The wind tugged at my hoodie as we stood atop the high-rise, the cityscape sprawling beneath us in all directions—glimmering, pulsing, breathing. But up here? It felt like a different world. Quiet. Still. Like the eye of a storm.
We were all gathered—me, Daredevil, Spider-Man, and Iron Fist. Each of us had just come back from war in our own way.
But it wasn't just the fight lingering in the air.
There was a silence between Matt and me.
Awkward. Heavy.
It hung between us like smog, dense and difficult to ignore.
Thankfully, Spider-Man—bless his heart—couldn't stand it any longer.
"So," he said, voice bright, hands on his hips, "we get back from breaking into a laundromat slash secret villain base, and now you two are doing your best impression of an awkward first date. Someone want to fill me in?"
Iron Fist chuckled lightly, but then got serious. "They knew we were coming," he said. "The lab we raided? It was already scrubbed clean. There were a few low-level goons, some tech, but nothing actionable."
"Yeah," Spidey added. "They left a few presents, though. There were environmental dampeners tuned to counter heat signatures. Specific insulation layered into the walls. Some of the rooms had… reflective crystals that bent energy attacks. Pretty custom."
"For fire-users," Danny nodded at me. "They knew you were coming. Or at least suspected it."
I stayed quiet.
Matt exhaled through his nose. "Our end wasn't much quieter."
He explained what happened at the club. The ambush. The mutating guards. The basement levels. The vat of Kick. Everything. The words felt heavier as he spoke them, each one dropping like bricks onto the rooftop.
Spidey whistled low. "Okay. So the nightclubs and laundromats are more like drug-themed dungeons. That's fun."
Danny turned toward me. "Did you get anything useful?"
I nodded and pulled out my digivice. "We did."
But before I could go any further, Matt stepped in front of me.
"Before that…" he said, voice calm but firm. "Is there something you'd like to tell us?"
I met his gaze.
And for a moment, I thought about dodging the question. Just brushing it off, keeping the illusion intact.
But no.
That wasn't why I came here.
That wasn't why I fought.
If I was going to move forward with these people, they needed to know the truth. All of it.
So I sighed.
And I let my armor fall away in a shimmer of black steel.
"I haven't been entirely forward with you guys," I said. "About my powers. About… everything."
They all looked at me. Silent. Waiting.
"I'm not from this Earth."
Spider-Man tilted his head. Danny frowned. Matt stayed still.
"I mean… I'm from an Earth. Just not this one."
I took a breath.
"In my world, there are no superheroes. No Avengers. No mutants. No Kick or MGH or guys in capes. There's just… people. Governments. War. Poverty. The usual. I died there. Or I was supposed to. And then I woke up here… in a Maggia warehouse, two months ago."
I clenched my fists.
"They were going to torture me. Kill me. But then… something happened."
I raised my arm and turned it to copper. Let the fire ignite in one palm, and the ice in the other. They watched, eyes wide.
"I manifested a power. Then another. Then another. They come randomly. No rhyme or reason. Like rolling dice. It's not just elemental stuff, either. Sometimes it's instinctual knowledge—like how to break through a lock, or how to build a machine."
I looked at each of them in turn.
"I don't know what I am. Mutant? Experiment? Some interdimensional fluke? All I know is that I've been given these powers, and for the first time in my life… I can do something with them."
I summoned Clarent.
The sword gleamed in the moonlight like a wound in reality.
"This armor, this fire, this ice, this blade… they're pieces of something I'm still trying to understand. But I do know one thing."
I let the fire and ice fizzle out.
"In my old world, I saw a lot of shit. Pain. Injustice. But I never acted. I was scared. Powerless. And now? I've been dropped into a place that's just as broken, maybe even more so. But this time… I can do something."
I looked toward the glimmering lights of M-Town in the distance.
"When I saw what was happening there—how the drugs were tearing people apart, how no one cared—I decided I wouldn't stay silent anymore."
I looked back at them.
"That's my truth."
A long silence followed.
Then Spider-Man stepped forward.
"You okay?"
The question caught me off-guard.
"What?"
"I mean it," he said. "You've been through hell. Dropped into a new world, hunted, mutated, nearly killed—and you jumped into all of this like it's a job. I'm asking… are you okay?"
I opened my mouth. Then closed it.
For the first time in weeks, I realized I hadn't stopped to breathe. To reflect. To feel.
