He was no longer on the island.
Instead, he stood in a familiar place — the quiet riverside clearing of his inner world. The water flowed in endless silence, its surface glowing with a soft, pale light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The air felt dense, warm, almost alive, wrapping around him like a gentle embrace after violence.
For a moment, he simply breathed.
Here, exhaustion could not reach him.
And there, drifting above the slow current, was Pami.
“Well done,” the fish said, his voice calm, carrying a quiet pride that rippled through the stillness. “You’ve truly impressed me.”
Adlet froze.
It had been so long since he had seen him — too long. A wave of emotion rose before he could stop it. Pami was more than a Guardian. He had been the first to believe in him… the first to see something worth nurturing when Adlet himself had only known doubt.
Without Pami, there would have been no journey. No dream. No Protector.
A tear slipped down Adlet’s cheek.
“Thank you… my friend,” he whispered.
Pami’s seven tails swayed gently behind him, trailing streams of luminous light through the water like drifting ribbons.
“You’ve grown stronger,” he said.
Adlet lowered his gaze, overwhelmed. Memories surfaced one after another — fear, struggle, failure, perseverance — every step that had led him here.
“It’s all thanks to you,” he admitted quietly.
A soft chuckle echoed across the clearing, sending ripples across the river’s glowing surface.
“If you continue like this,” Pami said, “you will soon be able to come here whenever you wish.”
Adlet’s eyes widened.
The idea struck him deeply. To reach this place by will alone — to speak freely with his Guardian — had once felt impossibly distant. Now it sounded close. Real.
Then something caught his attention.
One of Pami’s tails burned with a new light.
Red.
Deep and radiant.
Black, green, and red now flowed together behind the Guardian, three living colors weaving slowly through the air in hypnotic harmony.
Adlet felt a faint heat in his chest.
“So… I assimilated it,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Pami replied, his tone turning solemn. “You did not merely defeat it. You claimed its strength with your entire being. Few survive such a trial… fewer still emerge victorious.”
Images flashed through Adlet’s mind — fire swallowing the world, burning flesh, the desperate struggle of wills.
“I’m glad,” he said quietly. “It was… terrifying.”
“And now,” Pami continued, “its power is yours. Another step forward. Another proof that your path is truly your own.”
Adlet exhaled slowly. Relief, pride, and lingering disbelief tangled within him. He had survived something that should have ended him.
For a fleeting moment, he wished he could remain here — suspended in calm, far from pain and danger.
Then reality crashed back into his thoughts.
“My friend — Polo!” he blurted, panic tightening his chest. “How is he?”
“He still lives,” Pami answered gently. “But he remains unconscious. He will require care soon.”
Adlet’s form flickered, the connection already weakening as urgency pulled him away.
“Then I have to go,” he said quickly. “He needs me… But I’ll come back. I promise.”
Pami’s eyes softened.
“Of course,” he replied. “It’s not as though I can leave.”
A faint laugh escaped Adlet — fragile, but genuine. Somehow, Pami always knew how to ease the weight pressing on his heart.
“See you soon… my friend.”
The river dimmed.
Light fractured into drifting fragments, dissolving around him as the inner world faded away.
And as consciousness slipped from his grasp, one final thought echoed within him like a vow:
I won’t let down the ones who believed in me.
Adlet awoke to pain.
Not a dull ache — but sharp, burning agony that pierced through his chest and limbs like countless needles driven beneath his skin. Breath tore back into his lungs in a ragged gasp, and for a moment he couldn’t move at all. His body felt impossibly heavy, as if something vast pressed down from within rather than without.
The peaceful stillness of his inner world vanished instantly.
Reality returned all at once — heat, dust, the metallic scent of scorched stone.
His vision cleared slowly.
Before him lay the shattered slope where the Ruby Turtle had fallen. The mountain face was torn open, blackened rock scattered across the clearing. No massive body remained. Only faint motes of crimson light still drifted through the air, lingering like dying embers.
As he watched, the last fragments dissolved… and flowed toward him.
Thin strands of red light brushed against his skin before sinking into it, disappearing beneath the surface. A tremor ran through his body. Each pulse felt alive — foreign, powerful — beating out of rhythm with his own heart.
A deep vibration echoed in his chest.
Slow.
Heavy.
Not entirely his.
