Duvan had been following Hera for five days now.

  Not constantly—that would be obvious, and he needed to remain undetected. But regularly enough to establish patterns, to map out the surveillance network Magism Unos had built around her.

  And he'd discovered several concerning things.

  First: Hera's daughter—Cyrene—was being tutored by someone from Magism Unos. Not Kieran. Not Hera during her visits. A dedicated instructor who came three times a week, always at the same time, always with the same religious texts and educational materials.

  Indoctrination, Duvan thought coldly. They're preparing her. Grooming her to be their next tool.

  The child was five years old, and they were already laying groundwork.

  Second: Kieran received messages frequently. Birds, mostly—the standard method for covert communication. But sometimes other animals. Once, improbably, a cat that had sat on his windowsill and somehow conveyed information before leaving.

  Message relay networks, Duvan catalogued. Multiple channels. Redundant systems. Professional operation.

  Third: It wasn't just Hera under contract with Magism Unos. The Hero was clearly bound to them as well. The way he responded to messages—immediate, obedient, with the resignation of someone who had no choice—made that obvious.

  Leverage on both sides. Control both parents, control the child. Elegant and despicable.

  Fourth, and most concerning: Hera was being followed by someone else.

  Duvan had almost missed it—the person was skilled, professional, clearly an Ascender with some kind of stealth-related ability. But his years as an adventurer had taught him to spot the signs.

  Disturbed dust patterns that didn't match wind direction. Birds startled by something invisible. The faint magical signature that even the best stealth abilities couldn't completely suppress.

  "Stealth" or "Stalker" or something similar, Duvan concluded. Staying far enough back to avoid detection by normal means. But not far enough to fool time manipulation.

  The interesting part? The stalker always stopped at a specific point—right at the edge of what could reasonably be considered Duvan's territory. The invisible boundary where the Time Prince's influence was strongest.

  They're afraid, Duvan realized with cold satisfaction. Good. They should be.

  He watched from a hidden vantage point as Hera played with Cyrene in the small yard of the safe house. The child was laughing, bright and happy, climbing on Kieran while demanding he be a monster she could defeat.

  Innocent. Unburdened. Exactly how a five-year-old should be.

  Duvan felt the familiar conflict twist in his chest.

  He still felt complicated about Hera's arrangement. About her visits to Kieran. About the family dynamic that existed in that safe house—a family that included his wife but didn't include him.

  But seeing the child's happiness...

  I don't want to ruin that, he admitted to himself. Not yet. Not until I have a better solution in place.

  But sooner or later, something would have to change.

  He couldn't leave things as they were—Magism Unos controlling all three of them, using Cyrene as leverage, slowly tightening the noose.

  Soon, he promised himself. Once all the pieces are in position.

  The past few days at home had been... different.

  Not fixed. Not healed. But different.

  Hera cooked dinner every evening. They ate together, talking about their days in increasingly comfortable conversation. Small domestic rituals that made the house feel less like a structure and more like a home.

  Duvan found himself looking forward to returning in the afternoons. To seeing Hera in the kitchen, to the smell of cooking food, to conversations that felt genuine rather than performed.

  It was dangerous, letting himself hope again.

  But he was doing it anyway.

  Tonight, he'd returned home and was reviewing some documents in his room when he heard a knock at his door.

  "Come in," he called, expecting Hera to ask about dinner timing or some other practical matter.

  The door opened.

  Hera stood in the doorway wearing a nightgown.

  Not her usual pajamas. Not comfortable sleeping clothes.

  A nightgown. Soft fabric that caught the light, clearly chosen for a specific purpose.

  Duvan's brain short-circuited.

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  It's been two months.

  How had he forgotten? He'd been so focused on taking care of her, on investigating Magism Unos, on trying to process their complicated situation, that he'd completely—

  His face heated. He looked away quickly, feeling the blush creep up his neck.

  This was absurd. He was a Grand Protector. He'd faced down Void Colossi. He'd defended settlements against impossible odds.

