The wooden staircase creaked softly as a young woman descended it, the warm glow of amber lights catching her blonde hair. Rachel tucked a loose strand behind her ear as she stepped into the long hallway, its wooden walls polished to a soft sheen.
"My name is Rachel," she narrates gently, "and I'm in my last year of university."
She reached the bottom step, slipped an apron over her head, and began tying her hair into a neat bun. The moment she tightened the knot, the familiar fragrance of roasted beans, caramel, and warm pastries filled her senses.
The coffee shop was vast—its interior crafted almost entirely from walnut wood. Large beams crossed overhead, chandeliers hung from wrought-iron fixtures, and long windows let in golden evening light.
The place carried a premium, almost royal aura—like a luxury lodge rather than a café. Despite its cozy, rustic charm, it was bustling. Every table filled, every chair occupied, people talking, laughing, and sipping.
From behind the counter, her mother called out, "Thank you for helping, Rachel. I'm sorry to trouble you—we're still short on staff."
Rachel gave her a bright smile and waved a hand.
"Don't worry about it, Mom. Really. It's fine."
Her mother sighed with guilt.
"I know it affects your studies, and yet I ask you to help us here…"
Rachel gently tied the last loop of her apron and straightened.
"Mom, it's okay. My grades are still at the top of the class. Relax."
Her mother smiled with relief.
Rachel picked up a small tray loaded with cups.
"Where am I taking these?"
"Table four," her mom said, pointing.
Rachel smirked playfully.
"On it."
She navigated through the crowd, moving between tables with fluid familiarity. When she reached table four, she placed the tray down and began serving each item carefully.
"Two iced lattes and two strawberry cakes," she said warmly.
The group of boys nodded.
"Thanks."
Rachel gave them her signature soft smile before turning to another table to take their order.
Across the room, her mother watched her—proud yet concerned. A hand gently rested on her shoulder.
"Don't worry," Rachel's father said. "She said she's fine. Trust our daughter a little."
---
The sun dipped between the clouds. The evening glow covered the streets.
Rachel meanwhile wiped sweat from her forehead as she cleaned a table. Her father approached with a gentle command.
"Leave this to us. You can go."
Rachel exhaled.
"Okay then—"
DING.
The glass door opened behind her. A tall figure stepped in.
A deep voice spoke,
"Are you still open?"
Rachel sighed and turned around mid-sentence with her eyes closed.
"Sorry, but we're clos—"
She stopped.
Standing at the entrance was Rhyes.
Not in his military armor nor his formal Supreme Commander coat—but in a crisp black shirt tucked neatly into dark blue trousers. His medium-length hair was slightly disheveled from the wind, giving him a strangely grounded appearance, far from the intimidating aura he usually carried.
Rachel's father immediately walked forward.
"We can make an exception for the Supreme Commander, can't we?"
He glanced at his wife, who nodded warmly.
"Please, take a seat, Supreme Commander Rhyes."
Rhyes sat down with a breath, one leg crossing over the other.
"I've already told you," he said in his calm, clipped tone, "don't call me 'Supreme Commander' here. I'm just Rhyes."
Rachel's father laughed.
"As formal as always, Sir Rhyes."
He turned to his daughter—still frozen in place.
"Rachel, keep Sir Rhyes company while we prepare his coffee."
"H-huh?" Rachel blinked as her father gave her a sly wink.
Rachel swallowed, then hesitantly walked toward Rhyes, sitting down across from him.
Rhyes glanced at her with a faintly softened gaze.
"Helping around today?"
Rachel nodded, slightly nervous.
"Yes. We were extremely busy as usual. We're really understaffed."
"Work is work." Rhyes rested an elbow on the table. "And your studies?"
Rachel brightened.
"They're going great. I'm finally in my last year, and after that—I can finally become an A.S.H."
[A/N: A.S.H =All species health expert. There are doctors specifically for each species. However an A.S.H studies everything about all species. It's one of the hardest fields in the universe]
Rhyes nodded approvingly.
"That's impressive."
He looked away briefly, watching the people outside the large window—then back at her. His demeanor was calm, composed. Always composed.
Rachel's thoughts whispered through her mind:
'Supreme Commander Rhyes… always so collected. Always with that distant aura.
