The Guardian Of The Multiverse

(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)
No Pov
Saber and Adriel walked side by side, the servant invisible, conversing telepathically with the Guardian. It had been an exhausting day for Adriel. Managing the aftermath of such catastrophic destruction so quickly had stretched his patience. Despite the vast scale of Ace and Shinra's battle—where time and space had been torn apart countless times, and speeds exceeded even the immeasurable—Adriel had ensured that the citizens of this world noticed only a few explosions and flashes of blinding light. It was not hard for the Guardian, but it was tedious. Fixing the fabric of existence in real-time as it unraveled was like threading an infinite needle.
What surprised Adriel most, however, wasn't the chaos of the day—it was his apprentice. Sure, he had to give credit to Ace. The pirate had evolved so quickly that even SCP-682 might applaud how fast he was adapting. Specifically, Peter. If Adriel was being honest, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at how rapidly their power was growing. Compared to his own arduous rise, their progress felt meteoric. But Adriel pushed those thoughts aside; they were just shadows of doubt. Deep down, he was proud they could handle themselves so well in such impossible circumstances.
Speaking of Peter, the Guardian never imagined that the multi-purposed Narralith suit Peter created—capable of transforming into every suit he'd ever seen—would exceed their theoretical expectations. Originally, Peter had designed the suit to emulate the Velocity Suit from the Marvel Spider-Man games, allowing him to function as a speedster. To power this suit, they'd created a source within the Nexus: their own version of the Speed Force.
Of course, they admitted it was a cheat. But the Speed Force they created wasn't just lifted wholesale from DC Comics. No, it was something more. It was inspired by DC's concept of speed, yet it transcended what the DC Omniverse defined as "speed." This was because the Nexus, existing far above that Omniverse, acted as a server containing all information from the real-world internet.
The Speed Formula they created in the Nexus wasn't fictional speed as DC defined it. It was the literal concept of speed as perceived in the real world.
There was fictional speed, and then there was non-fictional speed.
The imaginary and the real.
And somehow, what Adriel and Peter had created in the Nexus had decided to copy the real. Why this copy transformed into something else entirely, they still didn't fully understand.
Adriel's mind wandered to a thought that had been troubling him: What if we tried to create the 6th Dimension from DC Comics in the Nexus? Would it replicate the 6th Dimension as it's perceived in the real world? Or would it embody the version defined within DC's cosmology? Or— his mind paused at the possibility, —would it become a combination of both fiction and non-fiction?
Artoria's voice broke into his thoughts, amused. "Are you aware that you're speaking your mind aloud again?"
Adriel snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head. "Sorry, sometimes I forget I have the link active and start thinking out loud."
Artoria waved off his apology. "Don't be. I don't mind. Just reminding you," she said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "I can't help but be curious, though. Does the Nexus truly allow you to do... everything?"
Her question hung in the air, the weight of its implications reflecting her curiosity.
"Basically, I guess," Adriel said.
"Are you unsure of that layer's capabilities?" Artoria tilted her head.
"I've kind of summed it all up as, 'I can do all and be all,' in lazy terms," he replied, sighing. "The complicated version would take a while to explain, and honestly, I don't want to go down that rabbit hole again."
"I can understand that," Artoria nodded.
A few moments of silence lingered as they approached the mess hall. Artoria shifted uncomfortably, her body language betraying her unease. Adriel noticed immediately, thanks to his Accelerated Vision and thermal detection. Instead of addressing her outright, he stopped at a corner and spoke telepathically.
"You're about to ask me when you'll be able to reveal yourself as a new Guardian to these people, right?" he asked, his tone calm but direct, as if reading her thoughts.
Artoria hesitated before responding with a soft hum of confirmation. "Yes... Do you think they'll recognize me?"
Adriel stood still, thinking for a moment. "You do look different from your Alter form, that's for sure. But not everyone here is gullible. Kindred will definitely be suspicious, and Qiyana too. Neeko might be naïve enough not to notice, though," he said analytically.
Artoria's gaze dropped. "Was accepting me worth the risk?" she asked, her voice tinged with insecurity.
"Yes, it was," he replied immediately, without hesitation. "But I'll take care of it. I'll just have to pull a Light Yagami and handle the situation."
Artoria narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you planning to manipulate an entire nation?"
"If it's for the greater good, anything is fair game," Adriel admitted. "I know it might look questionable. But sometimes we have to do things we don't like. Sometimes it's inevitable," he said, his tone growing somber as his gaze lowered in thought.
Artoria sighed, a quiet acknowledgment of his point. "Alright, I'll trust you, then."
"Don't worry," Adriel said with a faint smile. "If I can think of another way, I will. But for now, I can't have people rebelling because I decided to accept someone they see as an enemy who destroyed their homes. I'm sure they aren't going to be so accepting of 'second chances' like I am."
"Yes," she nodded. "You're right. I'll trust you, Guardian."
