Tick-tock!
Tick-tock!
The relentless swing of the pendulum, an ornate golden blur above the fireplace, stretched the seconds into an agonizing eternity. Aira's stillness at the table was a mask, a fragile veneer over a core of vibrating tension.
She wasn't scared; fear had long since been burned out of her by countless cycles of despair. Instead, a cold, almost predatory eagerness pulsed through her veins, a primal urge to spill blood again, to twist the familiar ballet of combat to her advantage. Her fingers, though seemingly resting casually on the tablecloth, were poised, muscles coiled, ready.
Around her, oblivious to the seismic shift in the atmosphere, Leo continued to pick at his food with detached politeness, his gaze occasionally drifting to the painted ceiling. Priya, her earlier naughtiness forgotten, chatted animatedly about the dullness of being cooped up, a bright, innocent counterpoint to the storm brewing within her mother. Only Jean, across the table, met Aira's eyes with a silent, understanding gaze.
Their communication was wordless, a shared language of sacrifice and inevitability. They both wanted this final, fleeting moment of normalcy for the children before the battle began, before their world was once again consumed by chaos.
Not all knew the true nature of Leo, his terrifying potential. Only a select few Rebirthers, weary veterans of a thousand failed futures, had even a partial grasp of his unique mark and the power it signified. And even among them, doubt gnawed, a cancerous skepticism that questioned Aira's every move but she knew. She had seen.
Handling Leo, keeping him under her control, meant possessing the ultimate trump card for the looming war. The Ascendants, the Dormants—any faction who held Leo would wield him as a living weapon, an unparalleled advantage in the coming cataclysm.
Aira harbored no illusion of simply handing Leo over. Her plan was far more intricate, more brutal. She intended to drag him into the very heart of the conflict, to expose his power just enough to create the "headliners" – those pivotal, destructive events that, in her calculations, might just be enough to halt the future apocalypse. She didn't plan on letting him go for good, not yet. He was too vital, too dangerous, too crucial to humanity's survival. And so, she would fight those who would come tonight, just as she had in countless cycles past.
Division, the great global war, must have already begun in other countries, a bloody torrent unleashed across the fractured world. It would be a bit slower to ignite in Eldoria, a cruel mercy of geography and power dynamics. But when it finally started here, it would be truly bloody, a horrific maelstrom, for Eldoria held the highest numbers of both Vassals and Dormants, a powder keg waiting for a spark. It would be a great war in Eldoria, unlike any this cycle had yet seen.
Tick-tock!
The sound of the pendulum seemed to grow louder, amplifying the frantic beat of Aira's own heart.
Thud!
It was a sound that ripped through the mansion's carefully constructed calm like a thunderclap, impossibly loud in the hushed dining hall. A shockwave rippled through the polished floor, rattling the crystal goblets on the table. Then came the tearing, splintering shriek of ancient timber.
The massive, intricately carved oak entrance door, the very sentinel Aira had been watching, didn't just break—it exploded inward. Shards of dark wood, ripped from their ornate frames, flew like shrapnel, propelled by an unseen, brutal force. The heavy brass handles screamed as they tore free, embedding themselves in the distant wall with sickening thuds. Dust and plaster exploded into the air, momentarily obscuring the gaping, ragged hole where the door had been.
A cold, aggressive gust of wind, carrying the scent of ozone and raw power, swept into the room, extinguishing several Aura-lamps and plunging the far corners into deeper shadow.
Through the lingering dust and debris, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the tumultuous night. It was Kael, his lean frame radiating an almost manic energy. He was the man who had caused a ruckus at the court earlier, a thuggish general who had openly defied Dormants decorum.
He wore a sneer that twisted his features into a mask of cruel amusement, his eyes burning with an unholy zeal. Behind him, a dozen of his men, hulking figures clad in practical, dark combat gear, spilled into the grand foyer, their heavy boots thudding ominously on the marble. Each was armed, faces grim and determined.
