The silence was heavy now not peaceful, but hollow. Around him, the walls of the underground chamber gleamed with trophies: old relics encased in glass, ceremonial weapons, and worn banners that once belonged not only to Weapon Masters but also to commonfolk regiments.

  Leroy’s eyes drifted across the room.

  A mosaic of wars long buried.

  He rose from his chair and crossed the marble floor toward one of the display cabinets. Inside, a soldier’s uniform stood upright on a mannequin — faded blue fabric, a tear across the chest, a single badge tarnished with age. The sight pulled at something distant within him, something half-forgotten.

  His reflection in the glass blurred, and for a moment, the cold marble under his boots felt like damp forest soil.

  The air thickened.

  The stillness around him began to hum with memory.

  And before he realized it, he was somewhere else, a nostalgic memories.

  “You’re insane!”

  Mia’s voice echoed in his mind as sharply as it had that night. He could almost smell the smoke and soil again, the blood drying on his skin.

  She had been shouting while tending to his wounds, her hands stained red from his bandages. “You want to borrow a relic from one of their fortress?” she demanded.

  Leroy, younger then still reckless, eyes full of that same quiet conviction — said nothing. He simply turned his head, staring past her toward the dark forest beyond their tent.

  Mia continued, incredulous.

  “Listen to me. Lord Star and Cygnus Spellbane are Council members! No commonfolk would be stupid enough to break into their houses.”

  He turned back to her then, a faint grin on his bloodied lips.

  “That’s exactly why they’ll never expect it,” he said calmly.

  Mia froze. For a heartbeat, she didn’t know if he was joking or if the madness she saw in his eyes was real.

  She sighed, defeated, and went back to patching his head wound. “You’re crazy,” she muttered.

  After a moment, she asked quietly, “Still curious about my relic?”

  Leroy only nodded.

  Mia stood, brushed the dirt from her knees, and turned her back to him. Without warning, she pulled her shirt halfway down — revealing the curve of her shoulder blades and the line of her spine. Her long, curly hair spilled forward like a dark curtain.

  Leroy blinked, startled, instinctively looking away, until something on her back caught his attention.

  A gem, glowing faintly amber-orange, embedded deep in her skin just below the shoulder. It pulsed softly, alive.

  “They call it the Tangerine Gem,” she said, voice steady. “It was given to me years ago by my brother. I didn’t know what it did. Thought maybe I was supposed to swallow it, but I couldn’t bring myself to.”

  She let out a short, nervous laugh. “So I just kept it with me. Everywhere. But nothing ever happened. Until one night…”

  Her eyes turned distant.

  “I woke up and it was gone.”

  She told him how she’d searched the entire house — under the bed, through drawers, every corner. In tears, she confessed to her brother Mateo that she’d lost it. He forgave her, though she could see the disappointment behind his smile.

  Then, as she passed by him in the hallway, Mateo froze.

  The Tangerine Gem was there, fused into her back.

  He’d tried to remove it, of course. Even struck it with a hammer once, but the pain had nearly harm her. The relic had become a part of her.

  Extraterrestrial relics. Beautiful, and mysterious.

  Her true awakening came later, the day her village was attacked.

  They had come at dawn, mercenaries from a rival state, tearing through homes and fields with gunfire and grenades. Mia had been herding women and children into shelter when a grenade landed at her feet.

  There had been no time to run.

  It exploded and she lived.

  The air around her shimmered like molten glass, forming a transparent armor of blazing orange light that covered her entire body. The gem on her back burned bright, its glow fierce and pure.

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  The children behind her stared in awe, at the impossible woman who stood untouched in the middle of the flames.

  From that moment on, Mia became something else.

  A protector.

  A superhuman forged by accident or fate.

  Mia pulled her blouse back up, fastening the ties with the same calm precision she’d used while stitching his wounds. The dim light of the oil lamp flickered against her copper-toned skin as she turned back toward Leroy, wringing out the damp cloth that had served as a compress.

  “You know,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the bowl of water, “maybe your intention is only to borrow a relic. But some of these things… they’re not meant to be borrowed.”

  She lifted her gaze, the orange gleam of the gem faintly visible through the fabric on her back.

  “Certain relics bind themselves to their wielder. If you take one that doesn’t destined for you—” her voice dropped to a whisper, “—you’ll be hunted.”

  Leroy didn’t answer. His face was calm, but his jaw was tight. He knew she was right and yet the part of him that chased impossible things refused to care.

  Mia finished bandaging the last of his wounds just as Mateo stepped into the small hut. His expression was grave; the sound of rain followed him through the doorway.

  “Your comrades have been caught,” he said flatly. “All of them. We can’t reach them now — not without starting a war we’d never win.”

  Leroy stiffened, but didn’t rise.

  “You’ll leave at dawn,” Mateo continued. “Go back to your command and report what’s happened. That’s all you can do.”

  Leroy clenched his fists, frustration flickering across his face. “And if I don’t?”

