The golden gaze of the sun filled the room through the window, purposely brushing over Pathos's eyes and steering him awake. Slowly, his eyes opened, grunting at the light before quickly blocking it with his hand. The comforting sheets were pushed to the side as he slowly woke up. Beside him was another bed, where a familiar face lay comfortingly embraced by the sheets, his mouth wide open from deep sleep, with some saliva drooling onto the pillow. Ruem seemed to have fallen asleep after reassuring himself of Pathos's condition. Pathos calmly looked around—the place was the same, yet it didn't feel like it. After learning the truth about his ability to see the future, his mind began to wander back to his two visions: in one, he died; in the other, he attacked Ruem out of fear. For the present, it meant nothing, but to him, those were mistakes that, if they occurred, he would never be able to fix. Mistakes that happened because of his weakness—because he wasn't capable of fighting back against his own destiny.
But finally, he had reached the answers he was looking for. His mind calmed, as did his breathing, followed by his hands, which reached up to rub his eyes before he finally took his sweet time completing his morning ritual closing the ritual by putting his cloak on. With the last part done, he sat on his bed, looking at Ruem's sleeping form. He calmly muttered:
«Pathos» Ruem...
But there was no answer. His body and soul were completely asleep. So Pathos tried again, poking his face gently while calling him.
«Pathos» Rueeem~
He gave another attempt, this time using his regular tone.
«Pathos» Ruem!
But again, Ruem remained completely asleep. Cracking a smile, Pathos looked at his sleeping face before jokingly stating:
«Pathos» This guy... So much for looking out for me, huh? I'll let this one slide for now.
Pathos slowly got up from his bed and directed himself toward the door, gently prying it open as it creaked. Initially, he wanted to go outside for some fresh air, but once outside, he looked around the corridor, unfamiliar with the design.
«Pathos» Ah? Ehhhh... Where do I go from here?
Pathos immediately rubbed his forehead, unsure where to go next. The corridor had multiple sets of doors, but there wasn't a clear exit—or rather, a hall. After going through different doors and stumbling into multiple empty rooms, he eventually found a set of stairs leading to the ground floor.
«Pathos» Here it is.
Pathos quietly followed the stairs, reaching the saloon of the inn. The place looked brand new, but the customers were a bit chaotic—people dancing with their arms entangled with one another, kicking their feet while singing a song. Pathos was startled at first jumping back out of instinct; he didn't think the inn had a saloon. But he couldn't decide what was stranger: the fact that he hadn't heard anything upstairs, or the fact that they were partying this early in the morning. The saloon wasn't just lively—it was alive, the floorboards trembling with each stomp, the air thick with smoke and spilled ale. It was the kind of room that seemed to remember a hundred nights of laughter and brawls.
From the other side of the room, a girl called out to him.
«Girl» Hey, kid!
As Pathos turned to the voice, he saw a girl standing behind the counter. She appeared to be cleaning a chalice with a cloth; however, one of her hands was raised, waving. Once Pathos noticed her, she quickly signaled him to come toward the counter. The girl had short black hair and appeared to be wearing a bartender outfit.
«Girl» Come here.
Now curious, Pathos approached the counter, avoiding tables and dancers, trying not to ruin the mood. After finally arriving and climbing onto a chair, he looked toward the girl. She set the chalice down with a sharp clink. She immediately started the conversation.
«Girl» So, you're alive. Good. Saves me the trouble of hauling your body outside.
Pathos was a bit surprised by her statement, especially since he had never seen her before.
«Pathos» Oh... I'm fine! I think... I'm not quite sure right now.
«Girl» Fine, huh? You look like a half-dead chicken, but sure. Want some water before you keel over again?
«Pathos» Yes, please.
Pathos followed the girl's movements, trying to spot anything that might spark a memory of who she was. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind.
«Pathos» Sorry, but do I know you?
«Girl» Nope. And trust me, I'd remember if I wasted time chatting with you.
