Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
- Colossians 3:13
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Boris clings tightly to Xander's back as they soar across the rooftops of the Underworld. The wind whips through his hair, and his heart races with a mix of exhilaration and fear. He's never moved this fast before, never seen the ramshackle buildings of his home blur past like this.
A distant explosion echoes, and Boris flinches. The chaos that's engulfed Vagrant territory since one of their leaders died still rages on. He shudders, remembering the screams and crashes that had filled the air earlier.
Xander's grip on him tightens reassuringly. "Almost there, kid. Just hang on."
Boris nods, burying his face in Xander's shoulder. He recalls their first meeting, how terrified he'd been when this dark figure with glowing golden eyes had appeared out of nowhere, taking down the Vagrants who'd been harassing people outside his shack. But then Xander had knelt before him, speaking gently about Maria, promising to reunite them. That genuine smile had melted away Boris' fear.
Suddenly, Xander stumbles. They pitch forward, and Boris' stomach lurches. In a split second, Xander twists, shielding Boris with his body as they crash onto a rooftop.
"Mr. Xander!" Boris scrambles off him, eyes wide with concern.
Xander pushes himself up, only to double over in a fit of violent coughing. Boris watches helplessly, his own chest tightening in sympathy. When Xander pulls his hand away from his mouth, it's stained with blood.
"I'm so sorry!" Boris' voice cracks. "I-I must have given you my sickness!"
Xander holds up a hand, still struggling to catch his breath. When the coughing subsides, he manages a weak smile. "It's not your fault, Boris. I have... a condition of my own."
"What kind of condition?"
Xander's brow furrows as he searches for the right words. "Think of it like... a battery inside me. It lets me do amazing things, but I've been pushing it too hard lately."
Boris' eyes widen. "Can't you just stop using it?"
"I wish I could." Xander's smile turns rueful. "But I need it to keep going. There are still so many people who need help."
"But you've already helped so many!" Boris protests.
Xander's eyes grow distant. "Not enough. Never enough."
A moment of silence passes between them. Boris fidgets, unsure what to say. Finally, Xander shakes himself and stands, opening his arms.
"Come on, we're almost to your sister. Ready for another ride?"
Boris hesitates. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Xander winks, but Boris doesn't miss the weariness in his eyes. "I'm tougher than I look. Now, let's go find Maria."
Reluctantly, Boris allows Xander to scoop him up. As they take off across the rooftops once more, the thrill of flight returns. But a knot of worry remains in Boris' stomach.
He's seen enough sickness in the Underworld to know – coughing up blood is never a good sign.
——————————————————————
Dan Heng plods through Belobog's Underworld, the dim tunnels closing in around him. His shoulders bunch, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. The past day's events whirl through his mind like a maelstrom - the battle at the mines, Xander's reckless use of Chronosurge, his confession about his origins... and now this.
He steals a glance at March 7th, her usual bubbly demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic frown. Ahead, Oleg and Natasha lead the group, their hushed voices barely audible over the echoing footsteps of Wildfire members escorting civilians.
Bronya cradles Maria, the child's face buried in her shoulder. Dan's gaze lingers, sympathy twisting in his gut. The girl clings to Bronya like a lifeline, refusing to let go since they found her.
Oleg's fists clench. "Civilian casualties?"
The messenger shakes his head. "At least two that we know of, sir."
"Damn it all!" Oleg's voice ricochets off the tunnel walls. "Years of work, building some semblance of peace, and it all goes to hell in a day!"
Natasha's hand finds Oleg's arm, her voice steady. "Focus, Oleg. Our priority is containment and protecting civilians." She turns to the messenger. "Secure the area around the Furnace Core. And put out an alert - we need to find Xander before he causes more chaos."
Oleg snorts, raking fingers through his hair. "Like finding a ghost in this maze." He glances back at Dan and March. "You two. Not from around here, right? Got any fancy tech to track him down?"
Dan shakes his head, frustration seeping into his voice. "Our comms are dead. Some kind of interference down here - could be the geomarrow deposits or just the nature of the underground. We can't reach him."
Natasha's expression darkens. "Any idea where he might go? Someplace he mentioned?"
March speaks up. "We... we don't know him well enough to guess."
Bronya shifts Maria in her arms, the child whimpering softly. "He'll come back to Boulder Town eventually. He promised Maria he'd bring her brother back."
Seele nods. "The problem is, we don't know when. With all this chaos, who knows how long it'll take?"
Dan's grip tightens on his weapon, eyes scanning the shadows. The weight of uncertainty presses down, heavier than the rock above their heads. This is just the beginning of their troubles in the Underworld, he's sure of it.
A distant explosion echoes, the group tensing. Oleg curses, gesturing for Wildfire to tighten their perimeter around the civilians.
"Pick up the pace," Natasha orders, voice taut. "Boulder Town isn't far. Once we get these people to safety, we can regroup and plan our next move."
As they hurry through winding passages, Dan's mind races. He replays conversations with Xander, searching for any clue to his whereabouts. But despite their heart-to-heart, Xander remains an enigma in many ways.
The tunnel opens into a wider cavern, Boulder Town's silhouette visible in the distance. A collective sigh of relief ripples through the group.
Suddenly, a Wildfire scout comes sprinting towards them, panic etched on his face. "Vagrants!" he shouts. "A large group, headed this way!"
Oleg and Natasha exchange grim looks. Dan readies his weapon, stepping forward. March follows suit, bow at the ready.
"How many?" Oleg demands.
The scout shakes his head. "Too many. At least thirty, maybe more."
Natasha addresses the group. "Wildfire, form a defensive line! Civilians, stay behind us and be ready to run when we give the word."
