If it opened, he was the husband Mavis was prophesied to meet.
If it didn't, he wasn't.
But what did it mean when it opened halfway, only to forcefully snap shut?
Did it imply he was the one, yet simultaneously not the one?
Locke looked at Mavis, his expression filled with profound confusion.
Mavis clearly hadn't anticipated this outcome either. Her large, expressive eyes widened with equal bewilderment.
"Mother would never deceive me. She absolutely wouldn't."
Locke quietly returned the journal to her.
Under normal circumstances, if a secure log or artifact presented this type of baseline resistance, it would immediately trigger his curiosity, and he would deploy every available asset to bypass the encryption and uncover the contents.
But this was a highly irregular scenario.
Mavis was undeniably striking and carried a distinct charm, but when it came to romantic variables, Locke maintained a specific philosophy.
He preferred a reactive stance.
The vast majority of his cognitive focus was dedicated entirely to the optimization of his reward point metrics. Had Gwen not aggressively initiated their connection, he likely would have adhered strictly to his foundational directive: personal entanglements merely compromise the velocity of point accumulation.
He would have contentedly remained a detached observer amidst the volatile social dynamics of Midtown High.
Gwen's direct approach had disrupted that isolation.
However... one primary attachment was entirely sufficient. There was zero operational utility in introducing redundant complications. Furthermore, given his current developmental stage and timeline position, establishing an expansive domestic circle was an unnecessary distraction.
To that end...
"My apologies," Locke offered, his tone perfectly even as he addressed the girl. "It appears an error has manifested within the diagnostic sequence."
Mavis looked up sharply. "That is impossible. Mother's insights are infallible."
Locke opened his mouth to counter, but before he could articulate a response, Mavis lowered her head, softly murmuring to herself,
"Mother doesn't lie to me. She definitely doesn't. She explicitly stated the correct gentleman within my timeline would be designated as Locke. There is no error."
As the final syllable left her lips...
*Pop.*
A localized plume of white vapor erupted around Mavis. Her form condensed instantly into a compact, wide-eyed bat. Flapping her wings, she offered a soft, apologetic chirp before pivoting to navigate back through the upper canopy.
Hearing her final statement, Locke's brow knit into a sharp line.
"Hold on a moment."
Intending to return to her domestic sector to minimize her father's operational anxiety, the juvenile bat offered a parting glance toward Locke under the cold moonlight. Instantly, her tiny jaw dropped in visible shock.
Under the midnight glow, the delicate, aristocratic features of Locke's vampire persona began to smoothly dissolve.
If his sub-tier vampire profile represented a refined, chilling aesthetic...
Then Locke's baseline physical profile was the absolute epitome of masculine presence—vibrant, grounded, and radiating an immediate, absolute sense of structural security. It was the definitive manifestation of genuine authority.
"You indicated the profile required the designation Locke," Locke stated, keeping his hands casual inside his pockets as he tracked the compact form hovering in the upper airspace.
"I am Locke."
*Pop.*
The vapor manifested once more, and Mavis instantly reverted to her seventeen-year-old punk-metal presentation. She stared at the physical transformation before her in absolute disbelief.
"How... how is that possible? What are you?"
As she spoke, the enchanted paper dove nestled against her chest began to beat its wings with renewed energy, launching itself directly toward Locke once more.
This time, however, it skipped the orbital path entirely, settling with absolute stability directly onto Locke's shoulder. It let out a soft, rhythmic cooing sound toward Mavis, as if executing a confirmation code.
Mavis's features illuminated instantly. She locked her focus onto Locke, her voice rising with certainty.
"I knew it! Mother's calculations were entirely flawless. You are indeed my husband!"
Locke: "..."
I am absolutely not.
The denial sat on the tip of his tongue, but at that exact juncture, his structural interest regarding the journal left by Mavis's mother spiked dramatically.
Mavis's chronological age stood at one hundred and fourteen years.
This implied her mother had processed the scrying divination over a century ago—a temporal marker that preceded his actual arrival into this reality by a massive margin.
