Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was heavy at the border of N109's forest. A single figure sprinted for his life, breath ragged, fear blazing in his eyes. He was a spy, one who had traded away the secrets of N109 Onychinus—and for that, he was marked for death. His companions had already been silenced. Only he remained.

Behind him, two shadows closed in.
Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, walked with unhurried steps, as if no matter how fast the spy ran, he would inevitably fall into his grasp. His presence was cool, suffocating. Beside him, Zayne raised a gun, movements precise, his aura cold and merciless. The Dawnbreaker—killer by night, surgeon by day. Together, they were untouchable.

The spy's heart hammered. He could almost taste the bullet meant for his back.

But then—
A sudden blur shot past them. A squeal broke the silence.

"AHHHHHHHHH! WHY IS THERE SOMEONE IN THE FOREST IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!! MOVE!"

A battered second-hand bicycle rattled through the path, its rider clinging on for dear life. Rafayel, twenty-two, Art Linkon student and loser of a stupid game of scissors-paper-stone, had been forced into this mess by a bet gone wrong. The problem? He didn't know how to ride a bike.

The bicycle veered wildly. Rafayel screamed louder.

Before the spy could dodge, the two collided. The man was thrown against a rock, his neck snapping with a sickening crack. His body crumpled. Silent. Dead.

Rafayel yelped, but he didn't stop. His bicycle shot downhill, wobbling uncontrollably.

"OOOMPFHHH! GAHHH!" 

His voice faded into the distance as he disappeared deeper into the forest.

"I'M SORRYYYY! I CAN'T CONTROL THISSSS! AHHHH! I'M NOT PLAYING SCISSORS PAPER STONE ANYMORE!" 

Sylus and Zayne stood frozen in the shadows, their target lying lifeless before them. For once, even the predators were speechless.

But then, as memory replayed the moment, something caught their attention. The boy's eyes—glinting under the moonlight, a rare pinkish-purple hue. Unusual. Striking. Innocent in the middle of chaos.

Cold expressions shifted, faint amusement sparking between them. Their prey had been killed in the most ridiculous way possible and yet, they found themselves intrigued.

Zayne murmured.

"Did you see him?" 

Sylus's gaze lingered on the path where Rafayel had vanished.

"I did."

From that night forward, both men carried a new interest: the strange boy who had cycled screaming through the forest and stolen their attention without even realizing it.

The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Linkon Library. Rafayel strolled in, heading straight for the lift that would take him to the art section upstairs. He pressed the button and stepped inside—only then noticing he wasn't alone.

Two tall men were already there. Strikingly handsome, well-dressed, carrying themselves with an air that didn't belong to a library. Rafayel's gaze flickered over them once before he quickly turned to face the lift doors.

Woah... they look rich and handsome,   he thought, a little amused, waiting for the ride to end.

The doors slid open with a chime. Rafayel shifted to step out—only to freeze. The two men moved at the same time, blocking his path with cool precision. One of them, sharp-eyed and faintly smirking, leaned down ever so slightly.

Sylus said, voice smooth and cold.

"Found you."

Beside him, Zayne casually raised an arm to keep the door from closing again, his expression unreadable.

Rafayel's brow shot up.

What...?

His instincts flared. Without hesitation, he ducked low under their arms and darted out of the lift. He glanced back once, bewildered, then bolted toward the shelves.

For a moment, Sylus and Zayne were left staring after him.
Zayne let out a quiet sigh.

"This kid is good at running."

Sylus's cold smirk returned, amusement glinting in his eyes.

 "Do we look dangerous?"

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose.

"From what you just did? Yes. Who says 'found you' the first time they meet someone? Let's try another way. Don't scare a teenager like that."

Sylus chuckled under his breath, but the interest in his gaze didn't fade.

The afternoon sky was soft and golden as Rafayel left his lecture early, surrounded by his course mates. Laughter and chatter echoed outside the gates of Linkon Art University.

Thomas, the same mischievous friend who had once forced Rafayel into that bicycle bet, suddenly grinned, holding up an old worn-out brush.

"Alright, new bet." 

Thomas announced, eyes glinting with mischief. 

"We throw this brush from here. Rule is—you can't look up, only at the floor below. If it hits someone's leg, whoever threw it has to paint an ugly dog. And I mean super ugly—that'll be your next art submission."

The group erupted with laughter. Rafayel smirked, folding his arms.

"Bring it on!"

Thomas went first, tossing the brush without looking up. It sailed far, landing harmlessly. The others tried too, but none hit anyone.

Groans and laughter followed until it was Rafayel's turn. He narrowed his eyes with mock determination.

"No way I'm losing at a dumb game again! I'm winning this bet."

He glanced only at the floor, then flicked the brush with confidence. A faint thud. Silence.
Then Thomas burst out laughing.

"You lost! You actually hit someone's shoes!"

The group turned as two tall figures approached, the brush now lying at their feet. Their presence alone was enough to silence the laughter. Sylus bent slightly to pick up the brush, smirk cool and sharp. Zayne followed, gaze cold as winter.

Thomas swallowed hard and patted Rafayel's back nervously.

"Uh... Rafayel, I think you need to... apologize."

Rafayel groaned and looked up, ready to mutter something. But his eyes widened when he saw who it was.
Sylus's smirk deepened.

"Rafayel. Nice seeing you again."

Zayne's voice cut in, low and piercing.

"I see you're bad at bets."

Rafayel froze, glancing at Thomas and the others, who all looked stiff and pale under the men's presence. He sighed, waving his hand.

"You guys leave first. These two..."

Zayne interrupted smoothly, stepping forward.

"Brothers." 

Rafayel blinked, confusion flickering across his face as he looked between them. Sylus only shrugged, still smirking.

Thomas and the group gulped, too intimidated to question further.

"O-okay! Uh, Rafayel—you lost the bet, remember? Ugly dog painting! Don't forget! And... I didn't know you had brothers! Byeee!"

Because Rafayel was an orphan, his parents had died years ago, leaving him only their wealth, a name, and a solitude no one could fill.

Rafayel folded his arms across his chest, brows furrowed. His voice was sharp but laced with disbelief.

"Now what do you guys want? First in the library, and now outside my campus? I don't remember offending any handsome hot men."

Sylus chuckled low, a cold smirk tugging at his lips as he lifted the worn brush. With effortless strength, he crushed it in his hand, wood and bristles snapping like paper.

"Thanks for the compliment,"   he murmured.   "But we're only here to have a nice chat. To know you."

Beside him, Zayne's tone was cool, stripped of warmth.

"Let's just say... we're interested in you."

Rafayel scoffed, pointing accusingly at Sylus's hand.

"Ha! Who crushes a brush like that so easily?! Don't expect me to believe you two have good intentions."

His eyes narrowed, studying them with suspicion.
Then, with a spark of defiance, he added: "And I know you guys."

That made both Sylus and Zayne pause. Their brows lifted, curiosity flashing in their gazes. The boy was sharp, sharper than they had expected.

For the first time, it wasn't just Rafayel under their scrutiny—they felt themselves leaning forward, genuinely intrigued by what exactly he knew.

Chapter Text

Rafayel jabbed a finger at Sylus, his expression twisted in annoyance.

"You! You're the infamous N109 Onychinus leader. That smug look gives it away! Crimson eyes, that aura... and unexpectedly... *cough*... hot."

Sylus's smirk only deepened, amused by the blunt insult-compliment.
Rafayel quickly turned, pointing now at Zayne.

"And you! Akso's brilliant cardiac chief surgeon! But why are you hanging around with him?"

He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Don't tell me... a doctor like you... kills?"

Zayne's gaze didn't waver. His answer was cold, steady.

"Yes."

Then he leaned closer, his breath brushing Rafayel's ear, voice like ice sliding down his spine.

"Ever heard of the 'Dawnbreaker?"

Rafayel's eyes widened, the color draining from his face. Slowly, his gaze flickered back to Sylus, realization dawning. His hand shot up, pointing accusingly.

"You...! You're his partner?!"

Sylus only tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting with dark amusement, as if Rafayel had just uncovered the edge of a truth far more dangerous than he realized.

Sylus leaned in slightly, crimson eyes glinting, his smirk cool and deliberate.

"We want to bring you somewhere cool. To know you better."

Rafayel folded his arms tighter, lips pressed into an annoyed line.

"You know... you really shouldn't say it like that. Makes me want to go even less. It sounds like abduction."

Sylus let out a low chuckle, shoulders lifting in a careless shrug.

"You could also call it that."

Rafayel's face darkened.

"..."

Before he could retort, Zayne exhaled softly, cutting in with his calm, cold tone.

"We just want to know you more. Did you know... the night you were riding a bicycle, lost control, and knocked someone over? Then kept riding as if nothing happened?"

Rafayel blinked. Realization struck.

"Ahhh! The forest! Hm? Wait... that's why you guys are interested in me?"

Zayne's lips curved faintly, though his tone stayed flat.

"In the car. We'll talk then."

Rafayel hesitated, his annoyance clashing with his curiosity. But before he knew it, the choice was slipping from his hands. The two men—powerful, dangerous, and strangely compelling—swept him along, and Rafayel found himself being pulled into their world without fully realizing it.

The car purred quietly as it rolled toward N109. Zayne sat at the wheel, his expression calm and unreadable, while Sylus leaned lazily in the passenger seat. Rafayel sat in the back, arms crossed, still suspicious but too curious to stay silent.

"So..."

  he asked, leaning forward slightly, 

"why are you guys even interested in me now?"

Sylus turned his head, crimson eyes catching Rafayel's. A smirk tugged at his lips.

"You killed a runaway spy with your bicycle, kid."

Rafayel let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.

"Is this a joke? Because it's funny now. I remember knocking into someone, sure—but there's no way I killed anyone with a bicycle."

Zayne's voice cut in, low and steady as he kept his eyes on the road.

"His neck snapped when you hit him. He fell against a rock. He died instantly."

Rafayel's smile faltered. His lips parted, the weight of the words sinking in.

"...That's... not funny."

Sylus chuckled softly, his smirk sharpening.

"You're an interesting one, kid. Nobody rides a bicycle at the top of the forest border near N109. Not unless they're asking to get killed."

Rafayel frowned, looking away.

"I lost a bet, okay!"

Rafayel leaned forward, his voice sharper now, no trace of laughter left.

"The guy... really died? Just from my bicycle?"

Sylus turned slightly in his seat, crimson eyes glinting, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Thanks for clearing out the traitor for us. Accidentally."

Rafayel's eyes went wide. His chest tightened.

"I killed someone?! Oh—so that's it! You're interested because I just... randomly wiped out your target? With a dumb accident?"

From the driver's seat, Zayne didn't even glance back. His tone was calm, almost clinical.

"Thank you for the contribution."

Rafayel dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

"I killed someone... with a bicycle. What a joke..."

The car rolled to a stop before the towering trading building of N109, its glass and steel stretching into the sky like a monument to power. Rafayel craned his neck as he followed Sylus and Zayne inside, eyes widening at every step.

The main office they guided him to was breathtaking—walls lined with intricate patterns, polished floors gleaming under golden light, and furniture that spoke of wealth and authority. Rafayel's jaw nearly dropped.

"Whoa..."

 he breathed, spinning slowly in awe.

"I didn't expect the office to be this grand. Can I just... study here from now on?"

The men stationed in the room, hardened subordinates of N109, froze mid-breath. None of them had ever heard anyone speak so casually to Sylus and Zayne, the most merciless pair in the underground.

Sylus raised a brow, smirk tugging at his lips as he regarded Rafayel.

"Bold of you. Are you sure you want to study here?"

Rafayel smirked back, folding his arms.

"Why not? It's so cool here!"

Zayne, standing with arms crossed, spoke in his usual cold, even tone.

"You're welcome any time. We can even drive you here."

The men exchanged glances, struggling to keep straight faces. Inside, their thoughts were a whirl.

Just who is this kid? To make both sir speak like that? To make them sound... soft?

To Sylus and Zayne, Rafayel was unlike anyone they had ever encountered. Most men cowered in their presence, trembling under a single glance. Yet this boy—this twenty-two-year-old student—walked into their office with wide eyes and a careless smile, marveling at the architecture as if he were touring a museum.

What drew them in even more were his eyes. That unusual pinkish shade of blue, bright even under the cold office light, carried a rare spark. They weren't the eyes of someone burdened by fear of them; they were alive, curious, unyielding.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, smirk tugging at his lips.

Too bold for his own good,   he thought, yet the audacity amused him. Most would have dropped to their knees by now. Rafayel crossed his arms and spoke as if he owned the place.

Zayne, quieter but sharper, observed in silence.

A teenager who can sit comfortably in the den of killers... reckless or fearless? Maybe both.

Together, they recognized something undeniable: Rafayel was daring. Recklessly so. But in every aspect—his eyes, his stubborn composure, his unshaken attitude even in front of killers—he was fascinating.

And for men who had ruled N109 in blood and silence, it was rare to find anyone who could spark their interest this way.

Chapter Text

A few months later, Rafayel had become a familiar sight beside Sylus and Zayne. Sometimes they would pick him up from campus, the sleek car drawing stares from every student, and drive him straight to N109's towering trading building. There, Rafayel was free to study, paint, or simply sprawl across a chair as though he belonged.

Thomas and the rest of the clique eventually gave up questioning it. Their final conclusion: Sylus and Zayne were Rafayel's adoptive brothers. Rafayel never refuted, letting their imagination run wild.

In that time, Rafayel also kept his promise about the infamous lost bet. His next art submission was, in his own words, "an ugly dog." The painting, however, shocked everyone—earning him high praise and top marks.

Thomas nearly fell out of his chair when he saw it.

"I told you to paint an ugly dog, not... a monster! Why does it have so many heads?"

Rafayel only shrugged with a grin.

"Three heads are still ugly, friend. You try growing three heads of your own and then say you look handsome."

The professors called it imaginative. Thomas just called it a nightmare.

Meanwhile, Sylus and Zayne's once-immaculate office was no longer the cold, pristine space it used to be. Rafayel had claimed it with his paints. Canvases leaned against the walls, splashes of color brightened every corner, and the most dangerous men in N109 now held meetings in a room scattered with whimsical, ridiculous artwork.

Some were absurd: fishes with legs, turtles strolling like businessmen, and most baffling of all—a jellyfish twerking on two stubby legs.

More than once, their subordinates entered to deliver serious reports, only to freeze mid-sentence as their eyes landed on a canvas. Faces twitched, shoulders trembled as they struggled not to laugh.

"Sir, the shipment has—"

 one man began, then faltered as his gaze snagged on the jellyfish. He coughed, forcing his eyes back to Sylus.

Sylus only raised a brow, smirking faintly at their discomfort. Zayne, as always, remained stone-faced, as if the jellyfish were as natural as a spreadsheet.

By then, the men of N109 were fully accustomed to Rafayel's presence in the building. He wandered without hesitation, often heading to the 67th floor where the soldiers trained or rested, while Sylus and Zayne remained in their shared office on the 80th.

Most outsiders would never have dared to step into a room filled with trained evolvers, but Rafayel did so without fear.

Rafayel asked one afternoon, folding his arms as if it were the most natural question in the world.

"Do you guys cycle?"

One man raised an eyebrow.

"Of course we know how. Why do you ask, kid?"

Rafayel frowned, shifting his weight.

"I want to learn. The last time I tried—at the forest near the N109 border—I failed badly. Knocked someone over."

The room went still. In unison, the men thought the same thing.

So he's the one. The crazy kid who killed a spy with a bicycle. No wonder the bosses are interested. Who kills with a bicycle?

One of them finally spoke, baffled.

"But why would you cycle there, of all places? That's way too dangerous, kid."

Rafayel only shrugged.

"I lost a bet."

And so, against all logic, they took him out. Not just for practice—but on missions. When Sylus and Zayne assigned them tasks, they brought Rafayel along, putting him on a bicycle. The results were absurdly effective. More than once, Rafayel's clumsy wobble sent him crashing into their targets, knocking them down long enough for the men to capture and quietly kill them.

