The faint hum of machines filled the silence.
White walls breathed with a sterile glow, the air was scented with faint dust, and some form of energy was suspended in containment tubes. Damon's eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling. The ache came next. Deep and gnawing, buried in his ribs and spine.
He tried to move, but his body answered with pain. "Where…?" His voice rasped, dry.
Tolrex turned from a nearby console, the faint reflection of holographic data lighting his glasses.
"Still alive, reckless prince," he said, stepping closer. "That's good news, isn't it?"
Damon blinked, forcing himself upright. He had a certain weight pressing against his bones.
"Where's Natsuki?" His words came fast and frantic.
Tolrex barely caught him as he stumbled off the bed. "Stop. You'll tear half your ribs open again."
"How is she?" Damon's tone sharpened, the soft hum of smart mechanics amplifying around him.
Tolrex sighed, guiding him back to the mattress. "She's fine, Damon. She's safe. And possibly resting."
Damon's breath steadied, but his eyes wandered. Across the room, another bed hummed with life. The light surrounding it pulsed faintly blue, controlled energy cycling in steady waves.
Rika was there.
Her uniform was torn and scorched, her arm wrapped in a glowing brace of machine light. A laser flowed across her skin like sharpened light, sealing tissue that had once been charred. The robotic arms above her moved in precise arcs, emitting soft flashes, healing in progress.
Damon exhaled. "Rika…"
"She was barely breathing when they brought her in," Tolrex said, adjusting a screen. "And yet here she is. Our methods of healing work faster on those whose bodies still want to live."
Before Damon could reply, the room changed. A presence heavier than any gravity filled the space. Two of them.
Bravira walked in. Draven followed.
Her steps were sharp, her aura bright enough to distort the air, light itself obeying her. Her glare alone could ignite silence.
"You're awake," she said flatly. "Good. I'd hate to waste a lecture on an unconscious idiot."
Damon braced mentally and physically by facepalming.
She crossed her arms, her tone biting. "You destroyed a part of the tallest building of Obscured. "
"Obscuron. To be honest, I dunno why it's so close to school or remember getting there." Damon corrected.
"Nearly exposed yourself to Earth dwellers, and almost got that girl killed."
"It's Rika," Damon said quietly.
Bravira's eyes flared. "Are you correcting me?"
"Okay, Bravira, let's call down," Draven said. "Hello, Prince Damon. I'm the latecomer, Thropax's brother. Draven."
Draven's hair was white and full. A couple of strands near his left temple were tied with a silver pendant that caught the light when he moved. His eyes looked pale green and steady. They looked like they'd seen too much to ever be surprised again. He looked younger than Bravira. Softer too. A true ladies' man. A true pretty boy.
When Damon shook his hand, the grip was firm, too firm for a man with such a calm face. That's when he saw it, the thin scar running across Draven's wrist, clean and deliberate.
"You're looking at it," Draven said, noticing his stare. His tone was smooth but grounded. "A woman could use her hair like a whip. Nearly took my arm off." He gave a faint smirk. "Crazy ladies, huh?"
"I thought you could remove scars on Woewyn?" Damon asked.
"Welllll, this woman was... very precious," Draven replied, trying to hide something half the room knew.
Before Damon could reply, another voice entered. A gentler and familiar one.
"Damon."
Nyra stepped in, smiling faintly. She looked whole again. Her dark hair was smooth. There were no candles needed, but the smile on her face could light up a room. Hazel followed, hovering with her magical wings, humming softly.
"Good to see you awake," Hazel said, landing beside him and smacking his forehead with her tiny hands. "You really gave me a scare when your eyes went dark. Why would you go into that state?"
Damon blinked. "I… didn't even know what it was."
Hazel nodded. "That thing. Scary. Like watching a storm wear your face."
Damon sighed, leaning back. "Please, I want to rest, not another history lecture."
Tolrex chuckled from behind. "You've been out a few hours."
"A few—?" Damon's eyes widened. "After that fight? You're joking. Any normal person would be dead." Damon gave a small, tired laugh. "I guess I'm not normal."
The air thickened. A faint scent of roses and frost entered the room. Everyone straightened as the doors slid open.
Queen Thessa walked in.
Her steps were silent but absolute, grace wrapped in command. She approached Damon, her expression unreadable, and without a word, she took his hair between her fingers.
"It's still as soft as your father's," she said. Then she pulled—hard.
"Ow—Mom!"
"What," she said, leaning close, "did you think you were doing?" Her voice cut through the hum of the machines like glass. "Going into that state? Do you want to delete people from existence, or worse, let it tear you apart? Hmm?"
The room was still. Even Bravira stayed silent. The Queen's tone was that of a mother casually scolding her son.
Damon blinked, somewhere between guilt and awe, he thought. 'How fierce is she that even Bravira shuts up?'
"I'm only pulling your toes, but next time, try not to use what you don't understand." She tugged again.
"Alright—alright—please—hair—still attached—"
She released him and sighed, sitting beside his bed, cupping his face and stroking his cheekbones with her thumb. "You're impossible. Are you feeling better? You're not hurting anywhere, are you?"
"Yes. I'm fine. But could you explain what just happened? And why did a demon attack Earth?" Damon asked dismissively.
Tolrex, half-amused, muttered, "Well, the bad news is we don't have the slightest clue on why a demon attacked Earth. Since you're the Chosen One, the speculation is that it was somewhat attracted to your power. But then... who released it from Inferno? We don't know either. However, the positive news is we know exactly what happened to you on Earth. Quite frankly, " Reckless Prince " fits you perfectly."
Draven folded his hands. "The state you entered, just very few have ever reached it. Only one before you."
"My father?"