«Pathos (thinking)» Why is she so mean!?
The girl slid him a glass of water, which Pathos quickly grabbed, though he didn't drink it yet, confused by her statement. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the glass and then back at her.
«Pathos» You don't?
«Girl» No. We didn't exactly have time for a chit-chat, you and I.
«Pathos» What do you mean?
«Girl» I'm talking about when you passed out in the arms of a friend of yours.
«Pathos» Oh! That. Yeah, I get it now.
Pathos started drinking the water, finding it quite refreshing for something so simple.
«Girl» Yeah, you got us all worried, you know. But I see you made a quick recovery.
«Pathos» I can't say I've fully recovered yet, but I guess it's progress.
«Girl» Now that I see up close you really do have more than two eyes.
«Pathos» Yeah it—
«Girl» Genetic, I know. Your friend already told me that.
Pathos chugged down the last sip of water before gently setting the glass down, his mind wandering. Why would Ruem say that it was genetic? In the present, he and Ruem never talked about them, so how could he know if it were genetic or not.
«Pathos» What exactly happened yesterday? I can't remember ever being brought here.
The girl gave a warm smile, understanding his position. She sighed before explaining what happened.
«Girl» Your friend kicked our door down, screaming for help. Nearly got himself killed for that stunt. But then we saw you—pale, puking, and limp as a rag. Hard to stay mad at someone carrying a corpse-looking kid. We checked you over, you lived. He paid for the damage. End of story.
He rolled the glass between his palms, the water inside swirling like a restless thought.
«Girl» Where is he, anyway?
«Pathos» He's upstairs sleeping. I... I'm sorry that I caused you so much trouble.
«Girl» Don't bother apologizing. You're breathing, that's what matters. The door's another story, but your friend covered it.
Pathos chuckled, but a thought started running through his mind—not only about his recent situation but also about the Archangel. His reflection wavered in the glass as he spun it, the face staring back at him hollow and uncertain. The girl's words blurred into silence, replaced by the Archangel's voice echoing in his memory. Despite the fury it had stirred in him before, he couldn't shake the feeling that there had been truth buried within it. This idea made Pathos wonder if the Archangel truly wanted to help him, though the reason why remained unclear. He kept spinning the glass back and forth, but no answers came to mind—until the girl spoke again.
«Girl» Do you need another one?
«Pathos» Perhaps.
«Girl» Or should I pour you something strong enough to knock you out again?
«Pathos» No thanks. I'm not into that stuff.
Finally, Ruem arrived at the saloon after waking from his deep slumber. He stretched as he descended the stairs, Ruem stopped halfway down the stairs, blinking at the dancers as if he'd walked into another world. "What the hell...?" he muttered, plugging one ear with his finger. Pathos, hearing the creaking wooden boards, turned his head. His voice was still tired but excited as he called out, immediately waving his hand to get his friend's attention.
«Pathos» Ruem!
«Ruem» Mhm? Pathos!
Ruem quickly rushed down the stairs almost falling on his way there, walking past tables and dancers until he too arrived at the counter. But unlike Pathos, he didn't sit down—he bent beside him, crossing his arms on the counter while maintaining eye contact with Pathos. He was still concerned about his well-being, but seeing him alive and well answered many of his worries.
«Ruem» How are you feeling, buddy?
«Pathos» I can't say I'm completely healed, but better than before.
Ruem looked down at his arms, taking a deep breath to calm himself.
«Ruem» Good, I'm glad.
«Girl» The sleeping beauty is finally awake.
The girl, who had just finished serving other customers, came back still wanting to check up on Pathos, but she didn't find him alone.
«Ruem» Sup.
«Girl» Or would you rather be called a door-buster instead?
Ruem looked up with a smirk on his face.
«Ruem» I prefer my name, please.
«Girl» Next time knock, dumbass! And there better not be a second time.
