Chapter 16: The Farplane

The ship creaked and groaned as it cut through the waters, its sails billowing under a cold, brooding sky. Waves lapped against the hull in rhythmic percussion, but the atmosphere aboard was far from peaceful. A heavy silence hung over the deck—tense, unspoken, and brittle. Even the gulls circling above seemed hesitant to cry.

Below deck, in a narrow chamber lit by swaying lanternlight, Rei sat hunched over a wooden bench, the rhythmic rasp of whetstone against steel the only sound in the room. His daggers gleamed with every pass, each stroke sharp and measured, like a ritual that offered some sense of control.

But his mind was far from calm. The twin blades rested across his lap, their polished surfaces catching the faint shimmer of the lantern hanging above. Rei's reflection stared back at him—wild eyes glinting with something he couldn't name. Something old. Something buried deep in the blood of the world.

The Brood. He'd heard the name whispered since childhood—tales traded in hushed voices over flickering flames, told by men too afraid to speak them in the open. Dragons that walked among mortals, cloaked in fragile skin. Beings of ancient fire and divine magic whose blood could raze kingdoms or save them. Their roars were said to shake mountains, their wings to stir storms, their breaths to carve rivers through stone.

And now… he had fought one. He had stood before Ryu—his Ryu—and lived. It still felt unreal. Even when he'd unleashed his full strength, the primal fury of the weretiger burning in his veins, he had been nothing compared to that dragon's power. The memory of it—the golden light, the sheer presence—sent a chill crawling up his spine. For the first time in years, Rei had felt small. Powerless. A thief with quick hands and quicker wit meant nothing in a world where gods still walked in mortal flesh.

His gaze softened as he traced a finger down the edge of the blade. Ryu had once been just a frightened boy—wide-eyed, trembling, too gentle for a world that chewed up softness and spat it out. Rei could still remember that first night in Cedar Woods: the way the kid had clung to the fire's warmth, trying to be brave but shaking all the same.

Back then, he hadn't seen the dragon. He'd seen a boy who needed someone to believe in him. So Rei had done what came naturally—he'd watched over him. Taught him how to survive. Because sometimes the wounded needed a protector. Sometimes the lost needed a brother. And for a while, Ryu, Teepo, and Rei—three brothers sharing a small house on the hill, tucked away in the quiet wilds of Cedar Woods. It was a fragile paradise carved out in a cruel world.

Then Balio and Sunder came, and tore it all to pieces. Everything shattered. The home, the peace, the family. For years, Rei burned with the fire of vengeance. He hunted those responsible, and one by one, they fell—either into their graves or into chains. The vendetta had kept him alive. But justice, no matter how bitterly earned, did little to mend the hollow ache where his family had once been.

And yet… against all odds, one of them returned. Ryu. Not the timid child who once hid behind him in the dark, but a warrior with the blood of the Brood coursing through his veins—a dragon in human flesh, forged by pain, destiny, and power. He was no longer the one who needed protecting. He had become the protector, the chosen one fated to stand against the goddess herself. And now, that very same dragon traveled beside him—not as a helpless boy, but as a brother-in-arms. Strong. Resolved. Ready to face a god.

What haunted Rei now wasn't Ryu's strength or destiny. It was his own. That thing inside him—the weretiger—wasn't magic, wasn't borrowed power. It was him. It was real. It saved his life the day Balio tried to murder him, and it had surged forth during battle since then, unbidden but ferociously protective.

But what is it? No story, no scroll, no whispered village legend spoke of Worrens changing shape. His kind were warriors, yes—primal, fast, brutally strong. But transformation? That was the domain of dragons, demons… not his people.

"Unless…" He sighed, laying the daggers gently aside. His thoughts churned heavier than the waters around them. The Worrens are nearly extinct—scattered, forgotten, hunted in some corners of the world. Whatever their full history was, it had died with the elders of long-fallen clans.

Maybe he was the only one left with this power. Or maybe others like him still existed—hidden away, surviving in the fringes of the world, cloaked in mystery like the Brood are now.

Rei leaned back against the wooden hull, eyes following the sway of the lantern above. "After we see this through," he thought. "After we face Myria… I'll go searching. I'll find the truth about what I am."

