Weeks passed aboard Sebbeh's ship. By now, the sharp edges between everyone had worn down; misunderstandings had dissolved into familiarity, and most had found some form of peace with one another.
Myles hadn't.
What began as a lingering bitterness from their first meeting had only rooted itself deeper. It didn't help that he had grown close to Irva. The more he understood her, the more something inside him twisted. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed her in some quiet, unspoken way. Sebbeh spent most of his time with Rai, and though he never admitted it aloud, a part of him… liked that. The way she seemed to favour him. The way her attention lingered.
He didn't know why.
Maybe it had something to do with Lia.
Even so, none of it sat right with him. Not when Irva always seemed just a little too quiet, a little too lost in her own thoughts. Rai noticed it too, often trying to help, but somehow only making things worse.
And Sebbeh?
Myles' jaw tightened at the thought.
To him, the man was nothing short of a fraud. A cheat. Someone who wore the title of husband like a hollow badge while treating the woman who had stood beside him at his lowest as though she were… expendable.
Disgusting.
And yet, Rai—
What did she see in him?
The feeling was mutual, at least. Sebbeh made no effort to hide his disdain. Every glance carried a scowl, every encounter laced with silent hostility.
Myles didn't care.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
Now, seated across from Rai, the tension coiled in his chest finally pushed him forward.
"Lady Rai… we haven't known each other long," he began, his voice slower than usual, careful. He hesitated, the words threatening to tangle before they even left him. "But your husband… I can't bring myself to accept him. Not even a little."
A pause.
"I know you're kind. Nurturing." His brows pulled together slightly. "So I can't help but wonder what could possibly draw you to—"
Rai lifted her hand gently, stopping him before the thought could fully form.
Her smile was soft. Too soft.
"You are precious," she said quietly, her gaze lowering to her hands. "My little Lia is very fortunate to have you."
Myles fell silent.
She rose from her seat and moved behind him, her presence warm but somehow distant.
"Sebbeh, in his current state…" she began, her voice dipping into something more fragile, "is not the man I married. No… he isn't."
Myles resisted the urge to turn, his fingers curling slightly against his knees.
"He's a shell of who he used to be," she continued, a faint tremor threading through her words. "But…"
A pause. A breath.
"I hold on," she said, softer now, "because as his first love, I carry pieces of him. Pieces I believe… I can one day put back together."
Her hand rested gently on his shoulder.
"Thank you," she added, "for your concern. For me… and for Irva."
A small, strained laugh escaped her.
"I don't know what broke him so completely without me," she admitted, the words almost fragile enough to shatter, "but I promise you—her friend, and her—I will bring back the man we loved…"
Another pause.
"Or perhaps… someone even better."
The laugh came again, thinner this time.
"I sound like a child."
Her hand rose to cover her mouth, but it was too late. The tears had already begun to fall.
Something in Myles hardened.
If there had been even a sliver of doubt left in him, it vanished.
Sebbeh wasn't just neglecting one woman.
He was breaking two.
And still, he carried himself with pride. With arrogance.
Myles' gaze darkened.
What kind of man does that… and still dares to call himself one?
Earlier, a part of him had enjoyed the attention he gave her.
And he had hated himself for it.
Now… he understood why.
Myles knelt beside Rai as she trembled, her composure finally breaking. He pulled her into a gentle embrace, offering what little comfort he could. It wasn't much.
But it was honest.
Yes… that was it.
He saw her as an older sister.
Someone he looked up to. Someone he wanted to protect, even if the logic of it made no sense. Even if he was younger. Even if he was weaker.
It didn't matter.
Myles had three reasons now.
Three.
To beat Sebbeh.
To drag him back to his senses… or shatter that hollow pride he clung to.
How hard could it be?
He wasn't a man, after all.
Lia.
Rai.
And now Irva.
For them… and maybe, just maybe, for his own peace of mind.
According to Sebbeh's navigators, they would reach their destination in two months.
Two months.
Plenty of time to prepare for a challenge.
Far from Domain First… far from Sebbeh's ship…
A red-haired man sat across from three burly figures.
Their thick, grey skin stretched over massive frames, tusks protruding as they laughed and jeered, their voices heavy and crude.
They spoke freely.
Confidently.
Too confidently.
The red-haired man, however, remained calm.
A small, controlled smile rested on his lips.
He placed a single card on the table.
Silence fell.
A soft ding whispered into his earpiece.
His smile widened… just a fraction.
He stood.
"Until next time, boys."
From behind him, he pulled a hat and placed it neatly atop his head, tipping it as he turned away.