Ruem quickly rubbed his eyes with one hand, still trying to wake himself up. Beside him, Pathos noticed something—he wasn't having the same hallucinations as when he saw him in the vision. Was it because his instincts now knew he didn't actually die? He couldn't find an answer, so an idea came to mind.
«Ruem» Yeah, I know!
«Pathos» Hey Ruem, can you look me in the eyes for a bit?
Ruem quickly turned to him, pulling his face back as if he didn't quite understand what he was asking for.
«Ruem» Why?
«Pathos» I need you to look me in the eyes, please.
Ruem didn't waste a moment trying to crack a quick joke. With a smile he responded:
«Ruem» Which one? The one at the top, or the empty one at the bottom?
A bit irritated, Pathos responded:
«Pathos» You know which one I'm talking about.
«Ruem» Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just fucking with you.
Ruem finally stared back at Pathos, following the movement of his eyes. Pathos, on the other hand, tried to see if anything would happen, but after some time nothing changed. Ruem's face remained the same—there was no sight of a burning corpse or screams of terror, just the creaking floor and people singing. Pathos broke their stare, watching the many bottles on the shelves in front of him. He didn't get it—why wasn't he afraid of Ruem anymore? Then realization hit: since he now knew that he had never actually died, his body and spirit accepted that. For Pathos, it was as if he had a bad dream. This relieved him, now certain that what the Archangel said was true—words could lie, but his instincts couldn't.
«Pathos» I get it...
«Ruem» Got what? The color of my eyes?
Pathos thought for a moment. Now that he had confirmed the words of the Archangel, a question popped into his mind. "Can I tell him about what I saw?" His own question was quickly answered—he believed that even if Ruem wouldn't believe him, he must know about this ability. But at the same time, he decided to keep his death a secret.
«Pathos» Listen, Ruem, there is something important I have to tell you.
«Ruem» Yeah?
Pathos's hand clung tightly to the glass, as if hoping Ruem would understand his situation or help him decide what to do next. His voice lowered as his eyes drifted back to the glass and the little water left inside.
«Pathos» I—I can see into my own future!
Suddenly, the world seemed to fracture—but not around him. The images pressed into his mind, separate from reality. Ruem remained where he was, blinking, unaware. One of the sockets under Pathos's eyes opened, revealing a pupil surrounded by four sets of golden circles, smaller as they neared the center. The eye shone with an angelic aura.
In his mind, time twisted. The projector spun. Memories unraveled into tapes, feeding the blue fire of his soul. But these were only visions—flashes inside his head, not events happening in the world outside. Each one burned with clarity, yet left him powerless to act.
Time outside continued, indifferent. Yet in Pathos's mind, Ruem's question repeated with each vision, echoing relentlessly.
«Ruem» Got what? The color of my eyes?
Pathos's eyes widened. He understood what he saw was a vision—but why? Did he nearly die in one of these glimpses? Panic clawed at him as he tried again, desperate to communicate:
«Pathos» I can see into my own future...
The words never left his lips. Another vision consumed him.
«Pathos» I—I Can see into my future!
Again, gone. Only his mind replayed it, looping, tightening, mocking him.
«Pathos» I CAN PREDICT THE FUTURE!
But on his last attempt, something happened.
Everyone in the inn froze. The music stopped. Silence swallowed the room whole. Pathos's gaze locked on Ruem's motionless figure, his head tilted, as if trying to guess what the next word might be.
Then, his face began to crack—like glass.
Pathos's eyes widened; his expression twisted in disbelief as sweat traced down his temples. Ruem's body continued to fracture, until a piece of his face broke away and fell.
Inside—where muscle and bone should have been—there was something else. A figure of pure light.
The Archangel.
Slowly, Ruem's finger rose toward his lips. Each movement echoed in the silence, the sound of splintering form marking every gesture. With every motion, more of the fragile shell fell away, revealing more of the radiant being beneath.
Finally, the finger reached its destination.
