded slowly, also entranced.
"That's Lea, right? The girl who took on the Southern Behemoth? And Retro… I heard he killed a dragon with his bare hands once."
The boy's grip on his staff tightened with a mix of fear and excitement.
---
A Mid-Ranked Mage – Silver robe, curious expression
She leaned against the wall, one hand glowing faintly as she subconsciously read the mana traces left behind from their practice. She whispered softly, eyes narrowing.
"Her aura's stable… too stable for someone her age."
"His, though… Retro's is frayed. Like his body's not keeping up with his strength anymore."
She paused, biting her lip.
"But that sword… even ghostlike, it responds to him like it's alive."
---
A Shadowy Figure in a Cloak – watching silently from a balcony above
Unnoticed by the others, this figure leaned on the railing, one gloved hand resting over a glowing gem embedded in a leather cuff.
Their eyes never left Retro.
"So, the ghost returns after five years. And the girl's grown strong…"
The voice was low and barely a breath. "This could complicate things… or make them far more interesting."
---
Back down in the hall, Retro and Lea continued their sparring. They hadn't acknowledged the crowd. They didn't need to.
This wasn't a show.
This was their rhythm.
A daily storm. A bond reforged in pain and purpose.
Retro's stance shifted—his weight leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with sharp intent. Lea, sensing the sudden change, tensed. The playful warmth in his expression faded, replaced by a focused gaze.
Retro (calmly):
"Enough blocking. Let's see what you do when you're the one cornered."
He moved like a shadow across the training floor—fast, precise. Not overwhelming her with power, but with pressure. His strikes weren't wild; they were intentional, forcing her to step back, to adjust, to falter.
Lea (thinking):
He's trying to trap me—testing my ability to think under pressure…
Her foot grazed the edge of the floor's boundary markings. Retro lunged in with a spinning sweep, and she leapt over it, rolling to regain distance—but the moment she landed, he was already there, cutting off her escape route.
Retro (low and steady):
"Nowhere left to run, Lea. What's your next move?"
She grit her teeth. Her breathing was steady, but her heart pounded in her chest. With a quick burst of aura, she feigned a strike toward his shoulder—but pivoted mid-move and slammed her foot down, cracking the floor beneath her.
Dust exploded into the air.
Retro raised a brow.
Smart… using the dust to blind me—
From the cloud, Lea dashed to his right—only for Retro to intercept, appearing behind her in a blink, whispering:
Retro:
"Nice try."
He tapped her on the back lightly with the ghost blade, just enough to let her know—he had her. Lea froze, breath caught in her throat.
Then he stepped back, chuckling.
Retro:
"You've gotten sharper. But if you let yourself get backed into a corner, the only way out is to break the wall—or fake your way through."
Lea (panting, smirking):
"Then maybe next time, I'll break you instead."
Retro laughed—a genuine, belly-deep laugh—and ruffled her hair.
Retro:
"That's my girl."
The dust from their last exchange settled as Retro sheathed the ghostly blade. He walked over to a nearby bench, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. Lea followed, still catching her breath. She sat beside him, silent at first—gazing down at her hands, the faint tremble in them betraying her frustration.
Retro (softly):
"You held up well. But you hesitated… three times."
Lea frowned, ears twitching slightly.
Lea:
"I know. I just—sometimes I second guess where to go or how much to push. If I make one wrong move, I feel like I'll mess everything up again."
Retro leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
Retro:
"Lea… fighting isn't just about strength or technique. It's about trust—trust in yourself. You've got instincts. They're good. But when you let doubt win, it slows you down."
She looked at him, brows slightly furrowed.
Lea:
"But what if I'm wrong? What if someone gets hurt… again?"
Retro turned his head toward her, eyes sharp but kind.
Retro:
"Then you learn. You move forward. Every mistake, every fall—it teaches you. I've made more mistakes than I can count. But you know what kept me going?"
She shook her head.
Retro:
"You. Atlas. Nexus. Lilly. All of you. I fight because I believe in the people who still need a reason to hope."
Lea's eyes welled up slightly, but she blinked the tears away, looking toward the training floor.
Lea (softly):
"Even when I'm scared… I want to protect the people I love. I just… need to be better."
Retro smiled, reaching out and placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
Retro:
"You're already better than you think, kiddo. You don't have to be perfect. You just have to keep trying."
A pause.
Lea (quietly):
"Thanks, Dad."