A flicker of determination sparked behind his eyes. For now, his path was with Ryu. To fight beside him. To help end the goddess's cycle of destruction. But when that journey reached its end, his own would begin—a quest to uncover his forgotten lineage, and to understand the beast within.

Above, the wind howled across the sails. The sea whispered secrets. Garr stood at the prow of the ship, motionless, like a monument carved from ancient stone. The wind tugged at his wings, spreading them wide behind him, their edges billowing like banners. His golden eyes scanned the endless expanse of sea and sky, but his thoughts were rooted deep in the past.

He wasn't keeping watch for danger—he was keeping watch for clarity, for absolution that would not come. The ocean roared below, its waves crashing against the hull with rhythmic finality. It reminded him of the pulse of battle, the unrelenting march of time, the cries of the Brood as they fell before the Guardians.

"The Brood," he exhaled slowly, as if trying to breathe out centuries of guilt.

The Guardians were created to protect the world. That's what they had been told. That's what he had convinced himself to believe in order to complete his task. But protecting the world had meant the slaughter of an entire race—dragons hunted and exterminated, their power feared, their lives deemed unworthy. The Brood had no armies, no ambitions of conquest. They only wanted to live.

And yet they were hunted, and Garr had helped lead the charge. He clenched his jaw. Even now, he could feel the weight of his spear in his hands—the memory of it striking down dragon after dragon. It was no longer a weapon. It was a ledger of sins.

He could still see Ryu's face when he awoke, confused and betrayed, just like the child he had once been. Garr had told himself that killing Ryu at Angel Tower would have been a necessary act in service of the greater good. And most importantly, his ticket back to the Farplane.

But it was a lie. And now, the others knew. Rei's glare, sharp and guarded. Nina's silence, heavy as stone. She had once trusted him, leaned on him in her darkest moments. She had followed him through fire and storm, believing him to be a steadfast protector. And all the while, he had carried this secret.

Garr's wings shifted as the wind grew stronger. He didn't turn as footsteps approached behind him. He didn't need to. He knew it wasn't Ryu, nor Rei. It was her, Nina.

She said nothing, and neither did he. The silence stretched between them like the ocean itself. He wanted to speak. To explain. But what words could cleanse what he had done? What could he say to the princess whose family he had served, whose trust he had betrayed?

So he remained silent, like the sentinel he had always been. Not out of pride, but because some truths were too heavy to be borne by words. And yet… Nina needed the truth.

She stood behind him now, unsure whether to speak, unsure whether he even deserved to hear her voice. The wind stirred her blonde hair, lacing it with sea spray and silence. Her thoughts churned more violently than the ocean that rocked the ship beneath their feet.

Ryu had been her light in the darkness since they were children—awkward, brave, selfless Ryu. He had saved her life more times than she could count. When she was kidnapped and nearly killed, it had been Ryu who found her. When her world began to crumble, he was the one who anchored her, who stood beside her in the storm. Without him, she wasn't sure who she would have become… or if she would've even survived. They were bound not just by fate, but by the kind of trust that transcended words. Ryu was her constant, her heart's compass.

And Garr… Garr had nearly taken him from her.

She remembered that day vividly—how Ryu had faced a battle no one thought he could win. When he fell, when they thought they had lost him forever, it was Garr who emerged from the smoke and blood. His towering frame eclipsed the sun, wings casting a wide, dark shadow over their broken forms. His eyes glowed with an ominous, demonic aura, radiant with unholy strength.

She had thought he might strike them down in an instant. In that moment, Garr had looked more beast than man—more executioner than ally. A demon carved from stone and wrath, incapable of love, incapable of mercy. He could not have children of his own. That much she knew. And maybe that was why she once believed he had no capacity to care for those who were.

But he didn't strike them down. Instead, he reached out. Protected them. Guided them. He had been wise, even gentle in his own way. His presence—immense, unwavering—had made her feel safe, like a child under the watchful gaze of a benevolent titan. To Nina, Garr hadn't been a warrior. He had been something far more sacred. He had been her grandfather.

And now… Now she knew the truth. That Garr had once planned to kill Ryu. That he had stood over her dearest friend, blade in hand, ready to end the life of the one person she could never live without.

She stepped closer, her voice caught between fury and heartbreak. "You were supposed to protect us," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the sea wind. "You were supposed to protect him."