"I… I guess I never gave myself the time to think about it."
Spidey nodded. "Been there."
Danny crossed his arms. "You said your powers come randomly?"
"Yeah."
"No pattern at all?"
"None."
"Any weaknesses?"
"Still trying to figure that part out," I admitted.
Matt tilted his head. "Why the name 'Vigil'?"
"Because I watch. I wait. I protect. I choose to stand between people and the things that want to hurt them."
They were quiet again.
The others were still processing what I'd told them—about my world, my powers, and what I was trying to do here.
Then, finally, Matt gave me a short nod.
"We believe you."
Spidey gave me a thumbs up. "You're weird, but you're one of us"
Then Iron Fist tilted his head and said.
"That thing you said… about gaining random powers? How does that actually work?"
I rubbed the back of my neck. "I don't fully understand it myself. I don't do poses or push a button or say a magic word. It just… happens. But not constantly. My power builds up pressure, and when it reaches a certain point, I feel it—like an itch under my skin, or a heartbeat in the back of my mind. That's when I have to use it. Like a volcano that has to blow."
Spidey chimed in. "So... it's like a magical soda can. Shake it too much, and it explodes?"
"Exactly. Except the soda sometimes breathes fire or causes a localized earthquake."
Daredevil raised a brow. "And you're telling us you choose to let it build up?"
I nodded. "Because as useful as the new powers can be… they're not always compatible. I've gotten abilities that worked together, sure. But there's always a risk. One power might boost my fire magic, another might weaken it, I have to be careful."
Iron Fist folded his arms. "Can you use it right now?"
I paused, then slowly nodded. "Yeah. I can feel the pressure. It's there."
Spidey perked up. "Well, now I have to see this in action. Come on, Vigil. Let's see you use the magic power granting thingie."
I hesitated. "You sure? Last time didn't go great. I mean, I fixed it—but still."
"Just do it," Matt said, lips twitching into a faint smirk. "We're standing on a roof with three superheroes. We can handle it."
"Famous last words..." I muttered, exhaling. "Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."
I focused. Closed my eyes.
And then—
The sound of dice rolling echoed in my head.
14-14 Megami Tensei – Spring of Life - Periodically restores a small amount of HP. Passive. Since the roll was moderate Party-wide regeneration increased by 20%.
My body glowed faintly. It was subtle, like a warm breath of wind had brushed over my skin. And then... it spread.
Spidey blinked. "Okay, I feel weird. In a good way. Like... I just stretched after sitting too long."
Danny stretched his arms. "My shoulder was stiff from that throw earlier. It's not anymore."
Daredevil tilted his head, his face unreadable under the cowl. "Vigil… why do I feel like the cuts I took tonight are already healing?"
I sighed and dragged a hand down my face. "Looks like we just got a passive regen buff."
"A what?" Danny asked.
"Think of it like... a magical aura that heals you over time. My power just decided all of us needed a boost."
Spidey grinned. "Okay, now that's a group perk I can get behind."
"Don't get used to it," I said, grimacing. "Last week? I rolled a power that summoned a forty-foot monster that could shoot magic blasts. It nearly leveled a block before I took it down."
That sobered everyone up real fast.
Daredevil exhaled. "That... sounds like a complication."
"No kidding," I muttered. "That's why I don't roll unless I have to."
Spidey whistled. "And here I thought my luck was rough."
Danny cracked his knuckles. "Still… if you can summon healing boosts and magical swords, I'm not complaining."
"Yeah, well... just pray the dice stays in our favor."
And with that, I reached into my jacket and tapped the digivice.
"Speaking of wild cards—there's someone else you should meet."
I clicked a button on my digivice.
There was a pulse of light in the air, and in the next instant, Elecmon materialized mid-air with a yelp—straight into Spidey's arms.
"Whoa!" Spidey caught him instinctively, blinking through the little red-and-blue furball now wriggling in his grip.
"Guys," I said with a smirk, "meet Elecmon."
Spider-Man tilted his head. "Okay... why is this raccoon a Saturday morning cartoon, and why is it doing cosplay in my color scheme?"
Before I could answer, Elecmon sparked with visible irritation—literally. A jolt of electricity surged through Spidey's gloves, making him yelp and toss the Digimon into the air.
