Celestia sat alone on the cold stone floor, her back against the rough wall of the cell. Her silver hair, dulled by grime and exhaustion, clung lightly to her cheeks. Her thoughts swirled, heavy, conflicted.
Is it really okay... to hope for someone?
From the moment she was a child, she was taught discipline, rigid structure, unshakable independence. Emotions were liabilities. Dependence was weakness. And yet, her heart now betrayed her.
Her mind drifted back to that battlefield... to him. That man who stood tall, fearless against the towering mutated creature. The way his blade moved, clean, efficient, lethal. The wind whipping around his dark coat. And then... those eyes.
That deep, cold navy gaze, sharp as steel, yet... gentle. Quietly powerful.
And when he looked at her, when he said he would help her... her icy composure cracked.
Her face flushed even now just remembering. Her heart raced with a rhythm she couldn’t control. Is this... what love feels like?
Suddenly, the metallic clank of keys shattered her thoughts.
The cell door creaked open.
Two of the captor’s men stood at the entrance. One sneered.
"The boss wants to see you."
Immediately, her squad stirred. Reinar stepped forward with clenched fists. "She’s not going anywhere."
A shock rod flared and slammed into his gut. Reinar dropped to the ground, twitching from the electric surge.
"Too noisy," the soldier muttered with a grin.
Celestia’s expression turned sharp. "Enough," she said coldly. "I’ll go. Don’t hurt them."
Her squad called after her, fear in their eyes.
"I’ll be fine," she murmured, not looking back.
The guards marched her down a dim corridor. Their leering gazes crawled over her body.
"Boss must be really eager to see this one," one snickered.
"Yeah... think he’ll let us have a turn?"
Celestia felt bile rise in her throat, but her expression remained frozen, calculated. Don’t give them satisfaction, she told herself.
They arrived at a large reinforced door. One guard knocked.
"We brought her, boss."
A smooth voice responded from within, "Good. Now leave."
The men stepped away, snickering as they shut the door behind her.
Inside was a dimly lit office. Maps and stolen goods lined the shelves. Behind a desk sat a man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a sly grin spreading beneath his scruffy beard. His dark crimson jacket was too clean, too proud, for someone so foul.
"So," he drawled, lacing his fingers together. "How’s the cell? Comfy?"
Celestia said nothing, her silver eyes cold and unwavering.
"Not much of a talker, huh? Shame. I like a little conversation." He leaned back, smug. "Guess I should introduce myself. Name’s Darrion Kravest. Leader of the Iron Maw."
Still, no answer.
Darrion chuckled. "Silent treatment, huh? You know, if you keep that up, I might have to make things... unpleasant for your little squad."
Celestia’s voice was like a blade. "Keep your filthy hands off them."
Darrion smirked wider. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
"Oh, we’re gonna have fun," he whispered.
--------×--------
Julian gripped the wheel tightly as the jeep rumbled across the ruined streets. The trail left behind by the group who had taken Celestia was clear at first, burnt tire tracks, crushed debris, traces of fuel, but before long, it disappeared into the fractured ruins of the city.
"We lost them," Julian muttered, eyes narrowing.
"Should we split up?" Clarissa asked quietly.
"No," Julian said firmly, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I’ll get a better view from above. Maybe I can spot something."
He leapt out of the vehicle and ascended the nearest building using his shadow manipulation, anchoring to surfaces and scaling the side like a phantom. Once on the rooftop, Julian stood still, scanning the city’s wreckage, burned streets, collapsed towers, silent alleys. All was still. No sign of Celestia. No trace of movement.
He clenched his fists.
But then, something shimmered.
A faint glow, like a firefly, blinked into existence just below the rooftop. A pale, golden light, small and delicate, drifted slowly through the air, almost beckoning.
Julian narrowed his eyes and jumped down to follow it.
Clarissa, noticing the light, tilted her head. "That’s not natural. Do you think it’s... a skill?"
Emma crossed her arms. "Could be someone trying to guide us. Maybe even the person who got taken."
Aya bit her lip nervously. "What if it’s a trap...?"
Julian stood tall, watching the floating speck of light as it moved forward. "We don’t have a choice. We’re betting everything on this."
The others exchanged glances, then nodded. And so, they followed.
