John was currently running down the hall with Porto just ahead of him, carrying Leonidas on his back. The effort made his breath hitch, but his mind raced faster.
"Old man, do you know how this teleportation thing works?" John called out.
"Of course, I know how it works, boy," Leonidas grumbled, his voice strained.
"Do you think this Oliver will be enough to defeat Decker? I mean, he did beat you."
Porto, who was eager to know exactly how their lord had been defeated, did not say anything, but Leonidas was quick to snap back.
"Stop talking rubbish! He only won because he cheated by poisoning me!" Leonidas insisted, his face contorting in an angry grimace.
"Old man, you took an L. Accept it," John retorted with a youthful swagger.
"What L? What do you mean?" Leonidas demanded, clearly baffled.
"L means loss. You lost against Decker, period."
The face of Leonidas contorted further, his voice a tight rasp. "If I had the chance to fight against him again, I would make the flames his unwilling dance partner."
"Do not worry, old man, as long as I am here then you won't take an L," John assured him.
"What are you talking about, boy? You were the reason I lost!"
"My lord..." Porto started, wanting to interject, until John cut him off.
"Ouch, that hurts! But that was before I learned I was the God of Thunder." John grinned, despite the sting of the words of the older man.
A dry, hacking laugh shook Leonidas. "Hahaha, you are certainly not the God of Thunder, boy."
"What!? Are you blind? Old turd, were you asleep when I pulled the lightning on him?" John shouted in disbelief.
The eyes of Porto stretched wide. The sheer possibility of the young master wielding such power made the usually loyal attendant unconsciously pick up his pace. He ran a little further ahead of John, going left at a turn and continuing down the corridor. He did not run so fast that John could not keep up, but he maintained a good and steady distance from the young boy.
"Hey, Porto, you're running too fast, Porto!" John yelled, struggling slightly under the weight of Leonidas.
Porto slowed, turning his head slightly as he maintained the distance. "My lord, sorry to be so intrusive, but I could not help overhearing the young master speak about using lightning. Is this true?"
Porto's voice was filled with an eager, almost fearful awe.
Leonidas waited for a few seconds before giving a light sigh. "Yes, the boy has inherited his grandmother's bloodline attribute of lightning."
Porto felt a surge of joy upon hearing that John had indeed awakened his bloodline ability. "My lord, the young master has a truly bright future. My Lady is going to be incredibly proud when she hears this great news."
Leonidas then let a slow, slight grin spread across his face. "Porto, the boy does not only have a bright future. If given time to grow, the boy could even surpass me."
Porto stopped dead in his tracks, the implication of the statement stunning him. "My lord, how is that possible? Not one of my lord's sons or grandchildren accomplished what my lord did at such a young age."
"Porto, the age that vampires like me awakened their bloodline attribute is usually at eighteen years of age. I unlocked my bloodline's attribute at the age of seventeen. The boy did it at fourteen years old." Leonidas delivered the last sentence with an undeniable note of pride and astonishment.
Porto was utterly shocked. "Fourteen! How is that possible, my lord?"
"I don't know, Porto." The voice of Leonidas became softer, almost contemplative. "There are a lot of children out there in the world with great potential, perhaps even more than John. Those born with divine bodies, special bloodline mutations, or those truly blessed by the heavens." Leonidas looked back at John, a deep, prophetic seriousness in his eyes. "John is one of those children who has the potential to reach the stars... that is, if he doesn't die prematurely."
The butler smiled, thinking how John could take their clan to new heights in the future.
"Hey, Porto, you're running too fast! Slow down," John shouted from behind.
Porto, steadily bearing the weight of Leonidas on his back, kept his rapid pace ahead of John. As he moved, the entrances to other corridors flashed by, a blur of receding archways and deeper gloom. But as he streaked past the fourth and final open hall, a flicker of movement caught the periphery of John. It was a mere ghost of a glimpse, but enough to register two distinct figures.
Porto, focused entirely on reaching the portal room, did not stop.
John, who had seen the figures on his left, assumed them to be enemy mercenaries. He did not merely stop; he seemed to compress his movement, skidding to a silent halt just beyond the threshold of the hall. Quick as thought, he pressed himself flat against the cold stone of the main corridor wall, melting into the deeper shadows clinging to its surface. He held his breath, straining his enhanced hearing, eager to discern the identities of the unexpected occupants. Then, ever so slowly, with the controlled precision of a predator, he edged forward, allowing just a sliver of his face and one piercing, inquisitive eye to peek around the very end of the wall.
John's eyes stretched. He saw a familiar face. His heart started to beat faster, a loud, heavy rhythm against the silence, as he recognized someone, he thought he would not see anymore. He immediately came out from behind the wall and stepped down the hall.
The two figures he saw had reached a door and were just about to walk through it when they heard a shout.
"Elena!" John's voice, usually so controlled, burst out, a desperate, raw sound that cut through the distant din of battle.
Elena froze. Her head snapped up, her eyes, wide and disbelieving, locking onto his. For a second, a flicker of pure, uncomprehending shock held her, as if he were a phantom conjured from her deepest fears. Then, recognition, startling and agonizing, flooded her features. Her lower lip began to tremble, and tears, silent and thick, welled in her eyes, carving clean paths through the grime on her cheeks.