Aira knew. She had known. She had seen this tableau countless times in her fragmented memories of past cycles. Kael, always Kael, always the first to arrive. She had fought him, bled against him, and defeated him in this very same scene, again and again. It was a macabre ritual, and tonight, it would play out once more.
Before Kael and his goons could even take another step into the dining hall, Jean moved. There was no hesitation, no wasted motion. His hand clamped firmly onto Priya's shoulder, his other reaching for Leo.
Puff!
A shimmering ripple of Aura, like heat haze off a summer road, briefly distorted the air around Jean and the children. A whisper of displaced air, a faint crackle, and then they were gone. Disappeared into thin air, leaving only the lingering scent of ozone and the heavy silence of their absence. Jean had teleported them away, fulfilling his part of the grim pact, leaving Aira alone to face the impending battle.
Kael and his goons halted, their grins widening, their eyes gleaming with cold, menacing satisfaction as they took in the solitary figure of Aira at the dining table. They didn't need Leo. They never wanted him. Their mission tonight was far older, far more personal.
Kael was the General Officer of the Ascendants in Eldoria, a man consumed by an ancient, festering grudge against the Melanthos clan. It was a deep, religious animosity; he despised them for what he perceived as their blasphemous service to the "devil," Metamospheeles, the entity the Melanthos served under different pretenses. Aira knew this. The other Melanthos knew this. It was an open secret, a raw wound in the political landscape of Eldoria.
She would have fought alongside her family members, though she never did in other lives and in this cycle, they were all dispersed, crucial pieces on a global board. Her siblings, her cousins, her extended clan were all officials in different parts of the world, working as Vassals and upholding the Melanthos name and influence in preparation for the larger war. Tonight, she was alone. Again.
With a fluid, almost casual motion, Aira's hand dipped beneath the heavy mahogany table. Her fingers closed around a familiar, cool length of steel. Sheathed beneath the tabletop, hidden for this very moment, was a long, slender sword, a weapon she had kept precisely here, in this spot, every single cycle for this very day.
This was the day she would singlehandedly defeat Kael and his men.
"Aira Melanthos," Kael snarled, his voice a guttural rasp that scraped against the elegant silence of the dining hall, laced with a murderous intent that chilled the air. His eyes, burning with fanaticism, locked onto hers.
"Let's play."
Aira offered no reply. Her grip on the sword beneath the table tightened. She knew Kael's words, his posture, the fanatical gleam in his eyes. He wasn't truly concerned with the Division, not in the way she was. For Kael, this global war, this apocalyptic turning point, was merely an opportunity—every single cycle—to try and clear his festering, religious grudge and, by doing so, to finally end the Melanthos family.
End the Melanthos family?
The thought was absurd, almost laughable. Only someone truly overpowered, a force of nature akin to the calamities themselves, could dream of such a feat and Kael, for all his fanaticism and raw power, was not that.
He might possess immense strength, a brutal efficiency in combat, and a zealous hatred that fueled his Aura to terrifying levels, but he wasn't a god. Yet, his power was undeniable. Kael still had the formidable ability to genuinely compete with any Melanthos member in a direct confrontation, a testament to his innate strength and relentless training.
He was, in fact, the third strongest Ascendant in all of Eldoria, surpassed only by Aira herself and her elder sister, Sophia, who was currently stationed far away in Japan, a vital cog in another part of their global, desperate machinations.
Kael's grin widened, a predatory flash of teeth in the dimming light. He gave a sharp, almost imperceptible signal to his men. Instantly, they responded. A dozen hulking figures, their forms blurring with the sheer force of Aura-fueled speed, charged forward.
Their heavy boots thudded against the polished marble floor, each impact a drumbeat of approaching violence. They came with the mindless zeal of fanatics, a wave of lethal intent crashing directly towards the lone figure of Aira Melanthos.
Aira shifted her positioning and gaze. It was another familiar breach, one Aira has seen many times.
"Hmmm...guess I'm killing them again"