A highly specific structural probability crystallized in his mind.
Mavis's mother had indeed executed a valid divination, and she had targeted his specific profile. But structurally speaking, he wasn't the original target intended by the timeline.
Locke extended his hand. "Present the journal."
Mavis blinked, processing the request for a fraction of a second before offering a quick nod. Reaching into her spatial satchel, she extracted the massive leather volume once more and placed it into Locke's hand, her features alive with intense anticipation.
Locke opened the binding, his fingers securing the edge of the unyielding page.
The next millisecond... The parchment turned with absolute fluidity, offering zero mechanical or magical resistance. The validation sequence had cleared completely.
Immediately following the transition, the blank surface of the page began to shimmer with a distinct, emerald arcane resonance. As the glow receded, precise lines of handwritten script began to materialize across the fiber.
...
Greetings, Locke Broughton.
"..."
Locke's brow arched instantly as he read the opening designation.
I offer my sincere regrets for accessing your profile through these parameters.
However... I ask for your understanding regarding a deceased mother's profound concern for her child's trajectory. Or perhaps, look upon this as the shared concern of two mothers monitoring the welfare of their respective children.
This specific data loop was captured near the terminal phase of my lifespan, utilizing the most sacred artifact under my instructor's jurisdiction.
Your structural signature is entirely unique.
My initial intent was to map your independent timeline, but an unidentified baseline variable consistently obfuscated direct observation. Had my primary focus not been anchored to my daughter's personal vector, your presence would have remained entirely invisible to my faculties.
Regrettably, my observation was confined to a singular future sequence—a matrimonial event characterized by an abundance of floral arrangements and a flowing river system. I caught only a distant, transient glimpse, yet I harbor a deep wish that I might occupy a physical space at the venue when my daughter celebrates that milestone.
I extend my gratitude to you for providing absolute security over my daughter. Within that sequence, her dialogue explicitly detailed the care and defense you afforded her. To ensure Mavis receives a legacy of true value, I ask that you pardon my direct intervention.
...
"..."
Locke raised his gaze.
Directly ahead, Mavis continued to watch him with a look of pure, unadulterated expectation.
Locke let out a slow breath.
'So that was the mechanism.' Mavis's mother hadn't targeted his timeline through direct scrying metrics; she had mapped her daughter's future path, capturing his data footprint through secondary proximity.
Yet, from an analytical perspective, the parameters still defied conventional logic.
An arcane practitioner possessing the capacity to navigate temporal streams with that degree of precision shouldn't have suffered a premature death while failing to provide direct security for her own offspring.
Unless...
An instructor?
A sacred temporal artifact?
The Ancient One? The Eye of Agamotto?
Locke's brow climbed higher as he re-examined the phrasing within the text. The maternal figure attached to Mavis wasn't an unaligned, wild witch; she was an accredited sorcerer trained directly under the Kamar-Taj framework.
Throughout the terrestrial sphere—and realistically, across the broader cosmic theater—the capacity to actively observe distinct temporal trajectories was almost exclusively restricted to the Sanctuary network utilizing the Time Stone, currently housed within the Eye of Agamotto.
But... the implications left Locke entirely speechless.
Mavis's mother had explicitly verified a matrimonial sequence involving Mavis. Statistically, that should be an impossibility. Was he genuinely destined to operate as a compromised actor, maintaining dual parallel commitments in the future?
That contradicted his entire psychological profile. He was seventeen years old, operating with absolute, unblemished focus.
'Could it imply a future separation from Gwen?'
That was a statistical zero. Locke could identify absolutely zero variables that would cause him to terminate his connection with Gwen.
Therefore, eliminating all baseline impossibilities, the remaining conclusion—regardless of how structurally absurd it appeared—had to be the accurate reading:
'He was actually going to become a multi-layered romantic operator in the future?'
Locke found himself deeply shaken.
...
An hour later...
