The sun rose, but the light never reached them.
It was pale—muted, like a memory of warmth rather than the real thing. The air itself seemed uncertain, wavering between night and dawn.
Retro sat by the broken wall, Lea still resting in his arms. Her breathing was steady now, her pulse calm.
For a moment, it felt peaceful. Too peaceful.
Then time stopped.
The sound of the wind died. The waves froze mid-crest. Even the distant cry of birds cut off like a knife to the throat.
Retro blinked—and realized he couldn't move.
His fingers wouldn't twitch, his breath wouldn't leave his chest. He could still see, still think, but everything around him had fallen still.
The world had stopped, and he was locked inside it.
A voice whispered, soft and ancient.
Gaia: "You cannot follow her where she must go."
Retro's eyes darted down—
Lea's body was trembling again, faintly at first, then violently. Her mana flared with uncontrolled surges of light, flickering between blue and violet. Her lips parted, her breath catching as if she were drowning in air.
Retro strained against the invisible weight holding him, every nerve screaming to move.
Retro (through clenched teeth): "Let her go… Gaia… what are you doing to her?"
No answer. Only silence, and the faint hum of time splitting apart around them.
---
Lea's Perspective
Darkness swallowed everything.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in Retro's arms anymore.
She was standing barefoot in a world made of glass. The floor beneath her shimmered like liquid silver, and above her, the sky was a shattered mirror, reflecting a thousand versions of herself.
Every reflection whispered something different—some crying, some screaming, some smiling.
Lea turned in circles, clutching her head. "Stop… stop it!"
The voices didn't stop. They overlapped, louder, faster, until the air itself began to pulse with their rhythm.
Then she heard Gaia's voice—not booming, not divine, but tired.
Gaia: "Little one… do you understand the weight of power?"
Lea spun around, eyes wide. "W-who's there?"
A silhouette stepped forward from the fractured sky—tall, serene, her body flickering between light and shadow, as if she existed in two times at once.
Gaia: "You wish to stand beside him… to protect what he protects. But to do so, you must carry pain that cannot be healed."
Lea's throat tightened. "What are you talking about? I—I don't want power, I just want to help!"
Gaia: "Then learn… what help truly costs."
The glass beneath her feet cracked.
From the fractures poured darkness—liquid, heavy, swallowing her reflection one by one until only a single image remained:
Her own face, twisted in anguish.
The ground shattered completely. Lea fell—
and kept falling.
Through the shards, she saw glimpses of things she didn't understand:
Retro standing before a burning city, Atlas weeping before a broken relic, Nexus screaming into an empty sky.
And through it all, a single phrase echoed:
"To carry light, one must first drown in shadow."
---
Retro's Perspective
Retro's body convulsed as the world around him rippled back into motion. The frozen wind slammed against him like a breaking tide.
He dropped to his knees, gasping for air.
Lea was still in his arms—but she wasn't conscious anymore. Her body was limp, her mana flaring and fading in violent bursts that scorched the ground beneath them.
Retro could feel it—something inside her had changed.
Her aura wasn't just hers anymore. Something else was mixed in—something divine, cold, and ancient.
Retro (hoarse): "Gaia… what did you do?"
The sky answered.
The clouds twisted, forming faint, translucent patterns—an hourglass made of light, floating silently above them.
Gaia (whispering): "I did what must be done. You cannot protect her from what she must become."
Retro reached up, fury and confusion in his voice. "She's just a kid!"
Gaia: "So were you… once."
Then the voice faded, and the light vanished with it.
Retro looked down again, brushing the snow from Lea's hair.
Her eyes fluttered open for half a second—silver light glowing faintly beneath her pupils.
Lea (weakly): "It… hurts, Dad."
Retro's breath caught. He cupped her cheek gently.
Retro: "I know, kiddo. I know."
She reached up, her fingers trembling, clutching his hand.
"Why… why does she keep doing this?"
Retro's voice broke. "Because gods don't love the way we do."
Her grip loosened. Her breathing steadied again, finally slipping into a deep, unnatural sleep.
Retro sat there long after her breathing quieted. The wind picked up, scattering flakes of snow around them.
The hourglass shape in the clouds had disappeared, but the faint hum of divine magic still lingered in the air.
He looked down at her hand—the small, glowing mark that now pulsed faintly against her wrist. It shimmered in the shape of a gem.
Not one of his. Not a true relic.
A false gem—a fragment of godlight shaped to test mortals.
Retro exhaled shakily.
"She's not ready for this…"
The snow whispered back, indifferent.
But deep down, Retro knew this was only the beginning.
Gaia didn't test mortals for sport—she forged them for what was coming next.
And whatever it was…
It would make this night look merciful.
The wind had died by the time Retro reached the cabin.
The path back was silent—unnaturally so—each of his footsteps sinking deep into the half-frozen dirt. Lea's weight in his arms felt lighter than it should have, and that scared him more than anything else.
When he pushed open the cabin door, a soft golden light spilled across the floor.
He froze.
The place was exactly as it had been years ago.
The old oak table by the window. The cracked mug Atlas had carved his name into. Lilly's faded scarf hanging from the chair.
Even the smell—the faint mix of woodsmoke and wild herbs—was the same.
Retro's throat tightened. "No…"
He stepped inside slowly, his boots creaking against the wooden floor.
This wasn't possible. The cabin had been in ruins for years—he'd seen it with his own eyes. But now… it was whole again. Alive again.