What started as a joke became habit. The men began to look forward to Rafayel's visits. His strange luck turned dangerous assignments into manageable ones.

Sometimes, when sent to clean out intruders or sweep for traps, Rafayel joined in. Pulling a sponge from his bag, he grinned.

"Wanna see something? I've got this useless skill. I can throw a sponge like a pebble—it jumps."

He tossed it, the sponge bouncing once, twice—then striking a buried landmine.

The explosion rattled the air. Rafayel froze, eyes wide.

"There's a... landmine near here???"

The explosion that followed left the entire squad speechless.

Another time, his sponge smacked against seemingly empty air... only to reveal an invisible wanderer meant to disrupt N109's activities.

It was ridiculous. It was effective. And the men, despite themselves, started doting on him.

But when Sylus and Zayne discovered this, their wrath fell hard. The soldiers were punished brutally for exposing Rafayel to missions. Rafayel might laugh it off, but he was still a teenager. They would not let him witness the gruesome heart of their world. From then on, the men were ordered to shield him. Captures were allowed in his presence but kills were carried out behind his back.

Thus, Rafayel's presence reshaped N109. To the strongest, darkest group in the underground, he brought both chaos and peace. Where fear and blood once ruled, a boy with pink-blue eyes and absurd luck became the unpredictable light they hadn't known they needed.

One late afternoon, with classes ending earlier than usual, Rafayel and Thomas strolled out of campus together, planning to grab dinner. The side streets were quieter, but not empty. That was when they ran into a man—his face worn with a pitiful expression, his tone carefully practiced.

He said, voice dripping with feigned misery.

"Hey, could you spare a few dollars? I just need bus fare to get home. Left my wallet and phone," 

Thomas hesitated, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.

At that moment, Rafayel returned from a cheese stall, a sausage hanging from his mouth. He raised a brow at the scene.

"Thomas. What are you doing?"

Thomas gestured at the man.

 "He needs a few dollars for the bus. Didn't bring his wallet or phone."

Rafayel walked over, plucked the bill from Thomas's hand, and looked the man up and down.

"You can walk home."

Thomas frowned.

 "Bro, he lives far. That's, like, a three-hour walk."

The man nodded, layering on more pity. Rafayel, chewing his sausage, wasn't buying it.

"Then ride a bicycle. Steal one. Asking students for money is the same as stealing a bike, isn't it? Just steal a bike."

Both Thomas and the man went speechless. The scammer's expression twisted in irritation.

"I have integrity. I don't steal. Just return the money to your friend. Please."

Thomas blinked, half-convinced, but Rafayel only smirked and pulled out a crumpled two-dollar note. He flicked it onto the ground a few feet away.

"Fine. Pick it up. You're welcome."

The man scoffed.

"That's only two bucks!"

"Enough for public transport." 

Rafayel replied flatly, popping the last bite of sausage into his mouth. Then, with a sly grin, he added,

 "If you really want the twenty from my friend, sure. Just call him 'Daddy.'"

Thomas exploded with laughter, clutching his stomach, while the man froze, humiliated and seething. For the first time, his well-practiced scam had backfired—undone by a teenager who was still chewing on cheese sausage.

Thanks to Rafayel, Thomas's money was safe. The scammer stormed off sourly, while Thomas kept laughing all the way to dinner.

Thomas asked, still chuckling.

"I didn't even know he was a scammer. How did you?" 

Rafayel smirked, raising a brow playfully.

"My 'brothers' taught me."

But the truth was darker. From the time he'd spent lurking around Sylus and Zayne's meetings—peeking into the illegal trades they conducted behind closed doors—he had learned something simple: intimidation worked better than kindness. He had seen them slam guns on the table, forcing traders to either give up their lives or take the weapon to end it themselves.

Rafayel had mimicked that in his own cheeky way. Where Sylus and Zayne threw down guns, Rafayel threw money, daring the scammer to crawl for it.

He smiled faintly to himself, the echoes of his "brothers'" ruthless lessons hidden beneath his playful exterior.

Chapter Text

Over the next two years, Sylus and Zayne found themselves doting on Rafayel more than they ever thought possible.

They kept firm boundaries—he was never allowed into their main office during meetings, nor did they involve him when they went out on hunts or trades. The blood-stained heart of N109 was not for him to see. Yet, outside of that, they carved time for him in their lives.

Sometimes, they would take him to high-class restaurants, where Rafayel would gawk at golden chandeliers and polished cutlery before teasing them for looking too serious. Other times, they would bring him to aquariums, watching as his reflection shimmered against the glass while schools of fish drifted like living jewels behind it.

Once, in a rare bout of patience, they even tried teaching him how to ride a bicycle properly at a seaside park. It ended disastrously. Rafayel lost control halfway through, shrieking as the bike veered straight toward the waves.

"GAHHHHH!!! AM I GOING CYCLING OR SWIMMING NOW?!"

 he yelled, legs pumping furiously before Sylus caught him by the back of his shirt and Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose in pure exasperation.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice cold but steady.

"Maybe you should stop insisting on learning for now. You..."

Sylus let out a long sigh, watching Rafayel tumble into the sand.

"You clearly have no fate with cycling."

More often, though, Rafayel simply made himself comfortable in their workplace. The large office, with its deep chairs and soft lighting, became his second home. He would nap there with his books and paint supplies scattered around, sometimes curling up on the couch as though it were his own.

But never their apartment. The enormous penthouse at the very top of N109's tower remained untouched. Sylus and Zayne never invited him there, and Rafayel never asked. He preferred their office anyway, where he could mess around freely and irritate them just enough to make the coldest men in N109 sigh, or smirk, or shake their heads at his antics.

Sylus and Zayne often remembered the first day Rafayel had barged into their office with his arms crossed, eyes stubborn yet sparkling with defiance.

"Let's make an agreement."

 Rafayel had declared, his tone sharp.

 "Since you guys are interested in me, let me roam around here in N109 and the building freely. I can do my revision here till I graduate. It's way too cool and comfy. Once I graduate, we end it. How's that?"

Sylus had leaned back in his chair, smirking coldly.

"What makes you think we're letting you go?"

Rafayel scoffed, clicking his tongue.

"It's an agreement, you idiot! Yes or no? You can't force a student to stay—that's kidnapping!"

Zayne, calm as always, had cut in smoothly.

"You were the one willing to come with us."

Rafayel had shot back, frowning.

"That's because you made me curious! That still counts as kidnap!" 

The two men had laughed, low, amused, dangerous. Yet in the end, Sylus nodded, and Zayne agreed.

"Fine. Agreement pact."

And Rafayel's grin lit up the entire office as he answered with a quick, "Yes!"—genuinely happy he had carved out his space in their world on his own terms.

Now, two years later, Rafayel was in his final year at Linkon. The agreement still stood, and he still drifted through N109 as if he owned it. Yet for Sylus and Zayne, something had changed.

What began as interest, then entertainment, had deepened quietly, inevitably. They no longer saw him as just a curious, reckless boy who had once killed a spy with a bicycle. Somewhere along the line, he had become precious to them.

They watched him now with an unspoken heaviness, aware that his graduation loomed. By the pact he had set, this strange, vibrant light in their dark empire was supposed to leave.

And for the first time, the men who controlled everything in N109 found themselves unsettled because this was one thing they could not control: the thought of losing Rafayel.

During the semester break before his final national portfolio, Rafayel spent nearly every day in Sylus and Zayne's office. Books and papers covered the polished desk, his messy scrawl bleeding into neat sketches as he wrestled with ideas. When he wasn't studying, he was downstairs, joking or sparring clumsily with the men, who now tolerated him as though he were one of their own.

One afternoon, Rafayel sat deep in thought, staring at his drafts. From behind, Zayne leaned against the wall, watching silently.

"Need me to do it for you?" 

Zayne said coolly. 

"I can help you cheat."

Rafayel snapped around, eyes wide.

"You are the prestigious Akso Heart Chief Surgeon! Do you hear yourself? That's integrity running away from home."

Zayne's lips curved faintly.

"Here, I'm Dawnbreaker. Not Akso's doctor."

Rafayel smirked, narrowing his eyes.

"Okay then. Dawnbreaker~ come give me tips!"

Before Zayne could respond, the office doors opened. Sylus entered with his men, mid-report. His crimson gaze landed on Rafayel, and a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Want me to destroy the campus for you? Force a straight graduation."

The men behind him froze mid-sentence, then exchanged glances before one spoke, voice steady.

"Sir, we can do it right away."

Rafayel jumped to his feet, panic flashing across his face.

"Stop right there! That's not civilized. Even if I want you to bomb it—what if I can't graduate then? What if it makes things worse?"

Sylus stepped forward, his smirk sharpening.

"I can make you graduate even if the school lies in ruins."

The men smiled faintly, half-amused at Rafayel's frantic reaction.

"We can do it now, sir,"   another added.

Rafayel dragged his hands down his face with a groan.

"No! I said no! You don't go destroying buildings for every little thing!"

He swung his arms helplessly toward his stack of portfolio papers.

"I just needed help on my portfolio, not a farewell to my entire career! Zayne was about to help me, and then you all barged in, ready to blow up the school!"

The soldiers exchanged looks, then a few stepped closer. One scratched his cheek, muttering under his breath.

"Actually... we can help. Portfolio isn't hard."

Another leaned in, whispering almost sheepishly.

"The hard part is... none of us have talent in art."

For a moment, the room softened with quiet laughter. Sylus leaned back slightly, arms folded, watching the scene unfold. His smirk lingered, but not in cruelty.

How strange, he thought, that his men—trained evolvers, killers without hesitation—now crowded around a desk, peering curiously at a teenager's messy sketches.

Rafayel had dragged color into their world, just as vivid as his rare eyes. And without realizing it, the boy had given even the blackest empire of N109 something it had never known: warmth.

From the back, Zayne finally stepped forward. He didn't add to the noise. Instead, he reached out and rested a cool hand on Rafayel's head, patting him gently.

Zayne's expression remained calm, but his eyes betrayed something quieter, heavier. He knew Rafayel's final year was ticking down, and the pact they had once laughed over—the agreement that everything would end after graduation, drew closer with each passing day.

Chapter Text

With his final portfolio submitted, Rafayel finally breathed—though not for long. He wanted the top of his cohort, the star position, and he would settle for nothing less. But the results wouldn't be released for a month, leaving him restless.

And so, he found other ways to spend his time. Discreetly—though anyone watching would say it was more like recklessly—he joined the N109 Onychinus men on missions.

It started with small games. Rafayel would point at random patches of ground, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness.

"Bet you can't walk three steps there without stepping on a rock. If you do, you'll have to piggyback me back to base."

The men humored him, shaking their heads at his childish antics—until one of them did, in fact, step on a jagged stone. But when the rock shifted, the ground cracked open, revealing the hidden entrance to an underground office packed with illegal guns and stolen Aether Cores.

The men froze, stunned. Rafayel only grinned smugly.

"See? Told you I win."

Another time, determined not to give up on cycling despite everyone telling him to quit, Rafayel wobbled through the forest trails near the N109 border. His face was twisted in frustration, muttering to himself as the bike threatened to tip at every bump.

"I don't care what they say... I will master cycling—"

CRASH!

He slammed into a man crouched low behind the trees. The unlucky figure turned out to be one of several evolvers plotting in secret to strike against Sylus and Zayne. The conspirators barely had time to register what happened before N109 men surged in to protect Rafayel, weapons drawn.

"Why are people always hiding in this forest?!"

Rafayel groaned, dusting dirt off his clothes.

"I just want to cycle!"

Blades clashed and powers flared as the evolvers retaliated, shouting mid-fight,

"Which idiot kid rides a bicycle in the Border of N109 forest?!"

Rafayel shouted back indignantly, kicking his bike upright again.

"Me!"

The men fought with grim precision, but they couldn't hide their smirks. Rafayel's luck—whether in games or accidents—had a way of unearthing enemies and secrets no strategy ever predicted.

The grand hall buzzed with noise, the air thick with excitement and relief. Students crowded together, caps and gowns fluttering as names were read aloud. One by one, the results appeared on the board, and when Rafayel's name rose to the very top, marked with a perfect portfolio score, the room erupted.

Rafayel shouted, pumping his fist into the air.

"FINALLYYY!!!"

Laughter and cheers followed him. Thomas, grinning from ear to ear, threw his arms around him.

"Star student as always!"

Rafayel laughed with him, his smile wide, eyes bright.

"Hey!"

Thomas said, pulling back, still buzzing with excitement.

"We must meet up after we get a proper career, okay?"

Rafayel nodded, warmth filling his chest.

"Of course."

Thomas's parents were waiting for him, so he darted off into the crowd, swallowed quickly by the flood of families rushing into the hall. Parents embraced their children, friends exchanged flowers and gifts, the air thick with celebration.

Rafayel stood still in the middle of it all, clutching his graduation certificate. At first, he smiled, watching the joy around him. But slowly, as he turned in place, he realized the truth pressing quietly at his chest.

Everyone had someone. Parents, friends, siblings, arms wrapping around them, voices calling their names.

And he... had no one.

The memory was sharp, sudden. His parents, long gone. The inheritance they left him meant comfort, money, security—but not presence. Not warmth. He had studied, excelled, and stood as the star student of the cohort... but as the hall swelled with embraces and flowers, Rafayel stood alone.

His smile wavered. He glanced down at the crisp certificate in his hands, the proof of his success.

"Now I'm free from studying," he murmured, the words hollow in the noise around him.

The paper blurred for a moment as his chest tightened.

Rafayel stood in the crowd, certificate clutched in his hands, smile fading as the hall swelled with families. Students laughed and cried in their parents' arms, bouquets of flowers pressed against their gowns. And he—despite being the star student—stood alone.

Then, suddenly, a weight settled on his shoulder. A familiar presence. Rafayel blinked and turned.

Through the crowd, two tall figures emerged—handsome, striking, impossible to miss. Their cold aura cut through the noise, and the students around them instinctively stepped aside.

Sylus smirked faintly, his crimson eyes glinting as he extended not flowers, but a velvet box. Inside, a pure ruby caught the light, glowing deep and rich.

Sylus voice was low, smooth, carrying just enough bite to mask the fondness beneath it.

"Happy graduation, troublemaker."

Beside him, Zayne held out something softer—a single man-made snow flower, white and pristine against the dark suit he wore.

"Happy graduation," he said simply, his tone cool, but gentler than usual.

Rafayel's breath caught. His eyes widened, shimmering with unshed tears. For a moment, the noise of the hall faded—the laughter, the cheering, the flowers exchanged by others. None of it mattered.

He smiled then, the kind of smile that lit up his whole face, bright and unguarded. The certificate trembled slightly in his hand, but his heart felt lighter than it had in years.

For all the money his parents had left him, for all the achievements he had earned—this was the first time he felt truly celebrated, truly seen.

And it was by them.

After the ceremony, Sylus and Zayne didn't let Rafayel walk off alone. Instead, they steered him straight into their sleek black car and drove him out of the city lights. The evening turned into quiet celebration—first a fine dinner, then a drive to the seaside where the air was cool and salt-tinged.

Rafayel kicked off his shoes as soon as they arrived, running a few steps into the sand, the waves brushing at his ankles. He spun around, grinning, the graduation certificate tucked safely in the car.

"Why did you two even come?" he called out, laughter caught in his voice.

Sylus and Zayne exchanged a glance. Their answers overlapped, spoken with the same calm certainty.

"Because we wanted to."

Rafayel's chest tightened, a soft thump of his heart echoing against the night air. He bit back the sting in his eyes and smiled instead—bright, unrestrained, grateful.

Of all the accolades he had earned, of all the recognition he had received as a star student, nothing compared to this moment. Their presence, their choice to come for him, was the happiest thing he had ever felt.