Retro:
"Anytime."
They sat in silence for a moment longer, the hum of distant conversation from others around them filling the background.
Retro (grinning):
"Alright. One more round—this time, you push me into a corner."
Lea (grinning back):
"You asked for it, old man."
The echo of footsteps and shifting stances filled the training hall once more.
Retro stood with a loose posture, relaxed yet alert, his ghostly blade forming faintly in his hand. Across from him, Lea was focused, breathing steady, tail flicking side to side with anticipation.
Retro (grinning):
"Alright, let's see what you've learned."
Lea didn't answer. She lunged.
Her speed caught him slightly off guard. She moved low, then feinted left before shifting right, her fist swinging with a crack of wind magic behind it. Retro blocked, but she didn't let up. Every step forward was precise, every blow sharper than before.
Retro (internally, impressed):
She's adapting. Reading me.
He pivoted to avoid a direct strike, but she was already on him, using her momentum to drive him toward the far wall.
Retro (aloud, laughing):
"Well look at you! Trying to corner your old man?"
Lea smirked, a rare flash of confidence in her eyes.
Lea:
"Thought I'd return the favor."
Retro parried again, but Lea ducked low, swept his leg halfway, then surged up with a palm charged in lightning. He caught it with both hands, the force sending a small shockwave outward.
He staggered back, one foot sliding behind him—his back now nearly against the wall.
Retro (mock dramatic):
"Oh no… whatever shall I do?"
Lea:
"You give up?"
Retro:
"Never."
In that brief moment, they held eye contact. Teacher and student. Father and daughter. She had driven him there—earned that moment.
Then, he dropped the ghost blade and raised both hands in mock surrender.
Retro (grinning):
"But I will call that a round won by you."
Lea blinked, ears perking.
Lea:
"Wait… seriously?"
Retro:
"Seriously. You read my movement, adjusted your strikes, and used your environment. I taught you to corner your enemy… you just did that to me. You earned this."
A smile bloomed across her face as she took a few steps back, arms slightly trembling from the fight.
Lea (beaming):
"Then maybe next time, I'll win without you surrendering."
Retro (chuckling):
"That's the spirit."
They both took a deep breath, sweat on their brows but hearts lighter.
As Lea caught her breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead, Retro slowly walked over with a half-smirk on his face. She instinctively raised her hand for a high five.
Instead, Retro's fist lightly but firmly tapped her in the stomach.
Retro (stern but teasing):
"But always keep your guard up, kiddo."
Lea doubled slightly, not in pain, but more from surprise.
Lea (eyes wide):
"Hey—! What was that for?!"
Before Retro could respond, a wave of voices rippled from behind them.
Onlookers (murmuring):
"Did he just hit her after the match?"
"That's such a cheap blow!"
"Was that part of the lesson or just rude?"
"Savage…"
Both Retro and Lea slowly turned their heads toward the training hall entrance, where nearly two dozen people were watching intently. Some had their mouths agape, others were whispering or laughing quietly. A few had even brought food like they were watching a show.
Retro (blinking):
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
Lea (a bit red-faced):
"Wait—they were here the whole time?!"
Retro (rubbing the back of his head):
"Guess we got a bit too into it."
Lea (grumbling):
"Great. Now I look like I lost and got sucker-punched."
Random voice in the crowd:
"No, you were holding your own! It was impressive!"
Another voice:
"Yeah, but that gut shot was dirty!"
Retro raised a hand toward the crowd.
Retro (calling out):
"She's training to fight monsters, not for applause. If that blow caught her off guard—then it worked."
Lea huffed but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. She gave her dad a light nudge with her elbow.
Lea:
"Fine. Next time, I'm the one landing the cheap shot."
Retro (smirking):
"I'd like to see you try."
As the bell overhead rang once, marking the arrival of noon, Retro and Lea stepped out of the training hall. Their clothes were soaked with sweat, their bodies aching, but their spirits were high.
Lea (stretching her arms):
"Ugh, I'm starving. I feel like I could eat a whole wyvern."
Retro (wiping his forehead with a towel):
"If you can finish even half a wyvern leg, I'll be impressed."
They made their way down the stone path toward the guild's main building, passing by a few people who offered nods of acknowledgment or brief applause. The buzz from their earlier sparring session still lingered among the observers, but the attention didn't faze either of them.