He nodded slowly. "He called it The Zone of Eterna. When emotion and power collapse into one stream. But it's dangerous. In that state, you're conscious, but your soul is… not entirely yours. Your will is adapted to your rage."
Damon's breath caught. For a moment, he wasn't looking at Draven — he was looking at the memory of himself tearing something apart.
"I… didn't feel like myself," he admitted quietly. "I don't really remember what happened either, and I think that kinda scares me. But in that state, do I attack everyone... or just, the one I'm mad at?
Everyone stayed quiet for a moment. The shine in his mother's eyes dulled for a moment; she wore a worried expression that she hid almost perfectly from the faces behind her.
Draven noticed the sadness and quiet fear Damon tried to hide. He spoke softly. "You're not a madman in the state. You just unleash your full potential in a primal way. As I said, your will is adapted to your rage. You wouldn't rage at those you care about... would you?"
Nyra's brows furrowed. "How am I just learning about this now? Anyway, he's technically… half-awake?"
Queen Thessa nodded and spoke softly. "Exactly. It's triggered when someone hurts a person you deeply care for. It's like the 'zone' athletes talk about on Earth, and you operate at your maximum capacity. But his version..." she glanced at Damon "is a beast without a leash."
Daichi, lying near the console, raised his head. "So… like when Damon looks at Natsuki?"
Hazel covered her face. "Daichi, no."
Damons eyes bloomed with relief. "You're alive. I noticed you and the baby."
"That was one annoying baby," Daichi said in comedic disgust.
Bravira smiled, faintly. "Well… he isn't wrong about the Natsuki part."
Damon exhaled sharply, his ribs still aching. "Wonderful. Even my dog betrays me." He said lightly.
One of the twin sisters, Meyren, rolled her chair closer, holding a metal cup. "Drink this."
Damon looked suspiciously at it. "What is it?"
"A painkiller."
"It smells like molten socks."
"Then drink it quickly."
He downed it in one go and grimaced, his face contorting. "What the hell was in that?"
"A good distraction," Thessa said calmly. "So you don't complain when Bravira finishes lecturing."
Bravira folded her arms again, her tone clipped and cold. "All you need to understand is this: The Zone is dangerous. You tore a low‑level demon apart with your bare hands. Normally, to kill one, you either decapitate it, obliterate it in a single overwhelming strike, or wear it down with dozens of weaker blows."
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "You did the third. With no training and no control." She turned to the Queen, then to Draven, her voice dropping. "Imagine if he'd lost control completely."
"Bravira, I know that looked like a low-level demon," Nyra stated. "But I don't think it was. I'm at the Blaze Stage, so I should be able to take down one even without eterna. But I wasn't."
Damon ran his fingers through his hair, exhaling. "What's a Blaze Stage? How much worse can this get..."
And then—
A sound. A weak breath. Everyone turned.
Rika stirred. Her fingers twitched. The light around her healing chamber pulsed in rhythm with her heart. The faint burns along her arm closed before their eyes. Skin smooth, unscarred. She blinked once, then screamed.
Her eyes shot open.
She gasped, then screamed. Again. And again. And again. Screaming and pausing with each glance she took at her surroundings.
Damon reacted as fast as he could, moving faster than his pain should allow. He reached her side as she kicked against the light restraints, panic wild in her eyes.
"Damon!" she shouted, voice cracking. "We have to get out—there's a thing outside—it's—"
"Rika," Damon said firmly, his hand gripping her shoulder. "Stop. You're safe."
She froze, staring into his eyes. The wild tremor in her chest slowed.
"You're… serious?" she whispered. "You couldn't possibly have chosen a better word than safe!"
"You're on Woewyn. No one's going to hurt you here."
She stared at the ceiling, breath shaky. "What's a Woewyn. Wait, how—how am I... where are my burns?"
Tolrex stepped closer. "Science. And Eterna. You're welcome."
She blinked at him like he was a hallucination. "I'm dreaming. Definitely dreaming."
Hazel fluttered closer, waving. "Hello!"
Rika's head turned slowly, her face pale. "What… what is that?!"
Hazel frowned. "Rude."
"Okay. Definitely dreaming," Rika muttered. She turned back to Damon, clutching his wrist. "Wait, in fact, you're here too. Great. My brain really hates me. This is good— this is very good. That means the demon holding me was also a dream. Bad dream after a bad game. Good logic."
Nyra burst out laughing. "She thinks this is a dream!"
"Because it is!" Rika said. "There's no way any of this—" she looked at Daichi, then at Nyra, who was replying to Daichi's barks. "That's a talking dog! What's he barking!? Oh, I'm gone. I've died."
Daichi tilted his head. "I'm offended." he barked.
Bravira muttered under her breath, "Can we put her back to sleep?"
Thessa shot her a look with a brow raised. "...Seriously?"
Damon exhaled, crouching slightly so his eyes met Rika's. "You've been asking a lot of questions," he said quietly. "Do you want answers, or do you just love panicking?"
She blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, slowly, she sat back. Her hand didn't leave his wrist. The light from the robotic arms bathed them both in silver blue. Pointing the light on them on purpose, as though it had its own consciousness.
"What the hell is going on, Damon?" she whispered. "And who are these people?"
Damon sighed, rubbing his temple. "I'm really getting tired of telling this story."
Bravira stepped forward, her voice cutting through the air. "Then stop giving us new reasons to make you repeat it."
The silence that followed hung like cooled glass. Fragile, clear, and full of everything unsaid. The room fell silent, but Damon's heartbeat didn't. It hadn't slowed since the moment he lost control.
Damon looked at his hands. They were steady now. He wished he could say the same about his thoughts.