Blood soaked the sheets beneath Gareth as he lay motionless on the narrow bed, veins dark and swollen, breath shallow, every pulse of his heart sending fresh pain through a body pushed far past its limit.
The Veil burned inside him, not like fire, but like something tearing itself free, his muscles locked, vision blurring as the room tilted and the world pressed in from all sides.
He stared at the cracked stone ceiling, jaw trembling, the weight of what he'd done finally settling heavier than the mountain he had moved.
"I did something wrong," Gareth whispered into the dark.
The door opened without a knock. Thyssara entered quietly, pressed a cold vial to Gareth's lips, and tilted his head back.
"Drink."
He obeyed. The burn faded to a dull ache, his breathing steadying as strength crawled back into his limbs.
"Mission's done," she said as he stood. "All prisoners recovered. The blue-haired one just woke up."
Gareth nodded, face unreadable—too calm, too empty—and followed her down the corridor without a word.
Thyssara entered the room first. Gareth paused, drew in a breath, and pulled a smile into place—careful, practiced.
"Hello, Ariela," he said softly. "Did you miss me? Sorry I left you with that old man."
Ariela broke instantly, sobbing as she threw her arms around him. Gareth held her, one hand resting on her head, patting slowly as she cried into his chest—gentle, steady, distant.
From the corner, Thyssara watched in silence, a small, knowing smile never leaving her face.
Gareth didn't move, only stared down at Ariela in his arms, eyes fixed on hers as if searching for something that refused to surface.
"Hey," he said softly, voice even, distant, "remind me… how did we complete the mission and return back home?"
Ariela shook her head weakly, managing a small, trembling smile through tears.
"Later," she whispered. "We'll talk about it later."
Gareth exhaled, slow and tired, and gently eased her back onto the bed.
"Rest," he said. "You're safe now."
He straightened, and Thyssara turned with him, both stepping quietly out of the room.
At the doorway, Gareth paused, eyes lowered.
"…Thanks," he said to Thyssara, voice flat but sincere, before disappearing down the hall to sleep.
Gareth woke to the pale light filtering through the cracks, body heavy but mind razor-sharp.
Blue Veil glimmered along his skin as he absorbed the energy around him, the air humming with silent power.
He forced a smile, slow and deliberate, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The hallway felt colder than usual as he walked toward the cafeteria, Veil faintly radiating from him.
Inside, hundreds of members—mostly women—stopped mid-motion, eyes locking on him like predators on prey.
Gareth moved with calm precision, seating himself beside Jaless, whose expression was tense but steady.
A girl spat on the floor before him, snarling, "I hate your face," her voice sharp as broken glass.
Whispers and stares ricocheted off the walls, many women regarding him like garbage, their judgment palpable.
Meal finished, Gareth and Jaless rose; the room seemed to exhale as they left together, silent but unbroken.
Outside, Jaless patted his head softly. "It's fine," he said, eyes steady; Gareth's lips curved.
"You remind me of Janus, a friend of mine." he murmured, letting the smallest real smile break free.
And finally, a brighter, more human smile:
"I'll meet them soon," he said, voice calm, eyes hard but alive.
Gareth walked toward Thyssara's office, steps quiet, Veil faintly humming along his skin.
On the bench outside, he saw her—the woman from yesterday, clutching herself like the world had already broken her.
He left, returning with a self-made eye patch, hands steady, expression calm but weighted.
He sat beside her, offering the patch gently, voice soft: "Here… this might help."
She recoiled violently, eyes wide, screaming: "You're evil! A bastard! A fucking man!"
Gareth held up a hand, voice low and patient: "I'm not here to hurt you. Please… just breathe."
Before she could respond, wandering guards seized him, pinning him to the cold ground, their grip unyielding.
Thyssara exited her office, exhaustion etched across her features, eyes narrowing as she saw Gareth trapped beneath the female guards.
The woman kept pointing at him, voice raw: "Evil! Evil! He's evil!"