Dan takes a deep breath, centering himself. As approaching footsteps grow louder, he catches March's eye. She gives him a small nod, determination replacing earlier uncertainty.
The first Vagrants appear, weapons glinting in the dim light. Dan raises his lance, preparing for battle. But as the attackers draw closer, something catches his eye.
Many Vagrants limp, sporting fresh bruises and cuts. Some are barely conscious, leaning on comrades for support. It's as if they've already been through hell.
He watches in disbelief as the Vagrants drop to their knees, hands raised in surrender. Their faces, once twisted with aggression, now show only fear and exhaustion.
"We give up!" one shouts, voice cracking. "Just... just don't let that monster near us again!"
Oleg and Natasha exchange puzzled glances. Wildfire members cautiously approach, binding the surrendering group's hands.
Natasha steps forward, voice stern but controlled. "Who did this to you? What monster?"
The Vagrant spokesman trembles, eyes darting around. "We... we couldn't see clearly. It was too fast. But those eyes..." He shudders. "Golden eyes, glowing in the dark like lamps. Never seen anything like it."
Dan's stomach knots. He knows exactly who the man is describing.
March tugs gently on Dan's sleeve. "Dan... can we talk?"
He nods, following her a few steps away from the commotion.
"I don't know how to feel about all this," she admits, fidgeting with her camera. "Everything since we got here... it's so different from our other adventures. All this darkness, the suffering..." She bites her lip. "And Xander... I know he saved Maria, but he killed someone. That changes a person, doesn't it? Changes how we see them?"
Dan considers his words carefully. "It's not wrong to have conflicting feelings, March. This situation is... complicated."
"Am I wrong for wanting to defend him? For wanting to hug him when I see him again?"
Dan shakes his head. "No, you're not wrong. Based on what Bronya and Seele have told us, I think Xander understands the weight of his actions better than anyone. Notice how he hasn't killed since saving Maria, despite the danger."
March nods slowly, processing his words.
Dan continues, frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm not in a position to condemn him. But I am... annoyed. Why didn't he wake us when he left for Rivet Town? We could have helped."
He clenches his fists, jaw tightening. "If we had been there... maybe all of this could have been avoided."
March nods, eyes downcast. "Xander does act recklessly, but he's more measured when we're around."
A voice cuts through their conversation, sharp and clear. "This isn't Xander's fault. It's mine."
Dan and March turn to see Bronya approaching, Maria cradled in her arms. Seele shadows them, face a mask of concern.
Bronya's eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I'm to be the next Supreme Guardian, and all these atrocities were happening under my nose. I never questioned, never dared to be curious about the Underworld's state." She laughs bitterly. "How ironic that I called the one person who actually tried to do something a demon."
Seele steps forward, voice soft but firm. "We're not blameless either. Wildfire never dared venture into Vagrant territory, fearing the consequences. We lacked the manpower to act without making things worse." She meets Dan's gaze. "I can't judge Xander. Without him..."
Her words trail off as Maria whimpers, burying her face in Bronya's shoulder. Bronya whispers soothing words, gently stroking the child's hair.
Dan's chest tightens at the sight. He glances at March, whose eyes are fixed on Maria, a mixture of sadness and something else clouding her features.
"I don't remember my past life," March murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've always felt bad about that, like I was missing a crucial part of myself." She pauses, gesturing at their surroundings - the dim tunnels, the frightened civilians, the lingering tension in the air. "But now, seeing all of this... the violence, the fear, the desperation... I can't help but wonder if forgetting might be a blessing."
She turns to Dan, her eyes searching his face. "What if I lived through something like this before? What if my past was filled with this kind of pain and struggle?" March's voice wavers slightly. "Part of me has always wanted to remember, to know who I was. But now, I'm not so sure. If I experienced horrors like this, would I even want those memories back?"
Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Dan feels a pang of empathy, recognizing the conflict in her eyes.
"Sometimes I think about the person I might have been," March continues, her gaze drifting back to Maria and Bronya. "Did I have a family? Friends? A home? But then I see what these people have gone through, what they've lost, and I wonder if maybe... maybe it's better not knowing. Is it wrong to feel that way, Dan?"
Her words strike a chord deep within him. Unbidden, memories surface - fleeing the Xianzhou, boarding countless IPC ships with no destination in mind, changing his appearance to escape recognition. All to run from his past, from the power that coursed through his veins.
He meets March's gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Perhaps," he says softly, "there are some things better left forgotten."
The irony isn't lost on him. In their own twisted, depressing ways, he and March might be more similar to Xander than he'd care to admit.
A distant explosion shatters the moment. Dan's hand flies to his weapon as Seele and Bronya tense, scanning for threats.
"We need to move," Seele urges. "Boulder Town isn't far now."
As they prepare to continue their journey, Dan's mind races. The revelations of the past few minutes have shifted his perspective, adding new layers of complexity to an already tangled situation.
He falls into step beside March as they move forward, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.
"So what do we do now?"
Dan's expression softens. "We support him. As members of the Astral Express, that's our role. Even if it means shouldering some of his burden and the consequences of his actions."
March straightens, a glimmer of her usual determination returning to her eyes.
"Move out!" Oleg's voice cuts through the air, sharp and authoritative.
The group resumes their journey, a strange procession of civilians, Wildfire members, and now captive Vagrants. Dan keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings, hand never straying far from his weapon.
As they approach Boulder Town, a crowd materializes at the entrance. Anxious faces peer out, some bearing visible injuries. Dan notices the fear etched into their expressions, a testament to the recent upheaval.