Elecmon landed on my shoulder with a soft bounce and bared his little fangs. "I am not a raccoon, you spider dummy! I'm a Digimon! A Digital Monster! And I'm AJ's partner!"
Daredevil raised an eyebrow. "A what-mon?"
"A Digimon," I said, trying not to laugh at Spidey still shaking his glove. "They're digital beings from another reality. Elecmon's one of them—and he's been with me since the day I woke up in this world."
"I helped him when he was still clueless," Elecmon added smugly.
"Still am most of the time," I muttered.
Iron Fist leaned in, examining Elecmon with a kind of focused curiosity. "It has chi. Not like ours. But... something."
"I wouldn't be here without him," I said seriously. "He helped me contact Spider-Man. He helped me track the kick shipments. And while Matt and I were fighting those mutated guards—he's the one who downloaded the data."
I looked at Elecmon. "Show them."
He leapt off my shoulder and dissolved into pixels, zipping back into the digivice. A second later, a holographic display shimmered into view above the screen, illuminating the rooftop with blue-white projections.
Elecmon's voice spoke from the device, echoing softly.
"The lab under the nightclub was one of several test sites designed to manipulate Kick's chemical properties. Their goal was to create custom triggers for latent or inactive mutant genes—force them to express. They were trying to artificially awaken X-genes."
"What?" Iron Fist frowned.
"They were using modified Kick to make... super soldiers," I added. "People who had dormant mutant potential, or minor mutations they wanted to weaponize."
Spidey's tone darkened. "Let me guess... it didn't go well."
"Catastrophically," Elecmon replied. "Nearly all test subjects suffered from rapid cellular destabilization, neural degradation, or complete breakdown of mental function. There are logs of seizures, grotesque mutations, total identity loss."
"Those guards we fought," Matt said quietly. "Some of them weren't criminals. They were test subjects."
I nodded grimly. "That's why they went berserk."
Elecmon continued. "After the warehouse was destroyed, the experiments were relocated to another site. Files indicate that most of the viable equipment and data were moved the next day."
"Do we know where they were moved?" Danny asked.
"As a matter of fact," Elecmon chirped, "we do."
The hologram flickered and shifted. A sleek, massive image of a cargo ship came into view—its name scrawled across the bow in white: The Leviathan.
"This ship was formerly owned by a Russian oligarch who sold it to a shell company based in the Cayman Islands about ten years ago," Elecmon narrated. "Officially, it's a bulk cargo freighter. Unofficially? It's a mobile lab, manufacturing hub, and blacksite all rolled into one."
Daredevil crossed his arms. "Let me guess. International waters."
Elecmon chuckled darkly. "Usually, yes. It rotates between ports—New York, Halifax, Liverpool, Copenhagen, Rotterdam—but it's anchored in New York more than anywhere else."
"Where is it now?" Peter asked.
The map zoomed in.
Red Hook.
My blood ran cold.
"For the last two weeks, it's been docked in Red Hook under the guise of 'customs complications.' They've been moving personnel and equipment in and out via private trucks."
"I've patrolled Red Hook," Spidey muttered. "Didn't see anything unusual."
"They're good at hiding," Matt said. "The club and laundromat were just distractions. This is the real operation."
"Exactly," I said. "This is where the Kick is made. Where the mutagenic formulas are synthesized. Where the mutations are engineered."
"And where the people behind this are probably holed up," Iron Fist finished.
For a moment, we all went silent, watching the hologram spin slowly above the digivice.
Then Peter sighed. " just when it had been too long since my last evil overlord lair infiltration"
"We strike soon?" Matt asked.
I nodded. "We'll need to hit it hard, fast, and with precision. If we mess this up, they'll scatter. And we'll never get another shot."
"I'll call in Luke," Danny said. "We'll need strength."
"I'll clear my schedule," Spidey said. "Guess we're going on a boat trip."
Time to cut this operation down to its roots.
For M-Town.
And for everyone they've hurt.
AJ POV
I was hunched over a workbench in Marcus's shop, carefully soldering a circuit on a toaster. The rhythmic hum of my tools blended with the low murmur of conversation from Marcus as he worked on some other appliance. Jazz sat on a threadbare couch in the corner, headphones clamped to his ears as he flipped through a comic book with a look of detached amusement. It felt like the calm after a storm—the nightclub raid had happened just yesterday, and now everyone was taking a moment to rest and regroup before the next assault on the factory in two days.
I couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in my mind. I'd already briefed Marcus on the plan—if I didn't come back, don't go looking for me. Marcus scowled at that idea, worried for my safety even if he pretended to be angry about the whole risky operation. I knew he cared. But Jazz... well, Jazz was busy living in his own comic-book world.
Lost in these thoughts, I barely noticed the door creak open until a familiar figure stepped in. My heart skipped, and I felt an immediate flutter in my stomach. Nia was here. I'd seen her around a few times—always with her sister Selene, always a flash of breathtaking beauty in an otherwise grim place—but I'd never dared to approach her. With too many things on my mind, especially after the chaos in M-Town, I'd always managed to keep my distance.
Nia walked right up to Marcus behind the counter. "Hey, did you get the things I brought yesterday fixed?" she asked, her voice soft yet carrying a note of urgency.
Marcus flashed a small, friendly smile. "Yeah, all set. But where's Selene?" he asked casually, raising an eyebrow.
She shrugged. "She decided to stay home tonight. Says she's not in the mood to risk it."
Marcus grinned. "Alright then. I've got your coffee maker and mixer-grinder right here." He reached beneath the counter and produced the two appliances with a playful flourish.
I couldn't help but watch as Nia struggled slightly—balancing both items, her arms momentarily trembling under their awkward bulk. Marcus's eyes danced with mischief. "AJ," he said, nodding toward me. "Why don't you give Nia a hand? I think these might be too heavy for her to carry alone."
I froze for a split second. "What about the shop? Don't you need help?" I stammered, caught off guard.
Before I could protest further, Jazz pushed himself off the couch, wiping his hands on his already worn pants. "Marcus, go help Nia out. I've got things to do here." His tone was teasing, but there was nothing to argue with—Marcus had a habit of giving in when Jazz got involved.
Reluctantly, I set down my soldering tool and picked up the coffee machine. It felt ridiculously light in my hands—as though the weight was more symbolic than real. Nia smiled, a shy curve of her lips, "My place is just a short walk from here."
We left the shop together, the city whispering around us in the cool evening air. The walk was quiet for a few moments, thick with the awkwardness of new company. Finally, as we rounded a corner and started on a quieter street, she broke the silence.
"So," she said, eyes flicking to me with an inquisitive glint, "I don't think we've properly met. What's your name?"
I paused, reluctant yet compelled to be honest. "I'm AJ… Arjun Roy."
Her eyebrows rose slightly, as if pleasantly surprised. "Arjun Roy? You don't look like you're from around here."
I let out a small laugh. "I'm not. I'm from India. I—I recently ended up in New York."
Nia's gaze softened. "How did you end up in M-Town of all places?"
I glanced downward at my steady steps, remembering the wild chaos of my past few months. "I guess I was looking for a new home," I admitted, voice low. "I stumbled upon this place when I was in a bad spot—I found Jazz in a pinch one day, helped him out, and he introduced me to Marcus. That's how I got here."
A thoughtful smile played on her lips. "Funny, I saw you help Jazz in that alley the other night. I wanted to help myself, but my sister told me to stay back. I guess fate had it all sorted out."
We walked in companionable silence, our footsteps merging with the quiet hum of a city that never truly slept. I could feel the tension of the coming days in every stride—the factory strike looming, the unknown surprises waiting to be unleashed. Yet, in this moment, with Nia beside me, the world felt just a bit more bearable.
I kept my tone easy. "You cared enough to want to step in. That's more than most."
She looked at me then, really looked, and I suddenly felt like she could see more than I was ready to show.
"Marcus says you're good with fixing things," she said, steering the conversation elsewhere.
I let out a breath. "I try. He's the one teaching me. I'm more of a 'break it first, learn after' kinda guy."
That made her laugh, and it was a soft, real sound.
We kept walking.
"What about you?" I asked. "What do you do?"
"I'm studying journalism. Taking online classes and working part-time at a diner for now. The dream is to tell stories people try to bury."
"Like… whistleblower kind of stuff?"
"Yeah. Especially the kind no one pays attention to. People in places like M-Town don't get headlines. They get obituaries, if that."
That stopped me for a moment. She wasn't just sharp — she had fire.
"I hope you make it," I said honestly.
She looked at me again, surprised by the sincerity, and smiled. "Thanks. I will."