He first came here ten years ago… back when I had just started university.
He visits at least once a month. Mom and Dad adore him. And I—'
Rachel leaned forward without realizing she was staring.
Rhyes turned his eyes to her.
"Is there something you want to say?"
His tone was gentle—yet unmistakably direct.
Rachel jolted and looked away, cheeks warming.
"S-sorry. I didn't mean to stare."
"It's fine." His voice held no judgment.
After a moment, Rachel peeked sideways at him.
"Can I… ask you something, Sir Rhyes?"
"Go on."
"Why do you come here?" she asked quietly.
Before he could reply, she waved her hands frantically.
"I—I didn't mean it in a bad way! I love that you come here, it's just—"
Rhyes lifted a hand slightly.
"I understand what you mean. You don't need to over-explain."
Rachel relaxed a little.
"You're the Supreme Commander," she said softly. "One of the most important person in the entire universe. There's no reason for someone like you to come to a small café in a small town."
Rhyes tapped his fingers once on the wooden table.
"That's true. I am one of the most authoritative figures in the universe."
He looked at her—his expression unreadable.
"But I don't really like it."
Rachel blinked.
"Pardon?"
Rhyes shifted his gaze to the massive glass window. Outside, the evening sky had begun to fade into deep purple. People walked the busy streets, laughing, living, unaware of the pressure that weighed on leaders like him.
Rhyes spoke quietly.
"I walk among normal people because it reminds me that I'm human."
Rachel's eyes widened slightly.
Rhyes continued, voice steady.
"Power… rank… authority. Once you sit at the top, people stop treating you like a person. They treat you like a symbol. A weapon. A tool to rely on."
He exhaled softly.
"But here—" he gestured around, "—I can sit down, drink coffee, and remember that I breathe the same air as everyone else."
Rachel stared, captivated.
Rhyes' tone lowered with sincerity.
"I'm not above anyone. And I never want to forget that."
Rachel tilted her head, genuinely curious.
"So… you're not just observing normal people. You're trying to stay connected to them?"
Rhyes gave a small, warm smile—rare for him.
That's a part of it. However, I'm envious of them."
"Envious…?" she repeated quietly.
Before he could elaborate, Rachel's father approached with two steaming cups of coffee and a plate of crackers.
"Enjoy, Sir Rhyes."
Rhyes nodded and took a cracker.
"Don't worry about the rest," he murmured to Rachel. "Drink your coffee."
They shared a peaceful silence as the last fragments of daylight disappeared.
After a few minutes, Rhyes stood up, sliding his chair back.
"I'll be leaving now. I'll come back soon."
Rachel's father laughed.
"You're always welcome here."
Rhyes gave a subtle wave to Rachel before leaving.
Her father turned to her with a smug expression.
"So? What did you two talk about?"
Rachel grabbed a napkin, avoiding his eyes.
"Nothing. Just normal conversation."
Her father sighed dramatically.
"At this rate, I'll have to see my grandkids as a ghost."
"Dad…" Rachel grumbled, flustered, as they walked back inside the café.
---
Zazm sat alone at his desk, the quiet hum of NullFlux Bastion's upper floors barely brushing the edges of his attention. A soft glow from the white lamp illuminated the paper beneath his hand as he wrote in sharp, efficient strokes. His expression remained as composed and unreadable as stone.
A ripple in the air stirred behind him.
Zephyra appeared without warning, her tone playful as she leaned forward.
"You must be excited for today."
Zazm didn't look up.
"It isn't even a surprise," he replied, voice flat, calm, distant—exactly as always.
Zephyra let out a light laugh at his predictable coldness.
"I see, I see."
She stepped farther into the large room—the marble floors, towering glass windows, and polished metal walls all reflecting her movement. She settled onto the edge of his massive bed, legs swinging slightly.
"The ceremony is today, right?"
Zazm gave a brief nod. "Yes."
"I wonder when your uniform's gonna arrive—"
A knock cut her off.
Zazm rose smoothly, his movement controlled and silent. He opened the door to find a man in formal coat and polished boots, head bowed deeply.
"Your clothes are ready, Supreme Commander Zazm."
A hanger floated forward—delivered by a flying hanger and glided into the room. Zazm acknowledged the man with a slight nod and shut the door.