A small contingent of Wildfire personnel hurries to meet them. One steps forward, addressing Oleg and Natasha with urgency.
"Sir, ma'am, we're facing a crisis. People are flooding in from all over the Underworld, fleeing the chaos. Our resources are stretched thin. We're not sure how much longer we can provide aid at this rate."
Oleg's expression darkens. "How bad is it?"
The Wildfire member gestures behind him. "He can give you more details."
Dan follows Oleg's gaze to a figure approaching from the town. As the newcomer draws closer, Seele's eyes widen in recognition. She bolts forward, throwing her arms around him in a fierce embrace.
"Luka!" she exclaims, her usual composure cracking for a moment.
Dan studies the newcomer as Seele embraces him. Luka stands tall, muscular frame evident even beneath his red vest and white shirt. What catches Dan's attention most is the man's mechanical right arm - a gray prosthetic contrasting sharply with his flesh-and-blood left. The metal glints in the dim light, its intricate design speaking to advanced technology.
Luka's bright red hair is a shock of color in the muted tones of the Underworld, matching the vibrancy of his vest. His blue eyes shine with a mix of relief and worry as he returns Seele's hug. Dan notices a series of fresh cuts and bruises marring Luka's face and exposed skin, telling of recent battles.
As Luka pulls away from Seele, Dan observes the way he moves - there's a fluidity to his motions that speaks of extensive combat training. The man's stance is balanced and ready, despite his apparent exhaustion. A fighter's instinct, Dan surmises.
What strikes Dan most, however, is the contrast between Luka's battle-worn appearance and the gentleness in his eyes as he looks at Seele and the others. It's a familiar dichotomy - one Dan has seen in many of his companions on the Astral Express. The ability to be both warrior and protector, to carry the weight of conflict while still maintaining compassion.
Seele steps back, turning to the group. "Everyone, this is Luka. We grew up together. He's stationed with Wildfire in Forge Town."
Oleg and Natasha move to greet Luka, their relief palpable. Oleg claps him on the shoulder, a wry smile crossing his face.
"In all this mess, it's good to see you, kid. What's the situation in Forge Town?"
Luka's expression grows serious. "It's been absolute chaos, Oleg. The last twelve hours..." He shakes his head. "We've been defending civilians from Vagrant attacks non-stop. And that's not even the worst of it. Automaton Beetles, Grizzlys, and Hounds were in the mix too. It turned into a free-for-all."
Dan exchanges a glance with March, whose eyes have widened at Luka's words.
Luka continues, "We've got injured Wildfire members, but thankfully no casualties. It was touch and go for a while there."
He pauses, gaze growing distant. "I was caught in the thick of it, trying to reach some civilians. The Vagrants had us outnumbered. I thought..." He swallows hard. "Then something bizarre happened. In the blink of an eye, this blur tore through the Vagrants, knocking them out cold and deactivating the robots."
Dan leans forward, interest piqued.
"When the dust settled, there was this man. Black coat, all tattered. Dark hair going grey. And his eyes..." Luka shudders. "Golden, like nothing I've ever seen. I tried to thank him, to find out who he was, but he just looked at me and said to keep defending the children like I always have. Then he vanished."
Dan's stomach tightens. He doesn't need to look at March to know she's thinking the same thing. Xander.
Luka's voice grows urgent. "After that, reports started coming in of Vagrants surrendering all over the Underworld. But then we started hearing about Svarog's army attacking humans. Mostly Vagrants, but civilians have been caught in the crossfire too."
Bronya inhales sharply, arms tightening around Maria.
"People are fleeing their homes," Luka continues. "Everyone's heading for Boulder Town. It's got a reputation as a safe haven."
He hesitates, expression grim. "There are rumors... a large horde of automatons heading this way. I didn't want to believe it, but I came to help just in case."
Oleg and Natasha exchange worried glances.
"This is the first we're hearing of any horde," Natasha says, voice tight. She pulls out a communicator, pressing it to her ear. "Alpha team, come in. Report status."
Silence.
She tries again. "Alpha team, respond. This is Natasha."
Nothing.
Natasha lowers the device, face pale. "They were responding not thirty minutes ago. What could have—"
"I'm afraid Luka is probably right," a male voice interjects.
Dan Heng tenses as a sudden noise echoes from the rooftops above. His hand instinctively moves to his weapon, eyes scanning the shadows. A figure leaps down from a dark alley, golden eyes piercing the gloom. As the newcomer steps into the light, Dan recognizes the weary form of Xander, a small boy cradled in his arms.
"Boris!" Maria's cry shatters the tense silence. She squirms in Bronya's grip, and the Supreme Guardian-to-be quickly lowers her to the ground. The child races towards Xander, who crouches to set Boris down. The siblings collide in a tearful embrace, their sobs a mixture of relief and lingering fear.
March's face lights up at the sight of Xander. She dashes forward, throwing her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. Dan watches the display, a mix of emotions churning in his chest. Relief at Xander's return wars with lingering concern over the chaos his actions have wrought.
Luka's voice cuts through Dan's thoughts, tinged with disbelief. "How is this possible? You were just in Forge Town, and now here... Do you teleport or something?"
Xander's lips quirk in a tired smile. "I just run that fast." His golden eyes sweep over the group, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "I've seen an increasing number of automatons throughout the Underworld. The rumors about Svarog taking action... they might have some truth to them."
Before Xander can inquire further about their well-being, Oleg strides forward. The older man's face is a mask of barely contained fury as he seizes Xander by the collar, yanking him close.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Oleg's voice is a low growl, each word dripping with accusation. "Over twenty people dead that we know of, many of them innocent.