Garr didn't turn. Didn't flinch.

"I need to know why," Nina whispered, her voice cracking as the question pressed through the weight of her grief. "Why did you almost take the most important person in my life?"

Garr said nothing. He stood as still as the ship's mast, his wings outstretched and billowing gently in the salt-slick wind. Though he heard her words—each one sharp with pain and betrayal—he offered no answer. Not out of cruelty, but because he no longer believed she could truly understand.

How could she? She was mortal. He had watched mortals live and die for centuries, their entire lifetimes passing like fleeting seasons. He had known empires rise and fall, watched lovers fade into memory, seen heroes crowned and buried in the same breath of time. Thousands upon thousands of souls—gone. Ash in the wind.

Garr had never cared. He had never needed to. He was Endless. Beyond time. Beyond consequence. His skin was carved of stone, his soul molded in the shadow of the goddess herself. He could not age. He could not die. No man could stop him. No army could challenge him.

He had never hesitated to move through the world like a blade. When he needed something, he took it. When someone stood in his way, he crushed them beneath his heel. When he hunted the Brood, he did so with the weight of divine authority. The dragons could not harm him. And if even they could not stop him, what chance did a fragile mortal girl have? What could she possibly understand?

Nina's voice rose again behind him, laced with emotion. Her composure cracked, her grief melting into rage. She began to accuse him, flinging her pain like daggers, "You lied to us. You tried to kill him. You pretended to care!"

Garr didn't flinch. He didn't blink. But something behind his glowing eyes shifted. Then, slowly, he raised the butt of his colossal spear and drove it down into the ship's deck with a crack, the wood beneath it groaning under the force. The sound silenced Nina instantly.

"Do not pretend to understand the Guardians," Garr said, his voice a thunderous growl, low and cold as stone. "Or our motivations. You are mortal. I have seen your kind die more times than I could count."

His wings shifted slightly, like the movement of mountain ridges in a gathering storm.

"You love. You fear. You grieve. All of it vanishes in time. But I remain. I remain to witness it all. I was created to destroy dragons, Nina. To end the reign of the dragons. I carry out the will of a being far older and crueler than you could possibly imagine."

He turned his head just enough to meet her gaze, eyes glowing like smoldering coals.

"There is only one being that has ever made me hesitate. One who carries a power greater than mine. The Yorae Dragon. The Kaiser. The God Killer."

His voice softened—not in kindness, but in weariness. "And I almost killed him."

Nina stood frozen, her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides. She wanted to scream at him again. She wanted to cry. But his words had cracked something deeper than anger. He wasn't the grandfather figure she remembered. He was something ancient. And terribly alone.

Garr's gaze moved forward and remained fixed on the horizon, the sea's endless expanse mirroring the depths of his thoughts. The wind tugged at his wings, but he stood unmoved, a sentinel carved from time itself.

"Have you heard of the Farplane?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very timbers of the ship.

Nina hesitated, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air between them. "Not really. Deis mentioned it, but I dont know what that is," she admitted, her voice cautious.

Garr nodded slowly, as if expecting that very answer. "The Farplane is the closest thing mortals have to a concept of heaven. It's a realm beyond the physical universe, a place so distant and abstract that it's incomprehensible to those bound by time and flesh. Yet, it exists—a domain where souls have always resided and will continue to exist eternally."

He paused, the weight of his words settling over them. "We, the Endless, originate from the Farplane. Each of us—immortal, unaging, undying—emerged from that realm. My kin and I, we were as brothers, bound not by blood, but by the eternal essence of our being."

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Garr's lips, tinged with nostalgia. "We fought each other for sport, for the sheer exhilaration of battle. Death held no meaning for us; we could not die. Our clashes were fierce, unrestrained, and without consequence. It was… fun."

He turned slightly, his eyes meeting Nina's, glowing with an ancient light. "But that was before we were summoned to this world, before we were tasked with a purpose that changed everything."

Garr's voice deepened, growing more solemn, as if the weight of aeons pressed behind every word. "When the Endless were forced out of the Farplane and into mortal flesh, everything changed." His glowing eyes reflected the starlight, but they were lost in memory. "We had never known pain. Never known aging. Never known fear. Concepts like birth and death meant nothing to us—we simply were. Timeless. Infinite. Without boundary or need."