As they entered the dining hall, the warm scent of roasted meats, spices, and fresh bread filled the air.
Lea (eyes lighting up):
"Oh yes, this is exactly what I need."
Retro (grinning):
"Just don't load your plate too high or you'll pass out halfway through eating."
They grabbed trays and began piling food onto them—grilled skewers, roasted root vegetables, a fresh salad, and some hot stew. Retro added a loaf of bread and a couple of cold drinks to the tray before gesturing toward a quiet corner of the room.
Retro:
"Let's sit over there."
As they settled in, the tension from the morning melted away with the first few bites.
Lea (mouth half-full):
"You know… I didn't think I'd enjoy training that much again."
Retro (raising an eyebrow):
"'Cause you forgot what it felt like to have a goal?"
Lea nodded slowly, her expression softening.
Lea:
"Yeah… and maybe because it's with you. It just feels right."
Retro (smiling softly):
"It is right, kiddo."
The rest of the meal passed quietly, just the clatter of utensils and the low chatter of others filling the space. For once, everything felt normal—peaceful, even.
The calm stretched on like a warm breeze over the waves. For the first time in a long while, Retro allowed himself to simply be present—not planning a fight, not watching for shadows, not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He glanced up from his meal to see Lea chewing with quiet focus, her tail flicking gently beside her as if matching the rhythm of her thoughts. She didn't speak for a while, just enjoyed her food and the rare peace between chaos.
Retro (taking a slow sip from his drink):
"Crazy to think how long it's been since we've sat down like this."
Lea (softly, after a pause):
"Yeah… like something out of a different life."
She set her spoon down for a second and looked at him.
Lea:
"Do you think we'll ever get that kind of life again? Y'know… just peace? Without running or fighting?"
Retro didn't answer immediately. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, letting the question linger in the still air. Then, finally—
Retro:
"I don't know. But I'll keep fighting to carve out something like it for you. Even if it's just little moments like this."
Lea gave him a faint smile—the kind that held both hope and sorrow.
Lea:
"Then I'll keep fighting too… for you."
The two sat in silence after that, the warmth of the midday sun filtering through the tall guild windows, dust motes floating lazily in the golden light. Outside, birds chirped and distant waves crashed along the shore.
The world hadn't stopped turning. The danger hadn't disappeared. But for now—for this moment—it could all wait.
After their quiet meal, Retro stood up first, stretching his arms with a soft groan.
Retro (grinning a little):
"Alright, kiddo. I've got a few things I want to check on. You go do your thing for the rest of the day, but don't skip out on that cooldown stretch like last time."
Lea (smirking):
"I won't… maybe."
Retro gave her a mock-stern look before messing up her hair slightly as he walked past. She swatted his hand away with a quiet laugh.
Lea:
"I think I'll head to the water's edge for a bit. Clear my head."
Retro (with a nod):
"Good. The sea helps."
They parted ways outside the mess hall, the gentle hum of life around the guild quietly resuming as the noon sun glinted off weathered stones and the far-off waves shimmered.
Retro's path led him back through the training hall briefly, nodding at a few old acquaintances, before stepping outside into a quieter part of the ruins—where he could be alone. He walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the open sky. Something still tugged at him. A restlessness. A tension he hadn't shaken since waking from his long slumber.
Lea, meanwhile, made her way through a narrow trail that led toward the cliffs overlooking the ocean. The breeze was strong, but not harsh. She sat at the edge of a flat stone outcrop, hugging her knees and letting her thoughts drift—about her mother, the pain, the victories, and the warmth of having her father back.
For the rest of the day, they walked separate paths, yet somehow remained in step with one another.
Retro's Reflection:
The ruins stretched far, a jagged memory of what once was. Retro walked among broken walls and overgrown paths, his boots crunching quietly on gravel. Every now and then, he stopped—just to listen. To feel.
He crouched by a weathered stone, fingers tracing an old guild symbol carved faintly into it.
Retro (quietly, to himself):
"Five years… and everything's either changed… or trying to pretend it hasn't."
His fingers clenched. His heart still felt heavy—not just from the battle or the dreams, but the truth of how much he missed. Nexus, grown into a man. Atlas, missing. Lea—strong, yet still so fragile in some ways. And Lilly… wherever she was now.
He looked up at the blue sky scattered with thin clouds, a sharp contrast to the ruins.
Retro (gritting his teeth):
"I should've protected them better… should've stayed awake."