  And he was flustered by his own wife in a nightgown.

  Get it together, he told himself sternly.

  But when he glanced back, Hera was blushing too. Furiously. Her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes wide with surprise.

  "You're—" she started, then stopped. "You've never looked like that before."

  Duvan cleared his throat. "Like what?"

  "Caught off guard. Flustered." She bit her lip, and somehow that made everything worse. "You were always... forward about it. Looking forward to it. And I was too, but I never showed it, and now you're—"

  She stopped talking, apparently as flustered as he was.

  The air between them felt different.

  Not clinical. Not obligatory.

  Something else entirely.

  Hera took a shy step forward. Then another. Moving slowly, like approaching something fragile.

  "The rules I set up before," she said quietly. "About how we... about the restrictions during..." She took a breath. "Can we forget they exist?"

  Duvan looked at her—really looked. Saw the vulnerability in her expression, the hope mixed with fear.

  "Is that alright with you?" she asked. "I know everything has changed, and I don't know if you still want—"

  He started laughing.

  Not mockingly. Not bitterly. Just... genuinely. Relief and absurdity and affection all tangled together.

  Hera looked confused. "Why are you laughing?"

  "Because," Duvan said, standing and moving toward her, "I've been overthinking everything. About you, about us, about what any of this means. And now you're standing here, actually telling me what you want, and it feels..."

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  He reached her, his hands finding her waist gently.

  "It feels like our first night together," he finished. "Like we're actually married instead of playing roles."

  "We are married," Hera said softly.

  "Then let me act like it." His voice dropped. "You said no limits?"

  She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  Duvan pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. "Good. Because I've been patient for six years. I've been understanding and careful and respectful of every boundary you set."

  His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

  "But if those boundaries are gone..." He leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. "I'm done pretending I don't want you."

  He kissed her.

  Not the brief, clinical kiss of their mandated encounters. Not the performance Hera had shared with Kieran for Cyrene's benefit.

  This was real. Genuine. Years of suppressed feeling finally given permission to exist.

  Hera melted against him, her hands clutching his shirt, a small sound escaping her throat that was part relief, part need.

  When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Duvan's eyes were warm in a way she'd never seen.

  "Bed," he said simply.

  "Yes," she agreed.

  Hera woke slowly, awareness returning in gentle stages.

  She was warm. Comfortable. More relaxed than she'd been in... years, probably.

  There was weight on her—an arm draped across her waist, a body pressed against her back.

  Duvan.

  Still asleep, his breathing even and peaceful against her neck.

  Last night had been... different. Everything had been different. Without the rules, without the clinical detachment, without the guilt eating at her—it had been real.

  Intimate in ways she hadn't known she was starving for.

  And now here they were. Actually sharing a bed afterward instead of immediately separating. Touching casually, naturally, like couples did.

  Hera carefully turned in his arms, trying not to wake him, until she could see his face.

  He looked peaceful. Younger, somehow, without the careful control he usually maintained. His dark hair was mussed, falling across his forehead. His expression was soft, unguarded.

  This was the first time she'd seen him truly at rest.

  Something warm and overwhelming filled her chest.

  I love him, she thought. I really, truly love him.

  She leaned forward and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his lips.

  Then, moving carefully, she extracted herself from his arms and got up.

  Time to make breakfast. Time to start being the wife she'd never let herself be before.

  She changed into day clothes, ran her fingers through her hair to make it presentable, and headed toward the kitchen.

  That's when the doorbell rang.

  Hera froze.

  It was early. Too early for casual visitors. And they rarely had guests anyway.

  She moved quietly to the door and peeked through the small viewing window.

  Her blood ran cold.

  Multiple men stood outside. All wearing the distinctive robes of Magism Unos. And at the front, looking smug and self-satisfied, was a face she recognized.

  Cardinal Abel. One of the high-ranking officials. A man whose attention she'd always tried to avoid because of the way his eyes lingered on her.

  No. No, no, no—

  "Hera."

  She jumped, turning to find Duvan standing in the hallway. Fully dressed. Alert.