He turned fully to face Nina now, his massive form silhouetted against the sea. The breeze fluttered his wings, but he stood like an ancient statue, unmoved by time or tide.

"But that was the problem," he continued. "You cannot control what does not fear. You cannot guide what does not love. Without fear, we had no sense of consequence. Without love… we had no reason to preserve, to protect, or to create. We could not reproduce. We could not empathize. We only existed—warriors without direction, power without purpose."

Nina listened, her expression slowly shifting from anger to confusion, then to awe.

"So," Garr said darkly, "the Windrunners—those who first attempted to tame the Endless—committed the ultimate sin. They created something new. A being like us… but different."

He stepped forward, the creaking wood beneath his feet barely audible over the ocean swell.

"A new Endless… who understood fear. Who knew what it meant to be born. And in that fear, it found hatred. Hatred of mortality. Hatred of consequence. Hatred of weakness. The goddess, as you call her—Tyr or Myria—was not born a god. She was manufactured. Molded by design. Given form and mind so she might do what we could not: dominate this world."

Nina's breath caught. "But… the goddess is worshipped. She's seen as divine. Sacred."

Garr gave a slow shake of his head, his face grim. "The goddess is an illusion. A lie wrapped in mortal understanding. She doesn't even know what she truly is. Those who've stood before her describe her not as a radiant deity, but as a horror—a mass of writhing worms and viscera. She wears illusions like clothing, reshaping herself to meet the expectations of her followers."

He looked away again, his voice quiet now.

"But in the end, she believes what she wants. And nothing—no logic, no plea, no truth—can change the mind of something that fears only one thing: being forgotten."

The silence that followed was heavy. Nina's hands clenched the railing, her knuckles pale. Garr's gaze remained fixed on the sea, the rolling waves reflecting the pale moonlight like shifting fragments of memory. His voice carried low, steady, ancient.

"But Kaiser…" he said, the name itself weighted with reverence. "Kaiser was the balance. The only force capable of standing against the chaos the Endless brought with them. Without that, the world would have been consumed—by demons, by gods, by us. The dragons would have been slaughtered, the mortals enslaved. Existence, as you know it, would have burned to ash."

He paused, his breath misting in the cool night air. "So Fou Luand Ryu gave the world Kaiser and Infinity. Two beings born of both divinity and mortality. A dragon who could kill gods, and one who can control that power. Two sides of the same coin. Ryu and Fou Lu"

Nina's brows furrowed, confusion dancing across her delicate features. "But Ryu never fought demons like that. He never faced this 'Fou Lu' you speak of."

Garr turned his glowing eyes toward her, solemn and knowing. "Not our Ryu."

The weight of the statement lingered between them like a stone in deep water. Garr slowly looked back out to the sea, as if his memory drifted across the waves, searching for something lost.

"Long ago," he began, "the Fou empire was forged in blood and fire, ruled by a man who was not entirely man. Fou Lu, the First Emperor. A god-killer. He had the power of a dragon, and a mind fractured by centuries of divine and unchallenged power."

Nina listened in stunned silence as Garr continued, his voice soft, reverent.

"The empire he ruled was unshakable," Garr began, his deep voice woven with both reverence and regret. "A colossus built on fire and fear, under the gaze of a god-emperor—Fou Lu."

He paused, the wind pulling gently at his wings, his glowing eyes fixed on the endless horizon ahead. "But even the mightiest foundations crack under the weight of fate. One day, the Windrunners—the cursed architects who carved the false goddess into being—stole away Princess Elena. They wished to create their own god to challenge Fou Lu for his throne." Garr's voice softened, almost wistful. "It was her sister, Princess Nina, who refused to let her go."

Nina, listening quietly beside him, felt a shiver run down her spine as her name echoed in the tale of a past life. "Desperate and alone," Garr continued, "she found a man—a stranger cast from the sky, with no name, no memory, not even clothes to shield him from the world. And yet… she saw something in him. Not weakness, not fear—but potential. Purpose."

He turned to Nina, his expression unreadable. "She gave him a name. Ryu. A sacred word, older than the world itself. It means 'dragon'—a symbol of hope, of balance, of fire against the dark."

