The scene opened under warm, amber lighting — the kind that made a home feel safe, even if the world outside wasn't.
Jasmine stepped back into the living room, a pizza box balanced proudly in her arms like she'd won a rare treasure.
The smell of melted cheese and baked crust drifted lazily through the air, wrapping the space in comfort.
She plopped down beside Iris on the couch, her smile gentle.
"I figured we deserved this."
Iris's eyes settled on the box as it opened — steam rising like a quiet ghost from the fresh slices. But she didn't reach out.
Her hands curled slightly in her lap. Her eyes... distant, heavy with a memory.
Jasmine noticed immediately, tilting her head with quiet concern.
"Iris?" she asked, softly, like not to break something fragile.
Iris blinked, pulled back into the room.
"Oh..." she murmured, her voice airy — but the weight behind it was undeniable.
A faint smile touched her lips, but it was the kind that didn't quite reach the soul.
"It just... reminds me of when Leo... Jack and I used to eat pizza."
Silence.
The name fell like a stone into still water, and the ripples reached both of them.
Jasmine straightened slightly, her body tensing, unsure if she should ask more... or let it pass.
But before she could say anything, Iris gave a soft, self-conscious laugh.
"But don't worry about it" she said, lifting a slice and taking a bite — mechanical, like habit.
Even as she chewed, her eyes shimmered. Not enough to cry. But just enough to betray the ache still tucked inside her chest.
Jasmine saw. She didn't speak.
Instead, she simply picked up a slice of her own, offered a warm smile — no pressure, no pity — just presence.
The two sat there, in a quiet deeper than silence, where memories stirred and faded like smoke.
And in that shared stillness...
A bond deepened, wordlessly.
A chapter turned.
And grief softened — if only for a night.
The room settled into a delicate silence—one not born of awkwardness, but of realization. The kind that wraps itself around the heart when truth is too vast, too heavy to hold all at once.
Jasmine finally broke it. Her voice was quiet, uncertain, like stepping into a dream she hadn't quite accepted.
"So... he's alive?"
Iris nodded, slowly. Her eyes didn't meet Jasmine's—focused somewhere far off, as though watching a memory unfold on the horizon.
"Yes" she answered, barely more than a breath.
"But... he's different now. Stronger. Far stronger."
Jasmine leaned back into the couch, the cushions creaking beneath her weight.
Her brows furrowed, struggling to find balance between disbelief and something more painful—hope.
"And he's Leo? The Leo from 300 years ago?"
Her voice trembled at the end, the sheer absurdity of it making it harder to say aloud.
Iris didn't speak right away. Instead, she looked down at her wrist. Her watch glowed to life, a silent stream of encrypted data scrolling faster than the eye could track.
Her expression shifted—neutral to tense in a blink.
"Yes... and—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Her body moved before thought could catch up.
She stood abruptly, knocking her coat from the armrest, urgency erupting like a surge of electricity.
"I need your help" she said quickly, fingers trembling as she fastened her belt.
"No—later. I'll need you later!" she added, grabbing a slice of pizza with the grace of a thief and rushing toward the door.
"W-Wait!" Jasmine called out, half-rising, but it was too late.
The door flung open with a gust of wind and slammed shut behind Iris. Only the hum of silence remained.
Jasmine stood frozen a moment, eyes fixed on the space where Iris had vanished.
Then, slowly, her shoulders relaxed. A faint chuckle escaped her lips as she glanced at the now uneven pizza box.
"...She took the slice" she murmured, amusement flickering beneath her breath.
She didn't understand what was coming. Not fully. Not yet.
But something inside her shifted—a quiet knowing.
She was part of it now.
Whatever it was
A cruel wind screamed through the ancient corridors as Jack stepped silently into the domain of the 69th floor. The palace was vast—a cathedral carved from cursed black ice, its walls flickering with the cold glow of unnatural blue torches. No warmth lived here.
The cold wasn't from the air... it was from the lingering deaths that soaked the very stone.
Jack walked without haste. Cloaked in shadow, his hood drawn just low enough to veil his eyes, his hands tucked loosely into his coat pockets. No weapon. No stance. Just presence.
Then—they emerged.
The guardians.
Dozens.
Beasts, each a grotesque fusion of crocodile and demon, towering over 10 feet tall. Their muscles bulged beneath cracked armor of ice and bone. Fangs dripped venom, and their glowing eyes locked onto Jack like predators who'd smelled defiance.
Jack exhaled.
A calm, dull sigh.
"Come..."
His tone? Bored. As if death was just another inconvenience.
BOOM.
The first charged like a tank, club raised—a monstrous weapon thick as a tree trunk. It swung with lethal force.
WHOOSH—!
Jack leaned.
Just slightly.
The club missed him by inches, slamming into the ground with an earthquake-crack. Ice exploded.
He didn't blink.
In a flash, Jack twisted on one heel, his body a blur.
CRACK!
His foot collided with the beast's throat like a steel piston. The impact echoed—the guardian flew backward like cannon fire, shattering a pillar before lying still. Unmoving.
Two more came in from both sides—claws shimmering with killing intent.
Jack ducked. Effortless.
Still hands in his pockets. Their claws whispered past the edges of his coat.
And then—he moved.
He flipped forward, his momentum fluid, graceful.
BAM!
His foot struck one beast square in the jaw.
Mid-spin—WHAM!
His heel crashed down onto the other's head, planting it into the icy floor like a nail.
The beasts were down.
Jack hadn't used his hands once.
From above, a fourth leapt—roaring, mouth open wide. Fangs ready.
Jack didn't even look.
He just tilted his head slightly.
With a single stomp—BOOM—Jack drove his heel into the frozen ground.
The palace floor fractured. A spiderweb of cracks raced outward like lightning.
Shockwaves pulsed through the air, invisible but violent—
—the attacking beast was lifted midair, flung like a ragdoll by pure pressure.
Before it could fall, Jack vanished from the ground—
—and reappeared midair, spinning.
WHAM!!
A roundhouse kick landed flush into the creature's ribs—bones shattered like glass.
The impact echoed, BOOOOM!
It was sent crashing to the floor below, its body twisting unnaturally before going limp.
A pause.
The remaining beasts stared.
Their monstrous breath turned shaky... uncertain.
The icy blue torches lining the throne hall flickered low, as if afraid.
Jack straightened his spine with a subtle crack.
He exhaled.
A curl of white steam rose from his lips.
"Is this all you've got?"
His voice, calm.
Mocking.
"You rule a floor... but fight like you've never seen pain."
It wasn't rage.
It was contempt.
Three beasts, panicked, roared and charged in a blind rush.
Too late.
Too slow.
Jack stepped forward—then vanished.
Only afterimages remained.
Blurs of his coat, flickers of red eyes in motion.
CRACK!
A knee drove into one's gut—its body folded like cloth.
THWACK!
An elbow met another's neck—its windpipe crushed, breath stolen.
SLAM!
A sweeping kick struck low—ankles broken, bones snapping with sickening clarity.
It all happened in seconds.
Silence returned.
All three beasts lay crumpled.
Unmoving.
From the far end of the hall...
The throne creaked.
Wood? Bone? Ice?
Whatever it was—it trembled.
Something greater... was watching.