"It's no problem, really. I understand your predicament," he reassured her with a gentle smile. "So, let's do this." He paused, then said, "Be visible."
Artoria's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure about this, Guardian?"
He chuckled softly. "I'm certain it'll be fine. They'll assume you're part of the Guardians because you're with me. Besides, your clothes are different from the norm on this planet, so that should help. Honestly, you'll be fine."
Artoria looked down for a moment, weighing her options, before undoing her invisibility. "Alright, I'm ready."
"To eat?" he teased with a chuckle.
She turned her head away with an almost imperceptible pout. "No comment."
The two of them entered the mess hall. The people working in the heart of Ixaocan were a mix of champions and the Guardians themselves. A few civilians also resided here, mainly as maids and butlers.
What surprised the Guardians most was the sheer number of people who willingly wanted to serve them out of gratitude. Ultimately, only about thirty individuals were accepted, while the rest were politely dismissed to live their own lives in the region.
Speaking of the city, its construction was completed within the predicted timeframe—just two days—and it was already fully functional. This extraordinary feat was achieved thanks to Adriel and Artoria working at such unbelievable speeds that it left the populace utterly flabbergasted. Adriel operated in the spotlight, while Artoria worked quietly in the shadows. Once the construction was finished, the people quickly returned to their daily lives, their spirits lifted.
If an outsider were to witness the current state of Ixtal, they might assume the region was experiencing a Golden Era, thanks to the remarkable advancements brought about by the Guardians.
Ixtal's population, once decimated by the Darks' merciless massacres of "insignificant" lives, now stood at around 5,000. This resurgence came after Qiyana liberated the region with Adriel's help. Despite the losses, the remaining population began to rebuild, unified under their newfound hope in the Guardians.
Adriel and Artoria approached one of the food stalls that served high-quality meals. The dishes were made possible by Adriel's infinite inventory of culinary wonders, which he could summon at will. The chef behind the stall smiled brightly at the sight of Adriel—the Guardian who commanded respect and admiration throughout the region. To Adriel's endless annoyance, he was also a figure of prayer.
The chef greeted him warmly. "Good afternoon, Guardian! Today, I made your favorite!" she said, her voice cheerful and her faint blush unmistakable.
Adriel tilted his head. "Mofongo?" he asked, as if already knowing the answer.
"Mhm!" she nodded eagerly and served him a steaming plate.
"Wow," Adriel said with genuine appreciation. "I just gave you guys the recipe this morning. Thanks, this reminds me of home." He nodded gratefully.
"I-I'm so glad, sir!" the chef stammered, her voice trembling slightly. Internally, she was fangirling. He praised me! HAAA~!
Adriel sighed inwardly. God help me.
The chef's attention then shifted to the woman standing beside Adriel. She couldn't help but be captivated by Artoria's regal appearance. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Miss, are you another Guardian?" She quickly covered her mouth in awe.
Artoria met the chef's gaze with calm poise. "Yes, I am. My name is Artoria Pendragon, the Knight Guardian of Justice," she declared with honor.
The chef gasped in admiration. "Oh, wow! We have four Guardians?! That's so cool!" She paused, her excitement palpable. "Ah! I've been taking up your time—please go and eat! The Queen is waiting for you, Guardian, at the dining table with the other champions!" she informed them quickly.
"Were they given food already?" Adriel asked.
"Yes, sir! We delivered it to them," the chef said, then hesitated. Her expression turned hesitant yet determined. "Though, sir... if you don't mind me asking, why don't you let us deliver your food? It feels like you don't like us," she said boldly, though her tone was respectful.
Adriel sighed, his expression softening. "I don't hate you guys. Don't overthink it. I'm just... not used to it. So please, don't think that way," he reassured her with a smile.
Her demeanor brightened instantly, her sadness melting away. "That's such a relief to hear, sir! Now, please excuse me and enjoy your food!" she said with a deep bow before hurrying back to the kitchen, visibly elated.
Artoria and Adriel stood in silence for a few moments, their plates in hand.
"You know..." Artoria finally spoke, breaking the silence. "You're going to have to get used to this... glorification."
Adriel didn't respond immediately, his expression thoughtful. He knew she was right. As much as he told people not to revere him as a god, it seemed futile. His very presence, coupled with his effortless liberation of Ixtal, had cemented an almost divine perception of him in their eyes.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I know... let's just go eat with the others."
"Yes, let us go," Artoria agreed, leading the way to the dining table where the surviving champions were already gathered.
Neeko perked up when she noticed Adriel entering the mess hall. She quickly raised her hand and pointed at an open spot beside her. "Oh! Oh! Guardian, Neeko has a spot for you! Join us," she said cheerfully.
Adriel's eyes landed on the empty seat. "Sure, don't mind if I do," he said before pausing to gesture toward Artoria, who stood beside him. "But before that..." he began, introducing her. "Guys, this is Artoria Pendragon—another one of us Guardians."
"Another one?" Lamb tilted her head in curiosity.
"How many of you are there?" Wolf asked bluntly.
"Just the four of us here," Adriel replied. "The other two are resting after a big fight."