Chapter Text

The car rolled to a stop in front of Rafayel's small apartment near Linkon. The street was quiet, the glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the pavement. Rafayel stepped out, arms full—his graduation certificate tucked safely in its file, the ruby box from Sylus pressed against his chest, and the delicate man-made snow flower from Zayne cradled in his hands.

He turned back to them, smiling, though his voice carried a hint of weight.

"I guess the agreement we made... ends here."

Sylus and Zayne didn't answer at once. They sat in silence, gazes steady through the open window of the car. The pause stretched until Zayne finally spoke, his voice even and cool, yet softer than usual.

"You can still call us. Specially for you."

Rafayel's smile deepened, his eyes shimmering as he nodded.

"Thanks... for making my university life chaotic."

Sylus smirked, a low chuckle slipping out.

"Thanks for killing spies for us... unknowingly?"

Rafayel blinked, then burst into laughter, his grin bright against the night air. For a moment, all heaviness dissolved, leaving only warmth.

Rafayel shifted his arms, balancing the file, the ruby box, and the snow flower, then lifted his hand in a casual wave.

"If there's a next time I see you both again... thank you!"

Sylus leaned back in his seat, smirk cool and effortless, while Zayne's gaze lingered on Rafayel from the passenger side.

"Take care of yourself."

Zayne said evenly, though there was weight beneath his calm.

"Remember to eat properly. If not, come to Akso Hospital. I'll be there."

Rafayel's lips curled into a soft smile. He flicked his hand in mock annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah. Just go already."

Zayne hesitated before the window began to rise. His voice slipped through, quieter now.

"Not gonna miss us?"

The question hung in the air. Rafayel blinked, caught off guard.

Then Sylus's voice followed, low and steady, carrying a rare honesty beneath the coolness.

"'Cause I will."

Rafayel's eyes widened, his breath catching. He tightened his hold on the things in his arms—the ruby, the flower, the certificate—as though steadying himself. No words left his lips, only a bright smile as he lifted his hand once more, silently urging them to leave.

Zayne's gaze lingered, a flicker of reluctance passing across his otherwise impassive face. The window slid up, closing him from view.

And then Sylus turned the wheel, the black car slipping away into the night, leaving Rafayel alone under the streetlight

Rafayel stood on the curb long after the car disappeared from view, his eyes fixed on the empty stretch of road. The night felt too still, the silence pressing in as if reminding him he was alone again.

He lowered his gaze to the things clutched in his arms—the ruby box from Sylus, the delicate man-made snow flower from Zayne, and the crisp file holding his graduation certificate. Symbols of pride, of achievement, of care. Yet in that moment, they felt unbearably heavy.

His lips trembled. His eyes burned, shimmering with unshed tears.

"I... of course I'll miss you guys."

The memories rushed in like a flood. The first time they met, that strange encounter in the library. The stalking, the cornering, the way he'd been dragged—half unwilling, half curious—into their car. The absurdity of their first conversations. Slowly, those moments turned into evenings in the most dangerous city in the underground, laughter and chaos spilling from places where there should only have been fear.

He remembered barging into their office without permission, studying in their chairs, sprawling across their couches. Zayne's endless nagging about his recklessness. Sylus's lectures whenever he tried to join missions. The rare pats on the back, the comforting ruffles of his hair, Sylus pressing a teasing kiss to his forehead just to make him snap. Zayne's cold jokes delivered in the middle of tense moments, cracking the heavy air.

The memories twisted in his chest, bittersweet.

Rafayel slowly crouched down on the sidewalk, hugging everything tighter against him. At last, the tears broke free, falling hot against the ruby's surface and staining the petals of the snow flower.

"It would be a lie to say I don't miss you guys," he whispered, voice cracking. "I want you to stay... I don't want this to end."

His shoulders shook as he sobbed, words breaking into the night.

"I wish I never graduated... so I could stay with you both longer. I wish I wasn't alone again. I... miss you guys."

The street around him was empty, but the weight of two years' worth of memories pressed close, as if they were still there.

Rafayel never expected it. Two of the most dangerous men in the underground—figures feared by thousands, whispered about in the shadows—had brought him something he had long forgotten how to feel. Warmth.

The loneliness that had been his shadow since childhood was quietly stolen away the moment they stepped into his life. It hadn't happened all at once. It was slow, unknowing. A pat on the head here, a smirk meant to tease but that somehow comforted him, a cold joke that made him laugh when the room was too heavy. Their protection, their scolding, their presence—it seeped into him until it became part of his every day.

And without realizing it, he had adapted. He had grown used to it. Loved it.

And now, standing alone beneath the streetlight, hugging the ruby, the snow flower, and his certificate, he felt the regret settle in heavy.

He shouldn't have made that pact.

That foolish agreement he'd insisted on—so bold at the time, so sure of his independence—now felt like a chain he had tied around himself.

"Once I graduate, we end it."

He had thought it would protect him. That it would keep him from being swallowed whole by their dangerous world.

But now?

Now it only tore him apart.

He whispered to the empty night, voice trembling.

"I should never have made that agreement... I don't want this to end."

His tears slid down, blurring the ruby's shine, dampening the snow flower's petals. All he could do was hold onto the reminders they had left him, wishing desperately he could hold onto them instead.

Without warning, a force lifted him—gentle yet firm. Energy wrapped around him, pulling him off the ground. He gasped as his body rose, and before he could react, he was pulled into a solid chest, strong arms locking around him.

His breath hitched, eyes wide as Sylus's low voice brushed against his ear.

"Did you really think I'd let you go? You piqued our interest from the start... and I have no intention of letting you go."

Rafayel froze, stunned, his heart hammering wildly. He barely registered the soft hum of the car engine nearby until another figure stepped into view. Zayne, calm as ever, had emerged from the passenger side.

They came back.

His eyes, cool and sharp, softened faintly as they landed on Rafayel's tear-streaked face.

"If you cry like that," he said evenly, "then we're breaking the agreement."

Rafayel's lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyes widened to the core, the weight of his regret, his whispered wishes, crashing into the reality before him.

Chapter Text

Sylus's arms tightened around Rafayel, holding him close. Even as tears streamed down Rafayel's face, Sylus only smirked faintly, his voice low and steady.

"Since you graduated... we're breaking the agreement. You can choose."

Rafayel's breath hitched. His wide eyes searched Sylus's face, stunned.

From the side, Zayne stepped closer, his expression calm, his touch gentle as he poked Rafayel's damp cheek.

"Stay here in your apartment, continue with your plans... or move in with us."

The words hit harder than any lecture or scolding. Rafayel froze, speechless, his heart pounding.

Sylus chuckled softly, brushing a thumb across Rafayel's wet cheek, wiping the tears away.

"We'll settle the rest once you move in. For now, just decide from your heart. We're not forcing you... but I don't like seeing you cry."

The tears came faster at that, slipping down Rafayel's face no matter how he tried to hold them back. He sniffed, trying to find his voice, and finally muttered the first excuse that came to mind.

"But... I already paid rent for this apartment."

Sylus arched a brow, then laughed—low and rich, shaking his head.

"Then I'll buy the entire building instead of just the apartment. You come with us. Settled."

Zayne's lips curved faintly, and he leaned down, his cool voice carrying a rare warmth.

"Let's go. We already know your answer."

Before Rafayel could argue, Zayne pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. His heart lurched, his breath stalling in his chest.

Sylus finally eased his hold, brushing the last of Rafayel's tears away.

"I'll have the men pack your things and bring them over. For now, get in the car."

Rafayel looked down at the treasures in his arms—the ruby, the snow flower, the certificate—then back up at them. His smile trembled through his tears, soft and bright.

For once, he didn't try to fight it. He wasn't alone anymore.

A year passed in the blink of an eye.

Rafayel's career soared higher than he imagined—his name whispered in galleries, his works displayed as the pride of Linkon. He was hailed as one of the best young artists of his generation, his fame blossoming bright and unstoppable.

But at night, when the lights dimmed and the crowds faded, his true home wasn't the art world. It was the tallest, most infamous building in N109—the illegal trading tower ruled by Sylus and Zayne.

His things had long since been moved in, packed and carried effortlessly by Sylus's men. The penthouse at the very top became his home, though "home" hardly described it anymore. Rafayel had made it his own.

He had his own room, yes—but the truth was, the entire grand apartment now bore his mark. Canvases leaned against the walls. Half-finished sketches covered the tables. Sometimes, by pure mischief or out of frustration, he would paint directly on the walls themselves.

Once, he painted an enormous jellyfish with legs down the hallway. Another time, it was a sprawling mural of Sylus and Zayne... but with ridiculous, oversized heads. They never stopped him. Sylus only smirked, and Zayne shook his head, resigned. The walls of power and danger were now drowned in color, a world no one but Rafayel could have brought.

Despite his growing fame, Rafayel lived comfortably in N109, blending into its rhythm. The soldiers on the 67th floor were still victims of his antics—sometimes dragged into bets, sometimes into chaotic bicycle "practice" that inevitably ended with him crashing into something or someone.

Sylus and Zayne, however, never changed in one regard: they refused to let him near their hunts or trades. To them, he was still that reckless teenager who stumbled into their lives by accident. No matter how many times Rafayel insisted otherwise, they shielded him from the blood and the dark.

The day was like any other in N109's zone. Sylus and Zayne moved with purpose, their expressions cold and unreadable as they headed toward the 44th floor—the trading floor, where legality had no meaning. Their presence alone made the air heavy, their men falling silent as they passed.

But trailing a few steps behind was a far less subtle figure.

Rafayel.

He tried to move discreetly, though his arms folded across his chest and his stubborn glare ruined the act. Sylus caught on instantly, turning sharply with a raised brow.

"No."

Zayne sighed, already tired of what was about to happen.
Rafayel stopped dead, mirroring Sylus's stance, his chin tilted defiantly.

"No."

Zayne asked coolly.

"You have artwork to finish, don't you?" 

"Yes,"  Rafayel answered, his tone equally cool. Then he added,  "But I'm done. I'm coming. I'm already twenty-five. An adult. So I'm coming."

Sylus's voice dropped lower, cold and sharp.

"This business we're doing doesn't follow the law. You should know that by now."

Rafayel raised a brow, imitating his tone with mocking precision.

"Heh. I clearly know. And I clearly said I'm coming."

Zayne reached to pull him back by the wrist, but Rafayel was quicker—he tugged Zayne forward instead, leaning in with a smug grin.

"Bleh! I'm coming. With my incredible luck, I'll be fine."

For a split second, Zayne's eyes widened. His heart gave an unfamiliar thump at the pull, and his hand twitched with the urge to shut this foolish boy down permanently. But he only sighed instead, suppressing the sharp edge of his instincts.

"Luck doesn't always save you,"  he said flatly.

Rafayel didn't flinch. He simply brushed past both of them and strode boldly toward the lift, his voice echoing down the hall.

"I'M NOT LISTENING! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF LISTENING TO YOU TWO! THE RENOWNED, FAMOUS ARTIST IS GOING HIMSELF THEN!"

Sylus and Zayne exchanged a long look before reluctantly following.
As the lift doors closed, Sylus's voice cut through the hum, cold and even.

"You won't like what you see, artist."

Rafayel leaned closer, his eyes bright, lips curling into a grin.

"You two are more dangerous than anything I'll see down there. So, it's nothing."

Zayne adjusted his black coat, one brow arching as he muttered under his breath.

"Fair enough."

The doors slid open with a low chime, revealing the 44th floor. The air was heavy, thrumming with tension. All around, clusters of high-profile figures gathered at long tables and shadowed corners. They bartered not with coins, but with secrets, weapons, Aether Cores, and lives.

The moment Sylus and Zayne stepped out, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations stilled. Chairs scraped back just slightly. A path opened up without a word spoken—because everyone knew who had arrived.

The owners. The most dangerous men in N109.

No one dared to brush too close. Not unless they wanted to risk their throat slit before the night was over.

Sylus walked ahead, calm and cold, Zayne's steady presence beside him. Their men followed like a dark tide, disciplined and sharp. And then... Rafayel in the middle of the men.

He strolled in with his hands tucked in his pockets, his steps loose and unhurried, slipping into the line as if he belonged there. Eyes turned his way, some confused, others incredulous. Who was this young man walking so casually in the shadow of two monsters?

Rafayel smirked faintly, tilting his head as he caught the subtle recoils, the fearful glances, the deliberate distance everyone gave Sylus and Zayne.

Cool.   he thought to himself, his eyes glinting with mischief.  So they're really scared of Dawnbreaker and Sylus. Hehe.

While the crowd avoided them like plague, Rafayel strolled forward as if he were on a campus corridor, utterly at ease. The stark contrast only made the tension sharper—an artist walking in lighthearted, in a place where everything else was drenched in blood and shadow.

Chapter Text

The private room was suffused with an icy stillness when Sylus and Zayne entered. Around the long obsidian table, figures from Gaia Research, Aether M Lab, and several other blacklisted names in the underground world sat in strained composure. Their suits were crisp, their smiles tight, but every pair of eyes flickered with the same awareness: they were in the presence of the two men who ruled N109.

Sylus and Zayne moved with effortless authority, seating themselves at the center. Their men lined up silently behind them, shadows filling the walls. Among them stood Rafayel—too young, too bright, yet striking in his composure. His handsome features caught the low light, his rare eyes shimmering pink-blue like gems.

For a moment, the traders faltered.

A man from Gaia Research tilted his head, his whisper almost drowned in the tension.

"Sylus and Dawnbreaker... have a man like him? His eyes... pinkish-blue. I've seen them before..."

Another, from Aether M, leaned back slightly, his brows furrowed.

"Who is that?"

Rafayel ignored the stares, his posture casual, his lips curving faintly as though the pressure in the room didn't exist for him. Instead, his thoughts wandered.

Interesting. So what exactly are they going to trade?

At the head of the table, Sylus smirked, his crimson eyes glinting like blood under glass. Beside him, Zayne's hazel-green gaze sharpened, cold enough to cut. The traders immediately snapped back into composure, their professional masks sliding into place.

One of them gestured, and a heavy metal case was brought forward. With a hiss of air, it was unlocked and opened, revealing a glow that seemed to pulse with life—pure Aether Core, crystalline and volatile.

"An offer."

the trader announced carefully.

"To sell this pure Aether Core. For ten million credits."

Sylus and Zayne only glanced at the case, their expressions unreadable, their silence heavier than any words.

Behind them, Rafayel narrowed his eyes, leaning just enough to catch a better look. The glow reflected in his irises, and he tilted his head. His voice slipped out, soft but certain, cutting through the stillness.

"Pure? Are you sure?"

The room stilled.

Every trader's gaze snapped toward him, shocked at the audacity. Sylus and Zayne remained still, but a flicker of intrigue crossed Sylus's lips, and Zayne's eyes glinted faintly because Rafayel had just turned the air heavier than any of their threats could.

The man presenting the case twitched an eyebrow, but his voice remained carefully professional.

"Yes. Pure Aether Core. Young man, have you even seen one before? Its power is not something a normal human can touch. It must be handled by strong evolvers."

From behind Sylus and Zayne, Rafayel tilted his head, one brow rising with calm defiance.

"Then are you an evolver?"

The trader blinked, caught off guard, before answering stiffly.

"Yes."

Rafayel's gaze sharpened, his tone cutting.

"Then why are you selling it instead of using it for your own strength? Or are you that poor that you're only asking ten million for this?"

The silence that followed was heavier than any weapon drawn. Behind him, Sylus's men fought to keep their composure—lips twitching, jaws clenched—struggling not to laugh. It was the first time anyone had asked so many reckless, cutting questions in this room.

The trader's face hardened, though his tone remained flat.

"Kid. This is called business. It's trading."

Rafayel's eye twitched. His voice came sharp, offended.

"Kid? I'm twenty-five. Do I look like a kid to you?"

The atmosphere shifted. The other traders raised their brows, their masks of cold professionalism cracking as they glanced between one another. This was no longer the tense, calculating exchange they were used to in N109's private room.

