Jera stood in the Infinite Fortress, the silence of the chamber a heavy, accusing presence. Seraphina was in front of him, clutching the C-Rank cloak and pistol, her small frame looking swallowed by the massive, empty room.
He was in his rig. She was in a simple dress. They had to get to Chicago.
"We are taking the underground tunnels," Jera said, his voice struggling to find its old, cold, digital tone. "It's over seven hundred miles. It will be... slow."
Seraphina clutched the cloak tighter. "Slow?"
"I have to carry you," Jera said, a new, unfamiliar awkwardness in his voice. He was a 24-year-old man, and he was realizing the logistics of his new, very human problem. "I can't use my full speed. The... the G-force... it would tear you apart. This is the only way."
Seraphina's face paled, but she nodded. "I'm ready."
Jera's "Cain Walker" persona, his cold Overlord mask, had no protocol for this. He awkwardly stepped forward. "Hold on."
He scooped her up. It was not a smooth, heroic gesture. It was clumsy. She yelped, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, her body flush against his hard, metal chest plate. He was acutely aware of how light she was. How fragile.
"Don't... talk," Jera said, his voice too quick. "I need to concentrate."
He was lying. He was embarrassed, his face burning hot beneath his helmet. He turned and stepped into the dark, abandoned subway tunnel, and began to run.
The journey was a jarring, dark, rushing blur. Jera moved at a steady 60 miles per hour, his feet pounding a perfect, rhythmic thud-thud-thud on the concrete, his helmet light cutting a sharp, white cone through the pitch-black.
Seraphina was quiet for the first hour, her face buried in his chest to avoid the rushing wind. But she was not a passive "asset." She was a person.
"So... 'Cain Walker,'" she finally shouted over the noise. "Is that your real name?"
Jera's stride didn't change. "It's my registered name," his digital voice replied.
"That's not what I asked!" she yelled back. "I told you my name. You saved my life. I... I should know who to thank."
He was silent for a long time. The only sound was the rush of air and the pounding of his boots. He could feel the warmth of her body, a tiny, human spark against his cold, powered armor.
His digital speaker clicked off. When he spoke, his real voice came out, low and rough.
"...Jera. My name is Jera."
It was the first time he had admitted that to anyone. The first time he had said it, really, since his awakening.
"Jera," Seraphina repeated, her voice softer. "It's nice to meet you."
A strange, painful knot tightened in Jera's chest. "Don't... don't get used to it."
"Used to what? A human conversation?"
"This," Jera said, his voice tight. "This... partnership. I work alone. You are a specialist I need for the mission. That's all."
He felt her shift, her head pulling back so she could look up at his black, emotionless faceplate. "You keep saying that," she said, her voice full of a sad, sharp wisdom. "You're trying to convince yourself, not me. It's okay to be scared, Jera. You have a right to be."
"I'm not scared," he snapped, his pace quickening. "I'm... frustrated. I had a plan. Level up. Find the truth. Stay hidden. Now... the world is on fire, and I'm the one who lit the match."
Jera was wrong. He wasn't the only one who was scared.
At that exact moment, the Hunter Bureau in New York was in a state of absolute, system-wide panic.
"Captain!" an analyst screamed, running into Elara Kane's office, his tablet falling from his shaking hands. "Captain, it's confirmed! We've lost contact with the Aegis!"
Kane's blood ran cold. "Valeria Rostova? She... she was at the Auction?"
"Sir, all of them were! The intel is pouring in! Valeria Rostova... Elias Thorne... General Jin Wei... even Kai Solloway from Australia! Four of the seven Ascended... they're all... gone! The Auction's dimensional signature has vanished!"
Kane gripped her desk, her knuckles white. "And Cain Walker?"
The analyst pointed a shaking finger at a global map. A single, B-Rank icon was moving steadily west. "His signature... it just reappeared in Chicago. He's... he's heading for his B-Rank contract. Like... like nothing happened."
Elara Kane stared at the map, the implications crashing down on her.
He had done it. That... monster... had just decapitated the world's defenses. He had assassinated or captured four of the planet's seven gods.
And then... he went to go do his homework.
She couldn't process the sheer, terrifying arrogance.
"Is he mocking us?" she whispered. "Is this... is this the first move of his war?"
She slammed her fist on the global alert panel.
"This is Captain Elara Kane, acting-Commander of the North American Hunter Bureau. I am declaring a Category-7 Global Threat. The Ascended are MIA. I repeat, the Ascended are MIA. All S-Rank Hunters are to report to their local command. The world is now blind."
It took twelve hours.
Jera emerged from a manhole, Seraphina still in his arms, into the small, clean, anonymous apartment The Vault had provided. He gently set her down. Her legs were wobbly, and she immediately sat on the cheap sofa.
"We're here," Jera said, his voice flat. He was sealing his mask again. "You... you can take the bed."
"And you?" she asked, rubbing her legs.
"I don't sleep," he lied. He was too wired, his mind racing with the catastrophe he'd caused. The small apartment felt like a trap, too small for his power, too small for his panic.
His comm from The Vault buzzed. Jera winced, then opened the channel.
"JERA!" The Vault's voice was a high-pitched shriek. "JERA, YOU'RE IN CHICAGO? WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS ARE YOU DOING?!"
"My contract," Jera said, forcing the "Cain Walker" calm back into his voice.
"Your CONTRACT?!" The Vault sounded like he was hyperventilating. "Jera, the Bureau has issued a Category-7 Alert! That's the 'Apocalypse' protocol! They think you've assassinated the Ascended! They think this is a coup! They're mobilizing the entire global military! You can't just... GO TO WORK!"
"It's the only thing I can do, Vault," Jera said, his voice cracking for a second. "It's the only plan I have. I have to get stronger."
He hung up, cutting off The Vault's panicked screams.
He turned to Seraphina. She was holding the [Mana-Weave Cloak] tight, her face pale.
"They... they really think you did it on purpose?" she whispered. "That you're... a conqueror?"
"It seems so," Jera said, his voice heavy.
"But you're not," she said, her voice so small it was almost inaudible. "You were just... saving me."
Jera looked at her. The full, crushing weight of that simple, human act slammed into him. He, a Level 85 god-like being, had just accidentally broken the world... because of a single, simple, human impulse. He wasn't a cold robot. He was a reckless, emotional idiot.
"Yeah," Jera said, his voice small. "I was."
He turned to the door, the "Cain Walker" mask firmly back in place. But it felt different now. It wasn't a mask of power. It was a mask of shame.
"Stay here," he ordered. "Lock this door. Don't open it for anyone."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to work," he said. He stepped out of the apartment and sealed the door, the weight of a dying world on his shoulders.