Qiyana narrowed her eyes slightly. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Artoria," she said cryptically.
"It's a pleasure," Artoria nodded respectfully before taking a seat beside Lamb, while Adriel sat next to Neeko.
The moment Adriel sat down, Neeko latched onto him, clinging to his arm. "So, what are you guys planning to do now?" she asked brightly.
Adriel, startled by the sudden intimacy, managed to hide his discomfort well. Well, she's gotten more clingy, he thought to himself before responding. "Artoria and I are heading to Shurima next while Peter and Ace rest up. It shouldn't take too long for them to recover. Their healing factors are no joke. They'll probably be fine in a few hours, though they need time to recover from the mental exhaustion... which is a lot."
"How so?" Wolf asked, his curiosity evident.
Adriel's tone became serious. "Well... Peter spent nearly a century trapped inside a psychopathic machine's stomach. The things he saw and endured—honestly, anyone would've gone insane. If he hadn't been monitored or developed the abilities of a Guardian, he would've lost his mind long ago."
"How bad was it?" Wolf asked insensitively.
Lamb immediately smacked him. "Wolf, are you serious?"
"What?! I was curious, okay?" Wolf growled defensively. "It's not every day we hear details about how Darks and Guardians fight. All I ever see is an ungodly amount of destruction from miles away."
"Neeko can't argue with that... Neeko is curious too," she admitted hesitantly. "But Neeko doesn't want to make you say things that are... disturbing," she added, her voice tinged with fear.
Wolf lowered his gaze, giving up on his question.
Adriel shrugged. "Well, that's up to Peter if he wants to share the details with you all when he wakes up."
The table nodded in agreement, leaving the topic to rest.
Meanwhile, Qiyana continued to side-eye Artoria suspiciously.
Artoria, unbothered, simply continued eating her food.
"Qiyana?" Lamb finally broke the silence, addressing her. "Are you okay—"
Her question was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Fortune, who walked into the room carrying a plate of food.
"...Uh, hello?" Sarah said awkwardly as everyone turned to look at her—everyone except Artoria, who continued to eat happily.
"I apologize," Adriel said, gesturing toward an open seat at the table. "You just surprised us with your entrance. Please, join us."
Sarah stared at Adriel for a long moment, her gaze making the Guardian shift uncomfortably. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.
Realizing she was staring, Sarah quickly shook her head. "O-oh! I'm sorry, it's just... you're the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on," she admitted honestly.
Adriel didn't flinch at the compliment. "Oh, thank you," he said with a polite smile before gesturing toward the seat again. Neeko, meanwhile, clung a little tighter to Adriel's arm.
For fuck's sake, Adriel thought to himself.
Sarah quickly sat down, looking slightly flustered.
"How are you feeling, Sarah?" Adriel asked, breaking the silence before it could grow awkward.
"How do you—"
"He's a god sent from a completely different reality," Lamb interrupted, as if she'd answered the question a hundred times before. "He and his companions have come to free Runeterra from the forces of Darkness. So, any and all information is passively given to him. Long story short, he and his companions are nigh-omniscient."
Sarah narrowed her eyes, glancing between Adriel and Artoria. "Is that so?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Adriel replied. "Ace—one of us Guardians—was the one who saved you. You almost died at the hands of Shinra."
Sarah shivered at the memory, hugging herself tightly. "...So that's his name," she murmured. Raising her gaze, she looked directly at Adriel. "H-how..." she paused, her voice trembling. "How is he?"
Adriel smiled warmly. "He's doing alright. He fought hard and won. You don't have to worry."
Sarah let out a sigh of relief. "What about Bilgewater?" she asked hesitantly.
This time, Artoria answered. "The amount of destruction that occurred during the battle was inevitable, considering the power both Ace and Shinra wielded. Bilgewater has been wiped from the map. I'm sorry," she said, bowing slightly even while seated.
"...It's... probably for the best," Sarah replied softly. "I have nothing but bad memories of that place now..."
"I can restore Bilgewater to its former glory," Adriel offered, drawing Sarah's attention.
"How?" she asked curiously.
"Are you doing the same thing you did with Ixtal?" Neeko chimed in.
"I plan to restore everything," Adriel explained, "but to do that, I need to eliminate all the Darks in this dimension first. Once they're gone, the restoration process will be much easier."
The entire table, except for Artoria, turned their heads toward the Guardian with shocked expressions. How could he possibly create an entire universe from scratch? They were aware of the vast extent of his power, but understanding the sheer complexity of recreating every single facet of existence after the damage caused by the Darks was beyond their comprehension.
The universe had been utterly violated by the hands of the Spider-God. He had corrupted every single thing in existence—and beyond—warping it into an amalgamation of concepts and forms that they couldn't even begin to fathom. Nor would they ever, for a single glimpse of what he was creating would shatter their minds. The machinations were incomprehensible, designed on a level so alien that mortal thought could not hope to grasp it.
The Spider-God's corruption stretched down to the very fabric of reality. Changes to elementary particles, to the Planck length itself (1.6×10−35 meters)—the very smallest unit of measurable space. Even spacetime's "quantum foam," the frothing, fluctuating structure at the smallest scales of existence, had been twisted by his influence. This foam, representing the tiniest framework of the universe's fabric, had been corrupted.
