When he decided to be death, BarzoVieldem thought he could ignore the ones he loved.
He crashed into the cave wall, bones breaking as his face met the muddy surface, soaking it with blood.
The Battleof9000 was here.
And the afterlife waited for his soul, like a friend he had told his darkest secrets to. Of how he wished for peace. Peace from the life that chose him.
The blade in his hand stabbed the ground, and he pulled himself up. Agony reigned as muscles moved for the first time in what felt like forever. Tears fell, merging with blood dripping from his forehead. He stared ahead.
"Wake up," he said. "Don't you remember me? It's me… Barzo. Barzo Vieldem."
His breath slowed, fighting for control. "I don't want to do this. Please… just… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He levitated, rising as the air became his. His cape danced behind him, and his other hand released chains sparking with black flames, slithering until they merged with the sword. With one breath, he swung into silence.
❂ ❂ ❂
In Barzo's mind, when in between battle and breath, one year always rose from the shadows.
The summer of 8976.
When his oath to the sword began in the darkness of Londro. A city that grew more than the people it could fit.
It was where TomziusVieldem rocked baby Barzo's stroller, speaking of Londro as if it belonged to him. Forty-one years of life spilled into his words. Barzo stretched and giggled at the sound of his father's voice. They shared the same mark, a beauty scar running from behind their ears to their necks. The emblem of a Vieldem.
Across from him, YosenSift thought Tomzius was insane.
But then, he had always thought that.
Childhood had drawn them close. Tomzius, a mirror of everything Yosen aspired to be. The more he thought about it, the more his mind drifted back.
To the fire.
To the night he lost his mother.
To the orphanage, where grief left him hollow. He had spent his days there, unseen. Until she arrived. Her hair brown and nose was small, but slightly broken. A fighter, from the way she carried herself.
Sonna Vieldem.
"Come with me, and you'll become strong," she had told him.
At first, he hesitated, the Vieldems were historical figures within the Lands of Tophora. To be chosen by a descendant made Yosen wary, wondering if he truly deserved it.
But then he met Sonna's son, Tomzius, who welcomed him as his own. He no longer questioned it, and they trained like family. Strengthened, not just in body, but in purpose.
And as the years passed, they became a duo brothers in all but blood, leading to this moment in Londro Beach.
The distant crash of wind stretched the silence. Yosen closed his eyes as the breeze touched his skin, listening to the voices playing from his holo-device.
When the recording ended, Tomzius's voice took its place.
"Yosen," he said. "What are you listening to?"
"Reminders," Yosen said.
"Well, here's one for you," Tomzius leaned slightly forward. "Did you think about it?"
Yosen smirked, then sighed.
"Look, Tom… " he replied. "A journey beyond Londro just feels like a distraction. I'd rather not."
"The nights have been rough on all of us. You need rest, Yosen. This is the way to find it." Tomzius glanced over. "It's like you don't even notice it."
"Notice what?" Yosen finally turned to meet his gaze.
"Peace. Look around you…when was the last time summer reached Londro?"
Yosen gazed toward the shoreline.
Families dotted the beach, mothers with their children. Siblings laughing as they chased after rolling balls, their feet kicking up sand, movements blurring into joy.
Faces lit with a kind of ease he had forgotten. Even the sight of birds flying in the distance was one to hold dear.
"I want to believe it, I do," Yosen murmured. "But the Vexons have—"
"No." Tomzius gazed toward baby Barzo. "Don't bring them up. Not in front of him."
"All I'm saying is… I can't pretend peace exists. Not when I've only known it to fade."
"Wow…so progress haunts you?"
Yosen tilted his head. "We've both know the truth."
"No, no. You don't get to do that. My truth is that I learned to recite hope before the absence of it could break me. You ought to do the same."
Yosen let out a gentle scoff. Tomzius had lost much. But here he stood, still believing. Still choosing to trust in something beyond himself.
"Lydian taught you well," Yosen said.
Tomzius smirked at that.
Lydian. The mother of Barzo. His first love.
Gone in childbirth.
The market where they first met came to mind. Her green eyes made the world stop. Every conversation with her held comfort. Without her, war became his mind's only rhythm, and only she knew how to speak to him, teaching him how to let go, to heal through words.
And that gave him an idea.
One that might help Yosen now.
"Alright," Tomzius said. "This day off isn't working for you. So, let's try something else. Go on, lay it off your mind."
Yosen chuckled. "You know better than to ask me for details, Tom."
"Who do you take me for? I'm still loyal to the Kizen. Of course I'm not asking for details. I'm asking how you feel."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
"Your eyes carry the same struggle our mother had. I watched her long enough to know."
"And she never caught you?"
"Well, I wouldn't have been a good Agent if I couldn't spy," Tomzius smirked. "Listen, I know I praise peace. But that doesn't mean I'm ignoring the war."
Yosen nodded. "I'm trying…but leadership is not easy."
Tomzius leaned in, hand over his shoulder.
Just like when they were kids. Always the shield.
