Blake Rogers met me in the industrial district.
They evacuated five blocks under the excuse of a gas leak.
Smart.
Not smart enough.
I arrived already suited.
The armor unfolded from nothing—alchemy threading itself into articulated plates of black and silver, layers of causal buffering nested inside adaptive alloys. Not powered by energy.
Powered by decision.
Blake hovered above the cracked asphalt, lightning snarling around him, gravity bending under his boots. Government insignia glinted faintly on his shoulder.
He wasn't here to negotiate.
He was here to arrest me.
"Neo," he called out, voice carrying authority more than volume. "You've made this harder than it needed to be."
"So they finally sent you," I said calmly. "Let me guess. Bring me in. Dead or compliant."
Blake's jaw tightened. He descended slowly, boots touching the ground like the city itself was yielding.
"This is stupid," he said. "Everything you're doing. You think you're making a stand, but all you're doing is turning your back on your country."
I looked at him then—really looked.
"So this is the choice director Hale and Elias Harrow made," I said.
I smiled.
Not a happy one.
"I'm not anyone's pawn, Blake. I don't belong to the Council. I don't belong to the Saints. I don't belong to the country."
Lightning crackled louder around him.
"I will go against the entire nation," I continued evenly, "if that's what it takes to stop anyone from taking advantage of me—or the people I care about."
For a moment, Blake said nothing.
Then he sighed.
"…What a shame."
He moved first.
The impact of his descent shattered the street, a shockwave rolling outward like an earthquake. Windows imploded three blocks away. Alarms screamed.
People would later say the city shifted.
They weren't wrong.
Blake hit me with the full weight of his Will—Lightning inverted, compressed, trying to pin me into the ground like a nail.
The suit adjusted instantly.
Not resisting. Redistributing.
I stepped forward.
The pavement folded.
Blake's eyes widened just a fraction.
"Jesus—"
I struck him once. Not a punch.
A correction.
Gravity collapsed sideways. Lightning detonated harmlessly across the suit's surface, diffused into empty futures.
Blake crashed through a warehouse wall and didn't get up.
I was there before he finished sliding.
I placed a hand on his chest, pinning him without pressure.
"I'm holding back," I said quietly. "Because I don't want to hurt you."
His breath came hard. "You're… insane…"
"No," I replied. "I'm done."
I leaned closer so only he could hear me.
"Tell them this," I said.
"I am no longer on their side. I am on my own. And I will protect those I refuse to abandon."
Then I stepped away.
The fight lasted ninety-two seconds.
It made global news within ten minutes.
⸻
The government panicked.
Not publicly.
Internally.
They had just confirmed, on live seismic sensors, that they had made an enemy of the most dangerous Saint in recorded history.
They had no contingency for me.
None.
⸻
I and Lina met in the city.
Not by chance.
Not formally either.
Just the two of us, walking streets that felt strangely quieter when we were together.
Lina thought it would be a simple outing. A cool escape. She always did. Time with me had become her anchor lately—something normal to hold onto while everything inside her was changing. Awakening. Shifting. Frightening her in ways she hadn't yet put words to.
She smiled. Talked. Tried to enjoy it.
I watched her like someone memorizing a place he knew he wouldn't be able to return to for a while.
To her, it was a day out. A date.
To me, it was a goodbye—for now.
I stopped near a quiet stretch of the city and finally said it.
"I'm leaving."
She blinked. "Leaving… where?"
"The nation of Justice. The DarkShore Union."
The name alone made her tense.
I didn't soften it. "I can't trust the government anymore. And I know"— I exhaled slowly—"that I can't trust Justice either."
Her steps faltered.
"Then why go?" she asked, voice cracking. "If you don't trust them… why would you go there?"
I hesitated, searching for the right answer—and finding only the wrong ones.
She turned to me fully now, hurt spilling into her expression. "Why would you abandon me like this? Now? I'm just awakening, Neo. I need you more than ever."
The words landed harder than any accusation.
"And if you're going," she said quietly, "then take me with you."
My heart twisted. Feeling I would never get in my past life.
"No," I said immediately. Too immediately. "You can't come."
"Why?" Her voice rose. "Why do you get to decide that?"
Because it's for you.
Because staying here keeps you alive.
Because Justice would see you the moment you crossed that border.
I said none of it out loud. I just couldn't.
"You need to be here for now," I told her instead. "This is where you're safest."
She shook her head, tears forming. "You don't even hear me."
"I will come back," I said firmly, trying to reassure her. "I'm only going to see how much hold Justice really has on the world—why it feels like he's holding all the cards."
That explanation meant nothing to her.