From these infinitesimal scales, the corruption extended outward, encompassing the largest structures known to existence. Galaxies and superclusters, cosmic webs, the great Large Quasar Groups, and even the colossal Hercules–Corona Borealis Great Wall were affected. The Spider-God's reach extended beyond Dark Energy and even the Cosmic Horizon itself.
It didn't stop there. The multiverse itself had been altered—down to its smallest details. The complexity of its layers. The hyperdimensional. The outer realms. Even the Boundless.
And further still.
Even concepts that humanity could only theorize, like the Von Neumann universe model, were trivial in comparison to the Spider-God's creations. The multiverse and its infinite iterations were like pebbles to him. His works extended far beyond comprehension, surpassing the boundaries of even the most advanced cosmological theories.
Adriel had thought often about what Anasis was doing. He couldn't help but frown at the sheer absurdity of it all. It was as if that god sought to overload the League of Legends Omniverse itself, creating an explosion of such magnitude that it would ripple into The Bridge—the very layer of the internet that processed endless information and stories. Such an explosion would threaten to halt the constant flow of data and narratives streaming through that layer.
If The Bridge were to falter, the real world would notice. The internet, the lifeblood of modern civilization, would not be cut off for long, but the mere notion of it halting—even momentarily—was unfathomable.
But what did the Darks intend to achieve by halting the internet for just a few minutes?
Traversing the internet was like swimming in a river with infinite, unending currents flowing in all directions. Stories, information, and data streamed ceaselessly, 24/7, across its endless expanse. It was an incomprehensible torrent of energy and knowledge, flowing for as long as the internet itself existed.
Adriel couldn't even begin to explain the Spider-God's goals to those around him.
In fact, he couldn't explain it at all.
To them, such knowledge would be lethal. Fictional characters could not hope to grasp such concepts without their minds shattering under the weight of the information. It was a topic he consciously chose to avoid.
None of them could relate to it.
Adriel, being from the real world, could understand and process it. He could comprehend the Spider-God's machinations because his mind was grounded in reality. But the same could not be said for fictional beings.
Perhaps only Guardians and Darks could.
They were editors, after all.
"Does the restoration process require those of us who live here to remain alive? Is that why you persistently refuse our offers to help every time we ask?" Lamb asked, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration—a sentiment Adriel understood well. From the very beginning, she and Wolf had constantly offered their assistance in fighting the enemy, yet Adriel had always declined.
"Yes," Adriel replied without hesitation. "I need your very existence to replicate the universe as it was before the Darks altered it."
Wolf tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Why can't you just do it now? And why is it necessary for one of us to remain alive?"
Adriel hesitated, his thoughts racing. How the hell do I explain this to characters who don't understand technology from the real world? He sighed, finally speaking. "Well..." He paused, searching for the right analogy. "Imagine a species—unique, one of a kind in its dimension. Its existence is intrinsically tied to the universe's 'history.' Now, what happens when that species goes extinct?"
Sarah's expression darkened as she answered, "There's nothing left to restore it. It's gone forever."
Lamb tilted her head slightly, her curiosity undiminished. "But can't you just restore it? From nothingness?"
Adriel shrugged. "Under normal circumstances, I can restore something from nothing because I draw upon what remains in the universe's history."
In this case, Adriel referred to the "data" recorded by the universe—every variable, every nuance, preserved in a sort of cosmic ledger. In a way, it was like how authors keep notes to remember the details of their creations or how game developers document lore to ensure continuity across events and stories. That data allowed for restoration, provided something still existed to anchor it.
Qiyana narrowed her eyes, her analytical mind pushing further. "What makes this case different, then? Do the Darks somehow erase those memories—the history the universe has recorded?"
"Pretty much," Adriel replied nonchalantly. "The Darks corrupt. They don't just destroy; they annihilate meaning itself. They unravel what makes something special, erasing its significance entirely. Usually, this happens on a conceptual level, though sometimes it's complete. It's not difficult for Darks to obliterate a dimension so thoroughly that no one even remembers it ever existed."
Adriel's casual tone contrasted sharply with the horror of what he described, leaving the table in stunned silence. It ceases to exist in both fiction and reality, he thought to himself. In reality, people just forget about it, but in fiction, it's as if it was never there.
This distinction reminded him of a document he and Peter had written and saved in the Nexus: a categorization of the types of erasure, detailing just how thoroughly something could be wiped from existence.
Level 1: Physical ErasureThe simplest form, targeting only an entity's physical presence while leaving their memory, legacy, or conceptual framework intact.