It almost felt like a casual argument in a street market, not a deal over Aether Cores worth fortunes.

Sylus leaned back in his chair, crimson eyes glinting with amusement. Zayne's gaze remained cool, but his fingers tapped lightly against the table—small signs betraying their rare enjoyment.

The man's eye twitched, but he kept his voice even, words clipped with control.

"You look young, that's all I meant. Mr. Sylus, Dawnbreaker... may I continue?"

Sylus leaned back, lips curving into a cold smirk. Zayne's gaze lingered on the glowing core in the metal box, hazel-green eyes glinting sharp as glass.

Then Rafayel's voice cut through the air again.

"No."

Every head turned.

Still standing behind Sylus and Zayne, Rafayel's posture was cool, unshaken, but his words carried weight.

"I don't think this Aether Core is pure, like you're saying."

The shift was instant. The room tensed, the traders' eyes narrowing, menace thick in their silence. To question the value of their offering was one thing. To do it so casually—by a stranger no one recognized—was another.

Sylus's smirk only deepened. He said nothing, crimson eyes watching with sharp amusement.

The trader's mask cracked. His voice grew sharper, though he held it within the frame of professionalism.

"That's rude. This is a pure Aether Core."

Rafayel stepped forward, ignoring the hostility aimed at him. The glow reflected in his rare, pinkish-blue eyes as he leaned over the box. He tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but cutting.

"Pure?"

Behind the trader, a subtle hand signal flickered. His men shifted, fingers brushing against hidden weapons, the room teetering on the edge of violence.

The trader smiled thinly, his tone almost mocking.

"Yes. So tell me—why do you think this Aether Core isn't pure?"

The silence that followed pressed in heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the glowing crystal.

All eyes shifted to Rafayel, an artist, not an evolver, standing at the center of a storm. And yet, his lips curved faintly, as if he wasn't afraid at all.

The air was tense enough to snap when Rafayel suddenly moved. In one smooth motion, he snatched the hidden gun from the trader's side, twisting it free with surprising precision. Before anyone could react, the barrel was leveled at the trader's chest.

Gasps broke the stillness. Every hand in the room froze.

Zayne's hazel-green eyes darkened to ice, his presence radiating menace as he scanned the others, daring anyone to make a move. Sylus, on the other hand, only leaned back with a cold smirk tugging at his lips, crimson eyes gleaming with intrigue.

Rafayel tilted his head, smirking coolly, his voice cutting through the silence.

"Shocked? Did you really think I wouldn't notice you were preparing to shoot me? Daring move, here of all places—in the private room of the strongest men in N109?"

He stepped forward, the gun steady in his hand as he closed the distance to the trader. His eyes glinted, sharp and bright.

"Why do I think this Aether Core isn't pure? Because I know what I'm looking at. I'm an evolver. And the color of this core isn't right. I can read its purity clear as day—and this,"

he sneered softly,

"isn't it."

The trader stiffened, composure crumbling as beads of sweat formed along his temple.

Behind Rafayel, Zayne's eyes turned razor cold, a dangerous stillness radiating from him as he scanned the room. Every other trader flinched under that gaze, their fingers twitching away from their weapons. One wrong move and Dawnbreaker's killing intent promised a massacre.

Sylus, meanwhile, leaned lazily back in his chair, crimson eyes glowing with intrigue. The smirk tugging his lips widened.

The revelation hit the room like thunder.

The traders froze, stunned. To them, Rafayel had been nothing more than an oddity—a famous artist from Linkon University, known for his bright career and chaotic antics. A boy too bold for his own good, amusing enough to linger in the orbit of Sylus and Zayne.

But now? The truth slipped free.

He wasn't just a star student, a celebrated artist, or the chaos-bringer they assumed. He was an evolver.

Sylus's smirk curved into something sharper, his thoughts low and amused as he watched the young man command the entire private room.

I knew it. The kid who caught our eye wasn't just lucky. He was hiding something deeper all along.

Meanwhile, Zayne's gaze swept like a blade across the remaining traders, his stare sharp and unforgiving lethal in its warning.

Try to move on him, and you won't walk out of here alive.

Chapter Text

The trader's composure cracked completely. He stuttered, words tumbling out in desperation.

"L-Look... I... I'm sorry. Forgive me."

Rafayel tilted his head, his smirk spreading as his entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the playful artist; in his place stood someone colder, sharper.

"Oh, I see. Is it because I look like a young teenager? You thought you could lie to me?"

His voice cut through the room.

"But lying about purity—in front of Sylus and Dawnbreaker? That's more than stupid. That's daring."

The tension in the chamber thickened, the traders' knuckles whitening on their chairs. One man, from Gaia Research, narrowed his eyes, silent thoughts racing as he studied Rafayel.

I've definitely seen him before... those eyes. Just where?

Sylus's chuckle broke the silence, low and dark.

"He's going to die anyway."

Zayne leaned forward, his tone cool and steady.

"It was obvious from the moment the box opened that it wasn't pure. But you stepped in, Rafayel."

 His gaze slid toward the boy, sharp but approving.

"We wanted to see how far he act."

The trader's eyes widened in horror. His lie had been exposed from the very start. The only one who had been fooled was himself.

The rest of the room sat in utter stillness, watching, waiting.
Then Zayne's voice cut like a blade.

"You can stop now. We'll handle it."

Rafayel glanced back at him, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. Instead of backing down, he turned sharply on the trader, his voice dripping with mockery.

"Kid, was it?"

And he fired.

The shot cracked across the room, striking the trader square in the chest—not enough to kill, but enough to send him collapsing with a guttural groan.

The room froze. The other traders stared, stunned into silence. Rafayel's posture was unshaken, his rare eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

Sylus's crimson eyes widened faintly, the smallest flicker of surprise crossing his face. Zayne's hazel-green gaze darkened, sharp and unreadable.

"Come here."   Zayne ordered coldly.

Rafayel tossed the gun onto the writhing trader and walked forward, sliding into place between them. His smirk was bold as he looked at them both.

"Do I still look like a kid who's afraid of this?"

Sylus smirked back, tugging Rafayel down into the seat beside him, his voice a whisper against Rafayel's ear.

"Well. That was... unexpected. Shocking, even. I never said you were a kid. We just weren't used to seeing you in this world—the dark side of it."

Rafayel leaned closer, whispering back with a cheeky grin.

"I chose to stay with you both. That means I'm in. Besides..."

His eyes glinted.

"You two are scarier than anything else here."

Zayne's cool voice rose again, directed at the stunned traders.

"Enough wasting time. Why are the rest of you here? Make it fast."

The silence that followed was suffocating. For the first time, the traders realized—they weren't negotiating with just Sylus and Dawnbreaker.

They were negotiating with the young man who seat between them as well.

The air hung heavy after Rafayel's display. Finally, one of the traders—the representative from Aether M—rose smoothly to his feet. His face was composed, his tone professional.

"Pardon me. I will take my leave."

Without waiting for approval, he turned and exited swiftly. He had seen enough. The atmosphere in this room had grown too sharp, too dangerous. Better to retreat now than risk becoming the next target.

But another stayed. The man from Gaia Research—Michael—remained seated, calm and deliberate. His eyes glinted faintly as he spoke, voice low and professional.

"I want to offer something greater. A trade worth sixty billion credits—or more."

He placed a small, ornate box on the table.

Before he could open it, Sylus leaned slightly toward Rafayel, his voice a cold whisper meant only for him.

"Rafayel. Step out. Don't refute me on this."

Rafayel's brows furrowed. Something in Sylus's tone told him this wasn't negotiable. His gaze shifted to Zayne, who gave the slightest nod, his sigh quiet.

Rafayel clicked his tongue, crossing his arms.

"Hmph. Fine."

He stood and cast one last glance at Michael, eyes narrowing, before turning and stepping out of the private room. The heavy doors closed behind him.

Michael's brow creased faintly.

"May I ask... why send that young man out?"

Zayne's reply came smooth and cold, each word deliberate.

"Because your offers always intrigue us dangerously. And this—"

his gaze dropped to the box,

 "—is one thing that young man will not be hearing."

Michael's lips curved into a polite smile. He opened the box. Inside, a slim glass tube glimmered faintly with a liquid the color of living flame—blood, glowing a pure, impossible red.

"This,"   Michael said, his tone professional and even.   "The extinction of a special species. Lemuria blood. I've kept it for a very long time."

The atmosphere tightened instantly.

Zayne's eyes narrowed, his calm voice breaking the silence.

"Why reveal it now?"

Michael folded his hands neatly.

"Because I cannot continue the project. Without the one who carries this blood, it's meaningless. I sought the person for years, and failed. So I'm ending it."

Sylus's crimson eyes glinted with a dangerous light. His voice came soft, sharp.

"You expect us to believe this blood is useless to you, yet useful to us?"

Michael inclined his head, smiling faintly.

"It won't serve me. I wanted a weapon. To make Lemuria power something I could bend and control. But for that, I needed the one who truly bore this blood. I failed to find them. Perhaps they died long ago. For me, the blood is useless now. But for you..." 

He paused, deliberately. 

"It can cure nearly any disease. Perhaps even grant immunity to evolvers. At the very least, it's something no one else in this world possesses."

Zayne's eyes flickered, sharp.

"Long gone?"

Michael nodded.

"Yes. Long ago, during my research into the Lemuria Project, I briefly captured an infant. A true Lemuria child. But two of my researchers betrayed me, taking the infant away. I never found them again. It's been years. Decades, even. I believe that child is dead. So I'm giving up."

Sylus smirked, cold and dangerous, leaning back as if he had already decided.

"I'm taking it."

The door creaked open. Michael stepped out, his expression unreadable, though his thoughts were clearly tangled. He paused briefly as he passed the young man leaning lazily against the wall.

"Rafayel, I suppose."

 Michael murmured, his voice smooth, almost too polite. His eyes lingered on the pinkish-blue irises, glimmering strangely under the dim light.

"You have... beautiful eyes."

He moved on without waiting for a reply, his stride calm, but his mind far from it.

Where... where have I seen those eyes before?

Rafayel blinked, raising a brow.

"...Thanks??"

Before he could think further, Sylus's men emerged from the private room, dragging the groaning, half-conscious trader he'd shot earlier. Blood marked the man's shirt, his face twisted in pain.

Rafayel tilted his head, curiosity sparking.

"Oh? The trade's done already? And what are you guys doing with this idiot?"

The men exchanged a shrug, their voices casual, as if discussing trash disposal.

"Yes, trade's finished. Mr. Sylus and Dawnbreaker said you can go back inside. As for him..."

one jerked his chin toward the bleeding trader,

 "we were told to dispose of him. Kill him however we like."

Rafayel sighed, shoulders lifting in an indifferent shrug.

"Ah. Then have fun with that."

With that, he pushed the doors open again and stepped back inside.

The air inside was calmer, though heavy with something unspoken. Sylus turned at his return, crimson eyes glinting, a small box held firmly in his hand. His smile was cool, deliberate.

"Come here,"   he said smoothly.  "I need you to test something."

Beside him, Zayne's lips curved faintly, a rare smile brushing across his normally cold demeanor. His gaze flicked between Sylus and Rafayel with quiet intrigue.

The box in Sylus's hand pulsed faintly with danger and promise. And though Rafayel didn't yet know it, what lay inside was tied far closer to him than he could imagine.

Chapter Text

Rafayel strolled forward, curiosity bright in his eyes as he dropped into the seat between Sylus and Zayne. He raised a brow, glancing at them both.

"Test?"

Sylus's smirk deepened. He placed the small box on the table and opened it. Inside, a glass tube gleamed faintly, the liquid within shimmering an unnatural shade of red.

Zayne's voice was calm, measured.

"Hold it."

Rafayel picked the tube up without hesitation.

The reaction was immediate.

The blood flared, glowing brighter and richer than before, its scarlet hue laced with radiant strands of soft blue. The room seemed to pulse with it, as though the blood itself recognized him.

Zayne's eyes darkened, the faintest trace of shock rippling beneath his controlled exterior. Sylus leaned back, his smirk curling into something colder, yet softer at the edges.

"Such luck,"   he murmured, his voice like a knife in velvet.   "So it was you... all along."

Rafayel tilted the tube, watching the glow with wide-eyed intrigue.

"Woah... this is interesting. What do I even do with it?"

Zayne's lips curved into a rare, gentle smile.

"Keep it. One day, you might need it."

Sylus chuckled low, calm and cold, the sound vibrating with promise.

"Gaia Research, was it? They think they can walk away after handing me this?"

His crimson eyes glinted dangerously.

"Sixty billion isn't enough. They gave me information far too precious."

His thoughts bled dark and sharp, aligning perfectly with Zayne's.

Time to wipe them out.

Meanwhile, Rafayel only tilted his head, puzzled, still examining the glowing tube in his hands. He didn't yet understand that the blood reacted because it was his. That he was the lost Lemuria infant Michael had spoken of—the child smuggled away by two researchers who had become his adoptive parents, before their untimely deaths.

Unaware, Rafayel simply marveled at the light, holding the truth of his own blood without realizing it.

From the moment they first crossed paths with Rafayel, something about him had refused to let go of Sylus and Zayne's attention. His personality was bold, chaotic, intriguing—but it wasn't only that. It was his eyes.

Pinkish-blue, radiant under any light. Eyes that no one could look away from. Eyes that, to Zayne especially, were more than unusual. They were impossible.

Zayne, meticulous and ruthless in his research, dug deeper. In forbidden archives and discarded files, he unearthed truths long buried: the Lemurian race, thought extinct, carried in their blood an unparalleled energy. And more than that—their eyes were the ultimate mark of their identity. Each Lemurian was born with irises unlike any other in existence, never to be duplicated or shared. Thousands of variations existed, but no two were ever the same. A signature of blood.

Rafayel's eyes, so strangely beautiful, fit perfectly into what Zayne had found.

Background checks. Records that should have been buried. Sylus's men uncovered fragments about Rafayel's past: an accident, they said, that killed his parents before he was even two. But Sylus and Zayne both knew accidents in their world were rarely so clean. His parents had been researchers. Their deaths reeked of silence and cover-ups, and yet one fact remained—before dying, they had shielded Rafayel with everything they had.

It wasn't enough to confirm, not then. But it was enough to make them watch. Enough to keep him close. Enough to explain why Sylus, who trusted no one, and Zayne, who killed without hesitation, chose to shelter this so-called "lucky" boy.

And tonight, when Michael revealed the Lemuria blood, it had all clicked into place.

That was why Sylus leaned in close to whisper for Rafayel to step outside. Why Zayne had nodded, his sigh heavy. They couldn't risk it—not with Michael in the room. Because if Rafayel stayed, the blood would have reacted immediately. It would have exposed him.

Now, as the tube pulsed in Rafayel's hands, glowing brighter than it ever had, their suspicions crystallized into certainty.

The lost Lemuria infant Michael spoke of—the one spirited away by two unknown researchers—was no longer lost.

He was sitting between them.

The scent of paint hung faintly in the air, the canvas before Rafayel slowly coming to life with bold strokes of color. He leaned forward, brush in hand, so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice Sylus slip into the room until something soft pressed against his lips.

A grape.

Rafayel blinked, startled, then chewed absently as his brush continued to glide.
Sylus asked, his tone calm, almost casual—though his crimson eyes were watching closely.

"What's your evol?" 

 Rafayel replied through a mouthful of grape, unbothered.

"Fire."

Sylus plucked another grape from the bowl and offered it to him. Rafayel leaned over, eating without hesitation, too used to this rhythm by now. Sylus smirked faintly.

"Anything special about this fire?"

That made Rafayel pause. He glanced up, one brow arched, brush stilling midair. A sly grin tugged at his lips as he bit into the next grape Sylus pressed to his mouth.

"What's this question about?"

Sylus chuckled low, the sound soft but edged.

"Stop hiding your secret. You've lived with us long enough."

Rafayel frowned, setting his brush aside.

"You guys never asked. Of course I never said."