Oleg's grip tightens, knuckles white against the fabric of Xander's shirt. "You lit the fuse that threw everything into chaos. We can't deal with the Vagrants and Svarog at the same time!"
Dan takes a step forward, ready to intervene, but Xander raises a hand to stop him. The gesture is calm, almost resigned, and it gives Dan pause. He exchanges a worried glance with March, who looks equally conflicted.
Oleg's eyes narrow, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Nothing to say in your defense? I don't care about your powers or the fact that you saved us before. I've got every reason to knock you out cold for what you've done."
Xander meets Oleg's gaze unflinchingly. "I know what I've done."
The admission seems to ignite something in Oleg. His face contorts with rage as he launches into a blistering tirade. "Oh, do you? Do you understand the consequences of your reckless attempt to play hero? This isn't some game where you can swoop in, save the day, and disappear. We can't be heroes down here. We have to think about the greater good, even if it means turning a blind eye to some ugly truths."
Dan watches as Oleg's words hit Xander like physical blows, each accusation seeming to add weight to the man's shoulders. Yet Xander remains silent, his expression a mask of grim acceptance.
"We've maintained a fragile peace for ten years," Oleg continues, voice rising. "Ten years of careful negotiations, of walking a tightrope between factions. And you, a stranger who appeared out of nowhere, think you can waltz in and play judge, jury, and executioner? Who the hell do you think you are?"
The silence that follows is deafening. Dan feels the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. He sees the guilt etched into every line of Xander's face, the weight of responsibility clear in the set of his shoulders.
Suddenly, Seele steps forward. With a swift motion, she pushes Oleg away from Xander, her eyes flashing with determination. "That's enough, Chief. We can't pin everything on him. There's plenty of guilt to go around, but this isn't the answer."
Oleg's face reddens. "Step aside, Seele. This doesn't concern you."
"The hell it doesn't," Seele snaps back. Her voice carries across the cavern, drawing all eyes to her. "Xander did the best he could in a bad situation. He's been trying to make amends ever since. Did he run away? No. He's been out there, risking his life to stop the chaos that followed."
Dan watches as Seele's words begin to sway some of the onlookers. Even Oleg's rigid posture softens slightly.
"And let's not forget why this all started," Seele continues, her voice softening as she glances at Maria and Boris. "He intervened to save a child from abuse. How can we justify standing by when injustice happens under our noses, all in the name of some greater good?"
The cavern falls silent as Seele's words sink in. Dan sees conflicted expressions on many faces, the struggle between anger and understanding playing out in real-time.
"I tried to hold him back," Seele admits. "I tried to stop him from saving a child. And now... now I'm disgusted with myself for even considering it."
Oleg opens his mouth to object, but Bronya steps forward, her voice ringing clear. "No, Chief Oleg. This isn't on Xander. If you want someone to blame, blame me." Her eyes flash with determination. "I've been groomed to be the next Supreme Guardian, taught to see the bigger picture. Yet I failed to see what was happening right under our feet. Xander, an outsider, did what I should have done long ago."
She turns to face the crowd, her voice thick with emotion. "He acted to protect those we've neglected. If that's a crime, then the fault lies with those of us in power who allowed such injustice to fester. Xander just had the courage to do something about it."
The crowd begins to stir, voices rising as people take sides. Dan tenses, sensing the potential for violence. But before the situation can escalate further, a sharp crack echoes through the cavern. All eyes turn to Natasha, her cannon smoking slightly.
"Enough!" Her voice carries the weight of authority, silencing the murmurs. "Blaming each other solves nothing. Our priority now is getting this situation under control."
Dan watches as Natasha's gaze sweeps over the assembled group, lingering on Xander. "You will be held accountable for your actions," she states firmly. "But for now, that accountability will take the form of helping us restore order. You'll work to calm the situation and deal with the Vagrants, as you've already been doing. And you'll compensate the families of those who died in the aftermath of your actions."
Her eyes narrow slightly. "Any further disciplinary measures will wait until after we've handled this crisis. Do you agree to these terms?"
Dan holds his breath, waiting for Xander's response. To his surprise, Xander begins to recite a series of names, each one delivered with somber reverence.
"Mikhail Volkov. Anastasia Petrova. Petro Sokolov. Yulia Ivanova..."
The list continues, a litany of the fallen. Dan notices Natasha's eyes widen in recognition, her hand flying to her mouth. Oleg's jaw clenches, his fists balling at his sides. Seele and Luka exchange grim looks.
Xander's voice falters as he reaches one particular name. "Alexei... Alexei Kuznetsov." The name of the boy catches in his throat, his composure cracking for a moment before he continues.
As the final name fades into silence, Xander locks eyes with Natasha. "These are the dead I know of. I'd appreciate your help in identifying any others. I swear to make amends to them and to all who've suffered because of my actions." His voice gains strength, resolve hardening his features. "I understand a life lost can never truly be compensated, but I vow to address the root of Belobog's problems, even at the cost of my own life if need be. That's the only path I see forward for myself to atone."
Natasha's brow furrows, her voice tinged with disbelief. "How did you learn all these names? You've been out fighting this entire time."
Xander's lips quirk in a humorless smile. "My senses are more attuned due to my abilities. I've been getting a greater handle on the powers I've been given since I first woke up in that damn space station." His eyes flick briefly to Dan and March, a shared understanding passing between them. "There's much left to do, but you need to allow me to fight with you, to help you. Otherwise, we don't stand a chance at actually solving this situation."
Dan watches as Natasha mulls this over, her eyes narrowing in thought. After a moment, she turns to Oleg. "What do you think?"
