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Ch-173

Author: Cupidaris

2025-08-08 23:49:23

The ruins of the monastery still clung to Nathan’s mind like incense. Stone steps worn by centuries, whispers of the monks fading into the wind, Harper’s steady hand on his shoulder. But peace never lasted. It never could—not for him.

Two weeks after Miko released the open-source Codex, the first World Guardian Summit convened in Marrakesh. It was meant to be a gathering of unity—a table where each continent’s newly appointed Guardian would stand as equals. Instead, it became an arena.

The grand hall was built of glass walls and open air, letting the desert wind drift through. Sunlight slashed across marble floors, the council dais glimmering like an altar. Guardians from Africa, Eurasia, the Americas, the Pacific, and the Polar Convergence stood in their ceremonial mantles, each flanked by aides and emissaries.

Nathan entered last. He had refused the mantle, wearing instead a black linen jacket, collar open, a deliberate contrast to the pomp. Harper walked behind him, expression unre

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Ch-176
The lobby was a cathedral of glass and marble, its towering windows catching the morning light and spilling it across the polished floor like a spotlight meant for someone else. Nathan walked in without hurry, dressed in a dark suit that didn’t flaunt wealth so much as make wealth irrelevant. Harper was beside him, scrolling on her tablet, their conversation low and unhurried. The receptionist noticed them—then chose to ignore them. She looked up once, took in Nathan, and dismissed him with the kind of quick, superior smirk that people wear when they think they’ve judged you in a single breath. Her hands stayed poised over the keyboard, tapping loudly, deliberately not acknowledging his presence. Nathan stood at the desk, waiting. “Checking in,” he said evenly. She didn’t look up. “Name?” Her tone was the perfect blend of bored and disdainful. “Nathan Aurelian.” That got her attention. Her eyes flicked to the monitor, then to him. The smirk sharpened. “Oh. Right. The suite is… un
Ch-175
The marble floor of the Bellavista Grand gleamed under the warm chandelier light, but Nathan barely noticed it. He had walked through lobbies like this a hundred times before—always with quiet confidence, never questioned. Today, though, was different. The receptionist’s eyes flicked up from her computer screen as he approached, then narrowed. “Can I help you?” Her tone made it clear she meant prove you belong here. “I have a reservation under Nathan Hale,” he said evenly, setting his ID and booking confirmation on the counter. She didn’t pick them up. Instead, she glanced at his plain jacket, then at the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Sir, guests of this hotel usually check in through our executive desk,” she said, voice sugar-coated but laced with condescension. “The standard lobby is… for other clientele.” Around them, conversations paused. A pair of suited businessmen glanced over. A family on the sofa exchanged awkward looks. Nathan kept his voice calm. “I am a guest.”
Ch-174
The Alhambra Grand had been marketed as “a sanctuary for the elite,” but Nathan had learned long ago that velvet curtains and gold leaf only hid sharper claws. He and Harper stepped through the glass doors just past noon, the sun refracting off the marble floors like a spotlight. They were supposed to meet the Pacific delegation upstairs—a quick handshake, a private exchange before tomorrow’s summit session. He had deliberately kept the entourage small. No media, no security parade. He wanted this to be quiet. It wasn’t. The moment he reached the reception desk, the young man behind it leaned forward with a tight, too-bright smile. The nameplate read A. Mirren. His suit was perfectly pressed, but the tilt of his mouth carried the faintest smugness. “I’m sorry, sir,” Mirren said, voice carrying just enough to be overheard by the guests scattered through the opulent lobby. “Your reservation appears to have… been cancelled. This morning, in fact. No rooms are currently available unde
Ch-173
The ruins of the monastery still clung to Nathan’s mind like incense. Stone steps worn by centuries, whispers of the monks fading into the wind, Harper’s steady hand on his shoulder. But peace never lasted. It never could—not for him.Two weeks after Miko released the open-source Codex, the first World Guardian Summit convened in Marrakesh. It was meant to be a gathering of unity—a table where each continent’s newly appointed Guardian would stand as equals. Instead, it became an arena.The grand hall was built of glass walls and open air, letting the desert wind drift through. Sunlight slashed across marble floors, the council dais glimmering like an altar. Guardians from Africa, Eurasia, the Americas, the Pacific, and the Polar Convergence stood in their ceremonial mantles, each flanked by aides and emissaries.Nathan entered last. He had refused the mantle, wearing instead a black linen jacket, collar open, a deliberate contrast to the pomp. Harper walked behind him, expression unre
Ch-172
The flags still fluttered at New Geneva, but the world had already moved on. Weeks after the summit, Nathan stood at the edge of a cliff above the old monastery ruins—now little more than a stone foundation carved into the spine of the Himalayas. Moss crept over fallen pillars. Wind whispered through fractured prayer wheels. Somewhere, far below, water sang against ancient rocks. Beside him, Harper walked in silence. Her steps were lighter now, her aura steadier—no longer tethered to chaos. She had shed what remained of the entropy storm. Her voice had not returned in sound, but it no longer needed to. The way she looked at Nathan said more than any speech could. He ran his fingers along a stone tablet partially buried in snow. The engraving was still visible: the Oath of the First Guardians. A language that predated the Codex. He traced it with quiet reverence. “They waited so long,” Harper projected gently. “They held the line,” Nathan replied. “Even when no one remembered
Ch-171
The chamber was empty now.What remained of the Seventh Ring had scattered—light without anchor, truth without a master. It shimmered once over the stone altar, then vanished entirely, bleeding back into the structure of reality itself.Nathan stood at the center, shoulders slack, watching as invisible lines of tension snapped back into place. The planet stilled. Not with silence, but balance.The astral currents settled. The sky no longer shimmered at wrong angles. Cities that had flickered from existence reappeared, disoriented but intact. Somewhere in the Pacific, time resumed. Stars returned to their rightful constellations.It was done.Beside him, Miko sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers wrapped in bandages still faintly smoking from contact with the mirror’s forging. She was watching the stone platform, eyes half-lidded.“That’s it?” she asked.Nathan gave a faint nod. “That’s it.”Nyx’s form blinked in on a flickering projection node near the door. Her voice was steady, but

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