The wind bit colder at the edge of the city.
Scarlet stood alone by
the border wall, her crimson hood drawn low, shielding her from
more than just the cold. She watched the horizon—not searching,
not hoping—but waiting.
As if she could will him to return from the dusk itself.
Her
communicator buzzed, static and stubborn.
[No Signal. Subject: Zero. Location: Unknown.]
Again.
She sighed and slipped the device beneath her cloak, fingers
lingering for a heartbeat too long.
It had been two days since the
tournament.
Two days since the trial.
Two days since he vanished.
And
yet… she didn't believe he was gone. Not truly.
The bond between them wasn't tethered to proximity. It ran
deeper than words, than trust, than loyalty.
It was forged in war.
Tempered in silence.
When the shadows rippled behind her, she
didn't flinch.
A step. A whisper of presence. Familiar. Real.
"Hey," came the voice—low and steady, but not the same.
Scarlet
turned.
Zero stood beneath the bleeding dusk, wind catching his
coat. The Mask of Eclipse dangled from his belt, and his eyes…
they weren't just colder.
They were clearer.
Like he'd seen something
that couldn't be unseen.
"Zero…" Her voice caught. "You're alive."
He stepped forward,
hesitating—for just a breath. Then she wrapped her arms around
him. Not with desperation. Not with fear.
Just enough.
"Where the
hell did you go?" she whispered.
He didn't dodge the question.
"Somewhere old," he said quietly. "Somewhere lost. And I found
something… or maybe it found me."
She pulled back, studying his
face.
"You're different."
"I feel it too," he replied.
"Not sure if that's good… or just inevitable."
Her expression
darkened. "The Guilds are talking. The Council… they felt
something. They know."
He nodded.
"Let them."
"Zero—"
He placed a hand on her shoulder—firm, grounded.
"I'm done running," he said. "But I'm not bowing either."
Scarlet
searched his eyes, saw the storm brewing beneath them—and chose
silence.
"What now?" she asked instead.
The Hideout Beneath the Stage
The
guild's base lay tucked beneath the husk of an old theatre—a relic
gutted by time and silence.
Within, torches sputtered against stone, casting flickering light
across blades, maps, and faces marked by survival.
They gathered
quickly. Word of Zero's return had moved faster than shadow.
Kane,
all muscle and blunt force, stepped forward first.
"You sure it's really you? We heard rumors. Wild ones."
Zero raised a brow. "Only one way to check."
He flicked a coin
through the air.
Kane caught it—only for it to morph mid-palm into a
dagger hilt.
Kane's eyes widened, then grinned.
"You sneaky bastard."
Next came Nia, silent as ever. Morrow,
healer and sarcasm dealer. Even Vix—the half-feral shadowmancer
who liked no one—nodded once, respect unspoken.
They asked
questions.
Zero gave fragments.
"I went through something… ancient. A trial."
"I didn't unlock a
class—I inherited one."
"Yes, there's a legacy. A bloodline."
"No, I don't know what it means yet."
But even in half-truths, they
saw the shift. Power hummed beneath his skin. Shadows curled at
his heels like hounds recognizing their master.
And then Scarlet
stepped forward, tone clipped.
"There's something else."
Silence fell.
"The Council's meeting in
secret. Verdan's pushing hard. He wants Zero labeled a high-risk
entity. Unregistered. Unknown class. Sovereign-tier potential."
Morrow let out a low whistle.
"That's… that's not just dangerous. That's preemptive-strike
territory."
"They wouldn't," Kane said.
"They will," Zero answered.
He looked down, remembering the trial.
The voice. The throne of shadows.
"I felt it. The world shifted. Not just inside me. Around me. Like
I stepped into someone else's war… and they just realized I'm
holding the crown."
Scarlet stepped closer.
"Then we prepare."
He nodded once.
"No more hiding," he said.
"Only reckoning."
Elsewhere — High Chamber of the Council
The Guild Council towered above the city, its halls hollow with
power and secrets. In the scrying chamber, Councilor Vashti stood
alone, watching projections flicker across a wall of arcane glass.
All
of them showed him.
Zero.
Alive. Awake.
And calm.
That was the part
that terrified her.
No madness. No instability. No outward
corruption.
He didn't look like a threat.
He looked like a king.
The
door creaked.
Verdan entered, his armor polished like pre-war ritual.
"Confirmation just came in," he said without preamble. "His aura
bears the Sovereign's crest. Same lost symbol. There's no doubt."
Vashti turned to him, voice sharp. "We don't know what that means
yet."
Verdan's gaze was steel.
"It means we don't wait to find out."
He dropped a sealed scroll on
the table between them.
Directive E-001: Shadow Sovereign Protocol
Status: Executed
Target: Codename 'Zero'
Order: Hunt. Eliminate. No public record.
"You're authorizing assassination," Vashti said, tone brittle.
"I'm
authorizing stability," Verdan replied.
"If he holds true Sovereign blood, we cannot afford diplomacy.
You saw what the last one did to the northern nations.
"
She narrowed her eyes. "He was one of ours. Once."
"No," Verdan
said. "He was never ours. He refused registration. Joined no guild.
Operated in shadows. That's not a citizen. That's a storm."
He
paused at the threshold.
"And storms don't negotiate."
Back in the City — A Storm Awakens
Zero stood alone on the rooftop, wind clawing at his coat. Below,
the city churned with ordinary life—unaware of the blade hanging
above its neck.
He felt it.
The quiet shift in air pressure.
The silence
before the slaughter.
The taste of a future already written in ash.
They were coming.
He didn't know when. Didn't know how many.
But
he felt them.
Like a hunter senses the trap before it springs.
He
adjusted his gloves, stared west where the clouds churned
unnaturally, and whispered:
"Let them come."
Behind him, shadows twisted—eager. Loyal.
He had walked into the Sovereign's legacy.
And now, the world would pay the price for remembering him too late.