Nina clutched the railing, her heart thudding in her chest. "She gave him a blade and a reason to use it. Together, they traveled a ravaged land, gathering allies as loyal as they were broken. With every step, Ryu learned who he was. And then… he discovered the truth: he was one half of Fou Lu himself. The other side of the coin. Two souls bound by the same origin—one born Endless, immune to death, incapable of love or fear. The other…" Garr's voice dropped to a near whisper. "…was mortal."

A stillness fell across the deck, broken only by the distant cry of a gull overhead. "Ryu had friends. He cherished life. He had something to protect." Garr's grip tightened on the haft of his spear. "And so he embraced the true power of the Infinity Dragon. Challenged Kaiser and won. When the two halves of the Yorae Dragon finally merged… Ryu was the one who emerged.

"He stood as a god… and yet, he understood the cost. Immortality is a curse to those who love. He chose mortality. He gave up power. Gave up divinity. For the sake of the world… for the people who gave him purpose."

Garr closed his eyes for a moment. "From that day, the Brood and the Windians stood as allies. The scars of war faded. And peace endured… for a time."

Nina stood motionless beside him, the weight of generations pressing down on her shoulders. Her connection with Ryu—her Ryu—now felt deeper than blood, than fate. It was written into the very bones of the world. The wind whistled through the sails, carrying silence with it.

Nina's heart began to pound. "So… we've done this before."

Garr nodded slowly. "Ryu and Nina were friends then. Just as you two are now. Two souls bound by fate, drawn to one another across the ages. Meeting in times of great darkness. Facing the end together."

Nina's hands tightened on the railing, her eyes glistening. "It wasn't chance that brought you and Ryu together," Garr said. "It was destiny. Repeating itself."

A stillness fell between them, not empty, but profound. And in that silence, the sun overhead seemed to burn a little brighter, as if bearing witness to the truth now spoken aloud.

Garr stood still, his immense frame silhouetted against the silver shimmer of the sea. His wings hung low, slack with the heaviness of unspoken truths. For a long time, he said nothing. Only the soft creak of the ship's hull and the distant cry of gulls filled the silence between him and Nina.

At last, his voice emerged—quiet, but carved from stone. "We didn't want to kill them."

Nina flinched. She hadn't asked again. Not with words. But her silence had been loud enough, and Garr could no longer carry its weight.

"The Endless… we were summoned from the Farplane. Cast into this world of blood and time. And all we wanted was to go back." He stared ahead, as if the horizon might open and lead the way home. "But the goddess—she can't return because she didn't come from that holy place. Because she understands birth… and that means she understands fear. And fear keeps her chained to this world."

His voice darkened, colored with an old sorrow. "She made us—me and the other Guardians—stolen from the farplane and given demonic forms, to do what she could not. She said our purpose was to rid the world of the Brood. She told us it was the only way for us to return."

He closed his eyes, as if reliving a long-ago vow. "So we obeyed." Nina's breath caught. Garr's hands clenched around the haft of his spear, the wood groaning under the pressure.

"We thought it was a small price to pay—dragon lives in exchange for home. The Farplane… is where we belong. A place beyond time, untouched by suffering, where souls exist in perfect stillness. But to reach it, we had to carry out our task. And we carried it, because the Endless do not understand the concept of life and death. To us, lives come and go, and holds no value."

He turned to face her, and for the first time, Nina didn't see the wise, unshakable colossus she had always known. She saw something older. Tired. Regretful.

"The Brood fought back. Of course they did." Garr's voice was low, gravelly, every word weighed with centuries of memory. "But they soon learned the truth—" his gaze fell to the ground, the admission heavy on his tongue, "—that killing a Guardian is impossible for most of them. We were created specifically for this. To hunt. To destroy. To endure."

His hand clenched into a fist. "So they ran. They hid. They wept and survived while we hunted them across the ends of the earth. And in the end…" His voice faltered, a rare tremor slipping through his usually unshakable tone. "… they nearly became extinct. Most of my brothers completed their task and returned home."

The silence that followed was suffocating. "But not you," Nina said at last, her voice no louder than a breath.