It wasn't the where that hurt.
It was the distance.
She didn't understand. All she felt was the space opening between us—and it shattered her.
I mistook her pain for fear.
So I did what he always did.
I explained.
I told her about her awakening. About her abilities. About how she didn't need to worry—that the Domain would continue to help her.
"I programmed it to guide you," I said. "Until I return."
That was when she broke.
"You still don't get it!" she screamed, voice cracking through the street. "This isn't about power or protection!"
People turned. She didn't care.
She shoved past me and ran.
I stood there, stunned, watching her disappear into the crowd—only then realizing how badly I'd misunderstood what she meant… and why she was hurting.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
No one heard me… I knew she will be fine, but that wasn't the point.
I just hoped she will forgive me when I returned.
⸻
Ironwood went on summer break three days later.
I relocated my mother first.
The house had been finished for months—hidden, folded into unregistered space, protected by layered alchemy, misdirection fields, and nonviolent impossibilities.
No satellite could see it.
No human could reach it without my permission.
She was confused.
Of course she was.
I lied.
Gently.
"Work opportunity," I said. "Temporary. Safer here."
She looked at me for a long time.
"You're in trouble," she said.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Are you running?"
I shook my head. "I'm making sure you're safe."
She didn't press.
That hurt more than if she had.
⸻
The night before I left the country, I stood alone in the domain.
Justice's territory lay ahead.
The government behind me.
And Lina—
I sealed her deeper.
Not prison. Protection.
"I'll be back," I promised the empty air.
Then I stepped forward.
For the first time since my rebirth, I wasn't reacting.
I was choosing.
And the world would have to live with that.
⸻
Elsewhere.
Eli didn't shout.
That was what unsettled them most.
He stood in the same reinforced room they'd used to brief Neo, hands planted on the table, gravity coiled tightly beneath his skin—not flaring, not threatening, just present.
"You fought him," Eli said flatly.
No one answered.
"You looked at Neo Zane Cole," he continued, "and decided coercion was safer than trust."
Director Hale straightened. "We acted in the interest of national security."
Eli laughed once. Not amused.
"You tried to leverage someone he refuses to abandon," he said. "Against the Saint of Wisdom. Do you have any idea how stupid that is?"
Elias Harrow bristled. "Watch your tone."
"No," Eli replied. "You watch your consequences."
Silence fell.
They all knew he was right.
The data. The footage. The cratered streets. The seismic readings that still hadn't fully stabilized.
Blake Rogers lay in recovery with three fractured ribs and a bruised ego, and that was Neo holding back.
"You didn't just lose Neo," Eli said. "You drove him away. And now Justice has exactly what he wanted—chaos without lifting a finger."
"We can still fix this," Hale said. "With your help."
Eli's eyes hardened.
"You want me to stop him."
"Yes."
Eli shook his head slowly. "No."
The word hit harder than any show of force.
"I'm not cleaning up your fear," he said. "And I'm not hunting a friend because you panicked."
Harrow leaned forward. "This is an order."
Eli straightened.
"Then consider this my resignation from your mistakes."
Gravity flared—not violently, but decisively—and for a heartbeat the entire room felt heavier, as if reality itself had weighed his choice.
When the pressure vanished, Eli was already walking away.
They didn't stop him.
They couldn't afford to lose another Saint.
But they already had.
⸻
Two days after that. I had arrived.
Justice's country didn't feel conquered.
That was the first thing I noticed.
No checkpoints bristling with weapons. No propaganda banners. No frightened civilians whispering about a ruler they never saw.
Instead—
Order.
Efficient transit lines. Clean streets. Infrastructure tuned to human flow instead of dominance. Bio-marked individuals moved openly, not as soldiers, but as function.
Saint-run.
Not tyrant-held.
Interesting.
I passed through customs without incident. My identity slid through their systems like it belonged there.
Because in a way, it did.
The air felt different.
Not freer. Honest.
This place wasn't ruled by fear of Saints.
It was structured around them.
An experiment, then.
Justice wasn't hoarding power.
He was redistributing it—carefully, selectively, with ideology instead of impulse.
That made him far more dangerous than a despot.
I felt it then—a familiar pull.
Recognition.
Somewhere in this country, another Saint was aware I had arrived.
Not hostile. Expectant.
I exhaled slowly and stepped into the city proper.
"So this is what you're building," I murmured.
The question wasn't whether Justice was wrong.
It was whether his solution required consent.
And whether he would accept my answer if it didn't match his vision.
Either way—
The experiment was about to be observed by its original architect.
And unlike the government…
I wouldn't panic.