Atlas descended from the Skylars, the floating kingdom of knowledge, where he had spent a year honing his skills. The air felt different as he stepped into the bustling streets of Enova, Pleione's hometown. The once-familiar sights were now painted with a bittersweet hue. His heart quickened at the thought of seeing her again, though he knew things had changed. She was no longer his to love freely.
He had barely set foot on solid ground when the news reached him: Pleione's father had been taken hostage by a man who called himself a mysterious man. The name alone carried an ominous weight. Pleione, August, and a small group of townsfolk had gathered near the plaza, where the confrontation was unfolding.
Atlas arrived just as the mysterious man's chilling voice echoed through the air.
"Hand over the girl, August, or watch her father perish."
Pleione clung to August, her eyes wide with terror. The tension in the air was palpable, suffocating. Atlas's blood boiled. Without a second thought, he stepped forward.
"You bastard! Don't you dare lay a finger on Pleione!" he roared.
August stepped in front of him, his expression firm. "Atlas, stop. You can't win against him. You'll just hurt yourself… or worse, die."
Atlas glared at him. "Shut the hell up! I won't die here. I can't. Not until I—" He stopped himself, gritting his teeth. "I won't lose this fight. It doesn't matter how painful it is. I'll protect her."
Without waiting for a response, Atlas charged at the mysterious man.
The plaza became a battlefield. The mysterious man moved with an otherworldly grace, his every strike precise and unrelenting. Atlas, though outmatched, fought with a determination that seemed to defy logic. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the ground trembling beneath their feet.
"You're persistent," the mysterious man said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "But persistence alone won't save you."
Atlas's body screamed in protest as he dodged another attack, his breath ragged. Blood trickled from a gash on his arm, but he refused to falter. In a desperate maneuver, he disarmed the mysterious man momentarily and landed a blow that sent the man staggering back.
The townsfolk erupted into cheers, but the mysterious man's laughter cut through the noise.
"Impressive," he said, straightening. "You have potential, Atlas. I'll let you live… for now."
With a wave of his hand, he vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the faint scent of sulfur.
Atlas stumbled toward Pleione, his vision swimming. Her father was safe, freed from the mysterious man's clutches, but the price had been high. Every step felt like an eternity as pain wracked his body.
When he finally reached her, he forced a smile. "You're okay. That's good."
Pleione's eyes filled with tears as she rushed to his side. For a brief moment, relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. Atlas's legs gave out, and he collapsed. She caught his head just before it hit the ground, cradling him in her lap.
"Atlas!" she cried, her voice trembling.
He chuckled weakly, his blood-streaked face still managing to hold a trace of humor. "August," he said, his tone light despite the gravity of the situation. "I've apparently lost a lot of blood. Mind calling an ambulance?"
"Damn it, Atlas! Stay with us!" August shouted, already signaling for help.
Atlas turned his gaze to Pleione, his expression softening. "You truly are cute," he murmured, a faint smile gracing his lips as his eyes fluttered shut.
Pleione held him tightly, her tears falling freely. The sound of sirens grew closer, but the world seemed to blur around her. All that mattered was the man in her arms.
Far away, in a dark chamber adorned with intricate carvings, the mysterious man sat on a magnificent throne. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he rested his chin on his hand. "Interesting," he mused, a smirk playing on his lips. Rising from his seat, he gazed out at the endless expanse before him. "Let's see how far you'll go, Atlas."