The chief's face is a storm of conflicting emotions. He glares at Xander, suspicion warring with grudging respect. "Will you truly make good on your word?"
Xander's eyes flare gold, his voice ringing with conviction. "I will."
Dan steps forward, his own voice steady. "We vouch for Xander. We're a team. His actions are our actions, and the consequences should be shared among us as well."
March nods vigorously beside him. "That's right! We're all in this together."
Oleg's shoulders slump in resignation. "This is as good as we're going to get things to be for now." He fixes Xander with a hard stare. "Tell us everything you know about what you've seen out there."
Xander nods, his posture straightening as he begins his report. "The core of the Vagrant leaders are neutralized. Any movement from their troops now will come from small groups acting on their own. Most Vagrants aren't like Igor; they're just trying to survive. With the head of the snake cut off, the body will slowly decompose." His eyes sweep over the group, voice gaining urgency. "But we need to keep a tight leash on the situation. We must defend civilians and monitor how things develop. We can't let anyone try to seize power in the vacuum left by the Vagrant leadership."
Dan listens intently as Oleg, Natasha, and Luka discuss logistics, debating troop numbers and deployment strategies. His attention snaps back to Xander as Natasha raises the question of Svarog.
Xander's expression darkens. "Svarog is likely deploying automatons to neutralize pockets of power. The robot's primary directive is human survival. It probably has no qualms about 'neutralizing' people if it means the group survives. From its perspective, getting rid of bad roots makes sense. The problem lies in how it determines who those bad roots are."
Dan feels a chill run down his spine as he recalls their earlier encounter. "Svarog didn't hesitate to turn on Wildfire back at the mine. For all we know, it might be looking to eliminate Wildfire and all its members."
Xander nods grimly. "Agreed. Which is why I suggest I take point and go look for Clara on my own. The rest of you should focus on protecting the civilians heading here and setting up a perimeter around Boulder Town."
March and Seele immediately object, their voices overlapping in protest. March's face is etched with concern as she eyes Xander. "You're not looking well. You must have been pushing Chronosurge to its limits. What if your body fails you?"
Dan studies Xander more closely, noticing the pallor of his skin and the slight tremor in his hands. The man is clearly exhausted, running on sheer willpower.
His voice is strained as he explains. "Clara is the only person who might be able to calm Svarog down, to make it reconsider its actions. We need her."
Oleg's face darkens. "You expect us to let you go unsupervised after all the chaos you've caused? Even if you claim you want to make amends?"
Xander throws up his hands, frustration evident in every line of his body. "What do you expect us to do? I'm open to suggestions, but I'm the only one here with a way to actually locate Clara."
Natasha steps forward, voice laced with skepticism. "It's difficult for me to believe you're capable of such a thing."
Dan watches in amazement as Xander's eyes begin to glow, an unearthly golden light suffusing his irises. When he speaks, his voice carries an otherworldly certainty.
"There are exactly 127 people within a 50-meter radius. The worst injury is a compound fracture of the left tibia, suffered by a man approximately 20 meters to our northwest. There are 31 children in the area. Your current pulse rate is 82 beats per minute." Xander pauses, his gaze shifting to the cavern entrance. "Another group of civilians is about to arrive at Boulder Town's entrance."
Dan's eyes widen as he processes the flood of information. He glances at Natasha, whose face has drained of color.
Xander continues, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Some of the people in the area are carrying medicines. To be cautious, I'd suggest you ask them to take a look. They might be smuggling Vache's reagents."
Natasha's head snaps up, alarm flashing across her features. "How do you know about my brother's medicine?"
A wan smile tugs at Xander's lips. "Just making a point, ma'am."
Dan watches as the implications of Xander's abilities sink in for the group.
Natasha is the first to break the silence, her voice tight with barely contained emotion. "Your... abilities are certainly impressive. Alright, I'll trust you with this."
Dan Heng watches as Oleg's face hardens, his jaw set in a firm line. The older man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, battered communicator.
"If that's all, then let's get moving," Oleg grunts, thrusting the device towards Xander. "I want updates every twenty minutes. Non-negotiable."
Xander's golden eyes flicker as he takes the communicator, his fingers brushing against Oleg's calloused hand. "Thank you."
Oleg's nostrils flare, eyes narrowing. "Don't thank me. Thank Seele and Natasha. If it were up to me, you'd be stuck here in Boulder Town."
Dan notices the subtle shift in Xander's posture, a flicker of understanding passing across his face. Before he can respond, March steps forward, her eyes wide with concern.
"We're coming with you," she declares, her voice wavering slightly. Dan nods in agreement, his hand already moving to his weapon.
Xander shakes his head, his expression softening. "The civilians here need you more. March, your ice is unmatched against the automatons. And Dan..." His eyes meet Dan's, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Well, there's no getting past you, is there?"
Dan feels a twinge of pride at the compliment, but it's quickly overshadowed by concern. Xander's face is pale, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He can see the effort it takes for him to stand straight.
"You're in no condition to go alone. Let us help you."
Xander's eyes flash, a hint of his earlier power returning. "Trust me," he says. "I need to do this."
Before Dan can protest further, Xander pulls him and March into a tight embrace. Dan stiffens for a moment, surprised by the sudden display of affection, before relaxing into the hug.
"You're both truly blessings," Xander murmurs, his breath warm against Dan's ear. "I'll come back to you, I promise. Keep protecting everyone while I'm gone."
As they pull apart, Xander places a gentle kiss on March's forehead.
"We need to finish this," Xander continues, his voice growing stronger. "Then we can finally return to the surface and contact Himeko and Welt. They must be worried sick."