Garr's head dipped once. "Not me. And not Gaist." He drew in a deep breath, the air shuddering in his chest. "I just needed one dragon left. One more life to take before I could rest—before I could return to the goddess who made me." His eyes darkened, ancient regret shadowing their depths. "But the Brood vanished. Hidden for five hundred years. Not even Myria herself could find them."

He paused, his next words spoken with quiet reverence. "Gaist… he found Ryu. And instead of finishing his duty, he let the boy live."

Nina's brows knit in confusion. "Why?"

"Because he wanted honor." Garr's voice softened, almost wistful. "He wanted to face the one being capable of ending him—a fair fight. An end he could accept. So he fought Ryu… knowing the boy carried the limitless power of the Kaiser within him."

He turned toward the sun, its golden light reflected in his sorrowful eyes. "Ryu didn't win through strength alone. It was his will. His heart. Gaist saw in him something the Guardians had never learned; compassion… and the courage to defy fate itself."

The silence that followed felt heavier than stone. When Garr looked at Nina again, there was no anger, no pride—only longing. A deep, aching weariness that words could scarcely hold.

"He sent Gaist home. I want him to send me home too," he said quietly.

Nina's lips parted in disbelief, but Garr raised a hand—not in command, but in plea. "But not yet. Not until she pays." His voice took on a rare edge of venom. "The goddess… the parasite that pretends to be divine. She has taken too much from this world. Used mortals like tools. Created monsters from children. It's time she's punished once again."

He turned back to the sea, his wings lifting slightly in the wind. "When this is over—when the goddess is no more—I will face Ryu once again. One last time. And when he defeats me…" He smiled faintly, almost mournfully, "he will send me home. To the Farplane. To peace."

Nina stared at him, her heart a maelstrom of conflict. But for the first time… she understood. She saw Garr not just as a Guardian, or a warrior, or a monument to ancient power—but as a soul adrift, aching to return to where he came from. To where he belonged.

She turned from Garr, her expression unreadable, her golden hair catching the breeze as she walked away—slow, deliberate steps echoing across the ship's deck. Garr did not call after her. He simply watched her retreat, then turned back to the vast sea, letting the wind howl around his ancient frame. The silence was fitting. He had said all he needed to say. Whether she forgave him or not, whether she understood or not—that was no longer his burden to carry.

Down below deck, Nina shut the cabin door behind her and leaned against it, as if the weight of the world had finally come to rest on her shoulders. The quiet hum of the ship creaking through the waves was the only sound. She crossed the room slowly, settled on the edge of a cot, and folded her hands in her lap. Her fingers trembled.

So much to take in: The Endless. The Farplane. The goddess—not a deity at all, just an ancient mistake made flesh. The Brood. Ryu.

She closed her eyes. Ryu… her childhood companion, the boy who once cried in the night, afraid of the dark, afraid of the world. The boy with kind eyes and a wounded soul. She had trusted him without question, fought with him, believed in him—before even he understood what he was. And now… now she knew why.

It wasn't chance. It wasn't fate in the way mortals understood it. It was memory. Legacy. Something older than this lifetime. They were meant to find each other. A princess and a dragon. Again and again, through lifetimes long forgotten.

Nina pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the faint beat of her heart. There was comfort in that thought, even amid the storm Garr's words had stirred.

Soon, they would arrive in Windia. Her homeland. Her throne. But it no longer felt like the center of her world. Not after everything they'd seen, everything they'd learned.

There, the truth awaited them: that the royal family of Windia had been guarding a sacred secret, hiding and protecting the last remnants of the Brood. Ryu would find his kin—what was left of them. And with them, perhaps, a future. A chance to rebuild. To restore what was lost. To breathe life into a legacy thought extinguished by gods and monsters alike.

She opened her eyes, a tear trailing silently down her cheek. "You're not alone anymore, Ryu," she whispered to the empty room. "You never were."

Evening descended slowly, bleeding across the horizon in deep shades of violet and gold. The ship pressed onward beneath the hush of twilight, its sails catching the dying light as if carrying not just the weight of its passengers, but the burden of what awaited them—home, history, and a reckoning that would decide the fate of the world.

By the time they reached Rhapala Port, the stars had begun to pierce the heavens, their reflections trembling across the still waters. The gulls had gone quiet, leaving only the whisper of the waves and the creak of wood against the dock. The scent of salt and brine hung heavy in the air, a familiar comfort that somehow felt distant now—dulled by everything they had seen.

