Chapter 13 - SHADOWS OF THE PAST

Zenithar – Industrial Sector – Liara's Hideout

7 December, 1077 – 08:45 AM

The hideout was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the radio and the distant hum of the city outside. It was a fragile silence, one that threatened to shatter at any moment.

Raiga lay on a makeshift cot, his breathing slow but steady. His face was pale, the dark circles under his eyes a stark contrast against his usual sharp intensity. The blood transfusion had stabilized him, and the worst of his wounds were now wrapped in tight bandages.

But he was still unconscious.

Garret leaned against the table, arms crossed, gaze locked on the floor.

Hanna sat on a pile of crates, absentmindedly running a finger over the dried blood on her arm.

Liara, sitting on the ground beside Raiga, checked his pulse for what felt like the hundredth time.

"…We need a plan," Garret muttered.

Hanna exhaled sharply. "A plan for what? We have no resources left. No backup. No idea what the hell we're up against."

Garret clenched his jaw. "That's exactly why we need to figure this out. We need to—"

"Who did you call?"

Garret froze.

Liara's voice cut through the room like a blade—sharp, direct, with no room for evasion.

Garret slowly lifted his gaze. Liara was staring at him, her expression unreadable.

He hesitated.

Hanna straightened slightly, sensing the shift in tension.

Liara's fingers curled into her torn sleeves. "You walked out of here last night and made a call. Who was it?"

Garret's lips pressed into a thin line. "An old contact."

Liara didn't blink. "That's not an answer."

Garret exhaled through his nose. "Someone who might be able to help."

Liara's stare didn't waver. "Help with what?"

Garret didn't respond immediately.

Because he knew exactly what she was asking.

And he wasn't sure if he was ready to answer.

Liara leaned forward. "Garret… what do you know?"

The room felt colder.

Garret's fingers drummed against the table once before he sighed, running a hand down his face.

"I don't have all the answers," he said carefully. "But I know one thing for sure."

He lifted his gaze to Raiga's unconscious form.

"The Cult wasn't after the Resistance." His voice was firm, steady. "They were after him."

Liara's breath hitched.

Hanna sat up straighter. "What…?"

Garret exhaled. "They planned this. They let us think we had the upper hand. They slaughtered our squads because they want Him. They were never interested in us."

Silence.

Liara's mind raced.

It had always been Raiga.

She clenched her fists.

"But why?" she demanded. "What do they want from him?"

Garret hesitated.

Liara's heart pounded. "Garret."

She wasn't letting this go.

"What does the Cult want with Raiga?"

Garret's gaze darkened.

"…I don't know for sure," he admitted. "But I have a theory."

Liara swallowed. "Which is?"

Garret let the silence stretch for a moment.

Then, he looked straight at her.

"Why do you think Raiga is so strong?"

Liara's breath caught.

Her stomach twisted.

Hanna blinked. "…What?"

Garret's voice was quieter now, almost measured. "Think about it. Raiga has no formal military training. No cybernetic augments. Yet he fights like a damn monster."

Liara opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because he was right.

She had seen it with her own eyes, felt it in the way Raiga moved, in the way he killed.

He was beyond human.

"…You know something," she whispered.

"The moment I told you about that man, how he moved, how he turned into smoke. You froze."

Hanna glanced up at Garret, noticing it now too.

Liara didn't stop. "You recognized something. Or at least suspected it. And then you made that call."

Garret let out a slow breath and finally turned to face them. His eyes, usually sharp and controlled, were clouded—hesitation, calculation, something caught between what he knew and what he was willing to say.

Liara narrowed her eyes. "Garret, what the hell is going on?"

A long pause.

Then—Garret rubbed a hand over his face and exhaled.

"…Back during the Ten-Year War," he began, his voice quieter than usual, "there were rumors. Stories soldiers would pass around in the trenches."

Liara and Hanna exchanged a glance.

Garret continued. "People used to say the Cult of Eternity wasn't just another extremist group. That they weren't just obsessed with immortality and gods." His gaze darkened. "They believed in something older. Something from before the fall of civilization."