He coughed proudly, then flicked his fingers. A spark flared at his fingertips, bursting into a flame that hovered, small but fierce. It shimmered with a strange, pure intensity, unlike any ordinary fire.

"This?"  Rafayel said, smug.   "My fire can't be extinguished by anyone else. Only me. Doesn't matter who tries. Not just some normal fire."

The flame danced briefly before he closed his hand, snuffing it out in an instant.

Sylus's smirk deepened, something dark and knowing glinting in his eyes. He didn't press further. He only leaned lazily against the desk, plucking another grape and slipping it between Rafayel's lips as if nothing had changed.

"Interesting,"   he murmured.

And though Rafayel grinned proudly, he had no idea how much that little flame had just confirmed.

It began so simply.

Sylus leaned lazily against Rafayel's desk while the boy worked on his painting, smirking as he asked, almost too casually,

"Want to go for a short vacation? A sea adventure?"

Rafayel's eyes lit up instantly, his brush clattering onto the tray.
"Of course!"

—

The next thing he knew, he was clinging to the rail of a grand black vessel as monstrous waves crashed all around them. Lightning split the sky in jagged arcs, the storm howled endlessly, and the ocean beneath looked as if it wanted to swallow them whole.

They weren't in any normal sea. This was The Deep Sea—a stretch of ocean whispered about in hushed tones, cursed with storms that raged twenty-four hours a day.

Rafayel threw his arms wide, his voice straining against the roar of wind and water.

"SEA ADVENTURE?! A short vacation is supposed to be peaceful, not fighting off SEA STORMS!"

Beside him, Zayne stood cool and composed, barely bracing against the rocking deck. His hand flicked once, and a shield of frost spiraled outward, shattering an oncoming wave before it could slam into the boat. His tone was calm, as though they weren't in the middle of nature's wrath.

"If it hits us, I can stop it."

Rafayel groaned louder, grabbing the mast as the boat tilted dangerously.

"STOP IT ALL THEN!"

Sylus, reclining comfortably against the polished rail, let the sea spray wash over him. His smirk was infuriatingly relaxed as he drawled,

"I never said it was a relaxing vacation."

Another wave slammed. Rafayel screamed. Sylus laughed. And Zayne merely flicked another sheet of ice, his composure unshaken as chaos raged around them.

Chapter Text

The sea churned violently as a rift split open above the raging storm. From it emerged a catastrophic sea wanderer—a massive, dragon-like creature with scales that shimmered like obsidian wet with lightning. Its roar cut through the thunder, shaking the very deck beneath them.

Sylus smirked, crimson eyes glinting.

"Ohh?"

Zayne looked up calmly, unshaken even as the beast loomed above them. Rafayel, however, snapped. His patience with this so-called "vacation" had already been stretched thin.

"WHAT IS EVEN THIS THING?!"

he shouted, flames bursting to life around him as the beast lunged. His fire roared back, clashing against the storm, holding the monster at bay.

"I WANT MY VACATION BACK!"

The blaze clung stubbornly in the rain and spray, refusing to go out. Zayne's gaze sharpened with intrigue, though his stance remained defensive, ready to intervene.

"Your fire really can't be extinguished,"   he murmured.   "Even in a storm like this..."

Sylus leaned lazily against the railing, his smirk widening as he watched.

"I want to see you use your evol for once. I'm not treating you like a teenager anymore. Kill it. Fry it. Do whatever you want. We are not stopping you"

Rafayel spun on him, face flushed with frustration.

"For once—I WANT to be a teenager!"

Another tidal surge rose, and Zayne flicked his hand, freezing the oncoming torrent midair. He glanced at Rafayel, a gentle smile brushing his lips.

"Well? Do you really want us to help? I believe you're not weak, Rafayel."

That struck deeper than it should have. Rafayel's brow twitched. His lips curled into a defiant smirk.

"Ha! Okay then. Challenge accepted!"

He rolled his shoulders, fire sparking to life as he stomped forward.

"Back off, Dawnbreaker. I'll do it myself."

Zayne's eyes softened, meeting Sylus's gaze briefly. Sylus smirked back, their thoughts aligning.

Nice bait there, Zayne.

The sea wanderer surged forward again, its maw opening wide. Rafayel's fire shot outward, colliding with its power, but the impact sent him skidding across the slick deck. Zayne's hand shot out, steadying him before he fell overboard.

"Need help?" Zayne asked quietly.

Rafayel's jaw tightened, his eyes burning with stubborn fire.

"No! Hmph!"

He turned back to the beast, annoyance and determination fueling every step. This time, his irises flared into a luminous, brilliant blue. His aura shifted—deeper, older, as if something vast stirred within him.

He launched himself into the air, soaring high above the deck. And then—

PIAK!

His palm smacked across the creature's colossal face.

The sea itself reverberated with the force, waves collapsing outward in rings. The dragon-fish reeled, stunned—not by flame, but by something greater. A soft blue aura surrounded Rafayel, glowing faintly, ancient in its resonance. 

And then Rafayel landed a kick on the Dragon-fish.

The essence of a Sea God.
Sylus and Zayne froze, eyes widening. For once, both were caught off guard.

Then Sylus broke into laughter, sharp and delighted.

"Did he just slap that dragon fish?"

The ocean had stilled, unnaturally calm. The dragon-fish wanderer sank deep into the waters, defeated by nothing more than a slap and a kick. The eternal storm that made the Deep Sea feared across the world vanished with it, as though silenced by a command no one else could give.

Rafayel, glowing faintly blue, pointed furiously at the waves as though scolding them.

"I wanted my vacation smooth! If you're gonna attack me, then send me a cook instead! Fresh octopus—with marinated sauce!"

The sea rippled, docile beneath his voice, but he didn't notice. Slowly, he floated downward, drawn toward the center of the waters, his aura weaving into the ocean like threads of light.

He kept ranting, oblivious.

"What! Come back up here if you dare! You hear me?! Or bring me an enormous lobster wanderer! I'll fight it and cook it myself—I'm craving lobster anyway!"

His complaints echoed ridiculous against the divine glow that surrounded him. Every wave bent to him, the sea itself resonating as if answering its master.

On deck, Sylus and Zayne froze.

Zayne's voice broke the silence, calm but weighted.

"Rafayel..."

Sylus smirked, crimson eyes narrowing, his tone edged with pride and awe.

"The Lemuria Sea God."

This was what they had come for. Not a vacation, not leisure—confirmation. Proof that Rafayel was more than a survivor of Lemurian blood. And the truth was greater than anything they had expected.

Because the Deep Sea wasn't just a dangerous place.

Long ago, it had been Lemuria itself—the cradle of the Lemurian people, thriving beneath the waves. But something had happened. No one knew what. Lemuria vanished, swallowed by the sea, leaving behind an ocean of storms no one could survive. As though the sea itself had become its gravekeeper, guarding the memory of an extinct race.

And now, with nothing more than his irritation, Rafayel had stilled it.

Sylus's smirk deepened, dark amusement curling into his voice.

"Gaia Research nearly tested something they couldn't even comprehend. An infant like this... an ancient god in disguise."

Zayne's hazel-green eyes darkened, his instinct sharpening into something protective and dangerous. His gaze followed Rafayel, who still hovered above the waters, glowing and ranting about seafood without a clue to what he had just revealed.

Zayne's jaw tightened.

They can never know. Not Gaia. Not anyone. If the world realizes what he is... they'll come for him.

Sylus only chuckled softly, his crimson eyes glinting with both pride and menace as he looked at Rafayel.

Rafayel's glow was still faintly lingering when he threw his arms up, glaring at the flat horizon. The wanderer hadn't resurfaced, and his patience snapped. He bent his knees, ready to dive straight into the sea after it.

Before he could move, invisible threads of Sylus's energy manipulation coiled around him and yanked him back onto the boat. Rafayel landed with a stumble, teeth gritted.

"Are you seriously that pissed?"   Sylus asked, half-smirking.

Rafayel whirled on them, hair dripping seawater, voice sharp with frustration.

"HOW COULD I NOT BE? YOU GUYS DRAGGED ME OUT HERE TO FACE STORMS, TO DRINK SEA SPRAY, TO KISS SEA WATER AND YOU CALLED IT A VACATION! OF COURSE I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SOMETHING NICE!"

Zayne's reply was maddeningly calm, as he adjusted the cuff of his coat.

"That wanderer already took a slap and a kick from you. Naturally, it won't come back up."

Rafayel jabbed a finger at the now-peaceful waves, his expression twisted with indignation.

"EXACTLY! IT DARED TO ATTACK, NOW IT HIDES AFTER ONE KICK AND SLAP! I WANT IT COOKED!"

Sylus threw his head back and laughed, crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Enough for today. Let's head back."

Rafayel's eyes widened, his outrage fresh.

"MY VACATION!"

Unbothered, Sylus reached over and patted his head like a sulking child.

"We'll bring you to the best seafood restaurant. Let you eat your fill while watching the sunset. Tomorrow, maybe the next few days too."

Rafayel froze, then glanced back at the sea, still calm, as though mocking him. He jabbed a finger at it again, fuming.

"NOW there's no storm? NOW?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

Zayne sighed, tilting Rafayel's head back toward the front with one cool hand.

"The storm will return once we leave. For now... stop being angry."

Rafayel puffed his cheeks, glaring at the ocean as the boat carried them back.
Sylus smirked to himself, watching the boy sulk. Zayne only shook his head faintly.

Neither said it aloud, but both knew: Rafayel had done more than tame the Deep Sea. He has revealed who he actually is. The hidden Lemuria Sea God.

Chapter Text

The gallery lights of Linkon faded into memory as night fell, and Rafayel slipped back into his second life—wandering the streets of N109 with Sylus's/Zayne's men. To outsiders, he was the rising star of the art world, his name whispered in galleries and showcases. But here, in the shadows of the city, he strolled like he belonged, hands in his pockets, chatting idly about his latest ridiculous idea.

"Maybe my next painting will be Sylus,"

he said, smirking.

"Ugly. Very ugly. Crimson eyes but crossed. Hm, yes... masterpiece."

The men laughed nervously, but before they could reply, their steps slowed. They had stopped at one of the city's trading zones, a place where goods shifted hands quietly. Rafayel had insisted on pausing here for "inspiration."

Instead, they walked right into their target.

A group of traders huddled under the dim light, passing over a gleaming case filled with Aether Protocores. Both sides froze mid-transaction, staring at the sudden interruption.

"...huh?" one trader muttered, eyes narrowing.

"...huh?" Rafayel echoed back, blinking as though they had interrupted him.

Then, from behind Rafayel, one of Sylus's men snapped to attention, hand already on his weapon.

"IT'S THEM!"

The entire alley exploded into motion. Traders cursed, lunging for weapons. The men surged forward, blades and evol sparking to life.

Rafayel stood at the center of it all, laughing in confusion.

"What the hell?!"

The alley burned with the glow of Rafayel's fire, a wide ring erupting around the traders like a cage of living flame. Their eyes went wide, panic flashing as every escape route sealed shut.

"What...?!" one trader gasped.

The men of N109 didn't hesitate. Their lips curled into cold smirks as they surged forward, blades and powers striking fast.

"Nice one, Boss lover," one of them chuckled while slitting a throat cleanly.

Rafayel blinked.

"...Lover?"

Another man, snapping a trader's neck like it was nothing, answered smoothly.

"Aren't you? It's been three years since you've been with us. If you weren't Sir Sylus and Sir Zayne's lover, you'd have been dead by now."

Rafayel frowned, genuinely thinking it over. It... did make sense.

"...Lovers? But... we never confessed..."

That made one of the men pause mid-cleanup. He tilted his head, voice flat but curious.

"So Boss doesn't love you?"

Rafayel raised an eyebrow back.

"Do they?"

The question hung in the air.

A few men shrugged. Others glanced at each other, confused. And then one muttered dryly as he wiped blood from his blade,

"Just where is this questioning going? Are we... questioning a question?"

The absurdity of it hit them, and a ripple of stifled laughter broke out between the bloody work.
Rafayel pinched his nose, sighing.

"You guys kill like demons, but gossip like schoolgirls."

The men only smirked, unconcerned, finishing their work. Rafayel, however, couldn't stop the thought from nagging at the back of his mind: lovers?

The office was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside the tall windows. Rafayel sat slouched on the grand sofa, chin resting on his palm, eyes distant. The word lovers hadn't left his head for days. Adoptive brothers? Colleagues? Or something else? Every time he tried to put a label to it, his thoughts tangled up worse.

He'd even wandered the entire building that afternoon—past the training floors, through the trade wings—just to clear his mind. But the men only nodded at him politely as always, offering no answers. So, back he came, to the same sofa, to the same heavy silence.

The office door opened.

Sylus stepped in first, his presence cool and commanding, heading straight for his desk. Zayne followed, tugging off his tie with practiced ease, his expression composed as ever.

Zayne glanced at Rafayel, who sat staring without a word.

"Bored?" he asked, tone low and smooth.

Rafayel didn't reply. He only looked at Zayne longer, as if trying to peel the answer straight out of his calm face.

Sylus shook his head, lips quirking into a small smirk as he tossed a file onto his desk.

"Maybe he's stuck on another art block again."

That pulled a quiet laugh out of Zayne, but Rafayel cut in suddenly, voice flat and distracted, still tangled in his own thoughts.

"Not art block."

The words made both men pause.

Sylus's crimson gaze flicked toward him from across the room, amused but curious. Zayne stilled in the middle of rolling up his sleeves, hazel-green eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

At the same time, they both turned fully, their attention settling squarely on Rafayel.
And Rafayel, caught under the weight of both their gazes, felt his chest tighten.

Rafayel's chest tightened, his heart thumping loud in his ears. He didn't even know why the question slipped out, but once it did, there was no taking it back.

"I'm curious."

He muttered, frowning.

"Are we colleagues? Brothers? Or... erm..."

Zayne's voice cut in as he calmly rolled his sleeves, tone even and cool.

"What do you think we are?"

Sylus leaned back in his chair, smirking, one brow arched.

"Or what? You didn't finish your question."

Heat rose in Rafayel's chest, and he snapped back.

"Why are you two asking me questions when I'm the one asking you?"

Zayne didn't flinch, his voice still low and steady.

"Colleagues? Do we look like we work together with you? I'm a doctor, not an artist."

Rafayel retorted, brow furrowed as he thought aloud.

"I help with the tasks sometimes. With your men. Doesn't that make us colleagues?"

Zayne's reply was sharp and calm.

"That's my subordinates, not colleagues. You helping out doesn't make you one of us. I remember we asked you to stay with us, not work for us."

Rafayel bit his lip, thinking. Then he tried again.

"...Then brothers?"

Sylus laughed low and cool, crimson eyes glinting.

"Brothers? At first, maybe. You were still in university, still a teenager. Twenty-two years old, right? But now?"

Rafayel blinked, counting in his head before answering.

"Twenty-five. A working adult. So... not adoptive brothers anymore?"

Zayne was at his desk by now, arranging papers with his usual composed air.

"I never signed an adoption form. I'm not your nanny."

That made Rafayel raise an eyebrow, lips twitching.

"Technically, you are. My nanny."

Zayne closed his eyes, rubbing his temple in silence, while Sylus burst into laughter, leaning forward on his desk.

"No, Rafayel," Sylus said coolly, still smiling. "We aren't brothers. Neither of us like that label." His crimson gaze narrowed, sharp and unreadable. "So tell me... what do you feel about us?"

Rafayel's breath caught. His heart pounded louder than ever. He stared at them, caught between confusion and something deeper, words stuck in his throat.

"What do I... feel about you guys?"

Chapter Text

Rafayel rose from the sofa, pacing a few steps before glancing back at them—first at Sylus's sharp crimson gaze, then at Zayne's calm, unreadable eyes. His heart thumped as if trying to warn him.

"What do I feel about you guys?"  he muttered under his breath.

