Warmth pressed against Azhareth’s chest long before consciousness returned.

  It wasn't a fire.

  Not lightning.

  Not mana.

  Just warmth.

  A soft, persistent weight breathing gently against his ribcage.

  When he finally pried his eyes open, he found himself on a battered sofa beneath a threadbare blanket, the peeling wallpaper of Mira’s tiny apartment swimming into focus. The room smelled faintly of soup, fabric softener, and old wood.

  He tried lifting a hand—

  Agony shot down his nerves.

  His arm felt burnt from the inside.

  His ribs throbbed with each breath.

  His demon-soul held the body together, repairing damage that should have killed Raine instantly… but the vessel was still too weak. Fragile. Mortal.

  Something flickered against his chin.

  A small, storm-gray puppy stared up at him with glowing tear-marks and soft lightning crackling in its fur.

  “…Rai.”

  The puppy yipped in relief, nuzzling back into his chest.

  So he really hadn’t dreamed of the end of Gorvath.

  A shadow stirred beside him.

  Mira jerked awake from her chair, hair messy, eyes wide.

  “Raine?! You’re awake—oh thank God—!”

  She practically dove forward, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead, then his cheeks, then his neck.

  “You’re burning! And freezing! And shaking—what did you DO?!” she demanded, voice cracking.

  Azhareth blinked up at her, confused.

  “…Mira. Please calm down.”

  Her eyebrow twitched violently.

  Calm?

  He looked half-dead.

  She grabbed his left arm—and immediately froze at the charred skin wrapped in hastily applied bandages.

  “…Oh my God. Raine… this is… these are mana burn marks.”

  She swallowed.

  “These come from dungeon shockwaves. You were near that explosion, weren’t you?”

  Azhareth didn’t answer.

  He didn’t need to.

  Her mind filled in the rest.

  “You ran into the chaos to help people, didn’t you?! You—You stupid, brave, reckless idiot!”

  “…That is not—”

  “Don’t you lie to me!”

  She was crying now. Actual tears.

  Azhareth stared at her silently.

  Mira had lost her only child years ago to a dungeon accident.

  He had learned this from Raine’s memories.

  She wasn’t yelling at him.

  She was yelling at her grief.

  He exhaled softly.

  “…You carried me here?”

  Mira nodded, wiping her eyes.

  “You collapsed two blocks away from the blast zone… Raine, your clothes were scorched. I thought—”

  She choked.

  “I thought I lost another one.”

  Azhareth felt something tighten faintly in his chest.

  “…Thank you.”

  Mira froze as if struck.

  Then she hurried away, voice shaking.

  “I—I made soup. You’re drinking all of it. Don’t argue.”

  He let out a quiet sigh.

  In six hundred sixty-six lives, no one had fussed over him like this.

  Strange.

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  Annoying.

  Warm.

  Mira returned with soup, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV.

  Every channel showed the same thing:

  Emergency broadcasts.

  Barricades.

  Helicopters.

  A.R.E.S. drones scanning for lingering mana.

  Experts arguing over theories.

  A reporter shouted behind a police line:

  “A.R.E.S. confirms the creature measured over seventy meters—an entity beyond recorded history—!”

  Another:

  “Battle footage has been deleted at the request of certain authorities—!”

  A third displayed a leaked, blurry image of the titan’s corpse:

  “Experts point to precise puncture wounds, sparking debate on who dealt the finishing blow—!”

  Azhareth closed his eyes briefly.

  He hadn’t intended to reveal himself.

  Not this soon.

  Not in a body this weak.

  Rai growled at the screen each time someone mocked the mysterious savior.

  Mira scrolled through her phone.

  “Look, Raine—social media’s going insane!”

  He took a sip of soup as she read aloud:

  #EverhartDidIt

  “Rina Everhart soloed the titan!”

  “SS-rank supremacy!!”

  “She carried the city again!”

  “Why delete the drone footage?? Suspicious!”

  “Those wounds aren’t from her rapier.”

  “Cover-up confirmed.”

  “A phantom hunter saved everyone.”

  “His movements were too fast—this was no human.”

  “Eyewitnesses saw a blur holding… a broom???”

  (joke → meme → now trending)

  “The janitor meta is real.”

  “Broom > Rapier. Facts.”

  “Drop the Broom Warrior skin already!”

  Azhareth stared at the TV, deadpan.

  “…Ridiculous.”

  Mira elbowed him playfully.

  “Oh hush. What if you really WERE the broom guy?”

  He nearly choked on soup.

  “…No.”

  “But you do have a broom in your closet…” she teased.

  He looked away.

  This world was absurd.

  Mira suddenly noticed the puppy again.

  “And YOU—come here, sweet little baby—!”

  Rai squeaked and hid under Azhareth’s chin.

  “…He bites,” Azhareth warned.

  Rai growled: grrr.

  Mira gasped dramatically.

  “I don’t care—I would DIE for him.”

  Before Azhareth could stop her, she scooped Rai up.

  Rai sparked nervously—then melted when Mira scratched behind his ear.

  Azhareth stared blankly.

  Traitorous beast.

  With Mira busy reorganizing blankets, Azhareth tested his arms again.

  He tried circulating mana—just a little.

  Lightning flickered—

  Pain exploded.

  His arm seized. A vein burst. Rai yipped. Then—

  “RAINE ASHVEIL WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

  Mira stormed over, waving a ladle like a weapon.

  He sighed.

  “…Breathing.”

  “No you weren’t!”

  She shoved him gently back onto the sofa.

  “If you move ONE MORE MUSCLE I swear—!”

  He complied.

  He had toppled kingdoms.

  Conquered continents.

  Now he was being scolded by a kind, angry woman with a ladle.

  Life was unpredictable.

  Across the city—

  Rina Everhart locked herself in her room.

  She closed the curtains.

  Dimmed the lights.

  Activated her private workstation.

  Her hands trembled as she inserted her drone’s shadow-recording chip.

  “…Please,” she whispered.

  “Please tell me I wasn’t hallucinating.”

  The footage loaded.

  Dust.

  Thunder.

  A titan collapsing.

  And then—

  A man.

  Short black hair.

  Scorched arm.

  Weak posture.

  A broom in his hand.

  Moving with more grace than any hunter she’d ever seen.

  She slowed the recording.

  Then more.

  Then frame-by-frame.

  Until—

  She saw his face clearly.

  Calm.

  Tired.

  Ancient eyes in a young man.

  Her breath caught.

  She uploaded the image into her family’s private hunter database—a level of access only the Everhart conglomerate possessed.

  Scanning…

  Matching facial structure…

  Cross-referencing incident entries…

  A result flashed.

  Raine Ashveil

  Rank: F

  Age: 23

  Condition: Collapsed near titan site

  Address: District 43

  Rina froze.

  “…F-rank?”

  Her pulse raced.

  Her lips curled into a slow, disbelieving smile.

  Her hand trembled—not with fear, but anticipation.

  “…Found you.”