He exhaled. Deep, steadying.
Retro (softly):
"But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere again."
---
Lea's Reflection:
The ocean winds tugged gently at Lea's hair as she sat at the cliffside, knees hugged to her chest. Her gaze stayed locked on the crashing waves far below, eyes distant.
Lea (thinking):
He doesn't know everything yet… about mom. About what I did. About what I became for a while.
She swallowed, biting her lip.
Lea (thinking):
But he held me. He smiled. He called me kiddo like he always did. Like I never changed.
A tear welled up in her eye. She brushed it away quickly.
Lea (softly):
"I'll be stronger… so you won't have to worry, Dad."
She took a deep breath, the sea air filling her lungs.
Lea (smiling faintly):
"Just like you taught me… never let your guard down."
---
The sun slowly began its descent. Shadows stretched long across the ruined stones. Two hearts, in different places, beat with the same quiet resolve.
They would find their family again.
They would reclaim what was lost.
As Lea made her way back toward Retro—her feet light on the cracked stone pathways, the wind tugging at her hair—she paused.
A pressure hit her chest. Sudden. Suffocating.
The air around her thickened, humming with a heavy pulse of dark mana. It crashed into her like a crashing wave—familiar and terrifying all at once.
Lea (gasping):
"No… no, that can't be…"
She looked up instinctively, eyes wide—just in time to see a shadow, swift and jagged, dart across the skyline like a warped blur of wings and claws. The very ground beneath her trembled in its wake.
Then came the scent. That distinct warmth. A hint of scorched roses.
A voice… screaming in the back of her memory. A laugh once gentle, now twisted.
Lea (whispers):
"Mom…?"
Her heart dropped into her stomach. Panic took over.
Lea (shouting):
"DAD!!"
She took off in a sprint—shoving past rubble, dodging collapsed beams, nearly tripping over loose stones. Her pulse raced as fast as her thoughts.
She knew that aura. That was Lilly. But not the Lilly she remembered. Not the one who used to hum lullabies or braid her hair with gentle claws.
No.
This thing was corrupted. Warped. Like something had hollowed her out and stitched her back together wrong.
And it was heading straight for Retro.
Lea's chest heaved as tears welled in her eyes, her voice breaking into the wind.
Lea:
"Please… don't hurt him…"
She pushed harder, fear clawing at her ribs.
The nightmare had returned.
Retro's Perspective
The soft babble of the river was a rare kind of peace.
Retro crouched near its edge, fingers brushing along the cool stones beneath the shallow water until one caught his eye—a small, round pearl, glinting faintly in the sunlight. He rolled it between his fingers, eyes half-lidded, lost in a flicker of memory.
But then it hit him.
A weight.
A sharp, suffocating pressure in the air.
His entire body stiffened as his instincts flared—eyes darting skyward.
And there she was.
Floating.
Hovering above him in a slow, unnatural drift—Lilly.
Or what looked like her.
But it wasn't.
Her wings were twisted, feathers blackened and cracked like dying leaves. Her once bright horns had elongated, fractured with pulsing veins of dark red. And her eyes… they held no light. Only void.
Retro didn't move.
Didn't speak.
He didn't have to.
Because something deep inside him already knew—this wasn't her anymore.
Then—
"DAD, GET DOWN!"
Lea's voice tore through the wind, shrill and frantic.
Retro turned his head just in time as a roaring blast of corrupted energy surged past him, missing by inches and tearing apart the trees behind him in an explosion of black flame.
The pearl slipped from his hand.
The ground trembled.
He stood, locking eyes with the shade of Lilly.
There was no hatred there.
No grief.
Just a burning resolve.
His aura snapped, rushing outward in a wave of green and violet light, spiraling upward like a storm. The earth cracked beneath his boots. The sky darkened. His very presence twisted the air, bending it with sheer pressure.
And in response, so did hers.
The corrupted Lilly's aura slammed into his like a crashing tide, mixing with his own like oil and fire.
Lea, sprinting toward them, suddenly stumbled, forced to her knees as both auras collided in the air above. She could barely breathe, her ears ringing, her heart pounding.
This was no longer a reunion.
This was the beginning of a reckoning.
Lea's Perspective
The moment the aura hit, it felt like the world itself cracked open.
She had been running, calling out for her father—laughing, even just earlier that day. But now?
Her legs trembled.
Her vision blurred.