Sylus pushed his chair back with a scrape, rising smoothly. His stride was steady, predatory, every step drawing Rafayel into his orbit. He stopped just close enough that Rafayel felt the weight of his presence.

 Sylus murmured, smirk tugging at his lips.

"You take too long to think."

Before Rafayel could retort, Sylus's hand caught his chin, tilting his face up. And then—without hesitation—he kissed him. A smirk pressed against his lips, heat sparking through Rafayel's chest like wildfire.

Rafayel's eyes flew wide. His breath caught. His heart thundered like it might burst.

And just as he staggered back in shock, Zayne was already behind him. Cool fingers brushed his jaw, turning his head firmly yet gently. A second kiss followed, calmer, steadier—but no less overwhelming.

Zayne's voice came against his lips, calm on the surface, betraying the storm beneath.

"Do you hate this?"

Rafayel's mind spun, words tangled. His lips parted, his pulse roaring in his ears. For a moment, he almost laughed at how utterly unprepared he was—but the truth pushed past before he could stop it.

...Definitely not.

Sylus tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting as a slow, cool smile curved his lips.

"We wanted to give you time to figure out your own feelings toward us. But with a question like that... it seems even you aren't sure. So we're making sure now."

He leaned in slightly, his voice smooth, teasing, dangerous.

"Do you know your answer?"

Zayne's gaze never wavered, steady and calm, though something sharp flickered beneath the composure.

"Whatever your answer is, we'll respect it."

he said evenly. Then, with quiet finality:

"But even if it isn't mutual, we're not letting you go."

Rafayel's heart hammered violently against his ribs. His throat felt dry, his lips pressed tight as if to hold back the rush of emotions threatening to spill. But in the next heartbeat, he moved—abrupt, decisive.

He leaned forward, kissing Zayne first, soft and fleeting, but enough to crack through the surgeon's flawless composure. By the time he pulled back, the tips of Zayne's ears had flushed red, betraying what his face would not.

Then Rafayel turned to Sylus, kissing him too—brief, fiery, and just as reckless. Sylus's smirk broke wider, unstoppable, crimson eyes gleaming with triumph he couldn't hide.

Rafayel's entire face was burning now. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest as though to anchor himself, glaring away with flushed cheeks.

"Correcting you two,"  he muttered, voice caught between defiance and honesty.  "It's mutual."

The office fell silent for a beat. Zayne's lips parted ever so slightly, his control strained but intact. Sylus, however, laughed low under his breath, the sound curling dark and pleased through the room.

For a moment, he dared not look at either of them. His chest rose and fell too fast, as if his body hadn't caught up with what he had just confessed. But deep inside, clarity began to bloom where confusion had once tangled.

Maybe it had started the day Sylus and Zayne drove back, breaking the pact he had set, pulling him from his loneliness and insisting he stay with them. Or maybe it had been years earlier—when they let him revise in their office during his university days, treating his presence like it belonged there. Those countless hours of quiet laughter, of being teased, of being protected, had long since carved their mark on him.

He had mistaken it for curiosity at first. For comfort. For family. But standing here now, his lips still tingling from kissing them, he knew.

His feelings were not confusion. They were not passing.

They were real.

Rafayel lifted his head, meeting Sylus's sharp crimson gaze and Zayne's steady hazel-green eyes. His heart was still thundering, but for once, he didn't shy away from it.

Rafayel could almost laugh at how simple the answer was after years of uncertainty. Every stolen moment in their office, every fight where they shielded him, every quiet dinner or teasing word had been pieces of the truth he had been too afraid to admit. Now, with their gazes fixed on him—Sylus's crimson eyes glinting with pride, Zayne's calm hazel-green steady despite the faint flush still lingering at his ears—Rafayel felt no doubt at all.

Peace. Warmth. For once, he wasn't alone.

But peace never lasted.

Far away, in the sterile halls of Gaia Research, Michael sat alone in his office. His fingers traced across a photograph, eyes narrowing as he remembered the boy from the private trade room—the one standing behind Sylus and Dawnbreaker, eyes shimmering with an impossible pinkish-blue glow.

That color. That pattern. He had seen it before.

The infant who had been stolen from him years ago by two traitorous researchers. The infant who carried the rarest Lemurian bloodline. He had assumed the child dead, lost forever.

But no. He lived. He thrived.

And now he belonged to N109's deadliest pair.
Michael's lips curved into a thin smile, sharp as glass.

"So it was you all along. My lost experiment. My greatest asset."

Determination burned cold in his chest. The boy was no longer just a curiosity—he was a necessity. And Michael was resolved to reclaim what had been taken from him, no matter how many corpses it would cost.

While Rafayel, completely unaware of the storm tightening around him, leaned back into the sofa, heart light, lips tugging upward as he basked in the quiet comfort of being exactly where he belonged—with Sylus and Zayne.

Each time Michael sent his elites, they drew closer and closer to Rafayel. The attempts were quiet, hidden, but always growing bolder.

One night, at the Linkon Art Museum during Rafayel's own showcase, it nearly happened again. A man slipped through the crowd, moving casually until he was right behind Rafayel. Hidden in his sleeve was a syringe filled with something sharp and deadly, ready to stab into Rafayel's neck.

Before it could strike, a strong hand seized his wrist.

Zayne stood behind Rafayel, his grip iron-strong. His voice was low, ice-cold.

"You are dead the moment you leave the museum."

Rafayel turned, smiling brightly, unaware of the danger.

"Hmm? Zayne, your acquaintance?"

Zayne's expression stayed calm, his hand tightening as he forced the man's arm lower, concealing the syringe.

"Yes. We'll head out for a bit."

He guided the man away smoothly, not letting Rafayel see the truth.

But once outside, his mask fell. In the shadows of a narrow alley, Zayne dragged the man hard against the wall. The attacker struggled, desperate to escape, but Zayne was faster, colder. With a swift move, he forced the syringe into the man's neck and froze the injection instantly. Ice spread through the nerves, killing him in seconds, leaving a sharp wound edged in frost.

Zayne adjusted his suit jacket, straightening it as if nothing had happened. He pulled out his phone, voice steady.

"Clean up. Fast. Before Rafayel finds out."

The air around him suddenly cracked. Energy pulsed like lightning. Sylus stepped out from the dark, his crimson eyes glowing, power coiling around him dangerously.

"Seems like someone found out who Rafayel is."

Sylus said, voice low, heavy with menace.

 "Their attempts are getting bolder."

Zayne slid his phone back into his pocket, his tone cool and sharp.

"Gaia Research."

Chapter Text

This time, luck was on Sylus and Zayne's side. They didn't need to create excuses or distractions to keep Rafayel away—he was already buried deep in his own world.

The apartment at the top of N109's tallest building was crowded with canvases and brushes, the floor scattered with sketches as Rafayel worked nonstop for his showcase. His name was already flooding across Linkon, and his focus left little room for questions. Sometimes he didn't even ask where Sylus and Zayne went, simply waving them off while muttering about colors and ideas.

And today, the opportunity came.

Sylus adjusted his coat in the mirror, his crimson eyes glinting with cold purpose. Zayne slipped on his gloves, the weight of calm calculation settling over him like armor. For once, they wouldn't bring Rafayel along.

Today, they would hunt Michael directly.

The trail they had been chasing for weeks had finally led them to the heart of Gaia Research. The name had lingered too long in the shadows, hidden behind mercenaries and failed assassination attempts. But Sylus and Zayne had peeled back the layers, tracked the whispers, and found the truth.

It was time to strike.

Zayne's voice broke the silence as he checked the last of his weapons, smooth and steady.

"Rafayel won't notice. Not today."

Sylus smirked, his aura already cracking faintly with restrained energy.

"Good. That means nothing holds us back."

And with that, the two deadliest men of N109 Onychinus left their grand apartment together, the air behind them heavy with the storm they carried.

Gaia Research sat at the edge of Whitesand Bay near the sea, hidden carefully where Linkon and N109's borders met. From the outside it looked quiet, ordinary, but Sylus and Zayne knew better.

They slipped in like shadows, moving past the outer layers without being noticed. Every step deeper into the compound was silent and precise, their presence erased until they reached the core.

Then the alarms blared.

Bright red lights cut across the walls. Sirens screamed. But before the sound could spread too far, Sylus lifted his hand. Energy cracked like lightning around him, shorting the circuits in an instant. The alarms froze mid-wail, then went dead, sparks falling as the system failed.

The electric doors sealed ahead, but Zayne's cold gaze didn't waver. He placed his hand against the panel, freezing it solid. Sylus followed with a twist of his energy, forcing the mechanisms to snap open.

Together, they stepped inside.

Rows of glass chambers filled the room, each one glowing faintly. Inside were unfinished creatures—wanderers built not by nature, but by human hands. Limbs still forming, eyes half-open, bodies pulsing with unstable energy. Scientists had been playing with what they could not control.

Sylus smirked darkly, crimson eyes glinting.

"So this is what they've been hiding."

Zayne scanned the room, his voice calm, steady, but edged with disgust.

"Gaia Research. Creating man-made wanderers."

A gust of killing intent swept through the core, sharp and suffocating. Sylus and Zayne felt it instantly. Their smirks vanished as the source revealed itself—a group of half-finished wanderers, their bodies twisted, their essence unmistakably Lemurian yet corrupted.

The creatures lunged forward with unnatural speed. Sylus met the first head-on, gripping its throat and snapping its neck as if breaking a twig. Zayne's hand swept out coldly, frost racing across the ground, freezing another in place before shattering it into pieces. But even as they fought, their eyes darkened.

"Wanderers..." Zayne muttered, voice low and frigid as he froze another deformed body mid-strike. "Half Lemurian, half monster... This is outright wrong."

From the shadows ahead, footsteps echoed. Michael stepped into view, flanked by scientists, each accompanied by towering husks—half-dead experiments, their eyes hollow, their bodies humming with stolen Lemurian power.

Michael smiled thinly, his tone mocking.

"Well, if it isn't N109's Onychinus Sylus and Dawnbreaker. You really had me fooled... selling you that Lemurian blood tube so easily."

Another of the creatures lunged at Sylus. He caught it by the head, his crimson gaze burning as he twisted hard, snapping its neck without a blink. His voice was cold, sharp as steel.

"Thanks to you, we finally learned how precious he is. More than you ever deserved to know."

The remaining half-monsters swarmed with terrifying strength, their attacks carrying the natural power and physique of true Lemurians. Zayne's gaze hardened. His palm swept upward, sheets of frost enveloping the attackers. His words cut colder than his ice.

"It doesn't seem moral to kidnap Lemurians... and turn them into this—half-dead, half-alive abominations."

The air was filled with the sound of cracking ice, breaking bones, and the low hum of machines still birthing monsters. And in that moment, Sylus and Zayne knew: Michael hadn't just been experimenting. He had been desecrating the Lemurian race.

The corridor shook as the half-Lemurian wanderers raised their arms in unison. Power merged into a single wave, a roaring sea of water surging down the hall toward Sylus and Zayne.

Zayne stepped forward calmly, his hand slicing through the air. Frost spread instantly, freezing the torrent mid-rush. But the creatures shattered his ice with brute force, lunging forward through the spray.

Sylus reacted in an instant. His crimson aura flared, energy manipulation crackling as he lifted the wanderers high into the air and slammed them violently against the metal walls. The entire corridor rattled with the impact. More water gushed forward, but Zayne froze it layer by layer, ice forming walls between them and the flood.

In a flash of crimson light, Sylus teleported, appearing directly in front of the scientists. His hand lashed forward, aimed to crush their skulls—

—but one of the Lemurian wanderers intercepted, its hand meeting Sylus's. The clash detonated with raw power, the air bursting apart. Energy against energy, the impact forced both backward, skidding across the steel floor, sparks trailing under their feet.

The scientists staggered back, pale and trembling.

"We almost died... Sylus and Zayne are too strong! We can't fight them, Michael—we need to leave!"

Michael's smirk only widened. His tone was calm, almost pleased.

"No. We make use of these wanderers. Lemurians are strong. They can fight the two of them... even hold their ground."

The corrupted Lemurians roared again, their power twisting into another tidal surge.

Zayne stepped forward, his arm brushing out protectively in front of Sylus. Behind him, Sylus only rose to his feet, smirk curling coldly as his crimson eyes gleamed like bloodied glass.

Zayne drew in a slow breath, his hazel-green eyes shining, shot through with streaks of yellow. The temperature plummeted in an instant. The entire corridor transformed into a frozen kingdom, frost swallowing metal, ice crystallizing over walls and ceilings. Scientists froze mid-breath, their panic sealed in glassy stillness.

Sylus vanished, his body flickering like a shadow through the ice-lit haze. He reappeared behind the scientists, energy manipulation swirling violently around his hands. With a twist of power, several bodies shattered, crushed in his grip. He reached for the rest—Michael included—when the air whistled.

A spear struck, slicing past his cheek. The edge left a narrow cut across his face.

Sylus jerked back, eyes widening for only a heartbeat before his grin deepened. He touched the smear of blood at his cheek and laughed coldly.

"Interesting..."

More spears slammed into the ground, cracking the frozen floor. Figures stepped forward, unfazed by Zayne's blizzard. Lemurian wanderers—each wielding spears made from their own scales, weapons sharper than any forged blade. Their power surged, shattering Zayne's ice around Michael and the surviving scientists.

Michael stepped back, untouched now, his smile sharp with triumph.

Zayne's expression darkened as he steadied his stance. His voice was low, edged with respect and rage.

"Lemurians are hard to go against..."

Sylus's crimson aura flared, his smirk colder than ice.

"That's why they're extinct. Thanks to Gaia Research."

The frozen corridor trembled as power from both sides surged again, the clash between N109's Onychinus strongest and Gaia's twisted creations about to erupt into chaos.

Chapter Text

Michael's laughter echoed, sharp and menacing.

"I will have that artist! He's the perfect vessel for my weapon—the lost Lemuria infant!"

Sylus and Zayne didn't waste another breath. They dashed forward together, power erupting around them. The Lemurian wanderers moved to intercept, spears of scale gleaming, summoning torrents of seawater that rushed down the corridor like living blades.

Zayne raised his hand, freezing the flood in mid-air, shards splintering into frozen rain. Sylus smashed through the spears with fists wrapped in crimson energy, the aura burning like a storm around him. Every movement between them was seamless—two predators fighting as one.

From the back, the scientists watched in horror. If Sylus and Zayne broke past the wall of wanderers, their lives would end in an instant.

Sylus shattered another spear, his fist splitting skin as blood dripped down his knuckles. He smirked coldly, voice edged with dark amusement.

"Lemurian scale weapons, huh? Impressive."

Zayne leapt onto a rising spire of his own ice, his eyes sharp as blades. His voice carried across the frozen storm, aimed straight at Michael.

"You want that infant so badly? Have you ever wondered... maybe he's more than you can handle."

Ice spears erupted in the air above him, sharp and countless, raining down toward Michael and the trembling scientists. One of the Lemurian wanderers dove into the path, body disintegrating against the storm to shield its master.

Zayne's eyes flared with rage, his voice shaking with cold fury.

"Turning innocent Lemurians into your weapons... you've gone too far."

The battle raged—wanderers moving to defend, Zayne's ice spears striking harder, faster. Amid the chaos, Sylus saw his opening. He slipped through like a shadow, teleporting right behind one of the scientists. In the next instant, the man exploded under Sylus's crimson energy, body bursting as screams filled the chamber.

Michael's eyes widened, his composure cracking into panic.

"Kill them! Kill them now!"

More wanderers surged in, spears clashing, seawater roaring down the corridor.

Sylus glanced back over his shoulder, smirk spreading coldly across his face.

"More?"

His hand slammed against the metal floor. Energy blasted outward like a shockwave, hurling the creatures back before they could summon another tide. His voice dropped low, every word a promise of vengeance.

"I need your soul, Michael. For the two researchers you killed. For the childhood you stole from Rafayel. Taking your soul..."

Sylus's crimson eyes burned.

"...is the smallest payback I can give."