Behind him, the room erupted.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
One of them charged, bursting through the door with surprising speed.
Too slow.
"Damn it!!"
Outside, the world stretched wide and alive.
His hair drifted as though suspended in water, each strand caught in a slowed current of time itself. His dark, red-tinted eyes flickered…
Gold.
Everything slowed.
He ran.
Leaping across metallic rooftops, dancing above a city of floating streets and hovering vehicles. The chaos below blurred into something almost beautiful.
From up here… it was worth it.
But the question lingered.
Why was he still running?
Those three were dealt with.
So what—
A projectile tore past his face.
"Oh—shit!"
He dropped instantly, landing hard on a lower path as an explosion bloomed behind him.
It swallowed the air—
But not the world.
The buildings stood untouched. The people walked on, unaware.
Everything… except him… had been shielded.
He ducked into cover, exhaling sharply.
"'Haha, let's go to Urn, it'll be fun…'"
He mimicked his past self with a bitter edge, gesturing loosely.
"Always with the great ideas…"
Another sigh.
"Relentless, these bastards."
He vaulted onto a ledge, pulling himself up with one arm—
"Huh?!"
One of his pursuers froze mid-step.
"Damn it… you shouldn't have seen that."
In an instant, he closed the distance.
One punch.
Silence.
The body dropped.
"It's too risky to stay here…"
Then—
Every screen lit up.
Every single one.
His face.
Stamped across the city.
MURDERER.
"…Well," he muttered, glancing around at the endless sea of his own image. "That's new."
The street beneath him ruptured.
An armored beast surged upward, roaring as it lunged.
He sighed.
"Peaceful getaway, my ass."
His hair flared wildly now.
Time slowed again—
No.
This time…
It stopped.
Completely.
He looked around, eyes narrowing.
"The three from earlier…"
A pause.
"…Enforcers."
Another sigh.
"That explains it."
Then he moved.
Not like a man.
Like a streak of light.
Through them.
Around them.
Across drones, between aircraft, weaving destruction with impossible precision until—
He landed inside one.
A swift kick sent the pilot flying.
He slid into the cockpit, inserting a drive.
The lights shifted.
Red.
Time snapped back.
Across the city, every screen flickered—his face erased, replaced by a crimson glow.
Behind him—
Chaos.
Explosions. Collisions. Blood painting the air like a final signature.
He didn't look back.
"Yeah…" he muttered, voice low, almost tired. "The crimson streak of death and destruction strikes again."
Melancholy clung to the words.
As the engine roared to life, the craft surged forward—
But below, one dying enforcer stirred.
With his last breath, he launched a small device.
It latched onto the fleeing craft.
"Die… you bastard…"
His voice faded with him.
Light-years away, the man drifted through open space.
The explosion had thrown him wildly off course, sending his body spinning in the silent dark. Despite it, he remained intact. His clothes were scorched, edges still faintly smoking, but his body… untouched.
Alive.
Three scout crafts sliced through the void, their engines humming like distant whispers. They slowed as they approached the floating figure.
One of the pilots leaned forward, disbelief creeping into his voice.
"He's… still alive."
A sharp inhale came from another.
"Could he be one of the Queen's kin?"
A pause.
"…We take him to her."
A beam of light descended, swallowing the man whole and pulling him into one of the crafts.
Then—
They vanished.
Queen Allyser Luminé II sat poised upon her throne, her presence quiet yet absolute. Authority did not need to announce itself here. It simply… was.
"Watch it!" the man snapped as he was forced to his knees before her.
No one reacted.
"I thought you presumed him to be my kin."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
The kind of calm that made the room feel colder.
A soldier stepped forward quickly, bowing her head.
"Apologies, my Queen. It seems we may have assumed incorrectly. He is… crude. Careless in speech. Perhaps a distant descendant at best. Not of pure blood."
From the side, a knight stepped forward.
Elegant.
Silent.
Her presence was almost overwhelming, like standing too close to something beautiful and dangerous at once. Even the air seemed to shift around her.
"And you are?" Allyser asked, her gaze settling back on the man.
The knight reached down, gripping his hair and pulling his head up.
"Answer her."
For a fleeting moment, something flickered in Allyser's eyes.
Interest.
The man smiled.
"Aethon Crimson."
A beat.
His grin widened slightly as his gaze met the Queen's.
"What a beauty you are, Queen."
The strike came instantly.
A single, precise blow from the knight.
His body went limp, collapsing forward.
Silence returned.
Allyser smiled.