Her heart threatened to burst from her chest.
The air was thick, oppressive, and twisted—a cocktail of two presences she knew better than anything.
One was Retro, the man who raised her. His aura always carried weight, strength, even chaos—but there was warmth underneath. A protector's will.
The other… was Lilly. Or it had been.
But this aura?
It felt like someone had shoved nails into her heart.
It was familiar—too familiar—but wrong in every way. Dark, unstable, and full of agony. A scream trapped inside a soul that no longer belonged to itself.
Lea dropped to her knees, gasping. Her claws scraped the dirt. She gritted her teeth as her own aura flared briefly, trying to resist the pull, but it was no use. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up.
There in the sky—
Her mother hovered.
And yet… she didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move like Lilly ever had.
Lea's voice cracked as she whispered, almost choking on it:
"Mom…?"
But no response came. Not even a flicker of recognition in those pitch-black eyes.
Then she looked at Retro.
He didn't falter.
He didn't scream.
He stood tall.
Even against the very person they both loved most—he stood. Because he had to.
And that shattered something in Lea.
Her body shook, torn between running and fighting, torn between hope and horror.
"Please..." she whimpered, her claws digging into her arms. "Please don't make him fight her… please…"
But deep down, she knew—
This wasn't a fight either of them wanted.
But it was one they might not survive without it.
In that very moment, the world held its breath.
Retro had vanished from view in a blur—and reappeared behind her with a silent flash of light.
Lilly's wings—those majestic, dragonic wings that once wrapped around Lea with warmth and safety—were gone. A clean, merciful cut.
She didn't fall with grace. She crashed, hitting the earth with a scream that shattered the silence like glass.
The sound ripped through Lea's chest like a dagger.
Retro stood nearby, his expression unreadable, save for the flicker of deep pain in his eyes.
No rage.
No joy.
Just… resolve.
And sorrow.
Lilly's voice shrieked in pain, but it wasn't just agony—it was lostness, like a soul split in two.
She lunged forward, claws glowing dark, energy chaotic and unrestrained.
She slashed at Retro with everything she had.
The moment her claws connected, the mountainside behind him exploded, reduced to rubble by the sheer force of the strike. Debris rained down, the sky filled with dust and embers.
But Retro didn't move.
Not even a step.
He stood there, Lilly's claws buried in his shirt, piercing his skin. Blood slowly seeped from the wound.
He looked her in the eyes. Calmly.
Even as pain radiated from his side, he didn't flinch.
Retro (softly):
"You're still in there... aren't you?"
Lilly snarled, but something—just for a moment—hesitated in her movements. Her breath hitched. Her grip trembled.
Retro slowly lifted his hand, placing it gently over her wrist.
Not to attack.
Not to restrain.
But like someone reminding a loved one they were not forgotten.
Retro stood still, his fingers laced around her wrist—
Claws still lodged into his body, her breathing ragged, erratic, inhuman.
He closed his eyes, the world around him falling away.
Silence pressed in.
Just him... and what was left of Lilly.
He searched—deep inside that corrupted mana—
For even the faintest flicker.
A whisper of her voice.
A memory of her smile.
A trace of the warmth she once held when she'd curl beside him and say "I'm here, love."
But…
There was nothing.
Only a void.
Cold. Hollow. Hungry.
His grip tightened slightly—not in anger, but grief.
Retro's knees weakened for a moment.
Tears slipped down his cheeks, one by one.
He whispered something so soft only she might have heard it.
Retro (choked, broken):
"I'm sorry, love… I came back too late."
Lea, standing not far, her hands trembling, collapsed to her knees.
Her vision blurred by tears, she watched, wide-eyed and helpless.
Lea (whispering):
"No… please no…"
Retro's hand reached behind him slowly, and the familiar glow of The Night Slayer hummed to life—only its spectral form, but now radiating sorrow instead of wrath.
He raised the sword above her, the blade shaking slightly as it caught the pale light of the broken sky.
Lilly let out a low growl, her corrupted face still snarling—yet in the depths of her eyes, a single tear had welled.
Retro saw it.
And that was enough to give him the courage to do what needed to be done.
Retro (whispered):
"Rest now… and may the real you find peace, wherever you are."
He brought the sword down—not with fury, but with mercy.
A clean, silent stroke.
The corrupted energy howled once—then dispersed.