Sylus's crimson aura flared as he closed in on Michael, his hand already outstretched to crush the man's skull—

—but a Lemurian wanderer was faster. Its scaled spear intercepted the blow with a violent clang that rattled the corridor. In the same motion, the creature spun and hurled the weapon toward Sylus's chest.

Sylus twisted, deflecting the strike with his arm before sliding back beside Zayne. The spear tore past and embedded itself deep in the steel wall, humming with raw power.

Sylus clicked his tongue, crimson eyes narrowing.

"They're agile. Too fast. What a waste of such a strong bloodline."

Zayne exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the frozen air. His voice was calm, but his gaze was sharp as the ice spears forming around him.

"Can you bomb them off—like you usually do?"

Sylus's smirk curved faintly, but his voice dropped low with annoyance.

"Only half. Their bodies are too durable. Didn't you notice? There are still more—half-dead Lemurian wanderers crawling out of the dark. And all of them are defending Michael with their lives."

The corridor trembled as fresh waves of corrupted Lemurians stepped forward, eyes glowing faintly, spears shimmering with deadly light.

Sylus and Zayne braced for another wave of attacks when fire erupted around them, a blazing circle cutting through the chaos. Both men turned back sharply.

Rafayel stood there, chest heaving, one hand outstretched, fire spiraling like a living barrier. His face was flushed with anger and exhaustion.

"TOOK ME AGES TO GET HERE! I HAD TO FORCE THE MEN TO TELL ME WHERE YOU WENT. YOU GUYS WERE ACTING WEIRD!"

Michael froze, then his expression twisted into wild, greedy delight. His laughter cracked like thunder through the corridor.

"The infant I lost! The Lemurian I failed to keep! Hahahaha—you came back to me yourself!"

Rafayel only raised an eyebrow, unimpressed even in the middle of chaos.

"Isn't this the same shady trader?"

Sylus tore through a wanderer with crimson energy, shouting across the battlefield.

"Yeah! And since you're here—I'll let you know something. This place... is technically your birthplace."

Rafayel blinked, his flames burning hotter.

"Oh? So my parents weren't real?"

Michael's eyes gleamed, his laughter venomous.

"Your parents? Those two betrayers!"

Zayne's jaw tightened as he froze a surging wave mid-crash, his voice sharp and calm.

"Adoptive parents."

Rafayel nodded once, expression calm—almost detached.

"Then that means their deaths weren't an accident?"

Flames swirled tighter around Sylus and Zayne, protecting them as Rafayel spoke, his tone almost mocking.

Sylus smirked, breaking another spear with ease, his crimson eyes glowing.

"You could say that. And you can thank that old man over there."

Michael's greed sharpened into madness. His arm shot forward, his voice manic.

"Catch him! Bring me the last Lemurian I lost!"

The corrupted wanderers roared, their glowing spears raised high as they lunged straight for Rafayel.

Zayne's eyes widened, his hand already shooting out to form a wall of ice in front of Rafayel. At the same time, Rafayel blinked, his lips moving in a whisper.

"Last... Lemurian?"

In that instant, his eyes lit up—a brilliant shade of blue, shimmering like the ocean under sunlight. A radiant aura rippled from him, pushing outward. His flames flared uncontrollably, blasting back the first wave of attackers.

He stared at the wanderers, their faces lifeless, hollow. His voice shook with realization.

"So these are Lemurians? I'm supposed to be one of them? They look... lifeless..."

From across the battlefield, a spear arced through the air, aimed at his heart. Sylus snarled, crimson aura exploding as he wrenched the weapon mid-flight with sheer force, halting it inches before Rafayel's chest.

"Lemuria Sea God!" Sylus roared.

Zayne's voice cut sharp, his eyes blazing gold-green.

"You are something more, Rafayel!"

Michael sneered from the shadows, rage twisting his face.

"What nonsense are they babbling? Catch him! NOW!"

But before another wanderer could land a blow, something stirred within Rafayel. His hand moved instinctively to his chest, where a faint glow burned beneath his skin. He pulled—

And in his grasp appeared a dagger, shimmering with divine light, the blade forged of pure ocean's essence. Blue aura surged outward like crashing waves as he slashed backwards without hesitation.

The Lemurian wanderer behind him disintegrated instantly, body dissolving into dust under the godlike strike.

Rafayel spun the dagger in his hand with surprising ease, his smirk returning despite the glow that clung to his skin.

"Ah ha! Thanks for the hint."

The fire circling him shifted into a calm blue flame, resonating with the sea itself.

Chapter Text

Rafayel hurled his dagger. It spun in the air and tore through the nearest Lemurian wanderer, the creature disintegrating on impact.

Michael's eyes widened in shock.

"YES! You really are the ultimate weapon!"

Rafayel scoffed, lips curling into a sharp smirk.

"Weapon? Do you even realize you just killed those who were meant to raise me? All because of your sick obsession with Lemuria?"

Michael laughed, mad and wild.

"As long as I can have you, everything is worth killing!"

Sylus, mid-battle, scoffed with his usual cold smirk.

"You still don't know who you're messing with."

More wanderers surged in, their broken forms summoning waves of sea water. Zayne froze the torrents with a flick of his hand, irritation flashing in his green-gold eyes. Rafayel stepped forward, his dagger cutting down any that lunged for him, though his gaze lingered on the lifeless creatures with a growing ache.

"You destroyed an entire civilization for your research,"   he said, voice tight with fury.

Then, without hesitation, he dragged the dagger across his own palm. Blood hit the floor, glowing as power surged through him. His eyes burned bright blue, aura shimmering like the ocean at dawn.

"With the blood of the new Lemuria Sea God,"

Rafayel declared,

"I shall retake my throne."

The dagger in his hand shifted—metal bending, reshaping, spinning with hues of blue and violet until a radiant trident gleamed in his grip. The air vibrated, the sands of Whitesand bay trembling as if bowing to him.

The moment Rafayel grasped the weapon, the surging sea conjured by the wanderers shattered apart, waves collapsing into nothing. His god-form shone softly, power radiating in waves. With a swift throw, he sent the trident flying straight to Sylus and Zayne.

"Grab it!"

They caught it instantly, its glow flaring to shield them. At the same time, Rafayel crushed the old Lemurian blood tube that Sylus and Zayne gave him during the trade, crimson drops floating around him like stars before sinking into the rising seawater. His voice deepened, god-like, echoing with command.

"Rise."

The entire Gaia Research facility shook. Water burst upward, flooding the lab, walls trembling under the force. Michael staggered back, face pale.

"No! Impossible! You were just a child—the last Lemurian I caught!"

The wanderers shielded him, trying to push through to Sylus and Zayne. But the trident's light reflected them all back, forming a divine barrier.

Sylus let out a low laugh, smirk curling on his lips.

"It actually feels good. Being protected for once."

Zayne, calm as ever, knew they were safe within the shield. And in that moment, with water crashing and chaos raging, he chose to deliver one of his infamous ice-cold jokes.

"I once drove through a village with many ducks. I accidentally crushed one. I asked a child, 'Is this duck yours?' The boy said, 'My duck isn't this flat.' "

Sylus turned to him, crimson eyes flat with disbelief.

"...That's very cold. Like your evol."

Even with power surging around him, Rafayel almost burst into laughter, his divine aura shimmering brighter, the storm now bending to his will.

The floodwater surged higher, swallowing half the laboratory. Sylus and Zayne stood steady, shielded within the glow of the trident.

Rafayel, body shining with blue light, swam through the torrent as if the ocean bent itself for him. He caught one of the corrupted Lemurian wanderers by the throat. With effortless strength, he hurled it across the chamber, the body crashing into steel and vanishing beneath the waves.

Now only Michael remained, thrashing in panic, his face already half-buried in water.

Rafayel hovered above the rising tide, smirking coldly, his Sea God aura shimmering like lightning beneath the ocean.

"You pay for what you've done."

he said, voice carrying like a tide.

"A weapon? You think you can just touch someone like me?"

Michael's eyes widened in horror. He had not expected the lost infant to be the Lemuria Sea God himself. And now he realized—too late—why the two researchers had stolen the child from his grasp years ago.

They hadn't only been protecting Rafayel. They had been protecting him, Michael, from the truth.

If he had ever cut even a sliver of flesh from the infant out, if he had spilled the Sea God's blood for his experiments... the Lemurian bloodline would have answered immediately, and war itself would have swallowed Gaia Research whole.

Now, standing face-to-face with that power grown, Michael felt the ocean itself holding his throat.

The sea had swallowed Gaia Research whole, every wall and corridor drowned in its surge. Shadows of half-dead Lemurian wanderers darted through the water, but Rafayel swam forward, his form shining with the glow of the Sea God.

He stopped before Sylus first, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Take his soul,"   Rafayel murmured.

Then he turned to Zayne, cupping his face gently before kissing him too.

"Protect yourself. I'm taking the trident."

Both men smirked at his words, but as Rafayel swam away, their eyes widened. They were breathing freely under the flood. That kiss had not been just affection—it was a Lemurian gift. The sea itself now acknowledged them as untouchable.

Sylus touched his lips, his smirk curling sharper, and turned toward Michael who thrashed desperately in the water. Panic twisted the man's face as he tried to stay afloat.

Meanwhile, Rafayel lifted the trident high. Its glow pierced through the black depths as he swung it down. A tidal wave of light erupted, dissolving the horde of corrupted Lemurian wanderers in a single strike.

"i'm sorry."

Whispers rose from the drifting ashes, soft and broken.
"Thank you..."
"The Lemuria has hope again..."

Rafayel froze, eyes widening at the voices of the dead, a heaviness settling in his chest.

At the same moment, Sylus wrapped his hand around Michael's throat. Crimson eyes glinted coldly, and his smirk curved dark as his energy crackled through the water.

"Your soul is mine now,"  he hissed, voice carrying even beneath the sea. "No rebirth. Just the end... and a part of my dinner."

Michael's scream was swallowed before it could ever escape.

Michael's body writhed under Sylus's grip, the sea pressing harder around him. His eyes bulged with terror as Sylus's crimson gaze glowed faintly, threads of energy pulling at something deeper than flesh.

Michael's scream never came. His body convulsed, then stiffened, as his very soul began to tear free.

Sylus smirked, his voice low, cruel, and steady.

"I am the Soul Keeper. I can bargain with souls, I can trade them... or devour them. Most are filthy. Yours—"

he chuckled darkly,

"—yours is rotten, but I'll eat it anyway. For Rafayel's sake."

Michael clawed at Sylus's hand, panic consuming him.

"No... no, I cannot—"   His words cut short as Sylus pulled the soul completely free, its scream echoing without sound.

The glow flickered once, then vanished into Sylus's palm, devoured whole. Michael's body went limp instantly, eyes glassy, sinking lifeless into the black water.

Zayne, still floating nearby, glanced at Sylus with a rare, quiet look.

"No rebirth. He's gone for good."

Sylus smirked, the crimson energy fading from his hands.

"Exactly. That's the price for ruining Rafayel's life."

The current stilled around them, heavy with silence. Rafayel's trident still glowed faintly in the distance, but the whispers of the lost Lemurians had already faded.

Michael was no more. Not even death's cycle would take him back.

Chapter Text

Ever since Michael's death and the fall of Gaia Research, Rafayel's fate could no longer be hidden. He had officially awakened as the young Lemuria Sea God. The once-chaotic storms of the Deep Sea quieted as if bowing to him, its tides now carrying a strange calm. For the first time in centuries, ships began daring to cross, though none set foot into its depths—remnants of monstrous guardians still prowled beneath the waves.

Rafayel, however, didn't care about titles. Sea God meant little to him. What he cared about was sometimes diving beneath the waves, into the ruins of Lemuria itself, the lost kingdom now sleeping beneath the sea. Each visit reminded him of a home he never truly had.

At N109, life returned to chaos as usual. Rafayel still followed Sylus and Zayne into trade meetings, sprawled lazily in their office or striding into private deals with the same careless boldness as always.

"Ugly item,"   he would say to a trader presenting a relic. "Blind humans must've crafted this."

Another time he leaned forward, flicking his fingers dismissively at some ancient jewel.

"Bad taste. I wouldn't use that even for my dog."

The room would freeze in awkward silence, until Sylus's smirk or Zayne's cool glance cut through the tension. Nobody dared lash out at him. After all, Rafayel wasn't just the artist-star of Linkon. He was the one who stood beside Sylus and Dawnbreaker, untouchable. Their lover.

It was one of those lazy days in the N109 apartment. Rafayel sprawled on the sofa, tangled in cushions, lips pouting while Sylus and Zayne sat across from him with a neat pile of poker chips. The rules were simple: whoever lost had to strip a piece of clothing.

Luck—or betrayal from fate—was clearly not on Rafayel's side. His shirt had long been tossed aside, and now he sat bare-chested, skin flushing red, his pants the only thing left clinging to dignity. Across from him, Sylus and Zayne were still immaculate, not a jacket or tie out of place.

Rafayel slammed his cards down with a groan.

"NO WAY I'M LOSING THIS ALL THE TIME!"

Sylus leaned back, smirking in that maddening, cool way.

"You're just bad at poker."

Zayne, calm as ever, slid a card onto the table without so much as blinking.

"Poker is math."

Rafayel shot him a glare, his ears burning pink.

"Poker is luck! Not math!"

Sylus lifted his cards, crimson eyes glinting, and let out a low chuckle.

"You might as well just go naked. We won't mind."

But luck had a strange way of turning. After losing round after round, Rafayel's hand suddenly began to dominate the table. One win, then another, and another—until Sylus and Zayne were the ones forced to shed their clothes. Piece by piece, jackets, shirts, and layers were tossed aside, leaving both of them bare-chested.

Rafayel froze mid-movement, his eyes widening at the sight of their toned, sculpted physiques. His mouth worked before his brain could catch up.

"I could actually just sleep on those bodies..."

Both Sylus and Zayne arched their brows at him.
Rafayel blinked rapidly, coughed, and waved his hand.

"I mean—sleep on those bodies of fishes! Yeah. Fishes. Totally what I meant."

Sylus smirked faintly while Zayne's lips curved ever so slightly, their gazes making Rafayel's ears burn scarlet.

Rafayel's poker hand trembled slightly, but not from nerves—his eyes just kept betraying him. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the cards, they slid right back to Sylus's broad chest and Zayne's sculpted shoulders. Both of them looked annoyingly perfect, calm even as they stripped down, while Rafayel's thoughts ran wild.

I really wouldn't mind sleeping with them. Two of the most dangerous men in N109—rich, smart, kind, dangerous, hot. Deadly hot. And strong. My lovers. My luck with men really is insane.

The game pressed on until all three of them sat shirtless, cards in hand, the air charged. Rafayel, emboldened by impulse more than sense, slammed his cards down and blurted,

"If you guys lose this... we're doing it. On the bed."

The words barely left his lips before Sylus and Zayne moved in perfect unison. No hesitation, no flicker of surprise. Just a cold, calculated smoothness.

"We fold."  Sylus said, smirking.

Zayne followed, voice calm and gentle, as if sealing a deal:
"We lost."

Rafayel froze. His mouth fell open, eyes wide.

"...What the... fuck?"

He hadn't expected them to call his bluff—or worse, treat it like it wasn't one.

Zayne rose from his seat with the calmness of a surgeon after a perfect operation, tilting his head ever so slightly toward Rafayel.

"Which room do you want? You have three beautiful options. Sylus's, mine, or yours?"

Rafayel's entire face burned red. He stammered, words tumbling uselessly.

"Uhh—I—uhh—"

Before he could even finish, Sylus was already moving. With a flick of his wrist, his energy manipulation wrapped Rafayel up as if he weighed nothing, lifting him smoothly off the sofa.

"My room,"   Sylus decided, voice cool and decisive. His crimson eyes glinted, dangerous and amused.   "Zayne's a neat freak, so it's fine. And Rafayel's bed? It looks more like a place for paintings to nap than for sex."

