The night had fallen quietly over the ruins of the old city.
From the outside, the temporary base looked like a forgotten observatory — broken towers clawing at the heavens, their glass ceilings fractured and half-swallowed by vines. Inside, the faint hum of machinery filled the silence. Holographic maps flickered in blue tones, tracing lines of enemy routes and spirit energy readings.
Ren sat alone before the largest of those holograms. His hands were still, but his eyes betrayed the storm beneath his calm. Numbers, signals, coordinates — they all blurred into meaningless streams of light.
He wasn't seeing data anymore. He was seeing memories.
Footsteps echoed softly behind him — deliberate, familiar.
"You're still awake?"
The voice was gentle, carrying warmth even through the sterile chill of the base.
Ren turned his head. Lyra stood at the doorway, her hair slightly damp, her silver uniform jacket hanging loosely from her shoulders. The light behind her drew a faint halo around her figure, softening the usual sharpness of her features.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"I could ask you the same thing," she replied, stepping closer. "You've been here since dusk, haven't you?"
Ren gave a faint smile, the kind that looked more like a sigh. "You always keep track of me."
"It's hard not to," she murmured. "You make too much noise when you're trying to be quiet."
She stopped beside him, her gaze drifting to the holographic map.
"You're still running simulations for tomorrow's mission," she noted. "Ren… you've checked this at least ten times. What are you really afraid of?"
Ren's smile vanished. He looked away.
"I'm not afraid."
"Then why do your hands shake every time the system shows a casualty prediction?"
He froze, realizing too late that she had noticed.
Lyra tilted her head slightly, her eyes searching his. "You blame yourself for things that aren't even your fault."
Her words cut deeper than she intended.
Ren let out a low exhale. "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me," she said softly.
The silence that followed was heavy — not uncomfortable, but fragile, like glass balanced on the edge of a table.
Finally, Ren spoke. "It's not the mission that scares me. It's the thought of… losing someone again."
Lyra's breath caught. She didn't need to ask who he meant.
"Eira," she said quietly.
The name lingered like smoke. Ren didn't respond, but his jaw tightened — confirmation enough.
"She trusted me," he continued. "And I let her die."
Lyra stepped closer, the space between them now filled only with the faint buzz of the hologram.
"You didn't let her die," she said. "You were fighting a war you couldn't control."
"That doesn't change the fact that I failed."
"It changes everything," she whispered. "Because you're still here — trying to do better. That's what makes you different from the ones who gave up."
Ren finally looked up. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the air felt charged — not with spirit energy, but with something far more human.
"You shouldn't put that much faith in me," he said quietly.
Lyra smiled faintly. "I already did. A long time ago."
Ren's throat tightened. He had faced monsters, spirits, and armies without flinching, yet the honesty in her words disarmed him completely.
"You're not supposed to trust people like me," he muttered. "I'm dangerous."
"I know," she replied. "That's why I stay close. Someone has to remind you you're still human."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The hum of the machinery faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their own breaths.
Ren's gaze fell on her hand — resting on the edge of the table, fingers trembling slightly. Without thinking, he reached out and covered it with his own.
Lyra didn't pull away.
"I don't need a savior, Ren," she whispered. "I just need you to believe in me."
He swallowed hard. "Then I'll try."
"Promise?"
"I don't make promises I can't keep."
"Then make one you can," she said, eyes unwavering.
Ren hesitated — then nodded. "I promise I'll believe in you."
Lyra smiled, and the tension that had hung between them melted into something softer, something dangerous in its own way.
The light of the hologram washed over their faces, painting them in blue and silver.
Outside, the rain began to fall again — quiet, rhythmic, like the sound of a heartbeat.
Ren didn't know how long they stayed like that, but for the first time in years, his chest didn't feel heavy. The ghosts of the past were still there, but Lyra's presence made them bearable.
"Get some sleep," she said finally, stepping back. "Tomorrow we move at dawn."
Ren nodded, watching her leave. But before she disappeared through the door, she glanced over her shoulder and said, "You're not alone, Ren. Stop pretending you are."
Then she was gone.
Ren stood there for a long moment, listening to the echo of her footsteps fade away. He turned off the hologram, and the room fell into darkness — except for the faint shimmer of spirit energy still dancing in his palm.
He closed his hand over it, whispering to the empty air,
"I'll protect you this time… no matter what it costs."
Outside, the red light of a distant explosion flashed across the horizon — the first sign that their next mission would change everything.
---
The morning came cloaked in gray.
Fog rolled across the ruined city, swallowing what little light the rising sun tried to offer. From the upper deck of the observatory base, Ren watched the haze drift over shattered towers and silent streets. For a fleeting moment, the world looked peaceful — the kind of peace that existed only before a storm.
He adjusted the strap of his combat vest and glanced at the reflection on the glass beside him. The faint scar near his jaw caught his attention, a silent reminder of everything he had survived — and everything he hadn't.