Example: A character's body is destroyed, but their impact and memory persist.

Level 2: Memory ErasureThe removal of all tangible information about an entity—data, memories, and observable traces. Their essence may faintly linger, but nothing more.

Example: People forget a character ever existed, and no evidence remains in written or digital form.

Level 3: Temporal ErasureRewriting or removing an entity's presence in history, altering past events to nullify their contributions to the timeline.

Example: A character is erased retroactively, with historical events reshaped as though they never existed.

Level 4: Conceptual ErasureThe removal of an entity from the realm of abstract ideas, eliminating the fundamental concepts that define them.

Example: Erasing the concept of "justice" tied to a hero, making it impossible to remember or think of them as a champion of justice.

Level 5: Narrative ErasureThe retroactive removal of an entity from their narrative framework, rewriting the story to exclude them entirely.

Example: A character is erased from a book, their interactions replaced or removed without any trace of their role.

Level 6: Identity ErasureComplete annihilation of an entity's essence, including personality, memories, and purpose. This ensures no trace of their individuality can re-emerge.

Example: A character is erased so thoroughly that even their "is-ness"—the core of their existence—ceases to be.

Level 7: Meta-Reality ErasureThe ultimate form of erasure, removing an entity across both fictional and real boundaries. This involves erasing all references to them in the real world, including memories, records, and even their creators' knowledge of them.

Example: A character is erased so completely that no one remembers the book they were in, all copies vanish, and even the author forgets ever creating them.