Locke observed the heavily illuminated lobby of the lodge before quietly slipping back into his quarters. Stepping into the en-suite bathroom, he cleanly dissolved the Doppelganger mechanism, integrated his consciousness back into his primary body, and returned to the bed.
The moment he slid beneath the covers, Gwen, driven by some instinctual tracking capacity, immediately adjusted her posture to press tightly against his chest.
Then... Gwen's eyes fluttered open with a hint of suspicion. Still mostly submerged in sleep, she rubbed her face against his chest. "Why is your skin so incredibly cold?"
"The ventilation in the restroom is exceptionally low," Locke replied smoothly.
Gwen offered a faint, groggy murmur of assent before immediately slipping back into a deep slumber.
Locke remained propped against the pillows, his gaze tracking the shifting shadows on the ceiling.
Mavis had already initiated her return transit, noting that her father was bordering on a state of severe panic and was actively preparing to mobilize their secluded social circle to launch a full-scale search operation within the human sector.
Furthermore, her mother's historical notes explicitly mandated that she refrain from unmanaged excursions into the human domain prior to reaching full maturity.
Though her mother had passed shortly after her delivery, Mavis had consistently engaged with her maternal guidance through the medium of the journal, maintaining absolute faith in the directives.
Consequently, having verified that Locke aligned with the profile detailed in the scrying data, she had extended a formal invitation prior to her departure, requesting his presence to witness her upcoming maturity ceremony.
Before Locke could form a verbal response, she had transformed back into that wide-eyed, remarkably pristine juvenile bat and taken flight into the night sky.
It appeared her primary objective for the excursion was simply to execute an initial introduction and establish visual recognition with her future partner.
Locke could accurately state that prior to this evening, he had never considered a chiropteran asset capable of possessing such refined, aesthetically flawless physical characteristics.
Moreover, the entire sequence of events tonight was absurdly surreal.
He had barely initialized his sub-tier vampire profile before being confronted with a massive future spoiler, informing him that his timeline contained a marriage commitment to Mavis, a high-tier noble within the vampire aristocracy and the daughter of Count Dracula.
Locke decided he required a brief period of mental stabilization.
Similarly in need of stabilization was Erin Lindsay, who had spent her evening receiving a severe concussive blow to the skull, resulting in a prominent hematoma that completely disrupted her hairstyle.
Yet, Erin showed zero inclination toward rest.
As the first faint indicators of dawn began to paint the horizon, she had already materialized at the front parking enclosure, dressed in an athletic tank top and shorts, engaging in a highly intense, breathless sparring session with Hank Voight.
"Ha!"
"Hah!"
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
Across the gravel lot, beads of sweat rolled down Erin's forehead as she maintained an aggressive offensive chain against Hank's calculated defensive guard.
She had never experienced this level of systemic vitality in her entire life. Her physical frame felt entirely rejuvenated, as if an immense, invisible weight had been lifted from her skeleton. Every cellular structure in her body seemed to be celebrating a profound, total rebirth.
Locke stood with his hands resting casually inside his pockets, leaning against the exterior wood paneling as he let out a mild yawn.
To be clear, it wasn't driven by physical exhaustion; his energetic metrics were operating at an absolute peak. Rather, it was a secondary reaction to Gwen, who was standing adjacent to him and had let out a tired yawn due to an interrupted sleep cycle, triggering a natural empathetic reflex in Locke.
Looping her arm smoothly through Locke's, Gwen tracked the rapid exchanges between Erin and Hank in the early light, her eyes blinking curiously.
"Locke, do you know who originally managed my foundational hand-to-hand training?"
Locke turned his head to meet her gaze.
Gwen offered a warm, nostalgic smile. "It was Erin. She mapped out my baseline blocks and counters during one of her previous field assignments in New York."
Locke blinked, processing the immediate proximity of the connection.
***
300 bonus is here, next is 500 stones for 3 chapters. We did it last week so i hope we can do it again
Thanks for reading
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Read 40 Chapters early on P-atreon.com/Redestro666