The firefly-like light continued to float ahead, swaying like a lantern through the shadows of the ruins. It moved deliberately, leading them down alleys, across broken bridges, and past groups of rotting undead.
As they moved, Veronica whispered from the back seat, "Are we going in through the front?"
Julian didn’t look back. "Yeah. We’re not sneaking around this time."
"Finally," Emma grinned. "I was hoping for a real fight."
Julian turned to Aya. "Can you make explosives?"
Aya blinked, startled. "Huh? Um... yes, I think I can. I remember some recipes I studied with Albert."
She quickly opened her notebook and flipped through its pages, mumbling to herself.
"I’ll need... wire mesh, potassium nitrate, sulfur, alcohol-based fuel, iron fragments, and a container to hold it all."
Without a word, Julian pulled open his inventory and produced each item she requested, laying them out in the back of the jeep like it was a weapons depot.
"Get to work," he said. "We’re going to use zombies as walking bombs."
Emma raised a brow. "Wait, seriously? What for?"
Julian smiled, cold and sharp. "To blow their base sky-high."
Veronica laughed softly. "Now that’s a plan."
With the light still guiding them forward and Aya assembling makeshift explosives, they pressed on through the desolate city.
A war was coming. And Julian Deaw was bringing it to their front door, To destroy the enemy.
-------×-------
Darrion leaned back with a smug grin, eyeing Celestia like a predator savoring his prey.
"So, tell me..." he said, his voice slithering. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Celestia’s gaze sharpened. Despite her bruises and dirt-streaked skin, her pride still burned brightly in her chest.
"I do," she answered coolly, yet with a tinge of proud defiance in her tone. "And right now, he’s on his way here... to tear your little empire apart."
Darrion blinked for a second before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. "Hah! That’s the best joke I’ve heard all week! Do you even know where you are, Celestia? This fortress is guarded by more than twenty skilled ability users. Your ’boyfriend’ won’t even make it past the gates."
Celestia raised her chin. "You’ll never know unless you try."
"I like that spirit," Darrion said, his grin widening. "But let’s test how far that pride goes." He stood, walking slowly around the desk, his boots clicking ominously on the concrete floor. "How about this, get down on your knees... and lick my boots."
Celestia’s jaw tightened, disgust flashing across her face. "No."
Darrion’s expression darkened.
"Did you forget?" he said lowly, "I’ve got your team. One word from me and they’ll suffer."
Her fists clenched. She hated herself for even considering it. Every fiber in her body screamed to fight back, but she couldn’t risk the lives of her soldiers.
With a deep breath, her pride swallowed, she dropped to her knees. Darrion chuckled darkly, pleased.
"Good... that’s more like it," he purred.
She crawled forward, slow and deliberate. Her mouth opened slightly, her face twisted in silent rage and humiliation, but then—
RUMBLE.
The ground quaked. A faint tremor vibrated through the walls like an oncoming storm.
Darrion snapped his head toward the ceiling. "What... was that?"
The door burst open.
"Boss!" shouted one of his subordinates. "We’re under attack!"
"What!?"
"It’s a group, they’re storming the front, and they’ve brought mutated zombies with explosives strapped to them!"
Darrion’s smugness shattered. "You’ve got to be kidding me, who’s crazy enough to—"
BOOM! Another explosion rocked the base, followed by alarmed shouting and gunfire.
Darrion glared at Celestia, who now stared up at him with defiance rekindled in her eyes. "You stay right here," he growled. "Tie her up! Don’t let her move a damn inch."
Then he stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
Outside, chaos reigned.
Mutated zombies with glowing, unstable growths charged the perimeter, tearing through defenses like wet paper. The compound was in disarray, soldiers shouting, lights flickering, alarms blaring.
And atop one of the lumbering creatures stood a figure, cloaked in shadow, katana on his back, eyes glowing faintly blue.
Julian.
Behind him, four women stood poised for battle, Clarissa with her hair dancing as psychic energy shimmered in her palms, Emma cracking her knuckles as her fists blazed with flame, Veronica calmly chanting an enchantment, and Aya loading her customized rifle with surgical precision.
Julian’s voice cut through the thunder and chaos.
"Yo," he called, smirking.
"I’m here to get my girl back."