Dan watches as Xander turns to address Bronya, who stands rigid, her face a mask of guilt and uncertainty.
"I know who you are deep down," Xander says, his voice gentle but firm. "Don't despair over what's happened. You can't be held accountable for everything the Underworld has endured. Keep your head up, just as Seele has always suggested."
Bronya's eyes widen, a flicker of hope passing across her face. She nods, her posture straightening almost imperceptibly.
Xander's gaze shifts to Luka and Seele. "It's really ironic of me to say this, but please, take care of yourselves," he says, his tone serious.
Seele's lips quirk in a half-smile. "Don't worry about me," she replies, her voice carrying a hint of her usual bravado.
Luka steps forward, his mechanical arm whirring softly. "I owe you thanks," he says, voice gruff with emotion. "You saved those civilians in Forge Town when I couldn't reach them."
Xander shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips. "Thank me after we've dealt with everything."
Dan's attention is drawn to a flurry of movement as Maria and Boris break away from the group, running towards Xander with outstretched arms. The children collide with him, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Thank you," Maria sobs, her small hands clutching at Xander's coat.
Dan watches as Xander kneels, wrapping his arms around the children. The tenderness in his embrace is at odds with the power he knows lies dormant within him.
As Xander rises, his eyes meet Dan's one last time. There's a weight to his gaze, a silent promise that Dan can't quite decipher. Then, in a blink, Xander's eyes flash golden. The air around him shimmers, distorting like heat waves off hot pavement.
In a gust of wind that ruffles everyone's hair, Xander vanishes, leaving behind only the fading echo of his presence.
The cavern erupts into a flurry of activity as Natasha's voice rings out, sharp and commanding. "Alright, people, let's move! We've got work to do!"
Dan feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see March, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "He'll be okay, right?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.
Dan nods, forcing confidence into his voice. "Of course. He's proven himself capable time and time again."
As they move to join the others, Dan can't shake the uneasy feeling settling in his gut. He's seen Xander push himself to the brink before, but this... this feels different. More desperate. More final.
Oleg's gruff voice cuts through Dan's thoughts. "Heng! March! We need you over here. We're setting up defensive positions around the town perimeter."
Dan nods, pushing his worries aside. There's work to be done, and he can't afford to be distracted.
As he follows Oleg towards the town's edge, Dan catches snippets of Natasha's orders. She's organizing search parties, coordinating medical teams, setting up communication relays. Her efficiency is impressive, a testament to years of leadership in dire circumstances.
March falls into step beside him, her earlier tears replaced by a look of grim determination. "We should split up," she says, her voice low. "Cover more ground that way."
Dan nods in agreement. "I'll take the eastern side. You handle the west. We'll meet back here in an hour to report."
Dan's hand tightens on his weapon as he turns away, focusing on the task at hand. He has his own job to do, his own people to protect. As he moves into position, his mind races with possibilities, strategies, and contingencies.
The weight of responsibility settles on his shoulders, a familiar burden. But as he glances around at the faces of those he's sworn to protect – civilians, Wildfire members, even the captured Vagrants – Dan feels a surge of resolve. Whatever comes next, whatever challenges they face, he'll meet them head-on.
As he takes up his post, eyes scanning the shadowy recesses of the cavern, Dan can't help but wonder about Xander's fate. The man's reckless actions have set in motion events that none of them fully understand. Yet Dan can't deny the spark of hope that his intervention has ignited.
For better or worse, change has come to Belobog's Underworld. And as Dan Heng stands ready to face whatever threats may emerge from the darkness, he knows that nothing will ever be the same again.
——————————————————————
Lev Landau's hands tremble as he arranges plates and cutlery on the dining table. A fork slips from his grasp, clattering to the floor. He mutters a curse, stooping to retrieve it.
Lev's shoulders tighten as he straightens. "That's not helping," he mutters, moving to the sink.
Water gushes as Felina pulls the pork from the oven, its rich aroma filling the air. She sets it on the counter with a satisfied nod. "I've been saving this for a special occasion. Cost a small fortune in shields, but it'll be worth it."
Lev shuts off the tap, drying the fork with unnecessary force. "And if she doesn't show? Or worse, if she does and it all goes sideways?"
Felina places the pork on the table, then turns to face her husband. Her expression softens as she takes in his rigid posture, the worry etched into his features. "Lev," she says gently, stepping closer. "You're taking the first steps here. It won't be easy, but you just need to be honest. Speak from your heart, like you did in your office."
His grip tightens on the dish towel. "That was different. This is... I want it to be right. I don't want her to feel uncomfortable. Maybe I should call it off. Why would she even want to eat with me after our last conversation? I—"
His words tumble out faster and faster, a torrent of anxiety. Felina tries to interject, but Lev's voice drowns her out until she steps forward and firmly taps his chest. The unexpected contact startles him into silence.
"Are you finished?" Felina arches an eyebrow. Lev nods, sheepish. "Good. Now, do you think our daughter is weak-willed?"
Lev's expression darkens. "Of course not."
"Then believe in her strength. If Serval wants to reconnect, truly reconnect, she'll do it. Trust in that."
Lev's shoulders slump as the tension drains from him. He nods, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're right, as always."
The shrill chime of the doorbell shatters the moment. Lev stiffens, his eyes widening. Felina squeezes his arm reassuringly before moving to answer.
Muffled voices drift from the entryway, Lev's heart hammering in his chest. He smooths his shirt, takes a deep breath, and turns to face the doorway.
Serval steps into view, and for a moment, Lev hardly recognizes her.
