The dark blanket of night had yet to fade when the alarm went off in the Crawford household, almost simultaneously in the master bedroom and the guest room. Kathleen Crawford woke up before the second chime, her hand swiftly silencing the sound. Sleep vanished from her pale greenish-black eyes in an instant, replaced by a gleam of anticipation. A soft smile stretched across her face. Today was a special day. Her son, Alex, and his two dear friends were coming home after a month away, and as planned with Irina, they would be greeted with their favorite feast. Without delay, Kathleen swung her legs from the bed and padded into the attached washroom. The faint hum of running water and the scent of mint soap filled the quiet air. When she emerged sometime later, she was dressed in a modest navy-blue dress, a light touch of makeup accentuating her natural poise. Her flowly dark hair had been brushed neatly, tucked behind her ears, and a small silver locket hung at her throat. She glanced at the clock on the wall. With a brisk pace, she stepped out of the room and moved down the hall, her slippers making soft sounds against the polished wooden floor. She checked the guest room at the corner but found it empty, the bed already made. Kathleen exhaled a small chuckle, shaking her head knowingly before heading toward the kitchen. The soft hum of the ventilation fans and the faint aroma of fresh ingredients greeted her even before she stepped in. There, Irina stood near the counter, tall, graceful, her piercing blue eyes lively even in the morning gloom. She wore an off-white jalabiya robe that draped elegantly over her frame, the dark veil covering her raven-black hair giving her an air of quiet dignity. Their eyes met, and both women exchanged warm smiles that carried similar excitement. Without a word, they began preparing to welcome their children, filling the kitchen with the mild clatter of utensils and soft laughter. By the time the first rays of the rising sun spilled through the house, touching the marble floor in faint gold, another part of the Crawford home was waking. In a smaller, dimly lit room upstairs, a young girl with curling black hair stirred beneath a soft blanket. She blinked groggily, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. A voice, light, melodic, and just a bit mischievous, rang out from nowhere, "Gooood morning, my queen!" A water bottle rose smoothly from the study table, floating toward the bedside. At the same moment, shadows under the bed quivered, pulling together until they took the shape of a small, furry black cat. It leapt gracefully onto the sheets, purring as it rubbed affectionately against the girl's arm. "Bell," Sophia mumbled with a sleepy smile, stretching one arm lazily. "Good morning to you, too." Her fingers closed around the floating bottle. "Thanks," she murmured, taking a long drink as dawn light crept across her face, a quiet beginning to what would soon be a long, eventful day. "Bell, you have to stay hidden, my brothers are coming home," Sophia said with a stern tone, though the childish excitement bubbling beneath her words was impossible to miss. The little black cat tilted her head, tail flicking excitedly. "My Queen, I can understand keeping your true self secret from your parents since they are mortals," Bell began, her voice soft yet deliberate, "But why are you so adamant about hiding it from your brother? If he learns the truth, he would be delighted. You could even help him grow stronger, and he could arrange for you to spend more time within the Realm." Sophia's eyes narrowed slightly. She leaned forward, pinching Bell's soft, furry cheeks with mock irritation. "Did Phenix put you up to this?" she asked, her tone flat, but her sleepy expression droopy enough to make it almost comical. "Yes, my Queen," Bell admitted without hesitation, her little whiskers twitching. "But I do believe she is right. It would help you greatly." "Yeah... not happening," Sophia muttered, hopping off the bed with a soft thud. Her bare feet touched the cool floor as she stretched, her hair spilling around her shoulders in messy curls. 'While brother's definitely not just some ordinary person,' she thought, brushing off her nightshirt, 'he doesn't need to get dragged into my troublesome life.' Her lips pressed into a thin line as another thought surfaced. 