Zephyra instantly sprang from the bed toward the hanger.
"So it's finally here!"
Zazm didn't share her enthusiasm; his face remained as still as ever.
"I'll go get ready."
"Yeah, sure," she replied, waving her hand with a small smile.
---
The scene shifted to a colossal hall—vast, radiant, and built like an emperor's celebration.
Chandeliers of crystal alloy floated overhead, shimmering with shifting light. Long tables stretched across the room, carrying dishes from countless planets: steaming meats, metallic-blue fruits, crystalline desserts, unfamiliar beverages glowing softly in metallic flasks.
The entire place buzzed with chatter, luxury, and anticipation.
Asher whistled low.
"It's packed as hell in here."
Neo, arms crossed and unimpressed, responded in his sharp tone, "What did you expect? All the big shots are here today."
Asher laughed. "All except the star of the show."
"He'll arrive when he's called," Neo replied and disappeared into the crowd like a ghost.
Asher glanced to his side and caught a girl staring. He flashed her a quiet, confident wink. Her cheeks instantly flared red and she looked away. Asher smirked—but barely had a second before a small crowd approached.
"Sir Asher! You look amazing tonight," someone exclaimed.
Asher gave them his easy, harmless grin.
"It's the same for all of you. I hope everything's to your liking."
"Yes, everything is perfect," a man said. "But truthfully, we're here to see the Remnant who has caught so much attention."
A woman added, "It's not just us. A lot of people are curious about him."
Asher chuckled. "Well then, your curiosity will be satisfied."
An older man stepped forward—the King of Mereain.
"Sir Asher, what's your opinion about him?"
Asher's smile widened. "King of Mereain—been a while."
The king nodded. "It has. I'm still grateful for your help during the invasion."
"Oh, that?" Asher waved it off with a laugh. "Just my job. Nothing to hold so dearly."
"You're as slippery as always," the king muttered with a faint smile. "But my question still stands."
Asher's expression softened but stayed cheeky.
"Your worries are valid… but I assure you, there is nothing to be afraid of."
"However…?" a woman echoed.
Asher leaned forward slightly, voice dropping. "However… all of us should be prepared."
A young man looked lost.
"Prepared? But Sir Asher—didn't you just say there's nothing to worry about?"
The King of Mereain added, "Prepared for what?"
Asher's face tightened, tone turning unexpectedly serious.
"For change."
"Change?" someone repeated, tension spiking in the air.
Asher let the silence sit just long enough before rolling his shoulders casually.
"I mean—new Supreme Commander equals change. Naturally."
Everyone exhaled in relief.
A man grumbled, "Sir Asher, you need to stop giving people heart attacks."
Asher smiled, carefree again. "Don't worry—no one's died from a little heart attack."
He turned, looking around. "Where the hell did Neo vanish to—?"
Before he could finish, the colossal doors thundered open.
A deep, resonating announcement echoed across the hall:
"Her Majesty—The Queen of All Kings and Queens.
The Queen of Euphoria.
Elziora Livia de Vlies—enters, along with His Majesty, King Alistair Vesper, King of Earth."
The hall froze instantly.
Drinks were set down.
Conversations died mid-sentence.
Every person bowed.
Queen Elziora entered with a presence that bent the room around her. Her hair—black at the roots, fading into soft, ethereal pink as it draped down—was known across galaxies for its otherworldly beauty.
A sleek black blindfold hid her eyes, giving her an aura of regal mystery. Her gown flowed like night-water: elegant, fully covering, embroidered with subtle silver constellations—majestic without revealing, fit for a queen of many worlds.
Beside her walked King Alistair Vesper, the ruler of Earth. His medium-length brown hair and neatly kept beard framed his stern yet grounded face. He wore a deep emerald coat reinforced with layered metallic fabric, marked with Earth's crest across the chest—a symbol of duty rather than vanity.
The two walked through the grand hall, their steps measured, quiet, and monumental. The crimson carpet stretched before them like a river.
They ascended the stairs and stood upon the balcony-like stage overlooking the entire hall.
Queen Elziora lifted her hand slightly.
"You may all raise your heads."
The crowd obeyed.