We reached her apartment a few minutes later. She unlocked the door, and I set the coffee machine down just inside.
"Well," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "I guess I should get back before Marcus starts using Jazz as a paperweight."
Nia laughed. "Thanks for the help, AJ."
"Anytime."
I turned to leave, and then she called out, "Hey."
I looked back.
"You want to hangout sometime?"
I smiled. "Yeah, sure."
And for the first time in a long time, I felt something shift inside me. Something warm. Something that wasn't tied to fire or ice or copper skin.
Just… human.
Looks like I will have to comeback alive afterall.
Spider-man Pov
The low hum of a ceiling fan buzzed above us, cutting through the silence in the room as we sat around the scarred old table in one of Danny's safehouses in Chinatown. It wasn't exactly Avengers Tower, but it was cozy enough — a few mismatched chairs, exposed brick walls, incense faintly burning from the corner, and a framed picture of K'un-Lun monks above the sink. Danny had good taste in "zen with a side of street fight."
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, watching everyone soak in the calm before the storm.
Across from me, Daredevil sat with his head slightly tilted toward the door, always listening. Danny — Iron Fist — had a tablet in front of him, flicking through satellite images of our target. Vigil — still weird calling someone by a name more dramatic than mine — was quiet for now, arms folded, hood down, eyes locked on the tablet like it held all the answers.
He looked... tense.
Can't blame him.
Then came the knock. Three short raps. Then the door creaked open, and in walked a man built like a tank in a hoodie and jeans.
"Sorry I'm late," Luke Cage said, brushing some rain off his sleeves. "Traffic's a nightmare. Also, some guy tried to rob a hotdog stand on 116th with a butter knife. People really out here wildin'."
"Luke." Danny stood and greeted him with a quick clasp of hands and a shoulder bump. "Glad you made it."
Luke gave him a nod, then glanced around the room. His eyes landed on Vigil. "So," he said, "You must be the new guy on the block."
Vigil stood, offering a firm handshake. "Something like that."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Heard bits and pieces. You've stirred up a lot of noise lately. Nightclub takedowns. Warehouse fires. That's usually our thing."
"I just got tired of watching the city rot." Vigil replied. Calm. Steady. But there was heat in his voice — righteous, no-nonsense heat.
Luke studied him a second longer, then cracked a half-smile. "You remind me of someone I know. Alright. I'm in. But someone wanna fill in the blanks?"
I leaned forward, placing both palms on the table. "That's what we're here for."
Danny slid the tablet across the table to Luke. "The k factory. It's not in a warehouse, not in a lab. It's on a ship. A huge retrofitted cargo freighter parked off Red Hook. Looks like it belongs to a private company, but all the records are fake. No real owner, no official docking logs, just a ghost ship that keeps showing up like clockwork."
"From our reconnaissance ," I added, "We've confirmed at least a few floors below deck, automated defenses, possible mutant test subjects inside, and enough hired muscle to overthrow a small island"
"And it's all connected to this guy," Danny said, pulling up a blurry image on the screen. A man in a lab coat, half his face shadowed, hair slicked back like a villain out of central casting. "Code name: Sublime."
Luke squinted at it. " More like slime"
"Understatement," I said. "This guy's been pushing Kick into Mutant Town, weaponizing it, experimenting with it. Vigil found out the hard way. Dozens of mutants hurt, mutated beyond recognition, a lot dead. The lab we hit the day before yesterday had vats of the stuff. We're lucky we made it out."
Luke nodded slowly, then crossed his arms. "So. What's the plan?"
"Simple," I said, tapping on the ship schematic. "We go in quiet. We've cased the ship for the past few days. There are three main points of entry: the upper deck loading ramp, which is heavily guarded; the cargo bay door near the waterline — low security but submerged at night; and a side hatch near the engine room, less guarded but probably a tight squeeze."
"Iron fist and I will take the hatch," I continued. "Daredevil and Vigil will go from the top — they've got the stealth advantage. Luke will create the intial distraction and draw attention since he is durable enough to do so"
"Once we're inside," Danny chimed in, "We try to regroup around the central area, Find any surviving test subjects, grab all the data we can, and destroy the equipment."
"Preferably without blowing up the whole ship," I added. "But y'know… contingencies."
Luke looked at all of us. His tone shifted — more serious now.
