The Marlowe family sat together at the dining table, the warm glow of the overhead light casting long shadows on the walls. The aroma of a well-cooked meal filled the air, yet the atmosphere remained tense. The usual dinner chatter was absent, replaced only by the rhythmic clinking of cutlery against plates.
Dio ate quietly, his posture relaxed, yet his presence was an undeniable weight in the room. Across from him, Vivian watched him intently, her gaze unreadable, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Lyra, the ever-motherly figure, looked like she wanted to say something but was holding herself back. And Zayn—usually the most talkative—was uncharacteristically silent, his expression one of deep contemplation. He was likely still processing the conversation he'd had with Dio earlier.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Then, finally, Lyra broke the silence. "So, Dio, where do you live?"
Dio didn't even look up from his plate. He simply answered, his voice as indifferent as ever, "I don't have a home,not anymore."
The entire table froze.
Lyra's hand tightened around her fork, her eyes widening in shock. Zayn inhaled sharply, glancing up from his plate, while even Vivian—who had remained unreadable thus far—showed a flicker of surprise.
A thick, suffocating silence followed as they all processed his words.
Lyra was the first to recover. "Oh, Dio, I'm so sorry" Her voice was soft, full of motherly concern. She reached across the table as if to touch his hand but hesitated. "You can stay here, with us. For as long as you like. You don't have to be alone."
Zayn nodded, his expression conflicted but ultimately supportive. "Yeah, man. You don't gotta wander around like some stray."
Dio didn't respond immediately. He simply kept eating, his face unreadable. Then, before he could say anything, another voice cut through the tension like a knife.
"Your blade, whose blood was it?"
Vivian's question was quiet but sharp, her eyes locked onto Dio like a predator cornering its prey.
Dio finally looked up. His crimson eyes met hers, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other—two forces measuring one another, trying to gauge what lay beneath the surface.
"You said it wasn't yours," she continued. "So… whose was it?"
The dining room, which had just started to regain a sense of ease, fell back into a state of unease.
Dio held her gaze for a long moment before shifting his attention to Zayn. "One of the thugs who beat you yesterday."
Zayn's breath hitched. "You… You killed a member of the Red Veil Gang?"
Dio shrugged. "He was following me. I dealt with it."
He didn't bother to explain that he hadn't actually killed the man personally, that the thug had simply been collateral damage in a much larger fight between Dio and a mysterious opponent. It didn't matter. What mattered was that the blood was on his blade, and Zayn knew what that meant.
Zayn's face went pale, his fork slipping from his fingers. "Oh, fuck… We're doomed."
"Language," Lyra scolded, her motherly instincts kicking in.
Zayn shot her a wild look. "Really? At a time like this? I think I'm entitled to swear!"
Lyra narrowed her eyes at him, the kind of glare only a mother could give. Zayn sighed, rolling his eyes but falling silent.
Dio, meanwhile, remained calm. "I'm sorry if I caused you trouble."
Lyra immediately shook her head. "It's no trouble at all."
Vivian, who had been observing quietly, suddenly spoke again. "How?"
Dio turned his gaze back to her. "How what?"
Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of her plate, her expression unreadable. "How did a twelve-year-old kill a full-grown man? Without cybernetic implants? Without any enhancements?" Her voice grew sharper. "You're an awakener, aren't you?"
Lyra and Zayn both stiffened, exchanging quick glances. They had their suspicions, sure, but neither had expected Vivian to come right out and demand an answer like that.
Dio remained silent.
"But…" Vivian continued, as if speaking to herself, "That still doesn't explain why you awakened so early. Unless—" She stopped.
Zayn, who had been hanging on every word, leaned forward. "Unless what?"
Vivian's expression darkened. "Unless he's an Unchained."
The air in the room seemed to grow colder.
Zayn flinched. Even Lyra's normally composed demeanor cracked for a moment.
"An experiment made by the A.R.I.," Vivian finished.
Silence.
Dio didn't look at her. His gaze remained on his food, but his presence was heavy, as if daring them to push further.
Finally, he spoke. "I'm an awakener." His voice was firm. "But I am not an Unchained. I am human."
And that was the end of it.
The finality in his tone made it clear—he would not be discussing this any further. The Marlowe family, sensing that pushing him would be a mistake, let it go.
