Chase was working at his desk when an invitation arrived on a piece of heavy, cream-colored cardstock, hand-delivered to Chase's desk. It wasn't a corporate summons; it was a request for a "quiet dinner" at Vee's private residence—a refurbished loft in a district where the buildings still remembered the soot of the industrial revolution.
Chase arrived with Rixsa in tow. She was unusually subdued, wearing a black cheongsam that mirrored Kaelen's, though she had added her own flair with neon-pink hair ribbons.
Vee's loft was a sanctuary of ink and silence. Canvases leaned against every wall, depicting landscapes that shouldn't exist in this dimension. The air smelled of expensive jasmine tea and the faint, metallic tang of ancient ink.
"Welcome," Vee said, appearing from behind a large easel. He had traded his three-piece suit for a simpler black silk robe, looking every bit the retired scholar. "I've prepared a simple Szechuan meal. I find that spice helps ground the spirit when the conversation turns... heavy."
The dinner began with polite observations about the game's physics, but as the wine flowed—a vintage that Chase recognized as being from a vineyard that had been burned down in the 1800s—the masks began to slip.
"You have a very specific way of channeling energy, Chase," Vee remarked, setting down his chopsticks. "It's a style I haven't seen since the Western campaigns. Most 'Warriors' from that era were blunt instruments. You... you were a surgeon."
Rixsa leaned forward, her tail twitching with curiosity. "Western campaigns? You mean like the Napoleonic wars?"
Vee chuckled, a dry, papery sound. "Earlier, little demon. Much earlier, and not of this world. I was a scribe for a court that didn't believe in maps. I drew the things they conquered. That's where I first saw men like Chase."
Chase remained silent, swirling the dark liquid in his glass. The memories were there, beneath the surface—the smell of mud, the weight of a broadsword, the absolute silence before a charge.
"But you aren't the only ghost in that apartment, are you?" Vee's eyes turned sharp, settling on the empty chair they had left for the 'service staff' they'd left at home. "The little aristocrat. Kaelen. She's remarkably quiet for someone of her lineage."
"She's under a suppressor," Chase said flatly. "And she's a brat."
Vee leaned back, his expression turning somber. "She's more than that. She's a fugitive. Did she tell you why she followed a falling Goddess into a mortal realm? It wasn't just loyalty to Alex."
Rixsa narrowed her eyes. "She said she was bored. That Alex was her only friend."
"She's hiding," Vee corrected. "From her husband."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Chase felt the familiar prickle of a new threat. "A demon husband?"
"No," Vee sighed, looking at a half-finished sketch on his wall. "A man. An ancient warrior named Vincent. He's like you, Chase. A survivor of the old wars, someone who refused to stay dead. He spent decades—centuries, actually—tearing through the supernatural underworld looking for her."
"Why?" Rixsa asked, her voice hushed.
"Because Kaelen betrayed him," Vee explained. "Vincent was a commander of a human resistance during the First Divine Schism. He had the gods on the ropes. But Kaelen, his own wife, leaked his positions to Alex's faction. She did it to save Alex from execution, thinking she was choosing friendship over war. In doing so, she caused the massacre of Vincent's entire legion."
Chase felt a cold knot form in his stomach. He knew the weight of such a betrayal. A legion wasn't just a group of soldiers; it was a family.
"Vincent disappeared after the war," Vee continued. "Word was he had finally given up, passed into a long sleep. But now that we are all converging in this city…in this world—now that the 'Grid' is being built—the spiritual ripples are reaching everywhere. If he's still out there, he will pick up her trace."
Vee looked directly at Chase. "The question is... I don't know what he wants anymore. Does he want to find her because he finally misses the woman he loved? Or does he want to finish the execution he started two hundred years ago for her treason?"
Rixsa looked at Chase, her usual playfulness replaced by genuine worry. "Chase... if another 'Warrior' comes looking for blood in our apartment, Lilith isn't going to be the only problem. We're harboring a war criminal."
Chase set his glass down with a definitive clack. The peace of his retirement was crumbling faster than he could patch it. "Then we don't let him find her. We keep her suppressed and off the grid."
"You can't hide a demon's soul from a husband who knows her scent better than his own," Vee warned. "Be careful, Chase. Warriors like us... we don't know how to forgive. We only know how to finish the job."
As they left Vee's loft and walked into the cool night air, Chase felt the weight of his past pressing down on him. He had an Alpha CEO who wanted to own him, a Goddess who couldn't balance a checkbook, and now, he was potentially standing between a vengeful ancient and the woman who had ruined him.His life just continued to spiral out of control.