"Strength exists….because we know what it's like to have none. Perfection only makes sense once we've made mistakes. Have hope, and you'll know how to build strength from weakness."
He squeezed. "You can do it, brother. I know you can."
Yosen's fists tightened. In his mind he saw the strength he needed. Not yet in hand, but near. He just needed to reach it.
For Tophora. For himself.
❂ ❂ ❂
Meanwhile, far along the beach, a lone boy was the first to see it. Harsh winds occurred underneath the sands.
"Mother… what is that?" he asked.
His mother pulled him close, her eyes fixed on the rising shape beyond the dunes.
A man? A woman?
Vexo Wielders.
Then, a quiet storm formed above.
"Everyone, run!!"
Yosen heard it before he saw it. The distant sound of screams. He turned sharply, instinct kicking in.
Barzo's stroller was beside him. But Tomzius disappeared.
"Operation Guild," he barked.
"Yes, LeaderSift," the artificial responded.
"Locate Agent Vieldem."
"Identified. He's approaching the Vexo Wielder."
"Connect me to him. Now!"
The same lone child stumbled, his small frame shaking.
His mother, lost in the chaos, had left him behind.
Now he stood alone, facing the figure ahead.
Green armour shimmered as the Vexon raised their sword blaster, and a storm of energy tore toward the boy. He shut his eyes, heart pounding as youthful memories became treasure, and thoughts of a future slipped from his small palms. The singing birds had quieted. The thunderstorm muted all sound. Only his shaking breath remained.
He trembled, vibrating so intensely he glanced at one hand, then the other. He touched his sand covered shirt.
Nothing.
Death never came.
And as he glanced up, slowly, careful not to show signs of hope—he saw him.
Tomzius standing before him, holding his Waypnary sword, Ozium. The blast had split across its edge.
"Be with your mother, child," he said, rubbing his Reja Gear, a vest lined with tiny air thrusters. "Vexon! You dare come here?"
His gaze dropped to their weapon, running through every scenario, every angle. The battlefield was bare.
Only innocents stood in the distance. And the more he thought, the more it all led to one conclusion—death.
"Tom!" Yosen's voice crackled through the comms. "Tom, stand down. Let me handle this!"
A chuckle. Tomzius looked out in the ocean, its purple waves drifting endlessly. A reflection of his calm.
He placed a hand over his chest. "'Never put a Tophoran in harms way.' That is the vow."
And today, he'd honor it the only way he could.
But for the first time, doubt crept in. Not in fear of death, In fear of Barzo. The warmth of his small hands. The way he laughed at the sound of his voice. The love he would never get to show him.
"D.P. Initiate self-destruction."
"Command acknowledged."
"Tomzius!" Yosen yelled. "Please, don't do this. I beg of you!"
The eyes of Tophorans watched, wide and fearful.
Witnesses to the fate that awaited.
Tomzius stared at the Vexon's shadow helmet, the storm roaring louder above.
He pressed his comm one last time. "Take care of my child, brother." He formed the symbol of Gold Ocean. "The Kizen is of my peace."
Then, he ran, the father in him vanished, only the AgentofChaos remained. The Vexon raised their sword blaster, the storms merging with their blade, unleashing like a spell. But Tomzius countered, the Mercial Stance fully activated. His sword flashed, cutting through air, through the clouds. The Vexon hesitated, a fatal mistake. Their stomach felt the crushing grip of Tomzius's arm. Then, he ascended.
Yosen could do nothing but watch. Eyes burning. Heart pounding. His brother vanished into the skies, toward death itself. A final blaze of fire tore through the clouds.
And silence. Not the peace he had once believed in.
But silence all the same.
Yosen's gaze dropped to the stroller.
The world had just rewritten Barzo's fate.
And even his own.
❂ ❂ ❂
The Agent uniform felt heavier on Yosen tonight. His torn dark purple cape whipped against the wind.
The Marble Association Castle was quieter than it had ever been. Sensing Tomzius' absence. Sensing Yosen's grief.
The Black Micr whispered. Voices of the dead slithered into his ears. A wall that burned the names of fallen Marble Agents into its surface. This was the art of a Technax.
Every Association had one. A way to remember.
Yosen stared at Tomzius' name, the flames had barely cooled. A ghost stirred at his side, a younger Tomzius, holding his hand. Then, CujaVarnix. Their childhood best friend. Green eyes. Dark skin, paled by time. Long black hair streaked with white, falling past her waist. Fangs, a mark of her lineage.
A beauty that once had his heart.
Before the Kizen. Before leadership.
Yosen blinked, and reality snapped back into place.
The real Cuja stood beside him now, her fingers grazing Tomzius' name. For six years, she hadn't set foot in the Marble Association. Her presence alone stirred whispers across the castle. Was it really the Agent of Souls standing before him, or just a flicker of light in her place?
"You knew," Yosen said, his brows furrowed. "You knew they returned, and you said nothing."
"He begged me not to contact you," Cuja replied. "Just one day, without Agents or orders."