After a long, weighted pause, Zayn cleared his throat. "But… what are we gonna do about the Red Veil?"
Dio looked at him, his crimson eyes calm. "I'll go to them myself. Tell them I was the one who killed their man. Leave you out of it. You're innocent."
Lyra shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor. "You can't!" she snapped. "I won't allow it!"
Dio met her gaze, his expression unchanging. "It's the only logical option."
Before Lyra could argue, Vivian spoke up. "He's right. It's the only way."
"Shut up."
The words came from Lyra, her voice sharp and unyielding.
Vivian's eyes widened in shock. Her mother had never raised her voice at her before.
"You are not sacrificing yourself to those savages," Lyra said, her voice shaking with anger. "Do you hear me? I won't allow it."
Dio watched her, his face unreadable.
"Now, all of you—go to bed." Lyra's voice trembled, but her resolve was iron. "To bed. Now."
Zayn hesitated, glancing between Dio and his mother, but eventually nodded. "Come on, man. You're staying in my room tonight."
Dio didn't protest.
As the three of them left the dining room, the weight of the conversation still hung in the air.
Lyra remained behind, standing at the table, her hands gripping the edge tightly.
She stared at the empty plates, her jaw clenched, her mind racing.
She had taken Dio into her home.
And now, because of him, the Red Veil was coming.
Zayn walked to his room Dio behind him as he opened the door as the door swung open, warm light from the ceiling illuminated the room, casting a soft glow over the navy-blue walls. Tiny glow-in-the-dark stars flickered faintly in the dim lighting, mimicking a vast night sky. A massive hover screen sat in the corner, paused on a replay of last year's Arena Tournament finals—frozen at the exact moment a champion landed a decisive blow.
Dio's eyes swept over the decor, taking in the sheer devotion to the world of awakeners. The bedspread was patterned with energy streaks and silhouettes of legendary fighters. A stack of S.A.M.T.-branded training manuals sat haphazardly on a desk, alongside a collection of miniature figurines, each modeled after the greatest awakeners of the modern era. Some bore holographic labels—limited edition.
The walls were a shrine to combat legends.
To Dio, they were just faces.
Zayn, however, had stars in his eyes. With his messy blond hair and boundless energy, he threw his arms out like he was unveiling a treasure trove.
"Dio! Welcome to the greatest room in existence!" he announced, practically bouncing in place. "You see this? Look at them! These are the legends! The icons! The best awakeners in the entire district!"
He smacked his hand against the largest poster—a towering man in reinforced tactical armor. A crimson energy shield pulsed around him, the text below reading: DARIUS KANE – "THE IRON GUARDIAN."
"Darius Kane! The Unbreakable Wall!" Zayn gushed. "People say if you throw a missile at him, he'd just absorb it and throw the explosion back at you!"
Without waiting for a reaction, he darted to another poster, wiggling his fingers like a magician casting a spell. NAOMI VALE – "THE MIRAGE DANCER." A woman dressed in a sleek combat suit, her dark blue hair flowing like a ribbon, afterimages of herself flickering around her.
"Naomi's so fast you don't even know where she is! She won the Arena Tournament three years ago, and rumor has it, she didn't get hit once in the finals! Not. Even. Once!"
Zayn's excitement snowballed as he shadowboxed in front of VICTOR RENZO – "THE EMBER FIST." The poster captured a fiery explosion mid-punch, the words "FIGHT LIKE HELL" printed in bold.
"Victor is just pure, raw badassery! You think you can take him? Boom! Fist to the face! Fire everywhere! He almost beat a Level 8! A Level 5 against a Level 8! That's insane!"
He whirled to ISABEL KROSS – "THE SILVER SPEAR," throwing an imaginary spear. The poster showed her standing atop a ruined battlefield, Aetheric spears hovering around her like a deadly halo. "PERFECT AIM, PERFECT VICTORY."
"Isabel's NEVER MISSED A SINGLE THROW. People say she's got the best aim in all of S.A.M.T.! She won last year's Arena Tournament and—get this—instead of taking a cushy spot in the Upper Districts, she went straight into the Elite S.A.M.T. squads!"
Finally, Zayn took a deep breath, bracing himself as he turned to the last poster. ELIAS "BREAKER" MORGAN – "THE UNSTOPPABLE." It showed a man charging forward through debris, a whirlwind of destruction following in his wake.