Her voice rang clear—soft yet commanding, carrying the weight of countless kingdoms.
"I welcome you all. Tonight, we gather for a moment of great significance— the selection of a new Supreme Commander.
As many of you already know, the one chosen this term is a Remnant. Naturally, some of you carry uncertainty… perhaps even fear."
Murmurs rippled quietly but died at her next words.
"But stand firm in my assurance. He stands with us by my word, and my word does not waver."
A faint shift of her hand, graceful yet decisive.
"Now, I call upon Supreme Commander Rhyes Vance," she said, "and with him, the newest Supreme Commander of Obsidian Fang—the one chosen to carry the torch onward."
Her voice deepened, reverent and absolute.
"Zazm."
The doors opened, and two figures stepped inside—Rhyes and Zazm, both dressed in the full ceremonial uniform of a Supreme Commander of Obsidian Fang.
Their attire carried the weight and grandeur of old-world royalty: layered, ornate, and unmistakably authoritative.
They wore crisp white shirts beneath black vest coats, all fitted with precise, regal tailoring.
Over this came the main command coat—a long, heavy garment whose craftsmanship made it look almost like a royal mantle.
Its collar, button line, and sleeves were lined with a deep, striking red, giving the otherwise dark uniform a sharp, commanding edge.
Draped across their shoulders was the most distinctive element: a long ceremonial cape, the kind worn only by the highest-ranking elites.
The cape was pitch black, but on its back gleamed the insignia of Obsidian Fang—
a red dagger plunging downward, piercing a swirling blue galaxy.
The design wasn't just decorative; it was symbolic, representing power that reached far beyond a single world.
---
The hall fell into a breathless silence as they walked with unshakable authority. Heads turned. Eyes widened.
People unconsciously straightened their posture.
Yet among the two, Zazm drew the most attention.
He moved with emotionless precision, his expression cold and unreadable—
the kind of presence that felt both dangerous and impossibly alluring.
Attracting attention without even trying, his monotone gaze alone made several guests look away, flushed or intimidated.
Rhyes leaned in slightly, his voice low as he scanned the massive crowd.
"…Quite a lot of people here."
Zazm didn't respond. Not a nod, not a glance.
His face remained blank, detached—like nothing around him held the slightest significance.
Together, they walked down the grand carpets until they reached the staircase and ascended toward Queen Elziora and King Alistair.
King Alistair stepped forward first, raising a welcoming hand and offering a warm smile.
"Congratulations, Supreme Commander Zazm."
Zazm accepted the handshake, though only barely—his grip controlled, his expression perfectly empty.
"Thank you," he said, voice cold, monotone, devoid of ceremony.
He released the king's hand and stepped beside him, turning toward Queen Elziora.
Despite being the queen of countless worlds, she greeted him with a gentle smile.
Zazm bowed deeply, waiting for her permission to rise.
"Just yesterday," she said softly, her voice calm yet carrying throughout the hall,
"you stood as someone on the brink of execution… and now, here you are."
She glanced around the hall, her tone shifting into the serene authority of a universal sovereign.
Then she stepped closer—close enough for only him to hear—and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.
Her whisper was quiet.
"…This guy is freaking tall."
Zephyra, standing casually beside her though unseen by all except Zazm and the queen, smirked.
"You're just too short."
Zazm didn't react—not even a flicker in his eyes.
Queen Elziora restored her regal composure instantly.
"Raise your head," she said, voice returning to its majestic timbre.
"And show me the world you wish to create."
Zazm lifted his chin, facing the queen—and then turned his gaze toward the massive crowd before him.
He stepped forward.
When he spoke, his voice was ice—steady, sharp, and stripped of all theatrics.
"My name is Zazm, and I've been chosen to pave the path forward.
As you already know, I am a Remnant. To many of you, that means I am your enemy—
or so you prefer to believe.
However… I assure you I have no intention of being a foe to humanity."
The hall froze.
Such blunt honesty—
no flattery, no dramatic pauses, no attempt to soften the edges—
was something almost no one expected.
Rhyes stepped forward, adjusting his cuffs calmly as he passed Zazm.
"Well done," he murmured. "Leave the rest to me."
He faced the audience and spoke with the composed mastery he was renowned for.
