2024-12-30 15:35:20Kael stepped out of the taxi, immediately taking in the military vehicles and armed personnel surrounding the mansion. Before he could fully assess the situation, a familiar voice cut through the air.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Selena's sharp tone matched her frown as she strode toward him. Her eyes tracked the departing taxi, and something shifted in her expression. "A taxi... interesting," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "And here I thought... but no, Marcus's people only travel in those custom Rolls-Royces." "Is there a law against taking taxis now, Selene?" Kael asked mildly. "Don't play games with me. Why are you here? Following me again?" She crossed her arms, her military uniform crisp in the afternoon sun. "This isn't some casino where you can hide behind your cards when things get rough. We're about to take down Victor 'Crocodile' Nelson." Kael's eyebrows rose slightly at the name. "Nelson?" "Yes, Nelson. The most dangerous criminal in the city." She sneered. "But what would you know about real danger? You're just a—" "Commander!" A soldier came running up, his face flushed. "We've got a problem!" "What is it, Lieutenant?" "The manor's defenses... they're too heavy. Multiple armed guards at every entrance, reinforced gates, and what looks like a small private army inside. We can't find a safe entry point without risking massive casualties." Kael couldn't suppress a chuckle, drawing Selena's fierce glare. "Something funny about my men's lives being at risk?" she snapped. "Victor Nelson... the great 'Crocodile,'" Kael said, shaking his head. "If you only knew..." "Knew what? Please, enlighten us with your vast military expertise," Selena's voice dripped sarcasm. "Or better yet, just leave. Go back to your comfortable life and stay out of real people's business." "Real people's business?" Kael's voice remained calm, but something in his tone made the lieutenant take a step back. "In the quarry, we had prisoners who would eat your 'Crocodile' for breakfast." he said under his breath, but it was audible to the lieutenant. “What did you say?” Selene asked him. “Nothing, you can continue,” he chuckles. "Did I crack a joke that you are laughing? You are still same, nothing more than a clown who hides when it’s time to fight." Kael chuckled softly, the sound dark and mocking. "If only you knew," he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear. Selena’s gaze sharpened, and she stepped forward, her hand instinctively reaching for the weapon at her side. "Get out of here, Kael," she barked. "Now. I’m not in the mood for your nonsense today. You’re not part of this operation. Leave before I arrest you." Kael straightened, raising an eyebrow. "Arrest me?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. "You don’t have the authority to arrest me, Selena. Besides, I’m not following you. I’m just here to take care of some business. And let’s be honest," he added, "I’m married." Selena blinked, caught off guard. "Married?" she repeated, her tone flat. "Are you trying to distract me with that? I don’t care." "Well, if you don't care, then maybe you’ll stop calling me a loser," Kael replied smoothly, crossing his arms. He wasn’t about to let her get under his skin any longer. Before she could respond, a soldier rushed up to her, his face grim. "Captain! We’ve encountered heavy resistance at Victor Nelson’s manor. It’s heavily fortified, and we can’t get past their defenses." Selena’s face darkened, her mind quickly processing the information. "Damn it," she muttered. She turned toward Kael, her patience already running thin. "This is serious, Kael. You can’t be here." Kael scoffed, his tone light. "Seriously? You think I’m concerned about a bunch of soldiers and their pathetic defenses?" His smile widened, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "You need to step up your game. Victor Nelson is nothing compared to what I’ve faced before. You’re wasting your time." Selena’s hands twitched, her temper rising as she gritted her teeth. "You don’t get it, do you? This is bigger than you. We’re going after a criminal empire, and you're just standing there like a fool." Kael shook his head slowly. "No, Selena," he said, his voice low. "You’re the fool if you think you can take him down without the right tools." Her eyes narrowed, her hands still clenched tightly at her sides. "You’re not welcome here, Kael. I’ll give you one last chance. Leave now. Or else I’ll arrest you myself."