"Just so we're clear. We're going up against enhanced mercs, drugged-out mutants, and whatever mad science is waiting inside that boat. This isn't a patrol. This is war."
I looked around at the faces in the room. Daredevil's stoic calm. Danny's quiet fire. Luke's grounded strength. Vigil, still a mystery, but one I trusted more by the day.
"We know," I said.
Then I glanced at Vigil.
"You ready?"
He didn't hesitate.
"Always."
___________________________________________________________________________
Daredevil POV
The rain came down like needles from the sky.
It was the kind of night New York wore like a second skin—cold, wet, loud. Thunder cracked through the heavens, and for a moment the entire rooftop lit up with a burst of white. The scent of ozone clung to the air, sharp and acrid, mingling with the grime baked into the bricks beneath my boots.
I stood still.
There was no need to pace. I'd memorized every heartbeat within a five-block radius.
I was alone on the roof for now, but not for long.
Beneath me, the Hudson lapped angrily against the pier. A few hundred feet out sat the Leviathan—our target. It looked like any other cargo ship to most, but the vibrations humming through its hull told me otherwise. She wasn't just a ship. She was alive with activity. Guards, machinery, deep, mechanical whirring. A beating heart of something dark.
Something wrong.
It was strange, how quickly all of this had unfolded.
Just a few weeks ago, I was chasing down Jester and a few low-level traffickers in Hell's Kitchen. The usual. Thugs and lies and red knuckles. Then I got the message from Spider-Man—some trouble brewing in Mutant Town, and he needed help. I'll admit, at first, I thought he was being dramatic. But now? Now we were about to board a floating factory that cooked up the kind of chemical nightmares you didn't wake up from.
Kick. A drug that turned people into monsters—literally and figuratively. And worst of all? It was aimed like a loaded gun at the people society already threw away.
Mutants.
If you'd asked me a year ago, I would've told you I wasn't the team-up type. Too messy. Too many moving parts. Too many emotions. But this? This wasn't about my preferences. This was about doing the right thing.
Even if it kills us.
My mind drifted, as it had too many times lately, to Vigil.
The first time I met him, I didn't like him. Not because he was rude or reckless—though he was a little of both—but because of what I heard. His breathing was steady, his pulse calm, his stance measured. A man used to being in control. I thought he was just another punk high on his power, out to make the world notice him.
But I was wrong.
So wrong.
The more I learned about him, the more I realized: he didn't ask for any of this. One day, he was just some guy in another world, and the next, he woke up here—alone, disoriented, and suddenly carrying the weight of abilities that could level buildings. And what did he do with it?
He started fighting for a place no one else cared about.
A part of me still doesn't understand how he keeps going. The kind of grief he's carrying would break most people. Hell, it almost broke me once. But here he is. Standing tall. Choosing to protect people who would never know his name. I can't fault a man for being rough around the edges when he's still trying to be something good.
A gust of wind brushed past me. And with it—
A presence.
Subtle. Focused. Centered.
I turned slightly as I sensed the shift. A heartbeat I knew—steady, rhythmic, grounded. Danny.
I heard his boots hit the rooftop with barely a sound. Then another—heavier, slower. Luke. A familiar vibration. The air moved differently when a man built like a tank landed beside you.
"Matt," Danny said softly.
I nodded. "Danny. Luke."
"We good?" Luke asked.
"Getting there."
Before I could say more, I felt the whip of compressed air slicing through the space above us.
Spider-Man.
He landed with that casual grace of his, a whisper of tension in his muscles and a rush of heat behind his voice.
"Miss me?" he said, the grin evident even through the mask.
"You're late," I replied.
"I was fashionably late. There's a difference."
His heartbeat was quick, a little erratic—he was nervous. But not afraid. Focused.
Then—
A thunderous thud behind us. Not from above, but from the side. Fast. Purposeful. Heavy boot on concrete.
I didn't need to turn. I knew who it was.
The air around him shimmered with heat. There were embers dancing in the air, tiny motes flickering like sparks from a dying star. And beneath it all, I heard the metallic hum of something foreign, unnatural—something not of this world.
Vigil.
His heartbeat didn't waver. Not a hitch. Not a flutter. Like still water in a deep lake.
He stepped forward, sword across his back, fire gently curling off his fingertips, and said, voice calm and steady—
"Let's get started, shall we?"
And just like that, it began.