"Ren," Lyra's voice called from below, pulling him back from his thoughts.
He turned and saw her at the base of the stairs, already geared up. Her armor shimmered faintly under the misty light — sleek, practical, yet undeniably graceful. The sight of her like that, confident and unshaken, reminded him why he fought at all.
"You're early," he said as he descended.
"You didn't really expect me to sleep after last night, did you?" she replied.
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Guess not."
They walked through the corridor together. The base buzzed with quiet activity — drones whirred past, screens displayed spirit readings, and soldiers murmured final checks before deployment. But amid the noise, there was a strange intimacy in how Ren and Lyra's steps fell in rhythm.
At the hangar, Commander Vareth awaited them — a towering man with mechanical implants running across his left temple. His tone was clipped, efficient. "Squad Sigma moves in fifteen minutes. Objective: secure the Spirit Nexus core before the Dravyn forces reach it. Ren, you lead Alpha flank. Lyra, your unit provides spirit sync support. Understood?"
"Understood," they both answered in unison.
Vareth studied them for a second, then nodded. "Don't get sentimental out there. This isn't a charity mission."
As the commander left, Lyra muttered under her breath, "He says that every time someone dies."
Ren shot her a look, half amusement, half warning. "You're getting reckless with your jokes."
"Maybe I'm learning from you," she replied, smirking.
He couldn't help but smile — the smallest flicker of warmth amid the tension.
When they reached their drop shuttle, Lyra paused before boarding. "Ren," she said softly, "about what you said last night…"
He turned to her, helmet tucked under his arm. "Forget it. I shouldn't have—"
"No." She stepped closer. "I won't forget it. Because it meant something."
Ren froze. The world around them — engines roaring, soldiers shouting — seemed to fade.
Lyra's eyes held his, unwavering. "Whatever happens today, don't carry everything alone. If you fall, I'll be there. That's not an order, it's a promise."
He stared at her, speechless for a moment. Then, quietly, he said, "Then I guess I'll have to survive just to hold you to that promise."
Lyra smiled faintly and turned away before he could see the color rising in her cheeks. "Come on. Let's finish what we started."
The shuttle roared to life, slicing through the fog like a silver blade. Through the viewing window, Ren saw the devastated cityscape — towers split in half, rivers of light running along cracked highways, and the faint glow of the Spirit Nexus pulsing at the heart of it all.
"This place used to be beautiful," Lyra murmured beside him.
"It still is," Ren said quietly. "Just broken in ways we can't see."
The words made her look at him — and though he didn't meet her gaze, she could tell he meant more than the city.
Moments later, the shuttle shook violently as warning lights flared red.
"Hostile energy surge!" shouted the pilot. "Dravyn interceptors inbound!"
"Brace for impact!"
The sky outside erupted in fire. Twin plasma bolts struck the shuttle's wing, tearing metal apart. Ren lunged forward, grabbing Lyra's arm as the craft spiraled downward.
"Spirit Sync now!" he shouted.
She reacted instantly — eyes glowing faint silver as her spirit energy flared outward, forming a protective barrier around them. The shuttle smashed through debris, flames roaring past their windows. When they finally hit ground, the world exploded into smoke and ringing silence.
Ren's ears buzzed. Pain lanced through his ribs, but he forced himself up, scanning for Lyra.
She was pinned beneath a collapsed beam, coughing through the dust.
"Lyra!"
He ran to her, prying the beam loose with a burst of spirit energy. The effort tore through his shoulder, but he didn't stop. When she was free, she fell forward into his arms, trembling, yet alive.
"Still think you don't need a savior?" he managed to say between breaths.
Her laugh came out broken but real. "I didn't say I mind having one."
He smiled despite the pain, holding her steady until her breathing evened out.
Around them, the ruins burned — flickering orange against the pale light of dawn. The rest of the squad was scattered, their comms filled with static. But in that brief, chaotic silence, Ren realized something he hadn't before: he was no longer afraid of losing her. What terrified him now was what he'd do if he couldn't protect her.
Lyra looked up at him, her face illuminated by the firelight. "Ren," she said, voice trembling, "whatever happens next—"
He stopped her by placing a hand against her cheek. "Don't. You're not saying goodbye."
"I wasn't going to." She met his gaze, steady and defiant. "I was going to say… I trust you."
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop.
The world around them could burn — but in that one fragile moment, there was nothing else except her voice, her eyes, and the warmth between them that no war could extinguish.
Ren exhaled, a quiet vow leaving his lips. "Then I'll make sure you never regret it."
Somewhere in the distance, a Spirit Core detonated — its blinding light cutting through the smoke, signaling the beginning of a war far greater than either of them could imagine.
But as long as they were together, he knew he would fight for more than victory.
He would fight for her.
---