Thyssara's tone cut through the chaos: "Stand down. Leave him alone."
One guard sneered, voice dripping venom: "You're a fucking mistake." Another laughed cruelly, "And ugly too."
Pain flared in Gareth's chest, but his Veil surged outward, lifting the guards effortlessly, suspending them like ragdolls.
He sighed, voice low, almost mournful: "I'm just like you… hurt, lost, tired."
In his mind, he replayed each life, each fear he could sense within them. He could not hate them for hating him.
He knew where each came from, their anger, their pain—and he would not repay violence with violence.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered the guards onto the bench instead of throwing them away, careful, almost tender.
He focused on her, telekinesis guiding the patch gently over her damaged eye, eyes meeting hers.
A trembling, terrified silence followed, her body frozen, her breathing ragged.
Gareth exhaled, heavy, his gaze steady, unwavering. He waved at Thyssara from the corner of his vision.
"I'll come later," he said, voice quiet, full of weight, leaving space for grief, for fear, and for the faintest hope of healing.
Gareth trudged back to his room, every step hollow, the stares of hundreds still burning in his mind; the hatred of every female echoing like knives in his chest.
He sank onto the floor, drawing a black portal before him, voice raw and ragged as he called into the shadows:
"Umbrael! Umbrael!!"
Hours passed, the air thick with silence, the Veil inside him screaming for release.
Exhausted, he finally slumped onto the bed, body trembling, muscles screaming from the strain, every joint and tendon a blaze of agony.
"My body… it feels like it's breaking," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes closing as waves of pain washed over him.
A sudden cough tore from his chest, thick and warm, and blood slicked his lips and sheets.
He had pushed too far, the cost of his telekinesis impossible to ignore, the Veil leaving him drained, hollow, and utterly alone.
Gareth sat by the window, silent, eyes tracing the pale light outside, body aching but mind alert.
He stepped into the Shadow World, the air around him humming faintly as he glided out of his room.
Everyone appeared as white silhouettes, drifting, whispering, alive yet unreal in the muted space.
He walked calmly through the halls, footsteps silent, until he reached Nessy's room.
Inside, three silhouettes murmured, their forms tense, voices low but urgent.
Gareth immediately recognized them: Nessy, Ember, and Jaless, talking about him.
Nessy's voice trembled: "He was normal… back when we were fighting on the bridge."
Jaless replied, flat and precise: "He started acting strange two days ago… after he faced Toravon."
The air between them thickened, shock and fear vibrating through their forms as they whispered, unseeing of Gareth's presence.
Nessy asked, hesitant: "The leader of the Inner March… the one with more power than the elders?"
Jaless explained, voice low: Yeah that one, he ran into his domain, faced his guards… grabbed Toravon with his Veil, lifted him into the sky. He fell… and even when I asked, he said he forgot everything afterward."
Gareth remained seated, silent, listening calmly, every detail etching itself into his mind without reaction.
Jaless continued: "We brought him somewhere safe. He wore a mask… and then it disappeared in a room in Town Magma."
Suddenly, in the Shadow World, blood seeped from Gareth's mouth and nose, hot and thick, staining his hands as he collapsed to the floor.
In the real world, no one saw him; he was invisible, an echo of himself, clutching his body as pain radiated through every vein.
The curse of overusing his Veil tore through him, a relentless, burning pressure that shredded his strength and spirit.
Tears welled in his eyes, slipping down his cheeks, silent sobs rattling from deep inside as he cried beside the friends who didn't know he could hear them.
Jaless's voice, firm and desperate, carried through the empty corridors: "I'll save him!"
Nessy's voice broke through next: "Me too!"
Ember chimed in, resolute: "We're not leaving him!"
The silhouettes of the others rose as one, moving quickly to find him, determined yet unaware of where he truly was.
Gareth remained, curled in the Shadow World, hidden from them, his sobs echoing in the void, unseen, untouchable.
He cried alone, every heartbeat a mixture of rage, pain, and despair, while the world around him continued in ignorance of his suffering.