Her body slowly faded into shimmering particles, as if the world itself acknowledged her pain and granted her release.
Retro fell to his knees, his sword clattering beside him.
The wind was still.
The sky mourned in silence.
Lea ran to him, collapsing beside him, not saying a word. Just hugging him.
There was nothing left to say.
As the particles of the dark clone faded into the air like ash swept by wind, Retro remained kneeling, his body still and breath heavy.
The claw mark across his chest throbbed, blood slowly soaking into his shirt. He stared at the ground where the clone had vanished, still clutching his sword, his mind a storm.
Retro (softly):
"That wasn't her… but it could've been."
"Or worse… it might become her."
Lea sat beside him, her hands shaking but steadying themselves on his arm.
Lea:
"Dad… was that really…?"
Retro didn't answer at first. His eyes stayed on the air in front of him, watching the space the clone had filled, as if trying to make sense of what he just saw.
Retro (quietly):
"It wasn't her. It couldn't be. The aura was twisted—corrupted, warped by something darker than her."
Lea (nervous):
"But… it looked just like her. Even sounded like her. It felt like her."
Retro (firmly):
"I know. And that's what scares me."
He slowly stood, his body still sore, pain radiating from his wound. But his stance was firm again—resolute. He sheathed the fading specter of his sword and turned toward the path ahead.
Retro:
"We move. This was a message. A warning. The real Lilly… she's still out there. I can feel it."
Lea:
"Then let's find her."
Retro gave a faint nod, his jaw tight.
The pain in his chest wasn't just from the wound—it was the fear he might one day have to face the real thing. And when that day comes, would he have the strength to do what's necessary?
Only time would tell.
Retro (calm but firm):
"For now, Lea… let's head back to the hall."
Lea nodded silently, still shaken but walking closely beside him. The wind carried the lingering weight of the earlier clash, the scent of scorched earth and fractured mana still heavy in the air.
As they approached the edge of the path leading back to the guild hall, hurried footsteps echoed ahead.
Gronn came barreling down the slope, his expression hard and anxious. His armor clinked with each stride, and his brows furrowed as soon as he saw the two of them.
Gronn (panting slightly):
"By the gods—what the hell happened?! I felt the mana spike from the far side of the mountain. I thought we were under attack!"
Retro (steadily):
"We were… sort of. A dark mana clone. Looked exactly like Lilly."
Gronn's eyes widened, his jaw tightening.
Gronn:
"Lilly?! Are you sure it wasn't…?"
Lea (softly, still staring at the ground):
"It wasn't her. But… it felt like her."
Gronn (rubbing his forehead):
"Damn it… this world doesn't let us rest, does it?"
Retro:
"No. And it's only going to get worse."
He walked past Gronn, motioning with his hand for them to follow.
Retro (over his shoulder):
"We need to talk. Inside."
Without another word, the three of them moved toward the hall—one step closer to answers… or another storm.
Inside the guild hall, the air was still.
The once calm, rebuilding atmosphere shifted the moment Retro, Lea, and Gronn entered. A few members inside turned to face them—some mid-conversation, some sharpening weapons, others eating quietly. But all paused.
The weight of Retro's presence was always heavy… but now? It was tangible.
Whispers began immediately.
> "That's Retro… he's the one who fought the Titans."
"Did you feel that energy earlier?"
"Something followed him back… it wasn't normal."
Retro said nothing. He walked to the main table at the center of the hall, the one with the old war map carved into its surface. He placed both hands on the edges, his head slightly bowed.
Gronn, wiping the sweat from his face, turned to the others.
Gronn (raising his voice slightly):
"All of you—back to your duties. Nothing to worry about… for now."
Most nodded, uneasy but obedient, returning to their activities. Still, the mood remained tense. A few lingered at a distance, watching closely.
Lea stood close to Retro, her arms still tight around herself. She looked shaken but grounded—holding back tears that threatened to spill.
Retro finally spoke, his voice low but resonant.
Retro:
"I thought… I might've had to kill her."
Gronn (softly):
"But it wasn't her."
Retro:
"I know. But it felt real. Too real."
He took a deep breath and looked toward the hall entrance.
Retro (sternly):
"We have to be prepared. That thing was a warning. A test. Maybe even a message."
Gronn:
"And what's the message?"
Retro:
"They know I'm awake."
Gronn went silent. The tension in the hall grew heavier.
Lea (quietly):
"...So what do we do now?"
