Jarvis, dressed sharply and ready for the day, descended the stairs with his briefcase in hand, his eyes casually scanning the living room. “Jason?” he called out once, but there was no reply. His brows drew together in a slight frown. He’d checked Jason’s bedroom earlier, and it had been empty. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen his son since yesterday, maybe even longer. ‘Strange… I haven’t seen that boy in a while,’ he thought, a crease forming on his forehead. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and scrolled to Jason’s number, pressing the call button. It rang five times before it connected. “Jason, where are you?” he asked briskly. Jason’s voice came through, not with concern, but a pointed sarcasm. “Finally, Dad. You finally noticed I’ve been gone.” Jarvis tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. “Why do I get the feeling a rebellion is brewing, son? You always pull this stunt when you feel wronged. It’s a coward’s move, don’t you think?” The line was quiet and J

“Arghkkk!” Harry and Levi let out strained groans as their backs slammed hard against the wall before they crumpled to the ground. Around them, every armed man in the room lay sprawled out, groaning and writhing in pain. It was like a mini battlefield, and Leon was the only one still standing. The women stared in stunned silence, unable to believe what they were witnessing. Isabella, most of all, looked bewildered. She tilted her head slightly, watching Leon as if seeing him for the first time. Back in college, he was the quiet one… bullied, overlooked, constantly the target of mockery. If it hadn’t been for her, she knew, he might’ve been crushed completely. ‘He could defend himself like this?’ she thought in disbelief. The amusement on her face slowly twisted into confusion, and then into something more. She was beginning to see Leon through a whole new lens if she wasn't already Alanah, on the other hand, looked like she was witnessing a knight from one of her fan

Ezekiel Gates was more than a scholar. He was the keeper of knowledge in the Divine Order, a living library of truths buried beneath centuries of myth and fear. As the appointed archives manager, his study was tucked in the heart of the temple, far from foot traffic. Every parchment, every sealed scroll, all contained information about the supernatural, including cursed relics, and spiritual objects. He locked his door as they entered and Seraphina quickly made her way to one of the tall wooden shelves. Her hand moved across the faded spines, skipping titles until she stopped at a worn leather-bound book nestled among the section of spiritual objects and lost relics. She pulled it out and quickly began flipping through the pages, searching for something. Then her palm slammed down on a page. “Here,” she said, and carried the open book to Ezekiel’s desk and placed it before him. “The Wishing Stone. A red, diamond-like object that exists beyond mortal tracking. It can only be

“Julian, what the hell is going on?” Victor snapped through the phone, pacing restlessly in his small, dimly lit bedroom. Julian Hayes sounded calm on the other end. “What do you mean, Victor?” “Oh, don’t play that clueless act with me!” Victor barked. “I’ve been trying like hell to reach you! Calling nonstop! You didn’t answer a single one of my call!” “Your call?” Julian repeated, tone faintly amused. “Victor, you know I haven’t been around for a while. I’ve been gone for months. I only just returned recently.” Victor let out a sharp, bitter scoff. “Yeah, and since when did that ever stop you from answering my calls? You’ve been answering them before, so what changed this time, huh?” There was a pause on Julian’s end, just long enough to make Victor’s blood boil further, before Julian finally responded, his voice clipped and cold. “You’re starting to sound ridiculous, Victor. You’ve been blowing up my phone day and night, like you’ve got no better purpose in life. Oh wait, that’

President Vorn stood by the tall windows of his office, staring out at the skyline of Velmaria’s capital, the golden rays of the afternoon sun filtering through it. “Margot,” he said with a calm, but edgy voice, “any word from Olyndra? If they're that good, then by now, they should have been productive.” Margot, standing near the presidential desk with a tablet clutched to her chest, straightened. “No detailed update yet, sir. However, during my last correspondence with them, they assured me their operation is nearing a critical point. They believe they will have the man behind the mask soon.” Vorn turned slightly, his face composed, though his eyes narrowed with interest. “Then they’ve made progress,” he murmured. “Which means… they’ve seen him up close. Possibly even know who he is.” “Yes, Mr. President.” He slowly returned to his desk, lowering himself into the leather chair with a deep exhale. “Contact them again. This time, no more vague timelines or promises. I want transpar