The masked man's ashes pulsed with a crimson glow.
Then, from the embers, a silver, ethereal butter knife—intricately carved with mesmerizing patterns—shot toward James.
It was no ordinary weapon.
This was an automatic mechanism, set in motion long ago. The masked man had marked James' soul, ensuring that even in death, he would fulfill his mission.
The knife moved.
Fast.
Faster than the masked man had ever been.
James had no time to dodge.
It was just a butter knife. James was covered with very hard bone armor. Why would it ever be a threat?
Wrong.
It passed right through the armor like a rock sinking into water.
James' aura immediately exploded, his body reverting to its original form—muscular and lean, with black hair and white skin.
His sharp green eyes gleamed—piercing, like they could see through a person's soul.
"PROTECT CLARA AND JOHAN!!" Leor yelled as loud as his voice could muster to Vane.
Tick!
He instantly pressed a silver-colored lighter.
Flick!
A spark—small, innocent—cut through the tense atmosphere.
And then—
WHOOOM!
With a deafening roar, the house shook violently as a wave of heat slammed into the walls. The explosion tore through the building, flames swallowing everything in their path.
The sound was an ear-splitting detonation, an instant of pure chaos.
The world turned white, fire consuming all inside Vane's Imperium cage.
Shards of glass and timber shot through the air like shrapnel, tearing through the suffocating heat.
Haa! Haa!
Vane gasped for breath, his body trembling. White ethereal chains bound Clara, Johan, and Leor, pulling them from the wreckage. His lungs burned, his vision blurred.
Johan's head bled from a fresh wound, his body limp, likely concussed.
The thick stench of burning wood, metal, and scorched flesh choked the air. It clogged their noses, their lungs, forming a heavy lump in their throats.
Leor pried his eyes open. They were red, teary, stinging from the smoke. But his gaze found James—no, not James—and his heart sank.
'That feeling again.'
That same, suffocating feeling of being an ant before a black hole. No matter what an ant does, it cannot escape. It cannot fight. It cannot even resist.
James swirled back into existence, as if he had merely stepped out of view for a moment. Like a spectator watching a play.
His clothes had changed.
A grey full suit, elegant yet cold. Draped over it was a luxurious fur-lined overcoat, the kind worn by royalty or executioners.
He looked at Leor. Not with anger. Not with hate. With intrigue.
Vane's instincts roared at him, but he still acted. Black chains shot forward, each link pulsating with lethal intent. Their speed, though fast, was slower than before.
But 'James' didn't even acknowledge Vane's existence.
He only stared at Clara, Johan, and Leor.
Vane gritted his teeth, his mind screaming at him. He knew why Leor had done it.
Even knowing the explosion was futile, even knowing their attacks meant nothing, Leor still did it.
Because it was never about winning.
It was about defiance.
It was about not going down without a fight.
Leor staggered to his feet, his hands shaking but steady as he raised his midnight black revolver toward 'James.'
"He couldn't even kill these children… and yet I trusted him with such an important mission."
'James' sighed, his voice dripping with disappointment. His face turned thoughtful, as if reconsidering a past decision.
Clara stood frozen.
Her heart pounded in her chest, her vision swimming.
The air was wrong.
It hummed, vibrated, as if something far greater than herself had entered reality.
She didn't understand.
She couldn't understand.
But she knew one thing for certain.
This was not her brother.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. His presence was too big, too overwhelming, as if the very world bent around him.
Like nature itself obeyed his will.
Like the air, the ground, the sky—they weren't hers anymore.
They were his.
'James' turned toward her.
His gaze was indulgent, affectionate, just like before.
But his green eyes glowed—not like a human's, but something incomprehensible.
"James…?"
The word escaped her lips in a shattered whisper.
Her body moved on instinct.
She stepped forward, reaching for him, yearning to hold him, to cling to him like she once did—like she always had—
A sharp yank.
Clara gasped as she was ripped back, Leor's hands clamping tightly onto her shoulders.
"That's not James!"
His voice was harsh, desperate. His grip firm, yet comforting—like he was trying to hold her together.
Her breath hitched.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
Then another.
Then another.
Her face was wet, her body trembling.
It's not that she didn't see it.
She knew.
She knew from the moment he spoke, from the moment his presence crushed her existence.
But she just wanted to believe.
She wanted to cling—cling to that warm, indulgent smile.
The moment was shattered.
'James' turned cold.
His expression hardened, no longer amused.
The black chains finally reached him.
Thud. Thud.
Vane's eyes widened.
Impossible.
Even if he could dodge them… but that—
The chains fell to the ground.
Thousands of black chains—chains that weren't real, that weren't physical—
And yet now, they clattered like solid iron.
Vane's mind reeled.
'James' raised a single finger.
Vane's breath stopped.
It was his technique.
The midnight black chains of death.
But this time—
They moved faster.
Their aura twisted, warped, darkened.
These weren't just chains.
These were erasure.
Vane's instincts screamed at him. He had no chance against them.
But he was the Guardian.
He had one choice left.
'What if I make a contract with a spirit to teleport them to safety? Master would definitely protect them. Only I have to die, then…'
'It doesn't matter.'
'I am the Guardian.'
Vane steeled his nerves.
His heart pounded. His body ached.
He had made up his mind.
Then—
His life flashed before his eyes.
'Of course.'
'He wouldn't let me.'
'He's after them, after all.'
Vane felt the urge to laugh, to let out every emotion.
He wanted to do so much.
To change the world.
To explore the Dark Seas.
To find someone he wouldn't have to act in front of.
Someone who would love him for who he was.
Then—
A voice.
Emotionless. Yet filled with compassion.
"Janus Eos, why are you bullying children now?"
The battlefield froze.
Vane's eyes brightened.
Despair Fading from them.