The forest was a nightmare of shadows and debris. Midnight lay slumped against a jagged rock, her breathing a series of ragged, wet gasps. Blood matted her hair, and her mask was shattered. Around her, the foot soldiers of the Paranormal Liberation Front were closing in, their eyes gleaming with the intent to finish what the debris had started.
She raised a trembling hand to her earpiece, her vision blurring as she looked at the towering silhouette of Gigantomachia moving in the distance.
The Last Command
"Listen to me... Yaoyorozu..." Nemuri whispered into the earpiece, her voice cracking with a desperate, maternal ache. "The anesthetic... it's the only way to put that monster to sleep. You have to lead them. Don't let my struggle be for nothing."
She felt the villains lunging from the trees, their shadows stretching over her like a shroud. She let out one final, shaky breath into the comms.
"It's up to you now. Be strong."
A Divine Intervention
Just as the lead villain's blade was inches from her throat, the world turned gold.
A thunderous crack, like the sky itself splitting open, shook the forest. A figure descended with such force that the ground groaned and buckled, sending a shockwave that vaporized the surrounding trees and sent the villains flying like ragdolls.
Standing over her was Reox.
At 6'3", he was a monument of impossible, godlike power. His warrior hero costume was stretched tight over a physique so perfectly sculpted it seemed to hum with divine energy. But as he turned to look at the broken woman at his feet, his face—the most handsome, striking face Nemuri had ever seen—crumpled with a sudden, agonizing softness.
The Savior's Grief
"Nemuri!"
The sound of her real name coming from him was a roar of pure emotion. Reox dropped to his knees, the impact cracking the earth again, but his touch was light as a feather as he gathered her into his massive, powerful arms.
"Reox..." she breathed, her eyes fluttering. The sheer heat and strength radiating from his chest felt like life itself flowing back into her. "You... you're supposed to be at the front..."
"To hell with the front," he choked out. His voice, usually a pillar of stoic command, was thick with unshed tears. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes burning with a mix of fury for her attackers and a deep, soul-shattering tenderness for her.
He looked at her wounds—the evidence of how close the world had come to losing her—and his grip tightened, shielding her entire body with his own. He was the most powerful man she had ever known, a god among heroes, and he was trembling because of her.
"I almost lost you," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin. "I'm not letting go. I will carry you through this hell, Nemuri. I promise."
In the middle of the most horrific war in hero history, surrounded by fire and death, Midnight felt a strange, overwhelming peace. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of ozone and heat, as Reox stood up with her in his arms, looking ready to challenge the heavens themselves to keep her safe.