Liara frowned. "You mean the Great Collapse?"

Garret nodded. "A thousand years ago, humanity was almost wiped off the map. We lost our cities, our technology, our history." He tapped his fingers against his arm. "The Cult had always preached that before the Collapse, there were those who pursued knowledge never meant for them, to become more than what they were. But in their blind ambition, they unleashed forces beyond human understanding, bringing ruin upon the world. It was their actions, not the wrath of a Demon, that caused the Collapse. They also said that royal family of Yuron was intricately tied to this forgotten history, a truth that ultimately led to the monarchy's downfall and the Church's rise to power."

Liara's brows furrowed. "And you actually believe these stories?"

Garret's jaw tightened. "I don't know."

Garret's fingers curled slightly. A habit of restraint.

Then, he spoke.

"Some people believed those 'gifted' bloodlines survived," he said. "That their descendants still walk among us today."

Silence.

Liara felt a chill crawl up her spine. "And?"

Garret hesitated, then looked toward Raiga.

And suddenly, it clicked.

Liara's heart pounded. "…Are you saying Raiga is one of them?"

Garret didn't answer immediately.

Which was an answer in itself.

Hanna let out a sharp breath. "Wait—hold on. You're saying Raiga—our Raiga—is somehow connected to this insane, ancient bloodline? That those lunatics came after him?"

Garret's gaze remained unreadable. "I don't know for sure."

Liara felt a mix of disbelief and frustration knotting in her chest. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because I didn't know if it was true," Garret admitted. "And because I didn't want it to be."

Liara's pulse hammered against her skull. "Garret—"

"I thought it was just another war myth," he cut in. "Something whispered among desperate men looking for hope or fear. But now…" His eyes flickered back to Raiga. "Now, I'm not so sure."

Liara ran a shaky hand through her hair. This was too much. The massacre. The ambush. The Cult. And now this?

Hanna exhaled, rubbing her temple. "This is insane."

"Yeah," Garret muttered. "It is."

A heavy silence settled over them.

Then—

A sharp inhale.

Liara's eyes widened.

She turned—

Raiga's fingers twitched.

His breath hitched. His body tensed.

And his eyes snapped open.

Liara's heart stopped.

A flicker of confusion passed through his expression—before a sharp, searing pain tore through him.

Raiga groaned, his body jerking slightly.

"Raiga—!"

Liara was at his side instantly, ignoring the pain in her leg as she pressed her hands against his shoulders, trying to steady him.

His breath came fast and ragged. His muscles were locked tight, his entire body trembling from exhaustion and blood loss.

His eyes—golden, intense—darted around the room, unfocused, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Then—he found her.

His gaze locked onto Liara's.

A moment of silence.

Then—his voice, hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"…You're alive."

Liara swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. You're safe."

Raiga let out a shaky breath. His body slowly relaxed, the tension easing just slightly.

Then, his eyes flickered past her—toward Garret.

His voice was weak, but the weight behind it was heavy.

"…What happened?"

Garret exhaled. "You almost died."

Raiga blinked slowly. His body still ached, his mind still fogged, but something in Garret's tone sent a pulse of unease through his chest.

His throat felt dry. "And the mission?"

Liara hesitated. "It… it failed."

Raiga closed his eyes for a moment. The weight of it settled over him like a crushing force.

The mission failed.

They had lost everything.

His fists clenched weakly.

Garret studied him for a long moment. Then, in a low voice—

"Raiga."

The younger man opened his eyes again, his blue gaze dull with exhaustion.

Garret's expression was unreadable. "…Why are you still alive?"

Raiga frowned slightly, confused. "What?"

Garret didn't blink. "You took a sniper round to the back. You fell three stories. You fought five elite soldiers while bleeding out." His voice was quiet. "You should be dead."

Raiga stared at him.

Liara's chest tightened.

Hanna exhaled sharply.

Then, Raiga's fingers twitched again.

A strange sensation.

Something lingering beneath his skin.

Something burning in his blood.

Something changing.

He didn't know what it was.

But he could feel it.

And somehow—

He knew.

This was only the beginning.