He tilted his head slightly, smirking as if to seal the judgment.

"My bed's big enough not to break."

Rafayel let out a strangled noise, his face burning even redder as he covered it with both hands.

"Why do you have to talk like that!"

Rafayel was gently laid on Sylus's enormous bed. Zayne casually helped him out of his pants, grinning the whole time.

Blushing, Rafayel tossed a pillow at him.

"Don't smile like that! You're making me second-guess everything!"

Zayne caught the pillow with a chuckle and leaned in to kiss Rafayel gently.

"You won't be shy for long."

Meanwhile, Sylus grabbed a bottle of lube and applied some to Rafayel manhood and to his own hands.

Rafayel gave him a puzzled look.

"Why your hands too?"

Sylus smiled warmly.

"Cute question. It's your first time. I want to go slow—trust me, you don't want anything happening dry."

Realization hit Rafayel, and his cheeks turned an even deeper red. Zayne kissed him again, this time slower, to calm his nerves.

"For now,"  Zayne whispered, "just feel."

Rafayel's body tensed as Sylus's skilled fingers began to stroke his sensitive manhood, the touch gentle yet firm.

Simultaneously, Sylus's other hand slipped between Rafayel's trembling thighs, wet fingers probing at his hole.

Rafayel jerked involuntarily, a sharp cry escaping his lips as the dual stimulation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him.

"Ahhhh--!"

 he gasped, his hips bucking instinctively into Sylus's touch. But before he could fully process the sensation, Zayne's lips descended upon his own, capturing them in a deep, passionate kiss.

 Zayne's moan vibrated against Rafayel's mouth as their tongues tangled together, the sound muffled by their joined lips.

Chapter Text

Sylus's fingers continued their relentless assault, twisting and turning within Rafayel's slick hole, unerringly finding that sweet spot that made him see stars.

The constant stimulation caused Rafayel's manhood to leak steadily, pre-cum dripping onto his stomach as he writhed beneath Sylus's touch. Zayne's gentle kisses provided a stark contrast to the intense pleasure radiating from his lower half, Zayne lips moving softly against Rafayel own as he moaned into the kiss.

His body trembled, caught between the dual sensations of Sylus's skilled fingers and Zayne's tender affection.

Rafayel's body arched sharply as the intense pleasure overwhelmed him, his back bowing off the bed as he reached his climax.

A high, keening moan tore from his throat, his hole clamping down around Sylus's fingers as he came undone.

"HNNGHHHNN!!"

He cried out, his manhood pulsing as it spilled its contents onto his stomach.
Zayne released their kiss, watching with a tender smile as Rafayel rode out the waves of ecstasy.

"Feel good?"

Zayne murmued, pressing a gentle kiss to Rafayel's forehead.
Rafayel could only pant heavily in response, his face flushed a deep shade of red as he trembled with aftershocks.

Before he could fully recover, Sylus withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the hard length of his manhood. Rafayel's eyes flew wide open at the sudden intrusion, a sharp cry escaping his lips.

"AHHHHH!"

Rafayel's body shuddered violently as Sylus's thick manhood pierced him, stretching his sensitive walls in a delicious burn.

 His eyes rolled back, tears of pleasure leaking from the corners as he gasped for air.

"AHHHHH! SYLUS!"

Rafayel screamed, his fingers digging into the sheets beneath him. Sylus leaned down to capture his lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his cries as he began to move within him.

"Shhh."  

He murmured against Rafayel's mouth,

"you're doing so well. Just relax."

His hips rolled slowly, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside Rafayel that made him see stars. Zayne watched with hungry eyes, his own arousal evident as he stroked himself to the sight of Sylus claiming their mate.

Sylus's thrusts became more forceful, his hips snapping forward with a primal intensity as he drove himself deeper into Rafayel's quivering depths.

 Each stroke hit that magic spot inside him with unerring precision, pushing Rafayel closer and closer to the edge.

"Ahhhh!!Hnnnghnnn!! Coming!!Sylus! Stop!!"

Rafayel cried out, his body arching impossibly high as he teetered on the brink of release. But Sylus showed no mercy, his pace only increasing as he reveled in the tight heat surrounding him.

Zayne captured Rafayel's lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his desperate pleas as Sylus plunged relentlessly into him.

Rafayel's pleasure peaked, his entire body convulsing violently as he was consumed by a tsunami of ecstasy. Tears of rapture streamed down his face as his vision blurred, his consciousness flickering in and out. 

As Rafayel felt the wave of climax building deep inside, his body instinctively tried to pull back—overwhelmed by sensation, by pressure, by heat.

But Sylus was relentless, his rhythm powerful and unyielding. Zayne finally let the kiss break, and Sylus leaned in, capturing Rafayel's lips with his own, rougher this time, hungrier.

"No running now,"   Sylus murmured against his mouth.  "Just release. It's okay."

With one final, deep thrust, Sylus held Rafayel close. That was all it took. Rafayel's body arched sharply, a cry torn from his throat as release hit him, fierce and uncontrollable. His fingers dug into the sheets, into Zayne's arm—anything to ground himself.

"AHHHHH ! HARGHHHH!!"

Rafayel manhood pulsing as it spilled between their bodies. At the same moment, Sylus found his own release, his hot seed flooding Rafayel's insides as he shuddered with pleasure.

Rafayel's eyes fluttered back, lips parted, tongue slipping out as his whole body shuddered in waves of aftershock. He was utterly spent—soaked in sensation, breath shallow, mind fogged in bliss.

And then—Zayne.

Without missing a beat, Zayne leaned down and kissed him, deep and hungry, as Sylus gently withdrew. The sudden shift made Rafayel whimper, body twitching at the slick, stretched heat left behind.

"mmmm—! hnnnghnn—!

Sylus's cum leaked out, dripping down Rafayel's thighs as he lay there dazed and trembling. Still full from Sylus, and yet—Zayne trusted him. Entered him with a slow, claiming push that made Rafayel gasp into the kiss, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

A muffled cry broke loose against Zayne's lips, equal parts overwhelmed and yearning.

"Ahh—! Hngh—!"

He couldn't think anymore. Just feel.

Zayne moved with deep, unshakable rhythm—each thrust landing with precision that made Rafayel cry out, his body already overwhelmed from everything Sylus had given him.

The slick warmth between them only heightened the intensity, and Rafayel could barely keep up—moaning, trembling, tears spilling freely.

"Z-Zayne... gentler... I can't—breathe..."

Zayne's breath was ragged as he leaned in, pulling Rafayel upright, wrapping his arms tight around him. His pace didn't slow—it just shifted. Deeper. More focused. Angled to strike that perfect place inside him, over and over again.

"I am being gentle,"   he whispered against Rafayel's ear.   "You're just feeling everything now. Breathe. You're okay."

Rafayel tried, he really did but each movement made his head fall back, his body jolt, his breath catch in his throat. His legs shook. His body arched. His voice broke in moans he couldn't hold back, his release coming again in waves—uncontrolled, unstoppable.

"arghhhh! hnnghnnn!!"

Sylus, watching from the side with a lazy smirk, reached forward, tilting Rafayel's flushed face toward him.

"You're beautiful like this."

He murmured, and pressed a kiss to his lips—slow and possessive—right as Zayne drove in again.

Sylus's lips captured Rafayel's in a slow, possessive kiss, swallowing his cries of pleasure as Zayne plunged into him once more. The dual stimulation proved too much, and Rafayel's body convulsed violently, his manhood pulsing and squirting uncontrollably.

"AHHHHHH! HNNGHHHNN!!"

Zayne's hips snapped forward one final time, burying himself deep inside Rafayel as he found his own release, cumming inside.

Rafayel was soaked in sensation—every nerve lit, every breath stuttering. His legs gave out beneath him, and Sylus caught him before he fell completely, lowering him gently back onto the bed.

Rafayel whimpered, shaking his head, tears streaking his cheeks.

 "Hnnngh... it's not stopping... I can't—ahh..."

Zayne gently stroked his back, grounding him with soft touches and quiet murmurs. Sylus wrapped his arms around him, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, his cheeks, his temple.

"It's alright,"   Sylus whispered, his voice thick with tenderness. "You're just overwhelmed. You gave everything. Just breathe."

Rafayel clung to them, still caught in that storm between ecstasy and exhaustion, his body twitching as the aftershocks pulsed through him. But slowly—very slowly—the sobs faded into soft breaths, the trembles into stillness, the chaos into calm.

And the only sounds left were heartbeats, breathing, and the soft hush of skin on skin as they held him, kissed him, soothed him.

Chapter Text

Ever since Rafayel had given himself to Sylus and Zayne, he had grown addicted to the intimacy. Nights with them often ended with him fainting in bliss, but he loved every moment of it.

Still, even outside the bedroom, his luck was outrageous. Especially when he accompanied them on hunts.

That night, disguised beneath a mask to hide his identity as Linkon's famed artist, Rafayel trailed Sylus and Zayne into an illegal trading hall. Their mission: secure the Pure Aether Core. The problem? They didn't know who held it.

While Sylus and Zayne exchanged words with cautious traders, Rafayel drifted away, wine glass in hand, and slid into a seat across from a stranger. His smirk was hidden under the mask, but his eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Hey."

The man looked up, mildly startled, then smiled professionally, intrigued.

"Hey."

Rafayel's gaze slid to the small box on the table. He twirled his wine glass idly.

"Let's make a bet. If I win, you give me that box. If I lose..."

He leaned back, voice smooth.

"I'll be your present."

The man blinked, surprised, before chuckling and raising his glass. A free gift was hardly worth refusing.

"Sure. What's the bet?"

"How many eyes look over here in the next two minutes," Rafayel said lightly. "I say eight."

The man smirked.

"Five."

Two minutes later, Rafayel was strolling back toward Sylus and Zayne, swinging the box like a toy.

"Hehe! Got us a little souvenir."

Zayne arched a brow, his hazel-green eyes narrowing.

"I didn't even realize you slipped away. What is this?"

Rafayel shrugged, still playful.

"I don't know. Bet with some random guy."

Sylus's crimson gaze sharpened, his smirk cool and dangerous.

"And he just let you walk?"

Rafayel tilted his head.

"Of course not. I knocked him out."

For a moment, silence. Then Sylus chuckled, low and dark.

"I don't know whether to praise you or strangle you."

Zayne exhaled, adjusting his cuff, voice calm but edged with steel.

"We're supposed to track the Pure Aether Core, Rafayel. Not shop for trinkets in the middle of a dangerous mission."

Rafayel frowned beneath his mask, hugging the box to his chest.

"I am taking it seriously."

The three of them sat at the glass table after a long round of gathering scraps of information from traders. Zayne leaned back, his tone cool and calm.

"Open the box, Rafayel. I don't want you bringing home some dangerous souvenir just because you got carried away with a bet."

Rafayel grumbled under his breath but did as told, cracking the lid open with casual annoyance.

The moment the contents gleamed back at them....

The table went quiet for only a beat, then Sylus's laughter echoed low and rich, carrying across the trading hall like a blade hidden in velvet. Zayne, ever composed, simply shut the box with one hand and clasped Rafayel's with the other, his calm smile betraying amusement.

Sylus asked, as though Rafayel hadn't just stumbled into securing the very treasure they had been chasing for weeks.

"What do you want for supper?"

Rafayel's voice cracked with disbelief.

"I—I didn't expect... that box is the Pure Aether Core we were looking for..."

Zayne hummed, tucking the box away. His thumb brushed against Rafayel's hand, grounding him.

"Mm."

Sylus slung an arm casually around Rafayel's waist as they strode out. His crimson eyes glinted with a smirk.

"Sometimes I wonder if your ridiculous luck is tied to you being the Lemuria Sea God. Every mission turns into a comedy with you around—tragic for others, peaceful for us."

Rafayel mumbled, still dazed.

"I just... bet over how many people would look at us in two minutes..."

Zayne's lips quirked, cool and dry.

"And ended up with a priceless core. Typical."

Sylus leaned closer, whispering against Rafayel's ear.

"You don't even need to hunt, troublemaker. The world just lays its treasures at your feet."

Ever since Rafayel had begun accompanying them, their hunts no longer ended in blood-soaked chaos but in strange, almost peaceful victories—whether by his absurd bets, his accidental stumbles, or his fire-tempered luck.

To the outside world, it looked like N109 had become even deadlier. But to Sylus and Zayne, it was simple: with Rafayel by their side, danger always bent, twisted, and somehow turned into something they could laugh about on the way home.

On a random day, Rafayel dragged Sylus and Zayne out to the Deep Sea. Standing on the boat, he grinned mischievously.

"I'm going down. You two are coming along!"

Before they could protest, he leapt into the waves. Sylus and Zayne followed after, knowing they could breathe underwater thanks to Rafayel's kiss.

The moment Rafayel touched the water, his body shifted—his form glowing, transforming into the young Lemuria Sea God. He swam ahead, guiding them deeper and deeper until the hidden civilization of Lemuria revealed itself.

Sylus and Zayne froze, stunned. The Lemurians weren't all extinct—some still lived. And just as the rumors said, their eyes were unlike any other. Every single one unique, no two the same.

As Rafayel passed, the Lemurians bowed low. He led Sylus and Zayne into the radiant Temple of Promise. Its walls shimmered with ancient light. Rafayel turned, smiling softly.

"This is the Temple of Promise. Only the Sea God may enter. I've learned many things here... all because of you two."

Sylus smirked, his crimson eyes glinting.

"Interesting."

Zayne gave a faint, calm smile, his gaze lingering on Rafayel.

Rafayel's expression grew tender.

"I'm grateful I met you both. Without you both, I would never have known that the dark world isn't just blood and danger—there are good people too. Like you two."

His aura radiated gently as he continued,

"You both brought me happiness, taught me good and bad. I thought after graduation I wouldn't need both of you anymore... but I was wrong. My heart chose otherwise."

He stepped closer, voice steady but warm.

"Both of you even showed me who I really am, could have killed me but protected me instead."

Sylus's tone was low, steady, but filled with meaning.

"Why would I kill someone I'm interested in? All I want is to protect and love—that person. You are who you are. That's enough."

Zayne walked forward, calm as ever.

"You are worth protecting. Worth loving."

Rafayel chuckled softly. With a wave of his hand, water shimmered, forming two crystalline necklaces, each holding a glowing ring.

"Then... are you willing to be my most loyal followers? To offer your hearts to me?"

Without hesitation, Sylus and Zayne took the necklaces, binding them with their evols—Sylus's energy manipulation, Zayne's ice. Their voices overlapped.

"No doubt."

Rafayel's smile brightened, his chest heavy with emotion. He pulled them close.

"Then in return... I offer my heart, and my soul, to both of you."

Sylus and Zayne's eyes widened. In unison, their voices shook.

"Rafayel...!"

But Rafayel only clasped their hands in his, kissing them tenderly. His power flared, radiating through their bodies, spreading outward until the entire Lemuria Sea and the Deep Sea above glowed bright blue.

All around them, the surviving Lemurians felt it. They bowed in awe, whispering prayers of respect. The Sea God had chosen his partners.

Inside, Rafayel's thoughts were clear and unshakable: I love you both. And only you both. This time, I will protect the both of you.

Sylus and Zayne embraced him tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead together.

"Our Sea God," they murmured, voices united. "Forever ours."

In that moment, Sylus and Zayne felt no regret.

They remembered the first time—how a mere university student with those striking pinkish-purple eyes had crossed their path in the forest, riding past in that ridiculous encounter. Back then, he was just a curiosity, an annoyance that drew their interest. But letting him into their lives had changed everything.

Now they knew his real self. His laughter, his temper, his stubbornness, his warmth. They knew how much of a treasure he was, how much he deserved to be protected.

And with each passing day, their feelings had only deepened.
They did not regret. They could never regret.

What they wished—what they silently vowed—was simple.

That Rafayel, their only precious Lemuria Sea God, would forever remain with them. Not just as a companion, not just as a survivor of fate. But as their lover. Their irreplaceable one.