"It is a pleasure to see all of you here today. I won't waste time with introductions—you all know who I am.
So I'll keep this brief."
He glanced back at Zazm before continuing, steady and authoritative.
"After several long decades, Supreme Commander Myterl sacrificed herself.
In her place stands the man you see now.
He has worked tirelessly for humanity's future.
Myterl trusted him… and I trust him as well.
So I ask all of you—trust him too."
Silence filled the hall—not tense, but respectful, moved by Rhyes' precise control of the crowd.
He spoke again, voice smooth.
"As I said, I won't take more of your time. Please enjoy the ceremony."
He stepped back, and the hall gradually resumed its lively atmosphere—conversations rising, groups forming, murmurs of admiration following Rhyes' speech.
King Alistair walked closer, clapping lightly.
"Rhyes, the way you handle a crowd amazes me every time."
Rhyes's lips curled into a small smile.
"I'm honored someone like you says that."
The king turned to Zazm and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Come. Allow me to introduce you to a few people."
Zazm prepared to speak, but Rhyes cut in before he could.
"Go with him, Zazm. Remember… this isn't the end of your journey.
It's only the beginning."
Zazm understood.
Connections—no matter the world, no matter the universe—were essential.
He descended the stairs beside Alistair, while Rhyes moved into the crowd to speak with other leaders.
Up on the balcony, Queen Elziora stood alone.
Or so it appeared.
Zephyra crossed her arms and leaned in with a smirk.
"You look rather pretty today."
Elziora tilted her head slightly, responding casually,
"Thank you."
"Why not take that blindfold off?" Zephyra teased. "You've got really pretty eyes."
Elziora smiled, amused.
"Oh, I won't. It wouldn't be so pretty if I accidentally wiped half the planet."
Zephyra raised a brow. "Scary."
The queen chuckled softly.
"I heard Zazm say your eyes are more beautiful than mine."
Zephyra flicked a strand of hair away from her face.
"Well… that's true."
Elziora laughed gently as she began to walk forward.
"I wish I could see them for myself."
---
The night had already settled deep into the bones of NullFluxx Bastion, the aftertaste of the ceremony still lingering in the air like drifting ash. High above the shimmering megastructures and light-veined towers, a sleek self-driving aerial car hummed silently across the sky. Its black hull reflected the neon veins running through the city, and for a long moment, neither Zazm nor Rhyes spoke as the vehicle glided over the heart of the Bastion.
Below them, NullFluxx Bastion looked less like a city and more like a dream sculpted by impossible hands—patterns of shifting lights, layered platforms, and skybridges that braided through the night like glowing serpents. Everything about it felt otherworldly, a blend of titanic modernity and ancient coldness that only an empire this old could carry with such ease.
The car descended smoothly, almost reverently, onto a landing platform inside the Obsidian Dome. Rings of blue lights illuminated as they touched down, washing the inside of the dome in a soft glow. Zazm and Rhyes stepped out, their long ceremonial coats trailing lightly behind them.
Rhyes walked forward with his usual silent confidence. Zazm followed, his eyes drifting over the high walls, the carved onyx pillars, the cold metal veins pulsing faintly under the surface of the floor. Then Rhyes stopped before a massive door—monolithic, pitch-black, seamless, like a block of crystallized night.
He turned slightly.
"Place your hand here."
Zazm stepped forward without hesitation and pressed his palm against the center. The surface rippled like melted obsidian reacting to heat, then split apart with a deep mechanical sigh.
A rush of cool air greeted them as the doors receded.
They walked in.
The office was huge—yet strangely simple. It held that quiet, oppressive luxury that didn't need excessive decoration to assert its authority.
A wide space stretched ahead, illuminated by soft downlights. In a far corner stood a sleek desk and a seat carved with elegant minimalism; the center of the room was occupied by sprawling couches encircling a low crystalline table.
And on the opposite side… an enormous window stretching from wall to wall, offering a panoramic view of half the Obsidian Dome.
Rhyes walked toward the window.
"You can see half the Dome from here," he said, almost casually.
Zazm was still looking around when Rhyes spoke again, his voice softer this time.
"This office now belongs to you. You're free to put whatever you want here."
Zazm exhaled. "Miss Myterl's office is quite simple."
