The diner's air was thick with the smell of grilled meat and burnt coffee, the clatter of plates and low hum of voices wrapping around the trio's table. Zane leaned back in his chair, his blindfold hiding his eyes but not the faint curiosity in his voice. "By the way, how'd you know about this place?" he asked, his head tilting slightly toward Celine. "I'm surprised it's still standing after the Tutorial and all the chaos out there." His fingers brushed his plate, snagging another piece of garlic by mistake, and he grimaced as he chewed, the sharp bite cutting through his thoughts.
Ariel's boots clicked as she returned from the restroom, her golden hair catching the dim light as she slid into her seat.
"You sure took your time, Ariel," Zane said, his voice dry but warm, sensing her presence without turning.
"What were you guys talking about?" Ariel asked, her blue eyes flicking between them, sharp and curious, like she could sense the tension lingering from their earlier exchange.
"Nothing much," Celine said quickly, her hands fidgeting with her napkin. "He just asked how I knew about this restaurant." She picked at her food, avoiding Zane's blindfolded gaze as they continued their meal, Zane occasionally chewing garlic with a scowl, muttering under his breath about the cook's obsession with it.
Celine glanced at Ariel, her voice softening. "My grandmother used to bring me here for my birthdays." Her words carried a quiet weight, a memory of simpler days before the Tutorial turned the world upside down.
Ariel nodded, her expression gentle, then turned to Zane, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "By the way, big brother, why'd you pick 'Void' when you announced yourself as my bodyguard? Is that your username?"
Zane swallowed a piece of meat—finally, not garlic—and leaned forward, his voice steady. "Yeah, Void's my username. In the Tower, we'll use those instead of real names. Better get used to it now." He paused, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "So, what's yours?"
Ariel grinned, her fingers deftly picking a piece of meat from her plate and sliding it onto Zane's to spare him another garlic mishap. "I'm Dawn," she said, her voice bright. "The system picked it for me when I didn't choose in time. I like it, though—it fits." Her eyes sparkled, like the name carried a piece of her spirit.
"Nice," Zane said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he bit into the meat she'd given him. He turned his head toward Celine, his blindfold making his stare feel heavier. "What about you, Celine? What'd the system give you?"
Celine hesitated, her hazel eyes flicking to her plate before meeting Ariel's gaze. "Nyx," she said simply. "The system chose it when I didn't pick one either."
"Nyx?" Ariel's face lit up, her voice bubbling with excitement. "That's so cool! Like the night goddess, right? You're coming with us to the conference tomorrow, aren't you?"
Celine's lips parted, caught off guard by Ariel's enthusiasm. "If… if you don't mind," she said, her voice soft but earnest.
Zane's voice cut through, low and firm, his blindfold tilting toward Ariel. "Dawn, don't bend tomorrow. No matter what, speak your mind. You've got the strength to back it up, and you've got me as your bodyguard. They'll listen." He paused, then added, his tone sharp as he turned to Celine. "Nyx will be your personal assistant."
Celine blinked, her fork pausing mid-air. "Personal assistant?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
Zane tilted his head toward her, his blindfold hiding his eyes but not the challenge in his voice. "Got a problem with that?"
"No," Celine said quickly, shaking her head. "I was just… surprised, that's all."
Zane pushed his chair back, the wood scraping loudly against the floor as he stood, wiping his lips with his napkin. "Let's head back now," he said, his tone leaving no room for debate.
"What?" Ariel's voice rose, half-laughing, half-indignant. "What about dessert?"
"We'll have that at home," Zane said, already moving toward the door. "Let's go." His boots thudded against the floor, and the two girls exchanged a glance before following, Ariel's playful pout barely hiding her disappointment.
Outside, the city streets buzzed with whispers, the crowd keeping their distance as the trio passed. Eyes followed them, phones discreetly raised, capturing glimpses of the Primordial and her bodyguard.
"That's him, the one with the white hair," a man muttered, his voice low but audible. "The psychopathic bodyguard." His friend nodded, clutching a Gemini-forged dagger at his belt. "Yeah, I heard Miss Ariel hired that red-haired girl just to heal the people he breaks." Their words faded as the trio moved out of sight, the city's pulse thrumming with their growing legend.