The Apex’s essence had not finished settling. It moved through him like molten current, searching for balance, reshaping something deep inside his Aura.
Adlet swallowed hard, forcing himself upright despite the protest of every muscle.
Polo.
The thought struck him like lightning.
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He turned immediately toward the rocky shelter where he had dragged his friend.
Polo still lay where he had left him — unmoving, body marked with burns and bruises, dust clinging to his clothes. The sight tightened Adlet’s chest painfully.
He had almost lost him.
“Polo! Hey— wake up!” Adlet called, his voice hoarse, cracking under the strain.
No response.
He stumbled forward and dropped to his knees beside him, carefully gripping his shoulders. His hands trembled as he searched for movement — breath, warmth, anything.
Nothing.
Panic surged upward, cold and suffocating.
Then a desperate idea formed.
Adlet inhaled sharply and brought his hands together. Green Aura flickered to life between his palms — unstable, uneven, reacting more to urgency than control.
He hesitated only a second before guiding it toward Polo’s body.
Soft green light spilled outward, wavering like a flame struggling against wind. He didn’t know the correct method. Didn’t know if healing another person even worked the same way.
All he had was instinct.
And refusal to lose another companion.
Minutes crawled past.
Sweat ran down his brow as he focused, forcing the energy outward. The Aura responded awkwardly, surging in bursts rather than flowing smoothly, as though his survival instinct was guiding the process in place of knowledge.
Come on… please…
Doubt gnawed at him.
Then—
A weak breath escaped Polo’s lips.
“A… Adlet… you’re alive…”
His eyes fluttered open slightly, unfocused, catching glimpses of green light hovering above him.
Relief hit Adlet so suddenly it nearly stole his strength.
“Of course I am,” he said, forcing a strained grin despite the tightness in his throat. “You didn’t think a little turtle could get rid of us that easily, did you?”
Polo managed the faintest smile, though exhaustion weighed heavily on his features. His gaze lingered on the green Aura flowing around Adlet’s hands.
“That power…” he whispered weakly. “What… is it?”
Adlet froze.
The question hung between them, heavier than the battle they had just survived.
He hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrecy press down on him. Revealing a Guardian’s abilities was never taken lightly among Protectors.
But Polo had dragged him from the sea. Had risked his life for him.
Adlet exhaled slowly.
“I’m sorry I kept this from you,” he said quietly. “This… is the Aura of my second Guardian.”
Polo’s eyes widened despite his exhaustion. His body tensed slightly, shock breaking through the haze of pain.
“What did you say…?” he murmured. “It’s… normal not to reveal your powers…” His voice faded, strength failing him before the thought could fully form.
“I’ll explain everything when you’re better,” Adlet said gently.
He returned his focus to the healing, maintaining the fragile flow of green light. Whether it truly worked or not, he couldn’t tell — wounds closed only slowly, unevenly — but stopping felt unthinkable.
He stayed there, refusing to move.
Until his Aura began to flicker.
The glow weakened… then collapsed entirely.
Exhaustion struck without warning.
Adlet swayed, vision dimming, and with a quiet groan he fell sideways beside Polo, too drained to resist sleep any longer.
When Adlet woke again, darkness had claimed the island.
The faint glow of their small fire had faded to scattered embers, breathing weak pulses of red light into the night. Shadows stretched long between the rocks, shifting whenever the wind stirred the ash. Somewhere deeper in the forest, distant cries echoed — low, unfamiliar sounds that reminded him instantly where they were.
The Forbidden Island never truly slept.
Adlet pushed himself upright with a quiet groan. Every movement reminded him of the battle, of heat and fire and the edge he had nearly crossed. Across from him, Polo sat with his back against a stone, pale but awake, watching him carefully.
Relief softened Polo’s expression the moment their eyes met.
“Thanks, Adlet,” he said quietly. His voice was rough, still weakened, but sincere. “I owe you my life.”
Adlet let out a tired breath, managing a faint smile.
“Just… don’t make me go through that again, alright?”
The words echoed an old joke between them — one that felt strangely fragile now. He didn’t truly have the strength to laugh, but saying it grounded him, reminded him that they were still alive.
Polo chuckled weakly, though it quickly turned into a cough he struggled to suppress. The sound faded, leaving only the soft whisper of wind brushing across stone and leaves.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The weight of what had happened lingered between them — the shipwreck, the island, the monster they had barely survived.