Retro looked down at her, his eyes softer again, though his body remained rigid.
Retro:
"We train. We gather. We find those who are missing. But first…"
He glanced at the others around the room.
Retro:
"We rest. I need a clear mind. And you, kiddo, need a moment to breathe."
Gronn (grumbling):
"Fine. But make no mistake—after that? We move. The world's breaking faster than we can hold it together."
Retro gave a small nod.
And the hall, though still buzzing beneath the surface, began to settle.
Retro stood by the large window of the guild hall, his eyes drifting over the fractured horizon—the distant peaks and valleys that once held serenity now scarred by war, magic, and the unknown. His expression was unreadable, the calm masking everything underneath.
The light from the sky glinted softly off the dried blood on his side. The deep wound—inflicted during the earlier battle—was slowly knitting itself back together, threads of flesh pulling into place, veins reattaching, skin crawling closed as if guided by unseen hands. No spell had been cast. No potion taken.
Just… healing.
Lea, standing not far behind him, noticed it.
Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Her instincts told her not to break the moment.
> "That wasn't normal," she thought. "Dad's always been strong, but… this feels different. Like something inside him has changed."
She stepped closer, her boots quiet on the old stone floor.
Lea (softly):
"...You're healing faster than before."
Retro didn't turn around. He just nodded once.
Retro (quiet):
"Yeah. It started after the last time. Something's different... deeper."
There was a pause.
Lea:
"Is that... bad?"
Retro (glancing over his shoulder):
"It depends. On what I have to become next."
He looked forward again, eyes narrowing slightly as if watching something unseen.
Retro:
"But whatever it is… I'll survive it. For all of you."
Lea didn't respond. Instead, she stepped beside him and just stood there, shoulder to shoulder in silence.
The world may have been falling apart.
But for now—father and daughter stood quietly together, watching it all unfold.
As the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting a warm amber glow through the stained windows of the guild hall, Retro placed a gentle hand on Lea's back.
Retro:
"C'mon, kiddo. We've had more than our fill today."
Lea gave a soft nod, her body still tense from earlier, but her eyes showed she welcomed the calm. Without needing to say another word, they turned and made their way through the familiar corridors of the hall. The stone beneath their feet felt colder than before, the silence stretching out in long shadows, broken only by the soft echo of their steps.
As they approached the wooden door to their room, Retro opened it slowly and stepped aside for Lea to walk in first.
The room was dimly lit, the bed still slightly rumpled from the morning. The air smelled faintly of the dried herbs Gronn kept around—lavender, pine, and something else… something like smoke.
Lea moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her ears drooping slightly. Retro followed behind, carefully removing the outer layer of his worn clothes and setting his gear by the door with a tired sigh.
He looked over at her, noticing the way her hands clutched her knees.
Retro (softly):
"You okay?"
Lea:
"…I will be."
Retro gave a tired smile and ruffled her hair gently.
Retro:
"Good answer."
Without another word, he moved to the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. The quiet of the room wrapped around them like a blanket. For once, there were no monsters, no corrupted clones, no battles looming.
Just two tired souls trying to rest.
And so, as night fully claimed the sky outside, the two of them lay down—Lea resting against him once more, and Retro letting the weight of everything go for just a moment—as they drifted into a fragile, well-earned sleep.
The moonlight bathed the open field in a pale, almost surreal glow. The moment Retro stepped through the wall, the noise of the guild, the warmth of the room, and even the weight of his own body seemed to vanish. It was like walking into a memory that didn't belong to him.
There, on a simple moss-covered log in the center of the quiet field, sat Phantom—his silver-white eyes staring off into the distance, arms resting loosely on his knees, legs crossed. He wasn't cloaked in his usual chaos or menace. He just… sat.
Retro narrowed his gaze, his jaw tight as he slowly approached.
Retro (coldly):
"What do you want?"
Phantom didn't turn. Instead, his lips curled into a faint, mocking smile as he spoke in a voice laced with that ever-present sarcasm.
Phantom:
"So… the Lilly has fallen? Or has she grown? Hard to tell when she's cloaked in all that delicious corruption."
Retro's fists clenched, but he didn't draw a weapon. Not yet. There was no battle aura, no overwhelming pressure. Just a strange stillness that left every word feeling heavier.
Retro:
"You watched it happen. You knew she wasn't herself."