Rei and Garr were the first to disembark. They stepped onto the worn planks of the wharf in silence, the wood groaning softly beneath their weight. Neither spoke. Words would have been too small, too fragile for the truths that now lived between them. So they walked—side by side but apart—through the narrow streets of the sleeping port town, their thoughts like ghosts trailing behind them. They sought no destination, only air… only space enough to breathe.

Nina and Ryu followed after. The night air brushed against them, cool and still, yet neither found comfort in it. They exchanged a glance—a fleeting thing, hesitant and uncertain. There were no words for what lingered between them, not yet. But both knew that silence could not last forever. Sooner or later, they would have to speak.

Back at the modest inn by the docks, Nina sat upon the edge of the room's lone bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The pale light of the moon filtered through the window, painting her in silver and shadow. She did not move. The quiet pressed in around her like a living thing, and she stared down at the floorboards—at the trembling shapes cast by the moonlight—as though the answers to all her fears might be hiding there.

Her thoughts swirled, impossible to settle. Garr's words echoed in her ears again and again, like a song that refused to leave.

The Endless. The Farplane. The goddess. Ryu. And Garr himself. He was always there—watching over them like a guardian should. Like a protector. A companion. A grandfather.

But now she knew. He would draw his weapon against Ryu the moment it was required. Not out of hatred… but out of obligation. Purpose. And it wasn't evil, not in the way mortals define evil. It was simply how he existed. He was a monster—but not a cruel one. Not malicious. Just a force, like time, or death, with no space for hesitation.

A soft knock came at the door. Nina blinked out of her thoughts and turned her head. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Ryu stepped in, his expression uncertain but gentle. His tunic was still dusted with road wear, and his eyes—those ancient, ever-young eyes—searched hers with quiet concern.

"I saw the others go out," he said softly. "You okay?"

She nodded slowly, then shook her head. "I don't know."

He came closer, standing just inside the door, waiting—never pressing. "You've been quiet since we docked."

"I talked to Garr," Nina admitted, her voice quiet. She looked down at her hands. "He told me everything."

Ryu said nothing, only listened. "I thought I knew him," she continued, her voice growing distant, reflective. "He always seemed so wise. So calm. A rock to lean on. But he's not what I thought he was. He's not a man. Not really. He's… something else entirely."

Her eyes lifted to meet Ryu's. "He's not evil. But he's still a monster. One with goals I'll never understand. And one day… he's going to fight you, Ryu. He might even try to kill you."

Ryu stepped forward and sat beside her on the bed. For a long moment, they didn't speak. The silence between them was not empty—it was full. Heavy with memories, questions, truths unspoken.

Finally, Ryu spoke. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "He told me too. A long time ago."

Nina turned to him, searching his face for a reaction. There was no fear there. No anger. Just acceptance.

"You're not afraid?" she asked.

Ryu gave a small smile. "I'm always afraid. But Garr… he's not just waiting to fight me. He's waiting to go home. He wants peace. And if fighting me is the only way he can get it… then I'll give it to him."

Nina's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her voice trembling as she asked the question she feared most. "But what if he kills you?"

Ryu turned to her, his expression calm—not out of arrogance, but acceptance. "Then he was stronger," he said softly, the words carrying the quiet weight of truth. "But I don't believe he will. Because he can't." There was no boast in his tone, no bravado. Only a certainty forged through fire and loss.

"When I'm strong enough to face the goddess," Ryu continued, "Garr will understand that he's standing in the place where the Brood once stood—facing the impossible. He'll know the battle is already lost. But still… he'll fight. He'll give everything. Not because he wants to win, but because he has to honor the warrior he's always been. He'll come at me with everything he has, and he won't hold back—not in front of Kaiser. And when I defeat him, it won't be mercy. He'll earn his loss like a true warrior. That's what he wants."

A tear slid down Nina's cheek, slow and silent. Ryu reached out, his hand steady, and brushed it away with the back of his thumb—gentle as falling snow.

"I hate this," she whispered. "That he's our friend… and still—"

"He is," Ryu said. "He always will be. But his path ends differently than ours. He doesn't fear it. Neither should we."