Rhyes smiled faintly.
"She barely spent any time here anyway."
He shrugged off his coat, followed by the attached ceremonial cape, and tossed them carelessly onto one of the couches.
His fingers went to his tie, loosening it before unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Only then did he allow himself to sink into a couch, running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair.
Zazm took a seat behind the main desk. The chair was comfortable—too comfortable, almost making the title carved on the plate feel heavier. Where "Supreme Commander Myterl" once stood was now etched sharply and clearly:
[Supreme Commander Zazm]
His gaze drifted over the desk until he noticed a lone picture frame resting near the edge. He reached out and pulled it closer, staring at the old photograph for a long moment before speaking.
"Rhyes… did Miss Myterl have a little brother?"
Rhyes looked up sharply, genuinely surprised.
"No, she didn't."
Zazm flicked his fingers. The frame vanished from his hand and reappeared in Rhyes's open palm. Rhyes's eyes widened when he saw it—then slowly softened. A warm, painfully nostalgic smile crept onto his lips.
He turned the frame slightly toward Zazm.
"Do you recognize her?"
"Yes. That's Supreme Commander Myterl and Principal Seraphina… but this picture looks extremely old."
Rhyes nodded, smile deepening with something distant and bittersweet.
"This kid is me and you're right. This picture is at least 150 years old."
Zazm blinked. "You?"
Rhyes leaned back with that same tired, gentle smile."Yeah"
"Zazm… I have something to tell you."
Zazm looked at him, face unreadable, his gaze cold and monotone—the expression that silently said: Go on.
Rhyes looked down at the frame again, thumb brushing over the glass. Then, slowly, he began.
"I didn't exactly have a good life, you know."
His voice was steady, but something beneath it trembled faintly.
"There used to be places in Euphoria—dark corners—where slave trading wasn't just real, it was normalized. They bought children from poor families, or picked them up off the streets, or simply… took them."
He inhaled deeply, as if preparing to peel open an old wound.
"I was born in a small town like that. I lived with my mother. I never knew my father, well....I was only five back then. My mother was sick, always sick… always tired. And she—"
He hesitated.
"She used to shout at me… hit me. But even then, I kept thinking I needed to look after her. We barely survived. When her condition got worse, I started stealing. Petty things at first. Then bigger things. I became a thief."
A shadow passed over his expression.
"One day… it was a bad day. I saw a man wearing expensive clothes and thought grabbing his pouch would get me good money. But I was wrong—so wrong."
His hands curled slightly, remembering.
"The moment I touched him, his bodyguard grabbed me by the neck from behind. A tall man. And the rich one had others with him. They beat me almost to death."
He laughed weakly, hollowly.
"I've had many encounters with death… but that one stays with me the most."
Zazm's voice broke the silence, cold and flat.
"Then what?"
Rhyes's eyes dropped again.
"They dragged me home—to my sick mother—and told her everything. Even demanded repayment for the 'discomfort' I caused them. I… I thought she'd protect me. Or at least say something. But she just denied knowing me."
His voice cracked into a small, broken chuckle.
"That was when hope died. That man was a slave trader. I still remember his filthy face when he told her he'd take me since she didn't want me. And she… she waved her hand from the bed and said, 'Take him.'"
His breath shook—just once.
"That tall bastard grabbed me again and took me away. They brought me to their base. There were others—people of all ages. That's how my real life began. Hell."
He swallowed.
"Every day was another torture. We got dried bread… if you could even call it bread. At some point, I thought—maybe if I just stop eating, I'll die quietly.
His voice dropped slightly. "Which turned out to be a Huge mistake."
His fingers twitched slightly as he remembered.
"After two days of refusing food, one of the slave trader's men dragged me into a separate chamber. A torture chamber. He whipped me over and over… but I was already used to pain, so it didn't matter. When I was finally close to dying, he grabbed my jaw and forced some drink down my throat."
His jaw clenched.
"All my wounds closed instantly. And the pain…"
He shut his eyes for a second.
"It was unbearable. I blacked out."
He exhaled slowly.
"I was too tired to think. Or speak. Most of my speech… I had forgotten."
Zazm said nothing. He didn't flinch, didn't soften. He merely listened.
