Arthur kindly accepted the coffee Caera provided. A small smile tugged at his lips.
He motioned for her to place the files on his desk; he would review them later. Right now, he wanted to go just to observe the city, the people bustling through the streets. A truly magnificent sight.
Caera approached, standing shoulder to shoulder, sipping her own coffee.
She was perplexed by the Paragon's strange moods recently. One moment he was tired, the next angry, the next joyful. Almost as if he himself didn't understand his emotions. It was a strange sight for Caera to see such a renowned and powerful figure struggling with the mundane things.
But Caera didn't dare mention anything about such things, who knew what would happen if a "mood swing" happened in such a moment.
The two figures, a Saint and a Master stood side by side, enjoying the peace and quiet, the tranquility of the city.
Until Arthur sighed, Caera immediately got the hint, slowly leaving the office. She had her own work to do after all.
Arthur gave another glance at the city, but nonetheless approached his table, glancing over the files one by one.
He raised an eyebrow at a few abilities, but didn't call them.
He would need to arrange meetings, and he needed to understand the people's real emotions. He didn't need fame chasers, he needed capable people. And in this age, it was harder and harder to find genuinely good people.
At least Arthur could uncover such people. His sense of hatred alone could validate or incriminate any and all in its range. A truly godlike sensing ability. While it had just started as a mere hatred sense. Now it was something far greater. Able to sense emotions, fears, and desires. Sometimes Arthur got overwhelmed by the absurd information overload.
***
A sigh left a man's lips. He was in an alleyway, tired, hurt.
He pressed against his side harder, the blood-soaked fabric making a disgusting noise. How had this happened? How had he let himself get cocky? How had the squad died?
Questions brimmed in his brain, yet he didn't receive answers. He was alone after all, trapped.
In the same city, another figure lay against a wall inside a ruined building. Their breath ragged, forms dripping with sweat, but alive. Alive.
"One" a pause, "two" another pause, "three".
She counted silently, each second, each moment of the life she might just lose any of these moments.
She was getting desperate to escape, choosing obvious places to rest, to sleep. But sleep didn't come, it hadn't in days. Sleep was treacherous, a trap.
She couldn't fall asleep, or she might not wake up again.
And so she lay there, silent, calculating, tired.
***
Sunny danced through alleyways, his form invisible, undetectable. He knew, he was racing against time itself.
He needed to be faster. He had gained a tip-off from an anonymous person. Talking about assassins and targets.
He originally wasn't going to help, but he was curious. He wasn't anymore. He gained the knowledge he wished he hadn't. He learned of what lurked in the shadows, the shadows that were his, his home.
And he would not allow such filth, such creatures disguised as people to escape his grasp.
He knew he was getting close, one of his scouting shadows told him as much.
The next second, Sunny's form blurred, then rippled in a shadow beside him. The same second he was gone, not quite teleporting. More like a wormhole, for now.
The next moment he was in front of a person, a blade at his throat.
The hand holding it shook with effort, yet didn't falter.
***
Caera sat in her own personal office, a tired, but happy smile on her lips. She had been working hard, calculating.
Calculating people, more precisely, she calculated their trouble for them. Are they worth the effort? Arthur would say yes without a second thought, as long as they met the requirements. But Caera knew the bigger picture, saw it with her own two eyes.
The clans may have backed off, but that was only out of caution, they didn't want to risk their foot soldiers.
They would act if Arthur overstepped the unseen boundaries.
The Paragon planned to face any challenge head-on. Why wouldn't he? He had the power, the support of the people. And most importantly? Fear. People were afraid of his flames when he was a master. Now he was a Saint, they were terrified.
She rubbed her temples, exhaustion slowly creeping in.
She didn't sleep much, she didn't need to. And the visits to the dream realm in sleep were less than ideal.
They didn't have a citadel, they didn't have a safe point in the dream realm.
It was always a risk. Arthur told some of his own dealings with the situation. He talked about his restless nights, of constant fighting, pushing the adrenaline to its maximum threshold. Forcing his body not to fall down, not to sleep.
Arthur hadn't been a master long compared to others. But he hadn't slept much. He had slept a mere handful of times.
And when Caera watched some of the older footage, of the Paragon. It was visible. The signs were there. His unblinking eyes, eyebags usually covered by the purple flames. Hair tangled, hands shaking from time to time.
Yet after a day of Inactivity, he returned... normal.
People assumed he slept, he hadn't.
He rested, yes, but not slept. He planned, ate, played, and trained. But rarely slept. It was insanity, delusion.
Yet he had done it, he now didn't care about such things. He had set an anchor in a place. She didn't know where.
But even when he was safe, she still hadn't seen him sleep. She hadn't seen him yawn. It looked almost as if he didn't need it anymore. But surely that wasn't the case. Surely.
***
The woman raised her blade, her tired yet sharp senses of incoming movement. As soon as the figure appeared, she placed her blade next to the person's neck.
Her arms shook with the strain of holding the blade.
But she wasn't met with a nightmare creature. Not those sick monsters that dared call themselves humans.
No, she was met by a young adult, his form covered in shadows. Black hair and equally black eyes staring right at her own blue ones, unflinching.
Her voice shook, hope burning in her heart. But her brain screamed trap. And she listened, but she wasn't crazy, she wouldn't lop off the head of a person on an assumption.
"W-who are you?"
She coughed while speaking, she didn't care.
She needs to take him out, or sleep after he answered.
The man slowly raised his hands and parted his lips.
"I'm here to help."
[A/n: today I woke up after a few hours of sleep, and realized. Realized it was January.
*cough* anyways, hope yall like the chapter.
I have several things in my head about several things.
Hear them out, will you?
Fiesr of all:
Kinda thought about rewriting the story, no. Not rewriting. Just making it better. More details on places, less in others. More talking, more to shoe the bonds shaping.
Second of all:
I had a strange idea, co-writing(as I call it) something.
Not really sure what, who or why. Just had the idea while writing this. If anyone is interested just drop a comment!]
Thanks for reading and support!
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