'And then there's the troublesome truth that Zero had revealed to me,' she frowned inwardly, the image of a squared face and calm, calculating eyes flickering through her mind. The self-driven car hummed through the silent street, its interior a quiet capsule of glass and leather. Alex and Venedikt faced one another in silence, the city lights painting thin bars of motion across their faces. At last, Venedikt broke the hush, a thin frown knitting his brow. "Don't you think the deal went overly in our favor?" he asked, voice careful. "Twenty percent of our yearly earnings, support for the Human Empire, and we are not to be the aggressor in either world." He let the thought hang, and then said, "Those conditions contradict everything we know of Zero. He doesn't meddle in world affairs unless they disturb his plans," "When he asked for fifty percent of the Domain's Galactic coins yield, I assumed it was his way of saying protection can't be bought with our resources alone." Venedikt went silent, watching Alex for his reaction. "Or he just scammed us," Alex said flatly. "Just a thought. I'm as clueless as you." He shrugged it off, but in reality, he had many thoughts. 'Not be the aggressor in the real world and the Ancient,' The thought repeated in Alex's mind, for probably the hundredth time, painting many possibilities. Alex had his theories on the matter, but he didn't want to share them with Venedikt and cause unnecessary worry. He was certain his brother was more than capable of reaching the same conclusions, and both understood that speaking them aloud would only give them life. Alex had already decided to fight evil with evil. He knew it was very unlikely that Zero would offer protection to everyone associated with him, at least not purely for galactic coins or minor threats. So Alex planned to tell Zero plainly. If any member of his was attacked or troubled, he would strike back and damage those responsible, answering violence with more violence. Yes, he would be killing people, something he had not yet done in his established reality, but if that was the price to protect his people, he would pay it. Zero would protect him from harm because a major power depended on Alex, and his disappearance would be a heavy blow to the domain, possibly enough to change the trajectory of the Ancient World's future. Alex's presence wouldn't guarantee a peaceful, bright future, but his disappearance would surely cause far more damage, and that, he understood very clearly. If his threat could force Zero to provide protection, that would be great; otherwise, Alex was prepared to act by the only means available. As for why not take the easier route and join with someone like Magnus? Alex had realised after much contemplation that it had never been an option, unless he could find a power willing to stand for peace, which would mean standing against the Eldravian Empire and the Devourer Ahrimon. Alex didn't believe any great power would choose the losing side, knowing well that the Ancient World was not a game. After the meeting with Zero, Alex was almost certain that something big was about to happen. It was only a wild guess, but he suspected players, in some permanent form, would be able to enter the Ancient World. A single question, 'Why risk entering the Ancient world for real when they had undying virtual avatars?' was enough to debunk his idea, but Alex had seen and experienced many things beyond earthly logic, so the idea was not that unimaginable. Soon, the car slowed to a stop before a modest two-story house, a small front lawn edged with neat hedges, and a single maple tree that swayed gently in the morning breeze. It was the kind of home that blended easily into the quiet suburb, humble but alive with warmth. The car doors opened with a soft hiss, and Alex and Venedikt stepped out. They exchanged a silent look, a brief but solemn reminder of the story they had agreed upon. Andrei's absence would need explaining. As they approached the front steps, the faint aroma of roasted herbs and simmering sauces drifted out through the half-open windows, filling the air with the familiar scent of home. Even without their heightened senses, the two could tell their mothers had gone all out. Alex exhaled softly, a smile ghosting his lips. "Mother," he called, his voice echoing through the entryway, "I'm home." Venedikt followed close behind, his own greeting trailing his brother's. From the kitchen, two women appeared, Kathleen and Aunt Irina, both dressed neatly, faces glowing with anticipation. "May peace and blessings be upon my young boys," Aunt Irina said warmly, her accent lacing the words with affection. But her smile faltered almost instantly as her eyes swept past them, searching the doorway behind. Her expression tightened, the flicker of maternal worry surfacing before she asked, her tone quiet but edged with concern, "Where is Andrei?" Newest update provıded by 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹·𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾·𝗇𝖾𝗍