She leaned closer, her voice small. "You really think you can beat the goddess?"

Ryu looked out the window, toward the fading moonlight on the horizon. "I don't think. I know."

And for a moment, Nina believed it too—not just in the words, but in him. The boy who once cried beneath castle ramparts. The dragon who would soon challenge a god.

Their destinies were no longer a mystery. They were promises—etched into the stars, waiting to be fulfilled.

"No matter what happens," he said, "I'll face it. With you. With all of you."

Nina leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have to carry it alone."

"I don't," Ryu whispered. Suddenly, Ryu leaned in and kissed her.

It was unexpected—tender and searching, filled with all the unspoken things they had carried for so long. Nina froze for the briefest moment, heart pounding in her chest. But then she melted into him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she returned his affection, not just with her lips but with the years of quiet longing that now finally found a voice.

The storm in their heads had long passed. The candlelight flickered in the quiet, casting golden shadows across the walls of the small room. Alone at last, with the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, they surrendered to each other completely.

They climbed into bed, not as princess and dragon, nor as warriors destined to face gods, but as two souls who had spent a lifetime orbiting one another—finally colliding.

⸻

Morning came gently, slipping through the window as a warm breeze stirred the curtains. The scent of sea salt lingered faintly in the air.

Ryu awoke first, blinking into the sunlight as he felt the warmth beside him. Nina lay there, her golden hair fanned out on the pillow, her breathing soft and steady. The sheets barely clung to their forms, a quiet intimacy shared in the hush of dawn.

As if sensing his gaze, Nina stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a sleepy, content smile.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice still wrapped in dreams.

"I love you too," Ryu replied, his hand brushing a lock of hair from her face.

They lay there for a moment longer, wrapped in silence and warmth, as the golden morning light filtered through the window. No words were needed. No burdens pressed upon their shoulders. For now, there was only peace. For now, the gods could wait.

That peace shattered like glass as the door suddenly burst open. "Rise and shine! Time to—" Rei's voice trailed off as he took in the scene: Ryu and Nina scrambling beneath the sheets, eyes wide with embarrassment, limbs tangled in a frantic attempt to salvage modesty.

Rei froze in the doorway, a smirk quickly spreading across his face. He leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and one brow raised. "Well, well… this is a surprise. Is there room for a third player?"

Ryu snatched a pillow and hurled it at him. "Damn it, Rei! Knock first!"

Rei ducked the flying pillow with ease, laughing as he stepped back. "Alright, alright! Calm down—just kidding!" He started to close the door behind him, his voice trailing back through the crack with an unmistakable chuckle. "Doesn't that beat all? Our little crybaby's finally grown up into a man."

The door clicked shut, leaving Ryu and Nina in stunned silence for a beat before they both burst into laughter. Nina buried her face in Ryu's shoulder, her cheeks flushed, while Ryu groaned and fell back into the pillow.

"Well," Nina said between giggles, "so much for keeping it a secret."

Ryu sighed, wrapping an arm around her and grinning. "He was bound to find out. Still… I wish it wasn't like that."

Suddenly, the door creaked open again. "Ryu, I need to discuss something with—" Garr's deep voice cut off as he stepped into the room, eyes falling squarely on the disheveled bed and the unmistakable forms of Ryu and Nina entangled beneath the sheets.

The towering Guardian blinked once, then rolled his eyes with a grunt of disapproval. "Mortals…" he muttered, voice thick with exasperation. "Hurry up and finish your breeding session. We must leave soon."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door swinging shut behind him with a definitive thud.

Ryu sat up, red-faced. "Don't call it that!" he shouted after him.

Nina burst into laughter, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook. "I can't believe he just said that," she giggled. "You're never going to live this down."

Ryu groaned and flopped back into the pillows. "First Rei, now Garr… I swear, if Peco walks in next, I'm jumping overboard."

Still laughing, Nina nudged him playfully. "Come on, Dragon-boy. Let's get dressed before someone else barges in with commentary."

He sighed dramatically, but couldn't help smiling as he pulled himself out of bed. "Saving the world really doesn't come with enough privacy."

Hand in hand, they began to dress—no longer just comrades, but something far deeper. And whatever waited for them out there, they would face it side by side.