***
A few minutes later, they reached their safehouse. Ariel stormed ahead, her boots stomping lightly, her silence louder than words.
Zane paused in the doorway, his blindfold tilting toward Celine. "Is she angry?" he asked, his voice low, genuinely curious. He couldn't see Ariel's expression, but he felt the shift in her mood.
Celine glanced at Ariel's retreating figure, her hazel eyes narrowing. "Yeah, she seems disappointed," she said, her voice soft but honest. "Probably about the dessert."
Zane's lips curved into a faint smile, a rare warmth breaking through his usual stoicism. "Figures," he muttered, stepping inside.
Later that night, Zane woke for his training routine. Sensing a familiar presence, he turned to the side of his bed. Ariel was curled up there, her golden hair spilled across the pillow, her breathing soft and steady.
"You were angry about the dessert earlier," Zane said, his voice low, a smile tugging at his lips. "But you still came to sleep in my bed." He shook his head, the warmth in his chest at odds with the cold edge he carried in the daylight. He let her sleep.
Zane stepped into the parking lot, the pre-dawn air cool and sharp, carrying the faint tang of rust and asphalt. The city was quiet, its usual hum muted under the weight of night. He raised his hand, a pulse of mana flaring through his fingers, and summoned Ruinblaze from his platinum ring. The sword materialized in a shimmer of dark light, its blade etched with red runes that seemed to drink in the shadows. Gripping the hilt, Zane moved through the forms Onilia had drilled into him—precise, calculated swings, each motion fluid but deadly, the blade slicing the air with a faint hum. His muscles burned with the familiar rhythm, his blindfold no barrier to his focus. Yesterday, he'd cut their diner outing short, urging Ariel and Celine to head back early. He needed time to think, to prepare for what was coming.
Today's conference loomed like a storm on the horizon. Zane's jaw tightened as he pivoted, Ruinblaze arcing in a controlled strike. His father, Blake Walker, would be there, and Zane knew what he'd try: to take Ariel, the Primordial, back into the family's fold. To Blake, Ariel was a prize, a tool to elevate the Walker name. If it were up to Zane, he'd end it simply—Ruinblaze through Blake's heart, no questions asked. But this wasn't a fight he could win with blood. Not yet. Blake was cunning, a master of appearances, and the conference would be his stage. To claim Ariel, he'd have to acknowledge Zane publicly, something he'd avoided for years. To the world, Blake had five children—four sons and a daughter. Only a select few knew of Zane, the unwanted heir, the shadow cast out from the family's light.
Zane's blade flashed as he spun, his thoughts racing. 'If Blake announces we're related, he'll spin it to his advantage. Probably claim I'm a long-lost nephew he's been searching for, playing the doting father for the crowd.' The thought made his grip tighten, Ruinblaze humming faintly as if sensing his anger. It was a predictable move, one Zane could counter if he stayed sharp. But there was a wildcard: Jason, the sharpest mind in the Walker family. If Jason got involved, things could spiral. His brother's intellect was a blade of its own, cutting through plans with surgical precision. Zane's swings grew fiercer, the air hissing as Ruinblaze carved through it, his mind mapping out every angle, every possible move.
"You're already up? Good morning," Celine's voice broke through, tentative but clear, pulling Zane from his thoughts. He paused mid-swing, Ruinblaze still in his grip, and turned his blindfolded face toward her. Usually, Ariel's bright voice would greet him first, but she was silent today. Using his Echo Sight—a pulse of mana that mapped his surroundings in sharp detail despite his blindness—Zane sensed Ariel standing nearby, her posture stiff, her gaze fixed somewhere off to the side, avoiding him entirely.
A faint smile curved Zane's lips, warmth softening the edge of his thoughts. 'Well, aren't you cute, dearest sister.' Her silent treatment was adorable, a pout over yesterday's skipped dessert, but he knew she'd come around. He sheathed Ruinblaze, the sword vanishing into the ring in a flicker of dark light, and turned fully toward them. "Morning," he said, his voice low but steady, the hint of a tease in his tone as he addressed Ariel. "Still sulking about the ice cream?"