Rhyes continued.
"Then one day, a customer came. A woman in her mid-forties. She looked rich—ridiculously rich. She examined many slaves but picked me. I didn't care anymore. She bought me and took me home."
His eyes hardened with remembered disgust.
"She fed me well. But I couldn't taste anything. Years of muddy bread had ruined my tongue. Even meat tasted the same. So, for a second, I thought… maybe she had good intentions."
He let out a humorless laugh.
"But no. She was into kids. She had others, too. Slaves. But I was her favorite. That's why she fed me. For her own use."
Zazm leaned forward slightly.
"She used you as her toy?"
Rhyes nodded.
"Yes. And when I wasn't with her, I was chained in the basement."
His voice grew quieter.
"Time passed. A few Years. Until I turned thirteen. She didn't find me 'pleasing' anymore. So she sold me to someone else. A doctor—or at least that's what people saw. Everyone thought he was kind, helpful… but behind closed doors…"
He exhaled shakily.
"He experimented on humans."
His expression darkened.
"Sometimes he opened my chest to examine my insides. Sometimes he poisoned me just to study my reactions. Eventually, he got caught. And I was thrown in prison with him—guards thought I was his accomplice. So now I was a prisoner."
He shrugged faintly, as if resigned to the insanity of his past.
"Nothing new, honestly."
His voice grew distant.
"One day, remnants attacked the area. Everything was burning. Screams. Buildings collapsing. Doors breaking. Prisoners running out thinking they were free."
He paused.
"But I didn't move. I stayed curled on the ground of my cell. I had no idea what to do. My brain had lost too many functions by then. Logic, emotions, thinking....they weren't there any longer."
The room was silent.
"Eventually the screams died. The crashing stopped. And I heard footsteps. Slow ones. Someone saying—'Oh… there is one survivor.'"
Rhyes leaned back, resting his legs on the table, his hand covering part of his forehead. His eyes drifted upward to the ceiling as if replaying that moment.
"It was the first time I saw Supreme Commander Myterl."
A few men followed her from behind, their voices echoing through the burning wreckage.
"Commander Myterl, this is a kid," one of them said, bewildered.
Myterl stepped closer, stopping in front of me. She said something—words meant for me—but I didn't respond
.
To be more precise… I couldn't. My brain couldn't process her voice, her face, her presence. Everything felt like blurred noise.
That was when Seraphina appeared from behind her. She gently pushed Myterl's shoulder aside, her tone sharp and urgent.
"This kid is barely alive. We need to get him treated."
Myterl raised a brow, annoyed, and muttered, "Why are you pushing me though?"
Headmistress Seraphina—at that time still a part of Obsidian Fang—didn't waste a second. Her father was the headmaster of EIAA back then, so she knew exactly where to take me. Together, she and Myterl carried me out of the ruined territory and rushed me to a hospital.
They needed me alive for two reasons.
One—because they couldn't just stand by and let a human child die.
And two—to question me about what happened.
All my wounds healed. Every scar. Every visible piece of damage. But my mind…
My mind was almost dead.
My thoughts were quiet, hollow, unreachable.
Every few days, Myterl would come to check on me. At first it was strictly professional—observation, information gathering, routine. But as time passed, and as Seraphina worked endlessly with me through countless therapies, something changed.
I slowly recovered.
And at that point… I was basically a newborn child.
My body was sixteen. But mentally, I didn't know how to speak.
How to interact.
How to interpret basic things.
Everything was foreign.
Myterl still dropped by every few days. At first it was for progress reports, but eventually she came simply to see me.
After some time, I learned to speak simple basics—enough words to form broken sentences. One day, Myterl sat beside me and asked:
"What is your name?"
At the mention of "name," I tilted my head in confusion.
I didn't have one.
I didn't even understand the concept well enough to answer.
Myterl's eyes widened slightly. Then, surprisingly, she smiled.
"You don't have a name, do you?"
She thought for a moment, then said:
"Then I'll give you one. From now on, you're Rhyes."
Zazm's face remained cold, emotionless—but a faint flicker of surprise passed through his eyes. A rare sight.
"Myterl continued visiting, bringing books, teaching me how to read and write. One afternoon, she sat with me as I slowly traced letters onto paper. Her voice was unusually soft.