It felt wrong.
It felt like a dream pretending to be memory.
He walked into the nearest room—the one where Nexus used to sleep—and laid Lea gently on the bed. Her breathing was steady now, her hand resting against the faint glow of the false gem pulsing on her wrist.
Retro brushed her hair aside, his touch trembling just slightly.
"You did good, kiddo… you did good," he whispered.
Then he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The moment the latch clicked shut, something inside him snapped.
He clenched his fists, the sound of his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. Every wall, every smell, every ghost of laughter that wasn't there anymore—it pressed in on him, suffocating.
Retro (low, shaking): "Why… why do you keep doing this to us?"
He slammed his fist into the doorframe. The wood splintered.
Again—harder.
And again.
The cabin trembled faintly with each blow.
He wasn't angry at Lea.
Not even at Gaia.
He was angry at himself.
For every time he'd failed.
For every time he'd promised to protect them—Lilly, Atlas, Nexus, Lea—and still watched them break.
He pressed his forehead to the cracked wall, his breath shaking.
Retro (hoarse whisper): "You think I don't understand your games, Gaia? You test her… you test all of us… but what's the point? What's left to prove?"
The air around him flickered—faint lights dancing across the cabin walls like old memories trying to replay. He saw flashes:
Lilly's smile by the fireplace. Nexus laughing with Atlas. The glint of The Night Slayer's blade leaning against the wall.
And then nothing.
All of it gone again.
Retro gritted his teeth, his aura flaring for the briefest moment—enough to make the air itself ripple. The cabin shook under the weight of it, dust falling from the rafters.
He forced himself to breathe. To calm down.
He couldn't destroy this place. Not again.
Not the one piece of home they had left.
Retro stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind him. The air outside was sharp, almost burning with cold. He walked a few paces into the snow and finally let out a sound he'd been holding back for far too long—
a raw, broken yell that tore through the frozen silence.
When his voice finally failed him, he stood there, his breath visible in the air, the horizon faintly glowing with the first trace of dawn.
Retro (quietly, to himself):
"I don't care what you're planning, Gaia…
But if this world's going to break,
it'll go through me first."
He turned his gaze back toward the cabin—the faint flicker of light glowing softly from Lea's window—and felt something stir in his chest.
Not hope.
But resolve.
Retro stood there in the snow, silent and still.
His breath rose in pale clouds, fading into the early dawn.
The world—broken, tired, fractured—had gone quiet. For the first time in what felt like centuries, everything seemed… right.
The cabin behind him stood whole, faint smoke curling from its chimney. The wind brushed gently against his coat. Even the snow felt soft beneath his boots.
And then—
a voice cut through the calm.
Phantom: "Well now… this is a surprise to see."
The sound crawled through the air like poison, smooth, mocking, too familiar.
Retro didn't turn around immediately.
But the moment he heard that voice, something deep within him snapped.
The faint serenity that had been holding him together—gone.
His mana surged like a flood breaking through an old dam.
The air screamed.
A pulse of pure, violent aura exploded outward, rippling across the clearing and tearing through the snow. The ground cracked, trees splintered, the sky itself shuddered as if reality didn't want to hold him anymore.
Phantom actually flinched—his form flickering for the briefest second, as though the world rejected even him in Retro's presence.
Phantom (smirking faintly): "Still temperamental, I see. I thought time would have dulled your edge, not sharpened it."
Retro finally turned.
His eyes—those yellow-green eyes—burned with something rawer than rage. It wasn't hate. It was fury mixed with heartbreak, pain buried too deep to ever heal. His aura, once calm and steady, now bled across the air like a living storm.
Retro (low, shaking): "You picked the wrong time to crawl out of the void."
The wind twisted violently, howling between them, carrying the weight of his anger.
Phantom (mockingly calm): "Oh, don't be so dramatic. I came to talk, not fight."
Retro: "You don't talk. You manipulate. You break. You destroy."
Phantom tilted his head, amusement flickering in his hollow white eyes. "And yet, you're still standing. Still fighting. Perhaps destruction suits you more than you think."
Retro stepped forward, every motion sending cracks through the frozen earth. "Say another word, and I'll make you wish you never left that cursed realm."
Phantom's grin faltered, only for a moment. He had seen Retro angry before—he had seen him furious. But this… this was something else.
This was divine fury wrapped in mortal restraint.
Phantom (softly): "So it's true then… Gaia tested the child."
Retro's jaw tightened. "You don't get to say her name."
Phantom chuckled, stepping lightly over the fractured snow. "Oh, but I do. Because while she plays god, I watch. And what she's doing now… is not mercy. It's preparation."
Retro (growling): "For what?"
Phantom's grin widened again, the cold wind swirling around him like a shroud.
"For the same thing she once tested you for."
Retro's hand went to his spectral sword, summoning it in a flash of green light. The blade hummed, alive, trembling with the same rage that filled his heart.
Phantom's tone dropped to something almost reverent, almost cruel.
"You still don't see it, do you? You're her balance—her weapon against me. But every weapon rusts, Retro. Every sword dulls."
The air between them grew colder, heavier, charged with power. The snow began to rise from the ground, suspended midair by the sheer clash of energy.
Retro: "You talk too much for something that's already dead."
Phantom's grin returned fully this time. "Then kill me again, if you can."
Retro moved first—
and the world shattered around them.