Phantom finally looked at him, his face still expressionless but his eyes dancing with something—amusement? Sadness? Madness?
Phantom:
"I see everything, remember? But don't act like you didn't enjoy the quiet moment before the chaos. That hesitation? That hope? It was almost… poetic."
Retro took another step forward, his eyes never leaving Phantom's.
Retro:
"Speak your piece. I'm not in the mood for games tonight."
Phantom stood up slowly, brushing off his coat as if shaking off dust from time itself. He tilted his head slightly and looked Retro in the eye, for once without malice.
Phantom:
"There's something coming. Something not even I control. You're at the center of it, of course. You always are. But what you felt tonight—the hesitation, the heartbreak, the rage… that wasn't the end of it. That was only the first echo."
Retro narrowed his eyes.
Retro:
"More riddles."
Phantom (shrugging):
"I never promised clarity. Just warnings."
Retro turned away slightly, considering the words, his heart still carrying the weight of seeing that false version of Lilly.
Retro:
"Is that why you came? To gloat? Or are you just scared for once?"
Phantom chuckled softly.
Phantom:
"Oh, I'm terrified. But not for me."
The air around them shifted for just a moment—like a heartbeat skipped across reality. Then it was still again.
Phantom walked past Retro, placing a hand on his shoulder as he did, but there was no threat in it—only a strange, solemn gravity.
Phantom (softly):
"Goodnight, Retro. You'll need it."
With that, Phantom vanished like smoke in the wind.
Retro stood there, alone in the field, the moon hanging heavy in the sky. And then, slowly, the field faded, the wall returned, and he found himself standing once more in the dark hallway outside his room—his hand pressed to the wall.
His chest rose and fell with a quiet breath.
Retro (to himself):
"…That bastard always knows how to ruin the quiet."
He turned and walked back to the room, the weight of something unseen settling on his shoulders once again.
Retro sat on the edge of the bed, the dim moonlight seeping through the cracks in the wall. His hands rested loosely on his knees, shoulders slumped—not from exhaustion, but from the weight of everything pressing on his soul.
His voice, low and raspy, barely above a whisper, escaped his lips:
Retro:
"Release me from this prison, and the world will revere me as the one who stands above."
The moment the final word left his mouth, time stopped.
The air itself shattered like thin glass—crackling, collapsing in waves of light and soundless destruction. The warmth of the room faded, the gentle night was swallowed whole, and the silence that followed was unnatural. Unholy.
Retro's body froze. Not of his own will. He couldn't move.
His fingers wouldn't twitch. His breath came shallow.
Then—she appeared.
Floating in front of him, bathed in golden, mournful light, stood Gaia. Her expression was unreadable. Eyes like galaxies. Wounds across her arms still glowing faintly from power long sacrificed.
She didn't say a word at first. She simply looked at him.
Retro's jaw clenched. Not from anger, but from the deep-seated knowledge that this wasn't just a visit.
This was a judgment.
His mouth tried to move again, but his voice failed him. Even his aura, powerful enough to distort the sky, lay dormant.
Gaia took a single step forward, and the floor beneath her bloomed with spectral flowers—petals of forgotten time. Her voice rang out, soft but reverberating in every corner of his being:
Gaia:
"You uttered the words again, child. The ones even gods fear to hear."
Retro's breath caught in his throat. She raised her hand, not to harm—but to show. A swirl of fragmented memories lit the space around them:
—The first time he fell.
—The first soul he ever took.
—The look in Atlas's eyes when he realized what Retro had become.
—The echo of Lea's voice when she first called him "Dad."
—Lilly's smile before the darkness came.
Gaia:
"Every time you say them, reality bends. But now, something else has bent with it—you. The fracture within you… it is no longer just a scar. It's a doorway."
Retro managed to move his head just slightly, locking eyes with her.
Retro (hoarse):
"…Why now?"
Gaia (solemn):
"Because this world has heard your cry. And it may finally answer."
Then, with a gentle motion, she pressed her hand to Retro's forehead.
Retro's eyes widened—a surge of warmth, pain, and clarity flooding through him.
And just as suddenly as she came—she was gone.
Time resumed. The glass returned. The room stood as it was.
Retro gasped, falling forward, his palms hitting the floor as his breath returned. Sweat beaded down his back. He clutched at his chest—his heartbeat frantic.
Whatever this was—whatever had just awakened—he knew one thing for certain:
The seal within him had started to break.