Neeko shivered slightly, her voice trembling as she spoke. "So... that's why you always keep us away from the fight. Because if we champions die... you'll have no choice but to abandon this dimension..." She looked down, her expression heavy with the weight of the revelation.
"Exactly," Adriel confirmed, his voice solemn. "Omnipotence doesn't matter to a Dark. And I can't restore a world that has been consumed by them unless something from that dimension remains alive. The only ones capable of digging that deep into a corrupted world are Guardians."
Lamb perked up slightly. No wonder he's so insistent on keeping us off the battlefield, she thought. Yet the frustration gnawed at her. Doing absolutely nothing while the Guardians were out there saving a universe that wasn't even theirs felt unbearable. The same could be said for the other League champions. They knew war. They had endured events that shaped them into battle-hardened warriors, fighting for survival, even when they were forced to clash against each other in those twisted arenas created by beings beyond their comprehension.
But this was different. Once the Darks invaded, they faced an enemy so incomprehensibly above them that they felt powerless. Or so they believed.
What they didn't know—and what Adriel refused to tell them—was the existence of the Guardian's Blessings, a gift that allowed fictional characters to damage Pure Darks. And Adriel wouldn't tell them. Every time he thought about bringing them into battle, haunting memories of his time with the Avengers resurfaced. He froze as those gnawing voices invaded his mind, replaying moments that made him second-guess the decision to rely on allies.
In those past wars, Adriel had brought the Avengers to fight alongside him. After all, why fight a war alone when allies stood ready at his side? Yet the only victories he had ever secured came when he himself took on the Pure Darks, while the rest dealt with the Half-Darks. And even those were narrow victories.
In Lycoris Recoil, Chisato won because she wore his suit. In Cyberpunk, David had his suit as well—yet he still lost. He only survived because Adriel managed to recover his existence after he was erased on a temporal level.
And his most recent war? He lost everyone. They never stood a chance. It was just him and Peter, doing everything—literally everything. Hulk had managed to kill a single Half-Dark, earning credit where it was due, but after that, it was all Peter. The Avengers had fought valiantly, but in the end, it was Peter who saved them, while Adriel defeated Thanos after he had transformed into his 616 version.
Deep in Adriel's mind, the truth was simple: he was afraid. Afraid to rely on people he had grown fond of. Afraid of seeing them fall, as they had so many times before. That fear was justified—the evidence of it stretched across this cosmology, turned into Dark territory. The very ruins of existence were proof of what happens when he relied on others.
So Adriel resolved to shoulder the burden alone—just him and the other Guardians. He couldn't afford to rely on fictional characters who, no matter how strong, couldn't handle the reality of this war. Protecting them became his priority, even if it meant pushing them away.
"So..." Adriel spoke, his tone carrying an edge of finality, "just do me a favor and don't make me worry because one of you decided to 'help out.' I can't afford to lose any of you when you're the key to fixing this whole mess."
The champions stared down at their plates, the weight of his words suffocating the once-lively atmosphere. None of them touched their food.
Sarah nodded first, visibly shaken. After what Shinra had done to Bilgewater, she didn't need to be told twice. "You don't have to tell me again. I'd rather not mess with these... Darks after what just one of them did to my home. And you said there are Darks more powerful than that devil? Yeah, you don't have to worry about me," she said without a trace of shame.
Lamb narrowed her eyes at Sarah, disapproving of her bluntness, but the pirate didn't care. She returned to her meal, focused and silent.
Qiyana, meanwhile, sat in silence. She wanted to do more for the man who had saved her and her people, but his insistence made it clear she couldn't simply brush it off. In her mind, Adriel wasn't just their savior—he was their leader. She was only standing in for appearances' sake. "As you command, sir," she said curtly, rising from the table and leaving silently for her quarters.
Neeko shifted uncomfortably. She didn't know what to say, and offering advice wasn't her strong suit. So she remained quiet, staring at her empty plate with a mixture of frustration and helplessness.
Artoria, however, appeared unbothered. To her, what Adriel had said was simply a matter of fact. She used to be a Dark herself, so she understood his fears. The champions wouldn't be of much use in a fight against Pure Darks, anyway. "Guardian, I'm going to verify the condition of our comrades," she said, standing up and leaving the table promptly.
Now, Adriel sat alone at the table with the remaining champions. He sighed audibly, the weight of the conversation sitting heavy on his shoulders. It felt as though he had just scolded a group of children, leaving the air sour. But he told himself that it needed to be said.
"Enjoy your meals," he said softly before disappearing from the room in a flash of energy.
Neeko, Sarah, Lamb, and Wolf remained at the table in awkward silence.
"He's afraid," Lamb finally spoke.