Felina's eyes widen in surprise. "Serval, dear, you look lovely. But what happened to your blue highlights? It's quite a change."
Serval shrugs, a hint of discomfort in her posture. "I wanted to try something different. Felt like it was time for a change."
Their eyes meet, and the air grows thick with unspoken words. Lev clears his throat. "I'm... I'm glad you came, Serval."
She nods, her posture stiff. "Thank you for the invitation."
The silence stretches, heavy. Lev gestures towards the table. "Please, make yourself at home. Would you like some tea?"
Serval murmurs her assent as she takes a seat. Lev busies himself with the teapot, grateful for the momentary distraction. As he pours, Felina launches into conversation, her voice warm and animated.
"So, tell me about your latest projects, dear. How's the workshop running?"
Serval responds, her words polite but guarded. Lev sets a steaming cup before her, then takes his own seat. He listens intently, searching for an opening to join the conversation.
"Business is steady," Serval says, reaching for her tea. "I've been experimenting with some new designs for energy converters. Oh, and I'm working on building a new guitar from the ground up."
Lev's eyebrows raise in surprise. "A new guitar? What happened to your old one?"
Serval's expression tightens almost imperceptibly. "It malfunctioned. I'd rather not get into it."
Sensing her reluctance, Felina smoothly changes the subject. "Energy converters? That sounds fascinating. Are you working with geomarrow applications?"
Serval's eyes flick to her, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Yes, actually. I'm trying to improve efficiency in smaller-scale operations."
Lev nods, leaning forward slightly. "That could have significant implications for—"
But Serval has already turned back to Felina, asking about recent community events. Lev's words die on his lips, and he retreats into silence.
The meal progresses, conversation flowing between Felina and Serval. Lev interjects occasionally, but his attempts feel clumsy, out of sync. He watches his daughter, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes dart to the exit when she thinks no one is looking.
"This pork is delicious," Serval comments, her fork poised over her plate. "It's been a while since I've had Belobogian-raised meat."
Lev seizes the opening. "We thought you might enjoy it. Do you remember when we used to have Sunday roasts every week?"
Serval's expression tightens almost imperceptibly. "That was a long time ago."
The conversation stumbles, veering into safer territory. Felina mentions a mutual acquaintance, which leads to talk of Pela and her work with the Silvermane Guards. From there, it's a short hop to Gepard's busy schedule, and suddenly they're discussing the increased workload of the Architects under Cocolia's latest directives.
The room goes quiet, the only sound the soft clink of cutlery against plates. Serval's jaw clenches, her gaze fixed on her food. Lev opens his mouth to change the subject, but before he can speak, Serval sets down her fork with a sharp click.
"I can't do this," she says, her voice low and strained.
Felina reaches out, her face a mask of concern. "Serval, sweetheart—"
"Don't." Serval pushes her chair back, shaking her head. "Just... don't."
Lev's heart races as he watches his daughter prepare to flee. He can't let her leave, not like this. Not again. "Serval, wait," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Please. Say what you need to say."
Serval freezes, her hand on the back of her chair. For a long moment, she's silent, her back to them. Then, slowly, she turns. Her eyes, when they meet Lev's, are a storm of conflicting emotions.
"You want to know what I need to say?" Her voice trembles slightly. "Fine. I've been crying, Dad. A lot. These past few days, I've thought about everything. Our family, our history, that conversation we had..." She swallows hard. "I was hopeful, you know? I thought maybe, just maybe, we could start over."
Lev nods, hardly daring to breathe.
"But then I look at you, and all I feel is resentment. Do you have any idea what it was like? After Cocolia kicked me out of the Architects, I became a pariah. The black sheep of the family. And where were you?" Her voice cracks. "You weren't there. You didn't support me. You cut me off, took away my inheritance, my identity as a Landau."
Lev flinches as if struck. "Serval, I—"
She holds up a hand, silencing him. "I know you reinstated me. I know it's been over a year. I know you've expressed regret. But what am I supposed to do with all this pain? All this damage?" She gestures helplessly. "I can't just pack it up and toss it outside the walls for the snow to bury. It doesn't work like that."
Tears glisten in her eyes, but she blinks them back fiercely. "The worst part is, I want to forgive you. I do. But I don't even know where to start. I'm not sure I even remember how to forgive anyone anymore."
The silence that follows is deafening. Serval takes a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders. "Thank you for dinner," she says. Without another word, she turns and walks out.
Felina leaps to her feet, rushing after their daughter. Lev remains seated, staring at the half-eaten meal before him. The pork that had smelled so enticing now turns his stomach. He picks up his fork, forcing himself to take another bite, but it may as well be ashes in his mouth.
The weight of his past choices settles over him like a shroud. Each breath feels like a struggle against the crushing pressure of regret. He thinks of the cancer growing inside him, silent and insidious. A fitting punishment, perhaps, for the pain he's caused.
Lev sets down his fork, the clatter unnaturally loud in the empty room. He thinks back to their conversation in his office, the spark of hope it had ignited. How naive he'd been to think one heart-to-heart could erase years of estrangement and hurt. Lev opens his eyes, his gaze falling on Serval's abandoned plate.
The food she'd barely touched mocks him.
The sound of the front door closing echoes through the house, followed by Felina's quiet footsteps. She pauses in the doorway, her expression a mix of sorrow and resignation. Lev doesn't look up, can't bear to see the disappointment he knows must be there.
"She's gone," Felina says softly, unnecessarily.
Lev nods, his throat too tight for words. He hears Felina move closer, feels her hand on his shoulder. The touch, meant to comfort, only amplifies his sense of failure.