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Chapter 455
There is a room at the edge of all endings.Not grand, not glowing, not wrapped in prophecy or encased in myth. It is quieter than silence. Smaller than memory. It smells of paper warmed by sunlight, and dreams that never asked to be written down.It is yours.It is called the Reader’s Room.There is no door, yet you enter. Not with footsteps, but with presence. With the hush of one who realizes something profound is about to endbut has also just begun.The room is lined with echoes.Not of wordsbut of you.Moments glimmer faintly along the walls. You see the breath you held when Kael stood at the brink of forgetting. The tear that never reached your cheek when Riva whispered goodbye to her former name. The warmth that moved through your chest when Aurea sang to a book that had never been read. The soft, impossible awe when Soryel first wondered aloud, “What is a story?”And thereagainst the far wallyou see the time you flipped back a page. Not to check, but to feel again. That moment
Chapter 454
It opened not with words, but with warmth.The Book of Forever, ancient yet newly born, unfurled in silence deeper than language. No ink bled across the vellum. No titles, no chapters, no dialogue, no footnotes of the past. Instead, it breathed.Each page was a pulse, a faint thrum beneath the fingertips of those gathered. A heartbeat that did not echo from itselfbut from them. From the ones who had lived, wept, doubted, dreamed.Inside was not contentbut connection.Soryel, eyes wide, hand still resting on the warm skin of the book, felt not storiesbut sensations. A sigh under a blanket at midnight. A page turned with trembling fingers. A smile between tears as hope flickered back. A gasp when a truth struck too deep.The book was not remembering what it was. It was remembering who had held it.And so it remembered you.It remembered the nights you promised just one more chapter, and kept your promise only with sunrise.It remembered the moments you closed its cover not because the s
Chapter 453
He walked not upon ground, but between definitions.Kael found himself in a realm where the world did not end, because it had not yet agreed to begin. It was a place not of story, but of the possibility of storya pale world inked only with the margins of unwritten thoughts, each footstep brushing against the hush before language. No sky greeted him. No soil embraced him. Above, below, aroundonly pale parchment that curved inward forever, a vast cathedral of potential. The air smelt faintly of unvoiced questions, and every echo carried the hush of a reader holding their breath, not to listenbut to allow.Margins, endless and recursive, ruled here. Margins where footnotes once dreamed of being chapters. Margins where the discarded became threshold. Margins where a comma’s curl might house an entire forgotten world.And in that world of spectral syntax, Kael wandered.He did not walk with certainty, for such a thing had long abandoned him. He walked with breath. And each breath became in
Chapter 452
The skies did not darken in warning. There was no thunder to herald the fall. Only stillnessso absolute, so quietly woven through breath and branchthat even the whispers of possibility seemed to hold their tongues.And then, the rain began.It did not fall like water. It fell like memory re-shaped as light. Each droplet a prism of unchosen lives, each splash a ripple of futures almost dared. The air tasted of stories that had once knocked against the ribs of time but were turned away by fear, duty, silence. Dreams unborn. Songs that flickered at the edge of sleep and dissolved with waking. Hands never held. Truths never spoken. Lives unlived.And yet, in this garden grown not from narrative but from the marrow of belief, every droplet found root.Pamela appeared first. Not as a specter nor a memory, but as herselfno longer searching for who she had been, but arriving fully as who she had chosen not to become. She stepped beneath the silvered fall, carrying an umbrella spun from negati
Chapter 451
It began with stillnessnot the stillness of death, nor the hush of waiting, but a silence so alive it pulsed like breath held in wonder. The Book of Forever had closed itself with the tenderness of an old friend who knows when to let go. And in that sacred pausebetween the breath out and the next one ina world emerged.No ink had summoned it. No prophecy had etched its edges. No architect of realm nor map of intent had shaped it. It rose, simply, gently, because it had not been forbidden. Because someone, somewhereperhaps a Reader, perhaps a dreambelieved there might still be more.So the Unwritten Garden grew.Not out of earth. Not even from time. But from the cracks between words. From the gaps between moments. From the hollows of hearts that had once whispered, What if there’s more? Its sky was not painted with stars but with glimmers of stories that had never made it to page. Its wind carried no scent, and yet every inhalation brought the ache of childhood memories you were never
Chapter 450
It began, not with ink, but with a breath so soft it could have been a sighor the silence left behind after someone almost said I remember you. The Book of Forever rested open, its final page no longer blank, but expectant. Not filled, not writtenbut humming with the ache of what could now be said.Soryel stood before it, no longer a child, no longer the Future Reader, no longer the one who held questions like fragile lanterns in the night. They had spoken many namesKael, Selene, Riva, Pamela, Aureaand each had become a constellation of meaning. But now, Soryel closed their eyes and invented one. Not from memory. Not from ancestry. Not even from wonder. But from the future itself.A name never uttered before, shaped not by the past, but by the vast and unclaimed territory of what might yet be felt. The name rang out not in sound, but in permission.And the page… accepted it.Not with ink. Not with letters. But with light. A light not golden, not celestial, not radiantbut tender. It bl
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