"What makes you say that?" Sarah questioned, arching an eyebrow.
"It's his expression. He hides it well, but we are Death in this realm. We've learned to read such things," Wolf answered, his voice low and serious. "His face showed fear. Worry."
"Well, of course he's afraid," Sarah replied matter-of-factly. "I've only been here for a few minutes, and what little he's explained is already far beyond anyone's pay grade. Even yours, Kindred."
"Neeko just wonders... what made him so afraid to rely on us?" Neeko muttered, her voice soft and tinged with worry.
Lamb's gaze darkened thoughtfully. "The only explanation I can think of... is how many loved ones he's lost to build that kind of paranoia."
"Do you think..." Neeko paused, hesitating, "he will ever tell us?"
"..." Kindred remained silent, offering no answer.
Neeko took that silence as confirmation—a heavy, painful no. Her expression fell into sadness, the thought gnawing at her heart. She hated imagining her hero—a literal god—being so vulnerable. So afraid.
"Neeko will..." she paused, but her thought was interrupted.
"Don't," Sarah said firmly, cutting the vastaya off with a piercing glare. "To be really honest, I am incredibly grateful to him and his group. Especially Ace. He saved me—heck, they've saved entire countries and are in the process of saving our entire universe. They're more than kind for even bothering to help us in the first place."
Lamb interjected, her voice calm but sharp, "Are you suggesting that the Guardians shouldn't have bothered to help us?"
Sarah shrugged nonchalantly. "If that's what I thought, I wouldn't even be here. But think about it," she said, her tone growing more intense. "This war they're fighting—which, by the way, I don't know if any of you have fully realized—there are just four of them. Four! Against..." she gestured wildly, exasperated, "I don't even know how many of those 'Darks' there are! And they're doing it alone. No assistance, because we're a liability."
She paused, her expression darkening. "Look at Ace. Look at the other Guardians. Heck, who even knows what they've seen? You think a therapy session with them would help? No. It would probably kill us. They would traumatize anyone if they ever shared what really haunts them," Sarah concluded, her voice heavy with conviction.
Lamb looked down, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair tightly. Neeko wasn't faring much better, a deep frown cast downward at her lap. Wolf, having grown tired of the conversation, stood up and left without a word, retreating to his quarters.
Sarah noticed his departure and took it as her cue. Grabbing her plate, she stood and offered a parting comment. "Well, this was an awkward conversation. It's nice to see you all again," she said with a slight nod. Just as she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned slightly, her tone softer but still firm. "And don't bother the Guardians. You're not dense. Don't give them more trouble than they already have."
With that, she left the room.
The silence lingered in her absence. Lamb sat quietly, her thoughts swirling, while Neeko mirrored her demeanor, staring at nothing with a solemn expression.
Neeko sat at the table, her usually bright and curious demeanor dimmed by the weight of the conversation. Her vibrant, expressive eyes were downcast, staring at the remnants of her meal but not truly seeing them. For once, the chatter in her mind was quiet, replaced by a somber reflection.
She twirled a strand of her hair absentmindedly, her tail curling slightly around her chair. Why are the Guardians so scared to rely on us? she thought, her chest tightening. Neeko prided herself on her ability to connect with others, to feel what they felt. But Adriel's fear, though hidden behind his calm demeanor, was so heavy it almost suffocated her. It wasn't just fear of losing. It was fear of losing them. Fear of the consequences if they failed.
He's so strong, so powerful... a real god... but even gods can be afraid. The thought unsettled Neeko deeply. She wanted to help, to fight, to be useful. But the Guardians' refusal to involve them cut deeper than she cared to admit. Did they not trust her? Or was it that they trusted her too much to risk her life?
Across the table, Lamb sat silently, her graceful fingers resting on the hilt of her bow. Unlike Neeko, her expression was unreadable, her thoughts concealed behind her elegant, ethereal mask. But inside, her mind churned.
Lamb had seen fear countless times in her existence. It often came just before the end, when those who faced her bow realized their time was up. But Adriel's fear was different—it wasn't fear for himself. It was fear of losing what he had come to cherish. Lamb could see it in his eyes, hear it in his words, even as he tried to hide it.
He has already lost so much, she thought. That fear binds him, but it also drives him forward. She respected his determination, but she couldn't ignore the frustration bubbling within her. She had been Death in this realm for so long. She had seen the tides of battle and stood unmoved by chaos. Yet now, she felt powerless, her arrows unstrung, her strength unused.
Lamb glanced at Neeko and saw the worry etched into her face. "Neeko," she whispered softly, "he is not invincible."
Neeko looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Neeko knows... but Neeko doesn't want him to hurt alone."
Lamb nodded solemnly. "Neither do I."
They're just human... after all.
To be continued...