  Mateo’s reply was firm, almost cold. “Then you’ll end up beside them or worse. You’re not strong enough to face their captors.”

  The silence that followed was heavier than the rain outside.

  When the two finally left him alone, Leroy sat for a long while, staring at the wavering flame of the lamp. Gary’s words came back to him.

  He exhaled, trying to steady his mind. There would be time to grieve later. For now, survival was the message.

  He lay back on the straw mattress and let exhaustion claim him.

  Morning came pale and quiet. Mist hung low between the trees when Leroy stepped outside the hut. He adjusted his coat, wincing at the faint pull of his bandages.

  Mia was sitting on a wooden crate near the doorway, a folded newspaper in her hands — the Cognisource Network, its pages stained with ink and rain. Leroy approached, curiosity tugging at him.

  She didn’t look up as he peered over her shoulder. The headline read:

  “Regal Vanguard Program Initiation Delayed.”

  “What’s the Regal Vanguard?” he asked, brow furrowing.

  Mia didn’t answer his question. Instead, she folded the paper neatly and smiled up at him. “Are you feeling better?”

  He nodded. “Thanks to you.” A pause, softer. “Will we meet again?”

  Mia laughed — not mocking, but light, genuine. “If fate allows it,” she said. “Nothing’s impossible, right?”

  He smiled faintly at that, the kind of smile that belonged to someone who didn’t yet believe in destiny — but wanted to.

  When he finally left the clearing, Mateo and several of his men escorted him to the forest’s edge. Beyond that point, he would walk alone to the soldier base.

  It wasn’t far — at least, not for someone like Leroy.

  Each step was deliberate, his body still healing, but his purpose sharper than ever.

  The forest path stretched endlessly before him.

  Leroy’s thoughts wouldn’t quiet. Every step through the mist seemed to summon more questions about Mia’s relic, about the nature of superhumans from every great factions, about power itself. He remembered the orange gem burning through her back and wondered how many others like her walked this world unnoticed.

  He had seen relics before, but never like that. Never something that chose to stick with the wielder body.

  The airbase came into view an hour later — a fortress of steel. Soldiers in grey uniforms saluted as he approached, their expressions a mix of confusion and respect. He went straight to the commander’s office, dirt still clinging to his boots.

  He told everything.

  About the ambush. About his captured squad. About the Cogworks scientist.

  And when he finished, he asked — no, begged — for permission to lead a rescue mission.

  The commander listened in silence, stirring his coffee with the slow patience of a man who’d long stopped believing in heroics. Then he said something that froze Leroy where he stood.

  “If they were taken by superhumans under the banner of the League of Transcendent,” the commander said flatly, “there’s nothing we can do.”

  Leroy stared at him. For a moment, the words didn’t even register. “What do you mean, nothing?”

  The older man sighed and reached for his pen. “It’s beyond our reach, son. They don’t answer to us.” He began writing — neat and then handed Leroy a folded paper.

  Two seals marked the envelope. One for the Commonfolk Military Command, and another for the Superhuman Council.

  “This will get your message where it needs to go,” the commander said, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “Whether anyone listens... well, that’s not up to me.”

  “Do they usually listen?” Leroy asked quietly.

  The man looked up, weary eyes meeting his. “They have their own wars, boy. Bigger ones. You know how things are now.” He leaned back, shaking his head. “People like you — like me — we just deliver the message and wait to see how fate answers.”

  Leroy lowered the letter. His grip tightened. The veins in his wrist stood out — not from anger alone, but from the helplessness that came with it.

  The commander saw it — the quiet, burning frustration of a man whose belief in duty was colliding with the limits of his power. He said nothing more.

  Leroy turned on his heel and left the office without another word.

  The commander only sighed, muttering to himself, “Youth burns too fast.”

  The memory broke like glass.

  The sound of boots on marble snapped Leroy back to the present. He was once again in the quiet depths beneath the Pristine House, the ghosts of the past fading into the hum of chandeliers and low laughter above.

  A servant had entered, setting a silver tray before him — a plate of roasted meat, bread, and dark wine. “Your meal, sir,” the servant said.

  Leroy sat down again, expression unreadable. He picked up his fork and began to eat, the faint clatter of cutlery echoing in the vast chamber.

  Then footsteps.

  Multiple. Descending the spiral stair. Their echoes rolled through the marble halls, followed by muffled conversation and laughter. The air shifted — the sound of familiarity, arrogance, wild.

  Leroy didn’t look up.

  He kept eating, his posture composed, eyes fixed on the reflection in his wine glass.

  A servant appeared in the doorway. “Sir,” he said quietly, “your guests have arrived.”

  Leroy raised his gaze just enough to catch the silhouettes moving down the staircase, their shadows stretching across the floor like long, crooked fingers.

  He didn’t rise to greet them.

  He only leaned back slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

  “Finally,” he murmured.

  And as the footsteps drew closer, the soft golden light of the chamber trembled as though even the walls understood that what came next would not be just a meeting.