  "They entered our territory five minutes ago," he said quietly. "I gave them a chance to retreat. They didn't take it."

  His expression was calm. Too calm.

  "Let them in," he said.

  "Duvan, they're—"

  "I know who they are." He gave her a reassuring smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Let them in."

  Before Hera could respond, the door was pushed open—one of the men had gotten impatient and simply barged in.

  "How slow can you be?" the man sneered at Hera, then seemed to remember himself and attempted a more respectful tone. "Ah, Lord Excy. Forgive the intrusion. I am Cardinal Abel of Magism Unos."

  He performed an elaborate bow that was probably meant to seem respectful but came across as mocking.

  Duvan walked forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Hera. "What do you need, Cardinal?"

  Abel's eyes flickered to Hera—a quick, possessive glance—before returning to Duvan.

  "I bring troubling news, I'm afraid." He adopted an expression of concern that looked practiced. "We've discovered that the Saintess—your wife—has been... unfaithful."

  Here it comes, Duvan thought coldly. The leverage play.

  "She's been meeting with another man," Abel continued dramatically. "Not just meeting, but maintaining a full relationship. And—" He paused for effect. "—she has a child with him. A secret child she's been hiding from you."

  Hera opened her mouth to speak, but Duvan's hand moved slightly—a subtle gesture telling her to wait.

  "That's quite an accusation," Duvan said, his voice neutral. "Do you have proof?"

  Abel's smile widened. He pulled out photographs—several of them—and laid them on the nearby table with theatrical precision.

  Images of Hera and Kieran. Of Cyrene. Of the three of them together at the safe house, looking like a family.

  Duvan picked up one photograph, studying it carefully.

  And realized something.

  This was from the day he'd discovered Hera's secret. The exact day. The exact angle.

  They took these pictures that day, he understood. This is how they failed the disguise magic. They were prepared. They wanted me to see.

  He glanced at Hera. She'd clearly made the same connection—her face had gone pale with realization.

  Magism Unos had orchestrated his discovery. Had made sure he'd see exactly what they wanted him to see, when they wanted him to see it.

  All to create this moment.

  While Duvan continued studying the photographs—pretending shock he didn't feel—Abel's smirk grew wider.

  I've won, the Cardinal clearly thought. The Time Prince is heartbroken. Now I can—

  "If you wish to divorce her, Lord Excy," Abel said smoothly, "Magism Unos will gladly prioritize the proceedings. And of course, the Saintess will face appropriate punishment for her betrayal. I'll personally oversee her discipline."

  The way he said it. The way his eyes lingered on Hera.

  The threat was clear.

  Hera took a step back, recognizing the look in Abel's eyes. She'd avoided this man for years, had known he wanted her, had done everything possible to stay out of his direct attention.

  And now he was here, in her home, making thinly veiled threats in front of her husband.

  But making those threats in front of Duvan?

  That was a mistake.

  Duvan ripped the photographs into pieces.

  The sound was sharp, final.

  "I don't care," he said simply.

  The room went silent.

  Abel's smirk faltered. "I... what?"

  "I said I don't care." Duvan let the torn pieces fall like snow. "About the affair, about the child, about any of it. She's my wife. That's all that matters."

  Abel's mind raced. Is he that blindly in love? Or has she already told him the truth?

  He couldn't decide. They had no intelligence on Duvan's private life—spying on a Grand Protector was a death sentence, and Magism Unos knew better than to try.

  But this wasn't going according to plan.

  "Lord Excy," Abel tried again, desperation creeping into his voice, "surely you understand how this looks? Your reputation—if word got out that your wife has been—"

  "Are you threatening me?"

  The temperature in the room dropped.

  Abel froze. "No, of course not, I merely—"

  Duvan's eyes began to glow.

  Golden light, intense and terrible, filling his irises completely.

  The three men standing behind Abel dropped to the ground instantly. No sound. No struggle. Just three bodies hitting the floor simultaneously.