At last, Polo broke the silence.
“So…” he said, more carefully this time, “you can really use two Auras now?”
Adlet nodded slowly. The embers reflected faintly in his eyes.
“Yes.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “And after that fight… I think there’ll be a third soon.”
Polo blinked, surprise overtaking his exhaustion.
“A third…?” he repeated, half in awe, half in disbelief. “If my father ever heard that, he’d lose his mind.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips — then faded as curiosity took over.
“But seriously… how does something like that even happen?”
Adlet stared into the dying fire.
For a moment, he considered deflecting the question. Keeping things simple. Safe.
Instead, he exhaled slowly.
And began to speak.
He told him about Pami. About the river within his spirit. About his master and the training that had shaped him. About the scarab, the choices he had made, and the path that had slowly led him here — step by step, battle by battle.
The words came easier than he expected.
Each confession felt like setting down a weight he had carried alone for too long.
When he finally fell silent, the night seemed quieter somehow.
Polo simply stared at him, eyes wide, struggling to process everything he had heard.
“That’s…” he murmured at last. “That’s incredible.”
Adlet’s gaze drifted away, toward the dark outline of the forest.
“…And terrifying,” he added softly. “My master warned me. I didn’t really understand back then… but now I do.”
He flexed his fingers unconsciously, remembering the fire, the pain, the moment he had almost lost himself to survival instinct alone.
“If people learned what I am,” he continued quietly, “I don’t know what they’d see. A Protector… or something else.”
For a moment, only the wind answered him.
Then Polo smiled — small, tired, but steady.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Your secret’s safe with me. Even from my father.”
He paused, then added with a faint grin:
“Especially from him.”
A quiet laugh escaped Adlet before he could stop it.
The tension in his chest eased slightly, replaced by something warmer — trust, simple and solid.
For the first time since waking on the island, the fear pressing against his thoughts loosened its grip.
They were still trapped.
Still surrounded by monsters.
But he wasn’t facing it alone.
The night stretched on, long and uneasy.
Sleep came only in fragments. Pain lingered beneath every movement, and the mountains refused true silence. Distant roars echoed from unseen valleys, sometimes answered by heavier sounds rolling across the cliffs like distant thunder. Loose stones shifted without warning along the slopes, and the wind carried harsh scents of heated rock and mineral dust.
Rest never felt safe here.
When the faint glow of morning finally crept across the jagged peaks, Polo stirred first. His breathing was steadier now, though every motion still cost him effort. He carefully checked the bindings around his chest and shoulder, tightening them where they had loosened during the night.
“We’ll have to manage with this,” he murmured. “No real treatment up here… just time.”
Adlet nodded. There was nothing else to rely on. No shelter but stone, no resources beyond what they already carried.
They spent the morning reinforcing their position among the rocks, stacking loose slabs to break the wind and conceal their presence from anything flying overhead. Meltwater trickling through cracks in the mountain provided just enough to drink, and they rationed what little food remained.
Recovery came slowly.
Hours passed in stillness broken only by careful movement — stretching stiff limbs, testing balance, forcing strength back into bodies pushed too far. Burns tightened as they healed, bruises darkened and faded, and little by little their breathing steadied.
Time felt distorted on the island.
Some days were spent resting in silence, conserving energy while distant Apex cries rolled across the ridges. Others were devoted to cautious movement along nearby slopes, rebuilding endurance without straying far from cover. Every sound carried far in the mountains; every misstep could echo like a signal.
Gradually, exhaustion gave way to resilience.
When they could finally stand without wavering — when running no longer sent pain lancing through their legs — they packed their belongings in silence.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Beyond the ridge, the island stretched endlessly in jagged layers of stone and mist, vast and indifferent.
Nothing about their situation had truly improved.
They were still stranded. Still deep within territory ruled by creatures far beyond their level.
But their purpose remained unchanged.
Adlet adjusted the strap across his shoulder and lifted his gaze toward the higher peaks cutting into the distance.
Their next goal had never changed.
They would find Linoa and Lucien.
And this time, they would keep moving forward — no matter what the mountain chose to throw at them.
Every voice echoes through the stone, shaping the secrets it holds.
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