"Elias?" Zayn grinned, eyes shining. "This guy is a monster. He fought THREE Level 6s at once and STILL made it to the semi-finals! They had to gang up on him just to slow him down!"
He stepped back, taking it all in, before turning to Dio with an expression of pure determination.
"These guys… they're my heroes," Zayn said, voice steady. "One day, I'm gonna be just like them!"
Dio didn't respond. His gaze drifted over the posters again. The names, the faces, the slogans—they meant nothing to him. Heroes? That was a matter of perspective.
Without turning, he finally asked, "So… you want to enter the Arena one day?"
"Yeah!" Zayn exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "Can you imagine the possibilities?!"
"You'll die."
The room went silent. Zayn's enthusiasm deflated like a popped balloon. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, trying to process the bluntness of Dio's words.
"Like… could you not kill the mood?" he finally muttered, shoulders slumping.
Dio shrugged. "Just stating facts."
Zayn groaned, running a hand down his face. "Man, you are terrible at pep talks."
"I'm not here to give them."
Zayn stared at him, then threw his hands in the air. "Unbelievable."
"But I could always use cybertech to compete, right?"
Dio didn't respond, just stared at him in silence.
Zayn shifted uncomfortably before deciding to change the subject. "So, uh… do you want to sleep next to me? Don't worry, I won't cuddle you throughout the night." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully.
Dio just stared. The silence stretched, thick and unyielding.
Zayn scratched the back of his head. "Okay… then."
"I'll sleep on the floor," Dio finally said.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," Dio answered, already lying down, his katana placed neatly beside him.
Zayn watched him for a moment before grinning. Without a word, he lay down next to Dio on the floor.
Dio cracked an eye open. "What are you doing?"
"Well," Zayn said smugly, "since you refuse to sleep on the bed, I figured if you see me suffering on this hard floor, you'll change your mind and sleep up there instead."
Dio closed his eyes again. "If that's what you want to believe."
Zayn huffed, staring up at the ceiling. Silence stretched between them, the only sound the occasional hum of the hover screen in sleep mode.
After a moment, he turned his head slightly. "So, where did you get that katana? Did someone give it to you?"
"You could say that," Dio replied.
Zayn groaned. "What does that mean? Be specific."
"The owner no longer had use for it."
Zayn rolled his eyes. "Why are you always so cryptic?"
Dio didn't answer.
Zayn exhaled, letting his thoughts drift. "You know, Vivian really doesn't like you. You should watch your back."
Dio didn't react.
"But it's weird," Zayn continued. "Out of all the people I've met, I thought she'd actually get along with you."
Dio finally spoke. "Why is that?"
"You both have that quiet, cold personality," Zayn mused. "She wasn't always like that, though. I remember when she used to be so full of life—always smiling, always laughing. But after our father went missing… I guess it was too much for her. She just grew distant."
Dio said nothing.
Zayn hesitated, then asked, "What about you?"
"Get some sleep," Dio replied.
"But I'm not even tired! And I still have so much to show you—"
Zayn stopped when he saw Dio looking at him, his red eyes sharp and unblinking.
"Haha… right. Yawn. Really sleepy," Zayn muttered, dramatically flopping onto his back.
The night passed in silence. The world outside remained undisturbed.
As dawn broke, slivers of sunlight crept through the curtains, painting the walls in soft gold.
Zayn stirred, groaning as he rolled onto his side. His body still ached from yesterday, but the pull of sleep was fading. He rubbed his face, blinking against the morning light. Something felt… off.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
He sat up, scanning the space. Dio's spot was empty.
His blanket was neatly folded—like he had never been there at all.
Zayn's stomach twisted.
His gaze landed on the small piece of paper on the desk. Frowning, he grabbed it, unfolding it with careful fingers. Dio's handwriting was sharp, the letters rushed.
As his eyes scanned the words, Zayn exhaled sharply, gripping the note a little tighter.
He rushed downstairs, stumbling over his own feet.
His mother, Lyra, turned from the stove, startled. "Zayn! Careful! What's gotten into you?"
He barely heard her. "Dio! He's gone! He went to the Red Veil!"
The color drained from Lyra's face.
"Oh no."