"Have you ever wondered why I'm doing all this for you?"
Back then, mentally still a child, I couldn't understand her question. She often spoke like that—too complex, too big for my mind to grasp.
As always, she answered her own question.
'I used to have a little brother. He died when he was very little. Mom and Dad were always busy with duties, so I looked after him myself.'
She got up and placed her hand gently on my head.
'We're somewhat alike in this way, aren't we?
We've both lost everything.'
And then she left the room.
My recovery advanced fast—thanks to therapy, support, Seraphina, and Myterl's constant visits. In two years, my brain finally caught up to my age. My body and mind met in the same place for the first time.
It was decided that someone would adopt me.
This world had many children like me—orphans from war, from remnants, from disasters.
The Vance family took me in as their youngest child.
They treated me like their own.
My adoptive mother and father…
My siblings…
All of them were kind. Warm. Gentle.
I kept meeting Myterl too—she had become a pillar in my unstable life.
But in my life, happiness rarely stayed for long.
And even when it arrived, the pain that followed was always far greater.
One day, another remnant attack—similar to the one that destroyed that count's territory—struck the Vance household.
I saw my mother, my father, my siblings… die in front of me.
I ran. Desperately.
Horrified.
And like always… I survived.
Alone. Again.
After that, I made a choice.
I wouldn't give up.
I would avenge them.
I would fight against remnants.
And Myterl—already my idol—fueled my determination even more.
I joined EIAA.
I was older than most students there, but it didn't matter. People were kind. Supportive. I pushed myself harder than anyone.
After graduating, I joined Obsidian Fang.
And I was lucky—I was compatible with an AMI mark.
I was excited—truly excited—for once in my life.
Finally, I would become strong.
Finally, I could protect something.
I got my mark…
and awakened my ability."
Rhyes lifted his arm and covered his eyes for a moment, voice lowering.
"The ability I got was Soul Fracture."
He exhaled softly.
"Basically, I have several abilities depending on the emotions I've felt most in my life. It's like I can store those emotions and use them as fuel."
He looked toward Zazm, eyes half-lidded, heavy.
"For example… Wrath lets me throw destructive beams.
Despair and Sorrow let me use gravitational energy and control it perfectly."
A small smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned forward.
"Now, Zazm… I mentioned that I forgot everything after Myterl and Seraphina took me from the prison. So how do you think I'm telling you all this right now?"
Zazm's gaze remained cold.
He raised a finger and pointed at Rhyes.
"You accessed your memories or something."
Rhyes nodded.
"Determination. Purpose. Revenge. All those emotions allowed me to break through and access my memories. And I saw everything. Every moment of my life. Not once— but several times."
His voice darkened.
"I relived all of it. Again and again. And each time, I accumulated more and more despair… pain… sorrow… wrath… guilt. Everything."
Zazm looked up at him.
"You're insane."
Rhyes let out a quiet laugh.
"Perhaps I am."
He leaned back, eyes slightly distant.
"I still watch those memories. To gain power. But… I've already gotten so used to them, they barely affect me anymore."
The room fell silent.
And then Rhyes's posture seemed to collapse just a little.
His voice dropped to a quiet, fragile murmur.
"Happiness… peace… they feel like foreign concepts now."
He exhaled shakily.
"Honestly… I would do anything to gain peace. I'd love to retire. To go live in the mountains, or somewhere near the ocean. Where I could just… breathe."
He shook his head.
"But I can't."
Slowly, he stood up. He stepped toward the couch, picked up his coat and cape, and draped them over his arm.
He turned toward Zazm.
His face wasn't smiling anymore.
His eyes looked hollow, darker than ever—like a man who had outlived every version of himself.
"I never told anyone this," he said quietly. "But I'm telling you because… as your elder, it's my job to teach you that the world isn't the hollow shell you think it is."
His voice softened to something almost fragile.
"Zazm… don't give up on yourself.
Happiness and peace exist.
Find them.
And if you can't find them… create them for yourself."
He stepped back, his shadow stretching across the floor as if pulled down by weight only he could feel.
His final words were barely above a whisper—raw, honest, and broken.
"No matter what happens…
don't ever....
end up like me."
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