Time, in the wake of those events, felt like an eternity suspended in glory. Thanks to Lucan's reforms, the nation began to compete on the global stage; it had become a prosperous sanctuary, a place truly worth living in. Following my wedding to Lilian, I made the heavy decision to retire. The team, now officially recognized as an elite special forces unit, continued their path without me. Occasionally, rumors of their feats would reach my ears—impossible missions in foreign lands that turned them into living legends.
Though I missed the rush of adrenaline and my brothers-in-arms, I couldn't return to that life. Not for myself, but for the new family I was building. Lilian had recently discovered she was pregnant, and it should have been the happiest moment of my existence.
Yet, a shadow haunted me. I felt time slipping away too quickly, like sand escaping through my fingers. I wished with all my soul for those moments of peace to last forever, but destiny had other plans.
That night, in our country home far from the world's clamor, the silence was profaned.
At first, it was a mere whisper in the grass, then the faint, rhythmic crunch of coordinated footsteps. I counted mentally: four, three, five... no, seven people were surrounding the property. My instinct—the one I had tried to bury beneath layers of domesticity—screamed with a vengeance. I woke Lilian with an urgent whisper, warning her of the intruders. We hid behind the doorframe, holding our breath in the suffocating dark.
A man armed with a rifle entered cautiously, scanning the gloom. In a movement that was nearly inaudible, I stepped out from the shadows. I gripped his head with the coldness of my former self and twisted his neck with a sickening, dry snap. But before his body could hit the floor, the man managed to trigger a deafening alarm.
Hell broke loose.
A hail of bullets tore through the wooden walls, turning our bedroom into a trap of splinters and lead. Though I was wounded in the initial exchange, I seized the intruder's weapon and lunged into the fray. The night filled with visceral sounds: the roar of gunfire, the dull thud of metal against bone, and muffled screams. I fought with the desperation of a man who has everything to lose.
When the last of the assailants finally fell, I stood there, exhausted and drenched in the blood of others. I looked at Lilian with a nervous, shaky laugh, seeking solace in her eyes.
"AUREN, BEHIND YOU!" she suddenly screamed.
One of the men, whom I had believed dead, crawled from the wreckage. He aimed his weapon point-blank at my head. At that range, the end was inevitable. However, Lilian—hands trembling but heart brave—fired first. The bullet struck the intruder's neck, a mortal wound. But in a final burst of fury and agony, the man jerked his aim toward the woman who had taken his life.
A single shot rang out, louder than all those before it.
The projectile pierced Lilian's heart. She suffered for only a few brief seconds—an eternity of pain reflected in her gaze—before her knees buckled and she slumped to the floor. I rushed to her side, screaming her name, but the light in her blue eyes had already faded. Death had claimed her before my hands could even hold her.
There, in the middle of a house stained with blood and broken dreams, under the indifferent moonlight, only a broken man remained. My eyes, once gray and full of life, turned black from the void in my ...