"We knew this wouldn't be easy," Felina murmurs. "It's a process, Lev. We can't expect—"
"A process?" Lev cuts her off, his voice rough. "Is that what we're calling it now? A neat little term to package up years of neglect and poor choices?"
Felina's hand tightens on his shoulder. "That's not fair, and you know it. We're trying. You're trying."
Lev shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Trying. Yes, I suppose that's what this sad attempt at reconciliation was. And look how spectacularly it failed."
He stands abruptly, needing to move, to do something to dispel the restless energy coursing through him. He begins clearing the table, his movements sharp and angry. Plates clatter dangerously in his hands as he carries them to the sink.
Felina watches him, concern etched on her face. "Lev, stop. Let's talk about this."
"What's there to talk about?" He slams a plate down harder than intended, wincing at the sound. "Our daughter can barely stand to be in the same room as me."
His hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles white with tension. He thinks of Serval as a child, bright-eyed and full of dreams. How did they end up here?
"I should have listened to her. When she tried to explain about Cocolia, about why she was fired. I should have stood by her. Instead, I..." He trails off, unable to finish the thought.
Felina moves to stand beside him, her presence a silent comfort. "We can't change the past, Lev. All we can do is move forward, try to make amends."
Lev turns to face her, his eyes haunted. "And if she can't forgive me? If the damage is too great?"
Felina meets his gaze steadily. "Then we keep trying. We show her, every day, that we're here. That we love her. That we're willing to do whatever it takes to rebuild our relationship."
Lev nods slowly, wanting to believe it's possible. But Serval's words echo in his mind. He thinks of the cancer lurking in his body, the ticking clock it represents. How much time does he have to make things right?
"I need some air," he says abruptly, moving past Felina towards the door. She reaches for him, but he shakes his head. "Please. I just... I need to think."
Felina hesitates, then nods. "Don't stay out too late. It's getting cold."
Lev grunts in acknowledgment as he shrugs on his coat. The night air hits him like a slap as he steps outside, crisp and biting. He starts walking, no particular destination in mind, just needing to move.
The streets of Belobog are quiet at this hour, the glow of geomarrow-powered streetlights casting long shadows. Lev's footsteps echo off the buildings, a lonely sound in the stillness. He passes the grand edifices of the Architects' headquarters, the fortified walls that have kept their city safe for generations. Once, he'd felt nothing but pride at the sight of them. Now, they seem to loom over him, judgmental and cold.
He finds himself at the edge of a plaza, staring up at the statue of Alisa Rand, Belobog's revered founder. Her stern visage gazes out over the city, a reminder of the strength and determination that built their home. Lev wonders what she would think of him now, of the choices he's made in the name of duty and tradition.
A gust of wind cuts through his coat, making him shiver. He should head back, he knows. Felina will worry. But the thought of returning to that house, with its echoes of Serval's pain and his own failures, is unbearable.
Instead, he sinks onto a nearby bench, his body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. He closes his eyes, letting the cold seep into his bones. It's a fitting discomfort, he thinks. A small penance for the hurt he's caused.
The sound of footsteps approaches, then stops nearby. Lev doesn't open his eyes, hoping whoever it is will pass by. But then a familiar voice speaks, tinged with surprise and concern.
"Mr. Landau? Are you alright?"
Lev looks up to see Pela, Serval's friend and fellow Silvermane Guard, standing before him. Her uniform is impeccable as always, her expression a mix of worry and professional detachment.
"Miss Pelageya," he says, straightening slightly. "I'm fine. Just... getting some fresh air."
She nods, though her eyes remain skeptical. "It's quite late for a stroll, sir. And cold. Perhaps you should head home?"
Lev manages a wan smile. "I suppose I should. And you? Late night patrol?"
"Just finished, actually," Pela says. She hesitates for a moment, then adds, "I... I saw Serval earlier on the way. She seemed upset."
Lev's smile fades. He wonders what Pela knows, what Serval has told her about their troubled relationship.
"Yes, well," he says, his voice gruff. "Family dinners can be... complicated."
Pela nods, her expression neutral. "Indeed, sir." She pauses, then adds softly, "It may not be my place to say, but... whatever your faults, the least you can do is continue working towards making amends with your daughter."
Lev looks at her sharply, surprised by her candor.
Pela meets his gaze steadily, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. "I never had the chance to meet my own mother. You still have an opportunity with Serval. Don't waste it."
The words hit Lev like a physical blow, the truth in them undeniable. He swallows hard, nodding slowly. "Thank you, Miss Pela," he says finally, his voice rough. "I... I'll keep that in mind."
She nods, then steps back. "Have a good night, Mr. Landau. Please, don't stay out too late. It's not safe, even for someone of your standing."
As Pela walks away, Lev finds himself pondering her words. The stark reminder of her own loss, the implicit challenge in her advice – it all swirls in his mind, igniting a renewed sense of purpose.
With a weary sigh, Lev pushes himself to his feet. The cold has seeped into his joints, making him feel every one of his years. He turns towards home, his steps slow but purposeful.
He doesn't know how to bridge the chasm between himself and Serval. He doesn't know if it's even possible. But Pela's words, and the memory of Serval's tears, steel his resolve. He will keep trying, for as long as it takes. For as long as he has.
The lights of home beckon in the distance, a warm glow against the night sky. Lev quickens his pace, eager now to be out of the cold. As he walks, he begins to plan, to think of ways to reach out to his daughter, to show her that he's truly changed.
It won't be easy. It may not even be possible. But for her sake, for the family they once were and might be again, he has to try.
——————————————————————
Countdown to Belobog's Long Night of Solace: Less than 20 hours remaining.