Without another word, the Archangel—through Ruem's crumbling vessel—whispered:
«Archangel» Shhhhhh.
Reality mocked him. His voice was caged inside his mind. All those were just visions. In reality, he never said the words. The Archangel had him trapped in an endless cycle of visions, his reason was still yet unclear to Pathos. But what troubled him wasn't that fact, but that he couldn't share his pain with anyone. It pained him deeply—it seemed the Archangel didn't want him to tell anyone about this ability. But why?
From Ruem prospective, Pathos grew sweatier with each vision that only HE could see, his hands trembling as his mind became entangled with a single word:
Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why Why WHY!
To Ruem, Pathos just looked like he was panicking for no reason. To him, Pathos just turned forward and began sweating like a horse. The word WHY carved itself across his skull like thunder. The Kindled-eye opened wider with each vision Pathos witnessed, making Ruem question it.
«Ruem» Oh your eyes opened up, did you...do something?
But Ruem's question went unanswered. Pathos's face was covered in sweat, making him worry for his sake.
«Ruem» Hey, are you alright? You're sweating, buddy...
But Pathos couldn't hear him. His heartbeat thrashed in his ears, drowning out Ruem's voice. Each failed vision scraped against his mind like glass on stone. But unlike the other time when he was afraid, this time he was filled with rage. He felt betrayed by the Archangel. Just when he thought he could trust him, he broke everything by trapping him in a loop. If he didn't do what the Archangel wanted, he'd be stuck there forever, basically becoming his puppet. And there was nothing he could do.
The rage sparked through his body as static licked across his skin, raising the hairs on his arms and neck, the air around him bent and hissed, as if even the tavern couldn't stand the weight of his fury. But before it could explode into an enormous discharge of electricity, the glass in his hands shattered from his sheer strength. The shards pierced his hand, bringing him back to reality and making him realize what was happening.
«Ruem» Pathos!
The girl, seeing the sparks of electricity, felt alarmed and quickly asked Pathos:
«Girl» What the hell was that—lightning?!
Ruem acted quickly. Before risking a massive disaster, he opened a wormhole and tossed Pathos inside. Before stepping in himself, Ruem turned back.
«Ruem» Sorry, we gotta go. Bye-bye!
Ruem waved as he closed the wormhole behind them. The music stopped. The dancers no longer felt like dancing. Two strangers had shown up out of nowhere and disappeared right in front of their eyes, leaving everyone stunned and confused.
Both of them landed on the ground with a loud thud. The sound of shattering glass and the dripping droplets of Pathos's blood quickly followed. The place was dark, with only the dim daylight faintly brightening its end. It didn't seem like a house—more like a refuge for those who couldn't even afford one. The place reeked of rotting trash, but to Pathos it wasn't just a smell—it was suffocation. Each breath dragged the city's filth deeper into his lungs, reminding him of how trapped he was. Ruem, however, didn't seem to mind. Instead, he quickly turned his attention to Pathos. His face mixed worry with confusion. He couldn't quite understand what Pathos had asked him before, nor why he became more agitated with each word. But he didn't question it much. His worries turned to one thing: Pathos's control over his powers.
«Ruem» Kid!
Hearing Ruem's loud yet calm voice made Pathos jump a little, bringing his mind back to reality. Aside from the smell, he now noticed something else—his hand, pierced with multiple shards of glass, some big, some small. As Pathos looked down, he saw the shards stabbed into his hand, blood dripping everywhere. Despite the injuries, he didn't feel it as much as he should. He only grunted, teeth clenched, as he tried to stand through the pain—but he couldn't. Ruem quickly stood, then knelt down in front of him, speaking in an agitated tone at first.
«Ruem» What's the matter, kid? Are you just a ticking bomb? You almost evaporated that place into oblivion!
