The wind whistled gently through the graveyard, carrying the scent of grass, rain, and mourning. A soft drizzle tapped against the stone markers, but Kuro didn't move. His coat clung to him, soaked at the shoulders, yet he stood unwavering before the gravestone. Beside him, Zephyra's eyes remained closed, whispering something to the wind.
Kuro glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth curling into a rare, genuine smile. Zephyra's hair moved with the breeze like it was alive—connected, responsive, elemental. She opened her eyes and met his gaze.
"You always talk to the wind?" he asked, his voice soft.
Zephyra nodded, calm."Sometimes, it talks back."
Kuro chuckled, stepping closer, the faintest smirk curling at the corner of his lips. His silver-white hair, immaculate yet windswept, fell slightly over one cold, focused eye. His long, high-collared coat rippled as the air between them stilled. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath—time arrested by the gravity between them.
Then—without a word—he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't desperate. Just a quiet, trembling connection shared in the space between sorrow and strength.
Zephyra's eyes widened in surprise, her breath hitching—startled, stunned, unsure what to do. But before she could respond, Kuro had already pulled back, turned, and started walking away, his footsteps a quiet echo in the mist.
"Thank you," he whispered—barely audible.
But she heard it.
The wind carried his words like a song only she could hear. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Her heart raced, confused and warm.
Kuro didn't turn back. His expression shifted—now sharp, steady. His eyes, once gentle, now blazed with grim resolve.
"It's time…" he muttered. "Time to get everyone together."
Task Force 141.
Task Force 141. Formed by the Emperor himself—each member chosen not for rank, but for raw, terrifying potential.
And in the back of his mind—memories flickered like broken film reels.
---
The old barracks.Dusty. Cramped.Somehow always too cold and too loud.
It smelled like metal, gun oil, sweat… and something almost sacred.
Not in the holy sense.
But the way a firepit feels after laughter.The way an old jacket smells like the people you wore it with.
Kuro stood at the center of it all, arms crossed, a reluctant guardian of chaos.
His eyes scanned the mess: equipment scattered, someone yelling in the back, faint sparks flying out of something that should definitely not be sparking.
"You know," he said slowly, voice edged with tired affection, "normal squads run drills, clean gear, meditate. You lot? You build a flamethrower out of Kaen's toothbrush."
Ashen sat cross-legged in the corner, his mask hiding everything but the quiet focus in his hands—methodically reloading his sidearm like it was a form of prayer."You told us to 'think tactically.'"
"Not to become war crimes in human form, Ashen."
Vex lay upside down on a crate, flipping a coin in the air. His grin was pure mischief, eyes bright with a kind of joy only chaos could bring."Relax, Cap. Brakkus hasn't even lit it yet."
Brakkus—more beast than man, shirtless as usual and caked in dried blood from a fight none of them remembered—let out that deep, gravel-thick chuckle that made the walls feel smaller.He rarely spoke, but when he laughed, it was low and rough—like gravel grinding in a furnace.A sound that made even steel flinch.And right now, he was grinning.
"Yet," he rumbled.
"Yet."
Kaen was duct-taped to the ceiling.
Again.
"I'm fine!" he shouted from above. "I think this is helping my core strength!"
Selaris sat on a stool, somehow untouched by the madness. Impeccable posture, teacup in hand, sipping with the grace of royalty amidst a riot."If he falls, we'll simply reassign his duties to someone with a lower center of gravity."
Nyra glanced up from sharpening her blades, unimpressed."You mean me?"
Selaris arched a brow."If the boot fits."
Ruin hunched over a map, grumbling. "Vex ate the last protein bar. Labeled it mine in three languages. Including dead ones."
"Which made it taste exotic," Vex said, flipping his coin with a grin. "I thought it was a challenge. Like a cursed artifact or something."
"Do you ever read labels?" Selaris asked without looking up from her tea.
"Sure," Vex shrugged. "Usually right after I've eaten whatever they're on."
Kaen snorted from the ceiling. "That explains the week you glowed in the dark."
"Character development," Vex said proudly.
Kuro pinched the bridge of his nose, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
"This is why no one wants to train with us."
"Jealousy," Ashen muttered.
"Fear," Selaris added, prim as ever.
"Respect," Brakkus rumbled, flexing for no reason.
"Definitely fear," Nyra agreed.
Kaen spun slowly."I just wanna say… I love you guys."
Silence. For once.
A moment that hovered. Soft. Real.
They all looked up—at him, at each other—and didn't laugh.
Not this time.
Kuro's throat tightened, unexpectedly.
Because these weren't just teammates.
Not soldiers. Not tools. Not weapons.
This was family—woven together by war, fire, and the unspoken promise that no matter what, they had each other.
He didn't smile often.
But now—he did.
Soft, rare, the kind of smile you save for memories that never fade.
"I miss you freaks."
---
The blades rang out again—louder this time. Sharper.
Sofie ducked under Kael's sweeping strike, pivoted, and launched a precise riposte that scraped against his shoulder plating. He grinned—not because he was winning, but because for the first time, his little sister wasn't holding back.
The training yard beneath House Virellion's main hall stretched wide and open, with sandstone tiles etched in old Ignar battle markings. The air shimmered with morning heat. The sun had risen high now, filtering through arched skylights of runed crystal, casting shadows that danced across sweat-slicked skin and gleaming blades.