"John!" Her voice was a choked sob. Without a moment of hesitation, she gently lowered the child she was carrying to the ground, handing him off to the other maid with a whispered, urgent command. Then, driven by an emotion more powerful than fear, she launched herself forward, stumbling over loose debris, her arms outstretched.
The young boy broke into a run, and as he met her halfway, their collision was a jolt of raw, desperate relief. Her arms wrapped around him in a fierce, heartfelt embrace, her small frame pressing tightly against his unyielding, cool body. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint, comforting scent of lavender and dust, a scent that tasted of home and normalcy in this nightmare. It was a hug born of shared terror and a miracle reunion; a silent promise whispered between two souls who had believed they would never see each other again. For a brief, precious moment, the war, the giant, and Leonidas's injuries all faded into insignificance, eclipsed by the sheer, overwhelming reality of her living presence against him.
"I thought I would never see you again," Elena said, tears still running down her face.
"Do you remember the time you said that you will always support me?"
Elena nodded as they stared at each other. John looked at her with a steady, resolute gaze. "Well, I will always be there for you too."
Elena smiled, joy filling her heart. She reached up and slowly removed a necklace from her own neck. "Young master John, I am just a maid, and I do not have much. You gave me this beautiful bracelet, and I always wondered what to give you in return. I decided to give you my most precious possession."
She held up the sunshine necklace, its metal glinting even in the dim light of the corridor. Then, with gentle hands, she reached out and placed it around the neck of John. His heart raced, a cool thrumming in his chest. He looked closely at the delicate piece of jewelry resting against his skin.
"I cannot take this, Elena. Where did you get this?"
She chuckled a little, the sound light despite the grime on her cheeks. "It belonged to my mother a long time ago, and she gave it to me. And now, I am giving it to you. Please, do not reject my gift, I beg you."
John felt a wave of happiness, but it was accompanied by a sharp tinge of sadness. He looked at her, searching her eyes. "Then why would you give it to me? I do not understand."
Elena leaned in, her living presence a comforting anchor in the dark hall.
"Because you are my sunshine."
====
Zeno and Kilo were exchanging powerful blows. Dust and shards of broken stone rained from the ceiling as they clashed, locked in a brutal rematch neither intended to lose. The vampire suddenly dashed backward in a blur, wary of Kilo's newly awakened power. His crimson eyes narrowed.
"You've improved, human," Zeno hissed, fangs glinting. "But you're still no match for me."
Kilo's eyes burned with a fiery light. His voice was low, almost a growl. "Don't underestimate my speed."
In the blink of an eye, the mercenary closed the distance. His fist collided with the vampire's chin with a concussive boom. The vampire was sent hurtling upward through the hall's ceiling, crashing through walls and support columns like a cannonball through paper. He shot out of the castle entirely, a blur of black and red streaking through the air.
The castle sat high atop a big, flat, and massive mountain, its back facing the vast, shadowed Endless forest. The vampire tore through the air, a silent scream trapped in the wind, until his body finally began to arc downward, pulled by gravity. But the human was not finished.
Feeling a huge amount of power coursing through his body, Kilo felt exhilarated. "Hahaha, Zeno, your death is at hand!"
Muscles bulging, veins pulsing with unnatural energy, the leader of the Storm Hornets launched himself into the sky after his foe. The very ground cracked beneath his leap.
In seconds, he caught up to the vampire midair. Zeno, who had already composed himself, was now locked in a savage, spinning brawl with Kilo as they plummeted toward the Endless forest below. Fists collided. Blood sprayed. Neither gave ground, even as the trees rushed up to meet them. They crashed through the canopy like meteors, shaking the forest to its roots. The earth split from the force of their landing. Leaves burst into the air in a storm of green as the battle raged on, relentless.
As the rain continued to pour from above, both figures were standing opposite of each other, soaked and defiant.
"I'm just getting started, Zeno. After today, my name will be known throughout the world. I will expand my mercenary group and become the most powerful man in the world," Kilo boasted, wiping blood from his mouth.
Zeno slowly shook his head, a look of contempt hardening his features. "You really are delusional. Why didn't you use the chance to escape? Instead, you came to me, eager to die. You think you're the shit just because you gained a little power up?"
"This little power up is more than enough to kill you. And after I'm through with you, I will go to your father, who just returned. Imagine me killing the father and son on the same day." Kilo then looked to the churning sky. "Don't you see, Zeno? This is the will of the heavens."
"You really are crazy, but this is not something new to me," Zeno replied, his voice flat. "I have killed many crazy people like you. Just one more to add to the pile."
Dark energy started to seep out of Kilo. He quickly moved towards the vampire, his hand forming a fist, ready to strike at the perfect moment. The mercenary lunged in with a powerful strike, his arm sweeping in a wide arc toward Zeno's head, fast and full of aggression. But the vampire read it instantly. With a sharp tilt of his body, he slipped just outside the path of the blow, letting it cut through empty air.
Before Kilo could recover, Zeno was one step ahead as he countered explosively. His leg snapped upward with brutal precision, the heel of his foot crashing into the mercenary's face with a sharp, clean impact. The force of the kick sent Kilo reeling backward, his head whipping violently to the side, balance utterly broken. It was not just a strike; it was a statement of superior skill.
Kilo touched his face, feeling a rush of pure, incandescent anger. "I hate you, Zeno!"
"And I pity you," Zeno returned coolly.