But his tone shifted once he saw Pathos's hand. He hadn't noticed it before, too focused on the boy's immense power release. Pathos couldn't even answer. He wasn't sure himself anymore. He looked away from Ruem, his face twisted in pain. Ruem couldn't understand the suffering Pathos felt—trapped in an empty box, unable to speak freely despite having a mouth, unable to gesture despite having hands. Only his eyes could show his pain. Ruem calmly grabbed Pathos's hand, holding it gently before speaking.
«Ruem» You've got a lot of strength for just a kid, you know. Perhaps that Prometeo of yours is stronger than I anticipated. Listen carefully.
Pathos turned to look at Ruem, who smiled warmly, trying to calm him down. Without warning Ruem's hand lingered on Pathos's head for a moment longer than necessary. "You remind me of someone," he muttered, almost to himself. His eyes softened, as though he were seeing a ghost. Then he forced a smile.
«Ruem» When you own a Prometeo, you can't let your emotions get the best of you. Despite being a separate living thing, it's still connected to your very soul.
As Ruem spoke, the Prometeo throbbed in Pathos's chest. It didn't just respond to his emotions—it amplified them, like a drumbeat growing louder with every pulse. Sadness made it ache. Anger made it sear. For a moment, he wondered if it was his heart beating—or something else trying to replace it.
«Ruem» When you feel sad, it resonates.
The Prometeo grew slightly.
«Ruem» When you feel happy, it resonates.
It grew more with each word.
«Ruem» And when you feel anger—it resonates.
The Prometeo flared exponentially, so bright it illuminated Pathos's very soul, wrapping it in flames as if trying to protect it.
«Ruem» Every emotion, if left unchecked, could cause your Prometeo to completely overwhelm you. To protect your soul from breaking, it will release every bit of power it has… until nothing is left.
The Prometeo weakened, releasing all its energy until it shrank into a small flame within Pathos's heart, then vanished, the heartbeat stopping with it. Ruem lowered his gaze, lost in his own memories of his past, before smiling again to reassure Pathos. His eyes, however, seemed about to cry.
«Ruem» Fortunately for you, you came to your senses—thanks to this.
He pointed at Pathos's hand while bringing his other to Pathos's arm holding it still. his arm slick with red before Pathos could mention anything. Without warning….Ruem pulled out one of the glass shards. Pathos grunted, the pain tolerable but sharp. His arm instinctively tried moving away but Ruem hold it still using every strength he as to do so.
«Ruem» You don't seem too bothered, huh?
In reality, Pathos was screaming inside, his teeth clenched as the pain became worse. Sweat rolled down his face. Ruem yanked out another shard without warning. This time, Pathos's other hand smacked the concrete as he tried to hold back his cries.
«Ruem» You can scream, you know. It's not like we need to be quiet or anything.
Pathos shook his head quickly, refusing to meet Ruem's eyes. His face was pale, but he kept forcing the words out.
«Pathos» Just keep going!
Ruem smirked faintly, almost amused by the boy's stubbornness. He didn't comment further, but the silence said enough: he respected Pathos's grit, even if he found it a little foolish.
«Ruem» Alright, Mr. tough guy.
Ruem pulled out yet another shard. Pathos screamed silently, confining the sound within his own mouth. After several agonizing minutes, his hand was finally free of all the shards. Ruem tore a strip of tissue he had picked up back at the inn and wrapped it tightly around Pathos's hand.
«Ruem» There. It should be over now.
Pathos slowly pulled his hand back, checking the tissues already soaking through. He tried clenching his fist, but strangely, it felt normal. No pain. No more blood gushing out.
«Ruem» Don't force it too much. I managed to close your wounds for now, but it'll take time to heal.
«Pathos» Closed? I thought you just used tissues.
«Ruem» Oh, right! I forgot to tell you. You know how some people close open wounds with fire or hot iron? Thanks to the properties of the Prometeo, we can replicate that. Channel a bit of Prometeo into the fingers and—bam—like cauterizing with fire, only cleaner. We're not healing the hand, just sealing it shut. So it'll still take time to heal—nothing to worry about.