Varion Ignar stood at the northern arch, arms crossed, his heavy cloak pushed back to reveal the scorched bronze of his old armor beneath. His eyes followed every movement like a hawk tracing battlefield lines.
"Sofie—again!"
She lunged forward, breath steady despite the ache building in her shoulders. Their swords met in a clash that echoed across the stone.
Kael pushed back with a grin, footwork fluid and unpredictable. "You're getting good," he said between panting breaths.
"I had a good teacher," she shot back—then twisted, ducked, and drove her foot into his gut.
Kael stumbled, laughing as he hit the ground with a dusty thud.
"That one's going in the family record books."
"Not if I write it first," she smirked.
"Back up!" Varion barked. "This isn't a dance recital. Sofie, keep your hips angled. Kael, your left side's wide open—again."
Kael rolled to his feet, rubbing his ribs. "That's just my dramatic flair."
"Then die dramatically," Varion grunted.
The training continued. They moved faster. Blade to blade, echo to echo. Their sweat hit the tiles like rain as each strike brought out deeper memory, deeper instinct—warrior to warrior, not just siblings.
At last, Kael stepped back, hand raised. "Truce. I'd like to keep my arms intact, thanks."
Sofie lowered her sword, chest heaving. "You're just saying that because I nearly took your ear off."
"No, I'm saying that because you actually did." He pulled his sleeve up to reveal a thin cut on his ear. "Rude."
Varion finally stepped forward. He said nothing—but there was a glint in his eye. The rare kind.
Approval.
---
Later That Evening — The Garden of House Virellion
The estate's garden stretched like a dream carved into the earth. Winding stone paths curved between crystalline trees whose leaves glowed faintly under moonlight. A silver koi pond shimmered in the center, the fish within lazily trailing ripples across still water. Lanterns hovered above—each a sphere of soft magic light, fluttering like sleepy fireflies.
At the center sat an obsidian-inlaid table, surrounded by plush, circular cushions in royal violet and moonlit silver.
Lady Sera arrived with an elegant flourish—and a dramatic whoosh of her dimensional ring. In a shimmering pulse of light, plates, bowls, and trays materialized mid-air—one by one.
Each piece floated into place perfectly, releasing steam as their lids were pulled away by invisible arcane threads.
Roast drake skewers. Smoked firefruit. Glazed roots and seared herb rice. Even a pitcher of starlight-honey tea glowed gently at the center.
Sofie just stared.
"WAIT—WHAT IN THE ACTUAL COSMIC HELL—"
Lady Sera smiled with amusement. "Is something wrong, dear?"
"I just watched you pull a feast out of your bracelet! How is the soup still hot?!"
Kael leaned in, eyes wide. "You should see her at breakfast. Once she summoned a full skillet in midair and made eggs with eight toppings."
"I thought it was a weapon! I was ready for a fight! It was soup?!"
"War soup," Kael whispered, nodding sagely. "It defeats hunger with one ladle."
Lady Sera laughed gently, her voice smooth as silk and warm as dusk.
"It's a dimensional ring, Sofie. They're rare—family relics. Each one holds a bound space that obeys the owner's intent. Mine… well, I prefer mine to keep dinner ready and tea fresh."
Sofie's jaw hung open. "So you're telling me… you've got, like… a magical pantry that exists in another dimension just floating around your finger?"
"Yes," Sera replied with a wink. "I call it my sanity."
Sofie couldn't stop laughing, even as she clutched her still-aching ribs from training.
They all sat down under the canopy of stars, cushions sinking beneath them as the scent of fresh bread and jasmine filled the air.
Varion settled beside Sera with a grunt—still ever the warrior, even in a family setting.
Sera leaned her head on his shoulder again, nudging him softly.
"You're still brooding."
"I'm resting," he said gruffly.
"You've been resting since the third era."
He smirked—just barely.
Then, Sera turned toward Sofie, tone shifting ever so gently.
"Sofie… I wanted to ask—only if you're comfortable, of course—how was it? After Klaus found you?"
The table went quiet.
Sofie's eyes lit up like they hadn't just a moment ago. The soreness in her limbs forgotten. Her back straightened. Her smile bloomed.
"Oh—he…"
Her voice caught a bit, but she nodded quickly—so quickly she almost knocked over her teacup.
Kael raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Yep. Here it comes."
Sofie narrowed her eyes. "Kael—"
He grinned, hands raised. "I didn't say anything. But your face is saying everything."
Varion grunted again.
"Aaand there's Father's grunt of
disapproval," Kael added cheerfully. "Right on time."
"I'm not grunting," Varion grunted.
Sera giggled into her tea. "Dear, you are always grunting when Klaus's name comes up."
Kael laughed. "It's like a mating call. Only with more murder vibes."
Even Sofie cracked, laughing between half-choked breaths.
Varion shook his head. "You're all unbearable."
Sera leaned in, kissing his cheek. "And you love it."
"Unfortunately," he sighed.
Sofie glanced up at the stars for a breath, then looked down at her plate, her smile softer now.
"He found me near the outskirts of the ruins," she said quietly. "I don't even think he meant to. He just… helped. No questions, no fear. Just this silent strength like he'd walked through every kind of storm before."
She trailed off.
"I didn't even know his name then," she said, almost in a whisper. "But I never felt safer."
A moment passed. A quiet one.