Alexander and the Fat Elf walked down a narrow corridor. The glass walls shimmered, lights reflecting and scattering like shards of sunlight. Outside, the afternoon sun burned bright, pouring its gold through the transparent walls.

Their footsteps echoed, crisp and lonely — each step announcing their arrival.

Alexander hesitated, glancing back as he moved forward, the weight of his choice gnawing at him. He had left Greg and the new enemies behind — sprawled unconscious atop the roof. A powerful force still pinned them down, their limbs unmoving. Greg had fallen too. Whether he was dead or merely unconscious remained uncertain.

"Don't worry about them," the Elf said, trying to ease the tension in Alexander's stride.

"You've got bigger things to worry about."

His words carried something else beneath them — hidden meaning, maybe even a warning.

Alexander didn't answer. He stayed silent, unsure whether to take the elf's tone as a threat or advice.

"I've known the Commander for ten years," the Elf continued. "In that time, I've seen him kill, save, lead armies with bravery. He's made deals with the gods themselves. But not once — not once — have I ever seen him this obsessed with a new recruit."

The Elf's tone was probing now, searching for a reason.

Alexander caught it immediately.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," he said calmly.

Squeeeeeeeak—

The metallic groan of a mechanism filled the air as a massive door slid open automatically. Beyond it, a long pathway stretched ahead, leading straight into a throne room.

The Elf stopped abruptly and bowed low.

"I shall stop here," he muttered, his gaze fixed to the ground.

Alexander paused, studying the sight of the bowing Elf.

The captain is strong enough to make even this guy kneel, he thought, a cold shiver running through him.

Alexander wasn't known for obedience. His history spoke of defiance — of a man who followed his own rules. Rules that could easily get him killed.

He swallowed hard, the saliva thick in his mouth.

The Elf turned his head slightly, watching Alexander with a mixture of irritation and awe. It stung him — seeing the newcomer receive more attention than he ever had.

Alexander inhaled deeply. Then, step by step, he advanced toward the throne room, each pace heavier than the last, unaware of what waited inside.

...….

"Greg, let's make an alliance."

"We fell right into their plan!"

"I don't trust them, but they could give us useful information."

"I got bored of fame."

Old echoes — Alexander's own voice — filled the hall. The walls came alive, lined with enormous glass screens replaying his past in fragments.

His missions in Midgard. The forests. The blood. The victories. Every decision, every word, every betrayal — flashing before him like scenes from a film.

The sound surrounded him, deafening. His old speeches now mocked him, replayed with a preacher's intensity.

For the first time, Alexander felt what others must have felt when he lectured them — that sharp mix of awe and discomfort.

It hit him suddenly: the captain had been watching him all along.

This was no first encounter.

His pulse quickened. His chest tightened. The room was empty except for a single, massive throne.

"Hi, Alexander."

The voice came from everywhere at once — deep and steady, resonant like thunder wrapped in silk. The kind of voice that commanded silence.

Alexander straightened. "What do you want with me?"

"We have a lot in common," the voice replied.

The sound was calm, but it echoed with emotion.

"We were both betrayed. We both joined something we shouldn't have — and we both died because of it."

"Who are you?" Alexander demanded. "And how do you know so much about me?"

"It was my duty to look after you. In the world of the living, I couldn't. But here, I can."

"For what reason?"

Spark—

A blinding flash tore through the room — a thick, black beam erupted between the floor and the ceiling, humming with dark power.

Alexander shielded his eyes. The light was gone — but the darkness it left behind was blinding in its own way.

Then came footsteps.

A foot stepped out of the blackness. Then an arm. Then a head.

The Captain emerged — a figure carved from shadow, his presence filling the room. He moved like a storm, soundless but violent.

"I'm obligated to do this," he said.

Then, with a calmness that froze Alexander's blood:

"You're my nephew."

---

Undisclosed Location

A tall mansion gleamed like a fallen star. Where ordinary walls should have been wooden, they were golden. Even the plants shimmered like molten sunlight, and the roads burned brighter than the sun itself.

From the mansion's balcony, one could look down and see the sun — not rising, but setting below the horizon of another world.

Behind the mansion, beneath a colossal golden umbrella, a woman reclined gracefully. Her beauty was unnatural — ethereal. Hair as white as light, eyes like molten gold. She wore robes woven from radiance itself. Three golden rings pierced the left side of her nose in a perfect line, and a curved mark traced her cheek like a crescent moon.

She sipped chocolate tea from a delicate cup, the steam rising in thin curls that shimmered like vaporized gems.

Before her floated a translucent system screen, but unlike ordinary ones, this one glowed diamond white. Across it flickered the image of a planet labeled:

UNIVERSE 2 — EARTH 4.

The screen zoomed in — chaos reigned. Humans and elves fought together against hordes of demons. Blood painted the ground; bodies fell like rain. Heads rolled like fruit in a market, and mercy was a language long forgotten.

The tide was shifting. The humans were losing. Their final wall was breaking.

The woman sighed, her golden eyes narrowing.

"I hate when this happens," she said sharply.

"Humans grow weaker with every generation."

She lifted a finger, pointing toward the planet's clouds.

Instantly, green rain began to fall upon the battlefield. Each droplet sizzled as it struck the ground — unnatural, alive.

Warp—

A hologram flickered beside her — the girl who had slain the girls not long ago. Her face was the same, her voice cold and sharp.

Squeak.

The goddess pushed her chair slightly aside, watching the image sit across from her.

"For a goddess, you really don't like moving," the hologram teased.

"How is Alexander doing?" she asked.

"He just got recruited into the Grid Lions," the hologram replied, a faint smile curving her lips.

The goddess smirked.

"Coincidental, isn't it?" she said, her tone laced with suspicion.

"The very week we make our pact — he joins the strongest clan."

Silence filled the golden air. Tension pulsed like electricity.

The goddess broke it first, voice calm but cutting.

"No matter," she said. "I always get what I want."

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