The shattered streets no longer bled smoke.
In their place stood perfectly reconstructed roads, upright lampposts, and untouched glass windows—all illusions, fragile veils woven by Illumina's hands.
The young woman stood at the center of the battlefield, her violet cloak fluttering behind her, arms outstretched. Sigils of the Loki Protocol shimmered at her fingertips, tethered to the minds of the surviving eyewitnesses.
A slow exhale.
"Protocol Loki: Hliðskjálf Activation – Veil of Consensus."
Reality shimmered.
A blinking college student who had livestreamed part of the fight now blinked again, confused. "Whoa...I could've sworn Lady Arachne was fighting...but...wasn't it just a malfunctioning mech suit or something?"
"Yeah," a friend agreed, squinting. "Weird malfunction. Tech gone rogue. No biggie."
Illumina twirled her fingers, locking the illusion into place, and lowered her hands. Her body trembled slightly from the effort—mental strain more draining than any physical blow.
With a final wave, she stepped into the makeshift mobile base, cleverly disguised as a closed-down bookstore on the city outskirts.
Inside, tension thickened the air.
Miss Arachne lay unconscious on the reinforced cot, medical nanobots swirling in her bloodstream, but her vitals flickered erratically on the screen. Her mask had been removed, revealing a beautiful yet bruised face — Ari's face.
Illumina walked in, her tone heavy. "Scene reconstruction complete. Eyewitnesses believe it was a tech malfunction, minimal press coverage. Clean sweep."
She glanced toward the others. "How is she?"
At the monitor stood a pale-skinned woman in sky-blue robes, eyes glowing faint gold—Protocol Holder: Yemaya Protocol, named after the oceanic goddess of healing and nurture. Her voice was soft but grim.
"She's stable... but the injuries run deep. Tissue trauma. Internal bleeding. Spiritual fractures from protocol overload. Her recovery is uncertain."
Janus leaned against the far wall, fists clenched. The golden tattoos on his arms pulsed slightly, revealing his frustration.
"This shouldn't have happened." His voice was low. "If I had been there from the start, maybe—"
"You couldn't have predicted this," said Athena, arms folded tightly, her lilac eyes calm yet troubled. "Ammit was an SS-tier Protocol. A monster like that can crush A+ Protocol users. Ari held her ground far longer than anyone should've. It's not on you."
"But I'm still a deity protocol holder," Janus snapped, glaring at the floor. "Even a small fragment of Janus' divine power could've lightened her load."
Athena softened. "And if you had been taken out too, who would've closed the breach? Saved the bridge? Protected the civilians? We're all parts of the wheel. Guilt doesn't make it turn faster."
A tense silence settled.
Then Illumina broke it.
"Her phone's been ringing. Repeatedly. From her cousin—Rin."
All heads turned.
"I blocked the call temporarily," Illumina continued. "But it's her personal line. She's clearly worried."
"Civilians can't know," Newt muttered, fiddling with a dismantled drone on a desk nearby. "It's protocol."
"She's family," Athena countered softly.
"Still protocol," Vcorvex added.
Illumina shook her head. "I just... I don't know what to do."
Then the back door opened with a faint creak.
Raj stepped in.
Still cloaked in post-battle silence, shirtless, dreadlocks damp with sweat, he walked with the weight of centuries behind his eyes.
He glanced toward the still form of Lady Arachne—his soldier, his comrade—and then to the team.
"She may be a hero to the world," he said quietly, "but she's still someone's family."
He looked directly at Illumina. "Tell her cousin. She deserves to be here. At least… for the worst-case scenario."
The room fell into a stunned hush.
Then Illumina nodded, already pulling up Rin's number.
---
Illumina stepped away from the center of the room, fingers hovering over the holographic interface as Rin's contact flashed softly before her eyes. For a brief moment, her fingers trembled—just a second—but she caught herself.
She wasn't afraid of protocol battles, illusions, or death.
But she hated this part.
She pressed the call icon.
---
Somewhere in the campus hostel…
Rin stared at her phone, heart racing.
Incoming Call: Ari (Personal Line)
Her hands were ice-cold. Ari never left her phone on silent, let alone ignored a dozen calls in a row. Something was wrong. She knew it.
She jabbed the answer button.
"Ari? Finally—where have you been? I've been—"
But the voice that answered wasn't Ari's.
"This is... Illumina," came the quiet voice. Clear. Soft. Too calm. "Rin, is that right?"
Rin froze. "Where's Ari?"
A pause.
Then—gently, "She's safe, but... injured. Very seriously injured. She was caught in a classified incident."
Rin's legs gave out. She sank onto the edge of the bed.
"Ari's—she's not just hurt, is she?" Her voice cracked. "What happened?"
Illumina hesitated. Then said softly, "You deserve to know the truth. You're listed as her emergency contact. I'm sending a location. We'll explain everything when you arrive."
Before Rin could reply, the call ended and a soft ping marked a GPS coordinate being received.
The world blurred.
Her cousin. The one person who never lied to her, who held her hand through every panic attack, every test, every family event... was fighting for her life.
Rin grabbed her coat, barely aware of slipping on shoes.
But before she reached the door—
A strange shiver slid down her spine.
A flicker.
A flash of deep, ancient darkness in her peripheral vision.
Her fingers twitched.
No , she will be fine , nothing can happen to her , no nothing must happen to her or she didn't know what she would do.