Pathos calmed down. His mind, once consumed by chaos, felt clearer. Ruem had eased his burden without even trying—perhaps because he shared Pathos's pain. Still, he couldn't tell him about his vision. What mattered was that his blood, spilled from anger toward the Archangel, now told a different story.
«Ruem» What's your name, anyway?
The question reminded Pathos of the path he was trapped on, one he could not change. Ruem not knowing his name was proof—Pathos had told him in a vision, but this Ruem had never truly known him.
«Pathos» I'm Pathos… Pathos Reimai.
"I'm Pathos… Pathos Raimei."
The name felt heavy leaving his lips, as though the world itself had been waiting to hear it. Ruem nodded, unaware of the weight it carried, unaware that destiny had already written what would follow.
«Ruem» Pathos, huh? I'll try to remember that.
Ruem quickly got up, pushing on his knees to do so, before looking around to understand where they might be. Pathos stared at him, trying to think if they might be watched—scratching his head, rubbing his bearded chin—before finally realizing something and exclaiming "OHH-!". Pathos tilted his head to the side, trying to understand what Ruem was thinking about.
«Pathos» OHH-?
Ruem quickly turned around with a loud smile on his face, proud of himself for remembering such a small thing.
«Ruem» Come on, let's go. I know where we are.
«Pathos (thinking)» He's proud of himself for something like this?
Pathos immediately pushed himself upwards, but as he did so his butt started hurting from the earlier fall. He quickly began rubbing it to ease the pain. Ruem, who was looking at the end of the narrow road, glanced back and saw him rubbing his butt. Without wasting a second, Ruem raised his index finger, which faintly began glowing.
«Ruem» Are there some wounds that need to be closed?
In a panic, Pathos jumped backwards, immediately sweating after hearing his question. Putting both of his hands in front of him, he said—
«Pathos» I—I'm alright, don't you worry!
«Ruem» Mhm?
Pathos tried to put up a fake smile to hide his pain, but Ruem caught on, and his finger began glowing even brighter until the air above it started to swirl, making it seem like the air itself moved under his command.
«Pathos» Don't you dare.
Ruem's face twisted into a happy smile, trying to hide the malicious intent in his mind. On the other side, Pathos became more and more agitated at the thought that Ruem might need to look at his bare cheeks to heal him, despite there being nothing to close since the impact left no cuts.
«Ruem» :)
Ruem slowly approached. Pathos took a step back.
«Pathos» Ruem!
A wicked grin formed on Ruem's face. His eyes closed as he approached Pathos—until both of them heard a man screaming. Their attention quickly turned toward the entrance of the road.
«???» Get back here, thief!
The scream filled the road, giving the sensation that the path itself was a closed room in the middle of nowhere. Their voices echoed until Pathos spotted two people: a lady holding money and clothes she apparently didn't own, and behind her, a black man with very small glasses, raising his hand as he shouted at her. Pathos quickly stood, realizing what was happening and preparing to intercept her.
«The man with small glasses» Stop her!
The thief spotted them blocking the road. Without hesitation, she bounded from wall to wall, climbing like an animal to slip past their reach. Pathos stood in awe, while Ruem simply followed her movements without acting. Pathos tried to give chase, but Ruem grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back. Pathos looked at him, only for Ruem to wag his index finger as if saying no.
«Ruem» Tsk! Tsk!
«Pathos» She's getting away—do something!
«Ruem» You do it. But don't go running after her. Focus on using your Prometeo.
«Pathos» I can't! You know I can't—you've seen how poor my control is.
«Ruem» I know. But this time, focus on how you want to catch that thief. Remember, you're not trying to kill her—just catch her, okay? No blowing stuff up, alright?
