The Divided Guardian [Cursed Anti-Hero, Progression, Dark Fantasy]

- Luminia's Capital, Lumecent, Government District -

Deep shadows from the moonlit window fell across the man standing before the massive oak desk, trying not to fidget as he clutched his manila folder.

Everything about this room spoke of power – from the imported carpets that swallowed his footsteps to the floor-to-ceiling windows that transformed the city below into a tapestry of lights.

But nothing in the room commanded attention like the woman behind the desk, whose very stillness carried more authority than a shouted order.

He cleared his throat, shuffling through his papers with hands that betrayed the slightest tremor.

The woman took a long drag from her cigarette, its glow briefly illuminating features that seemed carved from marble by years of impossible decisions. She said nothing, merely gesturing for him to proceed with an elegant wave that sent smoke curling through the air between them.

"The monthly threat assessment, my lady," he began, keeping his voice carefully neutral despite the weight of his news. "We've identified several developments that warrant attention."

She drew deeply on her cigarette, the ember brightening like a warning light.

In that brief illumination, her eyes looked ancient and knowing, as if they had witnessed the rise and fall of empires. A stream of smoke escaped her lips, dancing in the air as if alive.

"Our intelligence from the Inferni border is... concerning," he continued, papers crinkling softly in his grip. "Their military exercises have increased threefold, but more troubling are the reports of unmarked supply convoys moving under cover of darkness. The timing, just months before the New Light Festival..." He let the implications hang heavy in the smoke-filled air.

The cigarette descended to a crystal ashtray with surgical precision. "Continue."

His shoulders tensed as he delivered the next piece of news. "Next... we have detected a peculiar activity from one of them." The word landed like a loaded gun on the desk. "It's one of their more... unconventional members."

He hesitated.

"They were spotted circling our facilities. The reports suggest they're not adhering to their usual policy."

She crushed her cigarette and smoothly and lit another, the lighter's flame briefly revealing features that seemed untouched by time. The contrast made her beauty more unsettling than alluring.

"And the domestic front?" Her words carried the weight of command even in a whisper.

"There's a... local matter in the city of Novaria." He shifted his weight, papers rustling. "Over the past six months, they've gained something of a vigilante—an Auron division officer who offers criminals a choice between surrender and execution."

Her hand froze halfway to her lips, smoke trailing forgotten from the cigarette like an abandoned thought. "His capabilities?"

He gestured toward a screen hanging on the wall to the side, smoothly pulling a remote. "I've prepared surveillance today in advance just for that, If you would direct your attention to the screen, my lady." She lazily turned to watch, the screen already showing a dark figure perched atop an old building.

- Novaira City -

"Officer down, target on the loose," The police radio crackled to life, shattering the night. "All nearby units respond. Repeat, all nearby units respond, over."

From his perch, he spotted the green figure darting between shadows, shoving people aside in a mad dash for freedom.

"Yet another one," he muttered, his eyes igniting with orange light that burned through the night like twin embers. The cold wind tugged at his Auron division uniform as he tracked every desperate movement below. "When Lady Justice sends her messenger, their answer's always the same—Resistance."

His gaze locked onto the green glow as it rounded a corner, disappearing before flashing between buildings again. This familiar dance of cat and mouse—he'd watched it unfold a hundred times.

"Pointless."

Without hesitation, he stepped off the edge into empty space, gravity pulling him toward his target with the silent certainty of judgment itself.

Below, chaos erupted.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!" The desperate cry cut through the night as emerald flames lit up the street like an eerie sunrise.

People scattered in panic as a fire Auron wreathed in a green aura stumbled between them. Sickly fire shot from his trembling hands, turning paper lanterns for the upcoming festival into emerald sparks. The burning bits rained down on the screaming crowd below. Cars screeched to a halt, horns blaring as drivers swerved to avoid the panicked mob.

The man's chest heaved as he ran, cold sweat running over his face. His wild eyes darted back and forth until they found a gap between buildings – a maze of dark alleys that might hide him from whatever was hunting him. Without a second thought, he plunged into the shadows.

He never saw the figure moving smoothly across the rooftops above.

Wrapped in soft orange aura, his pursuer tracked him like a hawk. Glowing ropes of smoky energy shot from around his body, anchoring to buildings and propelling him forward, letting him swing from rooftop to rooftop. The cool night air rushed past his face as he closed in, staying just out of sight.

The fire Auron finally stopped in a narrow alley, doubling over and gasping for breath. After a few tensed moments, his shoulders slumped momentarily in relief. "Lost—" he wheezed, wiping his forehead with a shaking hand. "Lost them."

A shadow dropped silently behind him.

The man spun around with a strangled yelp, green flames exploding from his hands in wild arcs. The fire turned the narrow alley into a tunnel of emerald light. His hunter rushed forward, dodging and twisting away from the fireballs. To avoid the last attack, he shot another smoky rope at the wall and reeled himself in, getting close enough to deliver a solid punch to the green man's face. He jumped back just in time to avoid a retaliatory fireball.

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The green Auron's face twisted with rage. He slammed his hands together, fingers splayed wide. "Stay away from me!" he shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

A continuous stream of sickly green fire shot forward like a flamethrower. His opponent was already reeling himself upward with his smoky ropes, the flames following him as he rose.