"We leaders cannot rest," he snapped. "You were wrong to believe so."
"Or I thought there could be peace, for once." She held his gaze. "But I never imagined they'd strike there. Not the beach. Even for them, that's low."
Cuja watched the way his throat tightened as he swallowed. She wore the PARN Association emblem. A white cloak swept the floor as they walked with effortless grace. Their footsteps echoed through halls steeped in war. The stone walls around them had witnessed decades of conflict. All against a single enemy.
The Domeinus Union.
A military alliance of three nations.
The force behind the Vexo Wielders.
And in this moment, Cuja felt different about the war. She held out a holo-device, which Yosen caught. His lips pinched as he swiped through the data. A red, pulsing dot flashed against his face. More storms. More Vexons.
"They're hiding in central," she warned. "But many innocents are near. Let your Agents handle this one."
"I never said I'd return to battle," Yosen replied.
"You don't need to." Cuja turned to him, staring into the storm behind his calm. "Promise me you will not go."
His fists clenched. "You act like standing still is safer. But I've seen what silence costs."
"I assure you," she whispered, "It's less than the sins we've committed."
Yosen flinched, haunted by the touch of blood on his hands. Hallucinations born of memory. Wounds that were not his own, yet caused by his actions. The warrior he had buried now crawled back into his conscience.
And as for Cuja, her guilt ran just as deep. Both palms pressed against the hilt of her Waypnary, Inicrix, a crystal blade resting quietly in its scabbard. Its days of usage had grown quieter. Now it was will, not violence, that led her.
"Do I…" she said. "Do I need to remind you—"
"No," he replied, hushing the guilt.
Cuja's eyes drifted toward the ceiling, looking beyond, to something neither of them could reach as she spoke.
"Our vow was to never cross that line again. So for once, do what he'd wish for."
Her final footsteps faded into the corridor's depths.
Yosen stared at the floor, saying nothing.
Cuja was right. He knew it.
Yet anger was all that remained.
And peace had never been so distant.
❂ ❂ ❂
The Lanion Room. A chamber of war, where Agents gathered for strategy and briefings.
Yosen's gaze drifted to the statue of UreyaVieldem, the founder of the Marble Association. Her presence loomed over the room. She had fought so the battles of the past would never repeat. And yet, here they were.
Seated with him were three of his Agents.
Bayla. Fortune. Vidiax.
They had stood by him from the beginning, since he had taken over as Sonna Vieldems successor. And tonight, that honor felt like a shackle.
Vidiax clenched her fists, her warrior's spirit unable to fathom the sight before her. The holographic map flickered, red dots painting Londro in warning, confirming the worst. Any more tension, and her fists would shatter the desk. She was their best. The one who ensured success in missions. The AgentofNight.
The Agent of Fire, Bayla, was once burdened by her mind being too sharp, believing it a curse. But Yosen saw her differently. The careful hero the city needed.
But Fortune, the Agent of Targets, always saw past the odds. And he had a scar that covered his face to prove it.
"Listen carefully," Vidiax said. "Tophoran lives were lost tonight. Children. Mothers. Fathers. Their spirits need us. So Bayla, give us something. Anything."
Bayla pressed a hand to her chin. "Based on the locations they hit, it seems the Echo Amplifier wasn't their target. This was a call for battle. We can reach them through the tunnels. A surprise attack."
The room fell silent.
"Leader Sift…" Vidiax looked at him.
Yosen stared, almost forgetting his surroundings. Grief choked him. But there was no time to succumb to it now. With a quiet sigh, he nodded at the Agents.
A confirmation of war.
They stood up, bowing whilst holding up the Gold Ocean symbol. Their footsteps faded down the hall, heading to the battle. And he was all alone in the darkness. The silence was unbearable. He sat there, unmoving, staring at the place where their faces had been.
Six years.
That was how long Yosen had stayed behind the lines.
A choice, not hesitation. He wielded a Waypnary called WorldDarna, a double-sided blade. His Secondary were bracelets that pulsed with magnetic force. Together, they carved their legend into the Vexons, burning through armor and shattering ranks. And for six years, the world wondered if he had chosen mercy.
Meanwhile, his peers feared his control over such power, a worry only deepened by his title as the second Elexant—the strongest Agent of the era.
A small cry broke the silence.
Barzo.
Yosen entered his room, his steps quiet as he moved toward the infant in his cot. He lifted him gently, holding him close, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Rocking him slowly, he began to hum a melody Tomzius once did when they were young. A song for moments when fear crept in, when the world felt too heavy. Now, that same symphony echoed into Barzo's ears.
And just like that, the crying stopped.
Tiny fingers wrapped around his own. Yosen stilled. For the first time, something shifted. A warmth that should not exist in a world so cold. But even as it settled in his chest, the vow came louder.
Barzo would not suffer.
Would not be weak.
Would not be left at the mercy of this world.
Yosen would make him into something greater.
A force no one could stop.
A Protector of Tophora.