  Hera gasped, shock and—surprisingly—a hint of joy flashing across her face.

  He's angry, she realized. For me. He's actually angry on my behalf.

  Abel was still processing what had happened when those glowing eyes fixed on him.

  "Your men's hearts have stopped," Duvan said conversationally. "Yours hasn't. Which means you have an ability that's akin to 'Nullification' or 'Negation,' doesn't it?"

  Abel's eyes went wide. How—how did he—

  No one should have been able to determine his ability that quickly. He'd spent years keeping it secret, only using it in emergencies.

  And this man had figured it out in seconds.

  "Magism Unos won't forgive you if you kill me," Abel tried desperately. "I'm a Cardinal. My death would—"

  Duvan started walking forward.

  Not listening. Not acknowledging the threat.

  "The Magism Unos," he said quietly, "is nothing but an ant to me."

  Abel stumbled backward, his nullification ability activating instinctively—but time manipulation was already in effect. Duvan had been using it the entire conversation, dilating his perception, preparing his moves.

  The nullification came a second too late.

  Duvan used Chrono to accelerate himself.

  One moment he was across the room. The next he was directly in front of Abel, his fist already in motion.

  The punch connected with enough force to send the Cardinal flying—literally flying—through the doorway and out of the house.

  Abel crashed into the street outside, consciousness already fading.

  Duvan followed, ready to finish this—

  But Abel was gone.

  Vanished. Not dead, not unconscious on the ground. Just... gone.

  Teleportation, Duvan realized. Or emergency extraction. They prepared for failure.

  He stood in the doorway, scanning for any trace, but found nothing.

  Doesn't matter, he thought coldly. Let them run. I know where they live.

  Duvan turned and walked back inside, finding Hera staring at the three bodies on their floor.

  "Contact Kieran," he said. "Now."

  Hera nodded, hands shaking slightly as she pulled out her communication crystal. It took three attempts before Kieran answered.

  "Hera—?" Kieran's voice was breathless, strained. "Something's wrong, I felt—"

  "They came for us too," Hera said quickly. "Duvan stopped them, but—"

  "They tried to take Cyrene." Kieran's voice was ragged. "I managed to fight them off but the contract—Hera, the contract is broken. I can't use Limit Break anymore."

  Duvan held out his hand, and Hera passed him the crystal.

  "Kieran," Duvan said, his voice commanding. "Take your daughter and go to the Future Tech building on Merchant Street. I'm sending security. You'll be protected there."

  "I—yes. Thank you."

  Duvan cut the connection and immediately dialed another number.

  "I'm on my way," Silvia's voice came through before he could speak.

  Of course she was.

  Duvan pocketed the crystal and turned to Hera.

  "Stay here. Someone will arrive shortly to protect you."

  "Duvan—"

  "You're safe," he said firmly. "They won't get another chance at you. I promise."

  Hera grabbed his arm. "Be safe. Please."

  He nodded, something softening briefly in his expression. Then it hardened back into the Time Prince—the Grand Protector going to war.

  He walked out of the house, pulling out his communication crystal again and dialing multiple numbers in rapid succession.

  Gawain. Lucifer. Celeste. His security chief. His company's military division.

  Orders flying with practiced efficiency.

  Mobilize. Secure Future Tech. Protect the assets. Prepare for conflict.

  And most importantly:

  Find every Magism Unos facility in the city.

  Duvan Excy, the Time Prince, youngest Grand Protector in history, was done playing defensive.

  They'd threatened his wife. Tried to kidnap a child. Killed their own agents in his home and then attempted blackmail.

  Magism Unos had made a mistake.

  And now they were going to learn what happened when you pushed a man who could manipulate time.

  When you threatened one of the five Grand Protectors.

  When you made an enemy of someone who'd been holding back for six years but was now finally, completely done with patience.

  Duvan's eyes glowed gold in the morning light as he accelerated through the city.

  The time for surveillance was over.

  The time for caution was over.

  Now was the time for action.

  And Magism Unos was about to be destroyed.