The battlefield was quiet now—monsters slain, civilians escorted to safety, Guardians regrouping and tending to their wounded. Smoke lingered in the air, and the distant hum of emergency transport vehicles buzzed like flies in the silence. But Roy's heart was far from calm.
The offer from the Guardian still echoed in his ears, as strange and surreal as the chaos that had just unfolded. "You should come to the Guardian Tower." Those words had carried weight, but right now, they meant nothing.
He turned away without answering and stumbled toward a motionless figure slumped against a cracked stone wall.
Josef.
His breath caught in his throat. Blood smeared the ground. The wall behind his friend was shattered from the impact. Roy dropped to his knees, desperation surging through him. He placed a trembling hand on Josef's shoulder, willing him to move, to groan, to blink.
Nothing.
A Guardian approached, removing his helmet. His face was lined with fatigue, jaw clenched from holding back the weight of failure. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "The impact was too much. He didn't survive."
Roy's eyes slowly rose to meet the man's. There was silence. Grief curled into his chest like a tightening noose, and it turned sharp when he spoke.
"How can you even call yourself a guard?"
The words came out like a hiss, quiet but vicious. The Guardian opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. There was nothing he could say.
Peter appeared beside Roy, pale and trembling, eyes wide in disbelief. He didn't speak either. The two of them sat in silence, numbly watching as Josef's body was carried away. Everything felt far away, like they were trapped behind glass while the world continued outside.
The weeks that followed blurred together. Roy went through the motions—lectures, exams, graduation. His professors offered praise, and classmates offered handshakes. He wore the graduation robes and smiled for the photos, but inside, he felt hollow.
He had once believed his System had chosen a clear path for him. The Mindforge—a system designed to enhance intelligence, reasoning, and creativity. While others awakened Systems that sharpened blades or summoned elements, his allowed him to solve problems, decode patterns, learn rapidly, and invent. He thought it was his destiny to teach, to build, to create.
But nothing he created could bring Josef back.
Now, as a newly minted science teacher, Roy stood before his first classroom. Rows of desks, expectant young faces, notebooks ready. But the moment he opened his mouth, he felt it: that ache in his chest. That silence inside him where passion should have lived.
Every word he spoke felt borrowed. Every day, he moved like a ghost through the corridors. Despite reaching Rank B—a level most people would never attain—he felt stuck. There were no challenges, no spark. Just a loop. A safe, respectable, suffocating loop.
Two years passed.
Two years of lectures. Two years of parents' meetings, lesson planning, empty smiles in the staff lounge. Two years of watching the seasons change from the same window, wondering if this was all there was.
He had once dreamed of sharing knowledge, of shaping minds. But one of the minds he had hoped to shape would never return. And with him gone, Roy's dream no longer felt like it belonged to him.
Then came the evening he met Xavier.
They hadn't spoken in months. Life had pulled them apart, each swallowed by their own version of grief. But Roy had reached out. He needed something—or maybe someone—to help him breathe again.
They met near the docks, where the wind carried the scent of salt and rust. The sun was bleeding into the ocean, casting long shadows and turning the waves to gold. It was the kind of view that once gave Roy peace.
Not tonight.
Xavier leaned against the railing. "So," he began casually, "what have you been up to? Everything alright?"
Roy didn't answer at first. He watched the sun sink lower, then turned to face him.
"I'm going to the Guardian's Tower."
Xavier blinked. "No, you're not," he said, as if refusing to even entertain the thought. "What are you talking about?"
"I want to become a Guardian," Roy replied. His voice was calm. Honest. Determined.
Xavier took a step back, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you serious? After everything we've been through? After Josef?"
"I'm not doing it because of Josef," Roy said. "I'm doing it because I can't keep pretending this life is enough. I'm not happy, Xavier. I want a chance to start again."
Xavier's hands curled into fists. "You think you'll survive out there? You couldn't even save him. You think throwing yourself into danger will fix that?"
Roy's gaze dropped. "It's not about fixing anything. I just... need to do something that matters."
"Stop acting like a hero!" Xavier shouted. "You're not one!"
"I'm sorry," Roy said, and his voice cracked. "But I've made my decision."
Xavier turned his back. "Then don't ever talk to me again."
Roy didn't respond. He couldn't. He just stood there, feeling the wind on his face and the last warmth of the sunset on his skin as another friendship faded into silence.
That night, he sat in his room, staring at the ceiling. He thought about that day—the attack, the offer from the Guardian, the body of his friend. He thought about every lecture he gave with a broken heart and every student he taught without joy.
And then, he picked up his device and signed up for the Guardian recruitment cycle.
The following year was a brutal storm.
Training was relentless. His body was pushed past every limit. The instructors didn't care that he came from a non-combat background. Strategy, survival, combat theory—he learned it all. Not through brute force, but through observation, deduction, and sheer creative problem-solving. He rewired traps mid-simulation, dismantled team ambushes using misdirection, and solved mock hostage scenarios with ideas no one expected.
The Mindforge wasn't loud. It wasn't flashy. But it made him dangerous in a way no sword could.
His mind sharpened, his resolve solidified.
And then, finally, the day came.
Roy stood at the base of the Guardian's Tower. It loomed above him like a monument to destiny, its glass and stone catching the morning sun. The flags of the five ranks flapped in the wind. Guardians in full armor passed by, some laughing, others silent, all purposeful.
He could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.
This was it. Not a lecture hall. Not a classroom. This was a path carved by will.
He took a deep breath—
And looked up.