Ruem released Pathos, giving him a chance. Pathos looked ahead at the thief leaping from wall to wall. He tried to use Ruem's advice, shouting Bom and Pim, but only made himself look like a fool. Ruem, who had only made him believe those words would help, burst out laughing, shaming poor Pathos.
«Ruem» What the hell are you doing, dude!?
«Pathos» Shut up!
Annoyed, Pathos decided to scrap Ruem's tips and follow his own gut.
«Pathos (thinking)» I'll try to remember how I felt that night—how my body called upon this very power. I'll use my pain—
His mind traveled through memories of his father, killed by the hands of those meant to protect men. The sound of screams, the sight of blood… his mother, kidnapped for reasons unknown. Rage bubbled up, burning through him, mingled with betrayal so sharp it felt like a blade against his chest. He remembered the day he slaughtered an entire army without breaking a sweat. And earlier, he had felt something else—Betrayal by the one's above.
«Pathos» AS A WEAPON!
Pathos's Prometeo pulsed, and this time the beat carried something new—electricity. Sparks leapt across his skin. His hair stood on end. The air itself crackled, trembling with the power he had finally awakened. The air crackled. Electricity condensed around his legs, making the ground hum. In an instant, he reached the thief. She could not keep up with his speed, nor could her victim. For a moment, she saw Pathos as a monster made of lightning, his four eyes piercing her soul. Seconds later, he yanked everything from her arms and threw it to Ruem, who opened a wormhole to deliver it back to the black man.
«Pathos (thinking)» I… I actually did it. I controlled it!
Pathos turned to Ruem, desperate for his reaction. At first, Ruem crossed his arms, pretending to stay cool. But the moment sank in. His smirk cracked into a wild grin. He threw his arms up and bounced on his feet, shouting like a madman.
«Ruem» YEAH! LET'S GO, PATHOS! YOU GOT IT!!!
The black man, after catching his belongings, looked at them in shock, his jaw froze at the display of power. His gratitude turned to surprise when he saw Ruem jumping with joy.
«Pathos» I got it. I got his stuff back.
But Pathos's joy distracted him—he was still suspended midair from wall to wall, the thief alongside him. As they began to fall, Ruem conjured a wormhole to catch them. Pathos panicked.
«Ruem» Ah—shit!
«Pathos» We are faaaaalling!
But Pathos focused again. The electricity returned, this time natural, fluid. The sensation, the emotion—it all came back full circle. The prometeo shone bright inside his body
PATHOS HAS NOW AWAKENED HIS PROMETEO
He caught the lady midair, bridal-style. Twisting his body, he launched toward the nearest wall—then bounded from wall to wall, carrying her safely down. His shoes screeched on the concrete as he slid to a stop between Ruem and the black man. Shock silenced them all for a moment. Then the lady in Pathos's arms screamed…
«Lady thief» AHHHHH! Let me go! Let me go, you monster!
She escaped his grasp, but before she could run, the black man punched her square in the face. She hit the ground with blood gushing from her nose. Ruem and Pathos froze, their jaws dropping in unison. One word echoed in both their heads—DAYUM, as they stood there in awe.
«The man with small glasses» You ain't going nowhere now, bitch!
He raised his foot to stomp her chest, but Ruem appeared behind him through a wormhole, locking his arms to stop him.
«Ruem» Alright, that's enough from you.
The man froze, recognizing the voice. His face twisted in anger as he realized who it was.
«The man with small glasses» YOU'RE THE GUY WHO STOLE FROM ME MONTHS AGO!
Pathos saw Ruem freeze, his grin vanish, his hands fly up defensively as if expecting a blow. He'd never seen Ruem look so cornered.
«Ruem» You!? Wha—eh—ehm—what a surprise…
Pathos listened to their words, connecting the dots. Ruem once told him in one of his visions how he had stolen from a man named Jhoel—the same man Pathos was looking for, the same man who was entrusted by Pathos's father. Without wasting a second, he asked softly—
«Pathos» You… you're Jhoel, aren't you?