"Energy Bomb!" the orange Auron blurt out as he launched an energy blast from above. The man stopped his flamethrower to launch a massive fireball in response. The two forces collided in midair, resulting in an explosion that lit up the entire alley with blinding light.

Momentarily disoriented, the green Auron lost track of his attacker. He blinked rapidly, frantically searching from side to side when he heard someone landing behind him.

He spun around, hands already clenched into flaming fists, ready to strike what he thought was his opponent's back—only to find himself suddenly sprawled on the ground, dazed and confused, a flash of red and blue fading from his vision.

"Stand down, rogue Fire Auron." The voice above him was cold as winter midnight.

The orange glow brightened, revealing his captor's face. Though a short beard tried to hide his youth, he couldn't have been more than eighteen. He wasn't particularly tall, but his orange eyes burned like hot coals as they stared down at his fallen prey.

The man's hands flickered with green fire again, heat distorting the air like waves over hot pavement. A thin beam of orange light cracked past his ear, leaving a smoking hole in the ground – a clear warning – the next shot, wouldn't miss.

The green man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.

"You are gazing upon the face of death," the young man finally spoke, his voice taking a ritualistic quality. "If staring death in the face doesn't change a man... nothing will."

These words made the older man's heart sink, disbelief written all over his face.

"I'm giving you one chance," the orange Auron said, his tone measured and final. "Change your heart and find redemption... or strike at me and prove yourself beyond saving."

"Don't tell him that, Angelo! We'll miss all the good stuff!" Red's all too familiar and excited voice echoed in Angelo's mind, practically rejoicing at the prospect of violence, making Angelo's eye twitch slightly in irritation.

"You are missing the point entirely, Red," Blue's voice countered within Angelo's head, his tone cold and detached. "As per usual."

Recognition dawned in the fallen man's eyes, turning them wide with terror. He pushed himself backward, scraping against the rough pavement.

"No," he gasped, his face draining of color. "You, you're him, aren't you...? The Angel of Death!"

A muscle twitched in Angelo's jaw at the nickname. He stepped forward, his glowing aura casting dancing shadows on the alley walls. The orange light made the hollows of his face look deeper, more menacing.

"So you know of me," Angelo said, each word deliberate and heavy. "Then you understand what happens next. Choose wisely."

The fallen man pushed himself to his knees, voice cracking as he tried to salvage his pride.

"This isn't right! You're supposed to arrest people, not execute them!" His hands trembled as he spoke, giving away his fear despite his attempt to sound defiant.

Angelo's aura flared brighter, his gaze intensifying until the man flinched away from the sheer pressure of it. "You robbed and murdered an innocent couple. Some will say you don't even deserve this exchange. But I'm different. I believe in the possibility of change in the face of death."

"Just end it already!" Red urged in Angelo's mind, his voice gleeful and impatient.

The man's hands clenched into fists, pride obviously hurt form being lectured by a younger man. For a moment, it looked like he might actually attack. Angelo's muscles tensed, ready to move at the slightest provocation.

For an instant, their gazes locked, and something in the man broke. His shoulders slumped like a puppet with cut strings.

"I... I surrender," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the city. "Please just... don't kill me."

His green aura flickered out like a candle in the wind.

Angelo approached carefully, letting his own aura fade until his eyes returned to their natural brown. With slow, deliberate movements, he secured the handcuffs.

Back in the high office the screen went dark. The man turned back to face the woman behind the desk, noticing her patience thinning.

"After thorough assessment, his threat level appears minimal, my lady."

The words came faster now, eager to reassure. "Despite his growing reputation, our surveillance suggests his actual power level is, as you could see, remarkably low. He's mostly after common criminals."

The silence that followed felt like the moment before lightning strikes. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but sharp as a razor's edge. "And yet you went through such lengths to include him in this report. Why?"

"Because of a certain... connection to us that we've uncovered." His voice dropped until it barely stirred the smoke-laden air. "Considering his position and reputation... If he were to discover it..."

Her cigarette stopped moving toward the ashtray, hanging suspended as if time itself had paused. "What connection?"

Without a word, he withdrew a thin file from his folder and placed it on her desk with the careful movements of someone handling explosives.

"On your feet," Angelo ordered, gripping the criminal's arm firmly. "We're done here."

As they stepped out of the alley and into Novaria's flood of neon and festival lights, Angelo pulled out his communicator to call for pickup. Above them, streamers and glowing banners swayed between buildings, casting flickers of color across the cracked pavement.
His gaze lingered on a banner marked with Luminia's crest — then immediately dropped. His jaw tightened, eyes turning cold.

"What's wrong, Angie?" Red's voice curled like smoke in the back of his mind. "Don't tell me you're not in the mood to celebrate our big breakup with Infernia."

Angelo didn't answer. Just rolled his eyes and kept walking.

Moments later, a police cruiser pulled up to the curb. Two officers stepped out, both flinching slightly when they met Angelo's glare.

"Nice work tonight," one officer mumbled, hurrying to secure the criminal in the backseat.

The other lingered near the driver's door. "Glad nobody got hurt this time around." He cleared his throat nervously. "Need a ride?"

"I'll handle myself," Angelo replied flatly, already turning away.

"Right. Keep up the good work then!" the officer said quickly before practically diving back into the driver's seat.

Angelo trudged home after dropping his prisoner in the police car, his boots scuffing against the sidewalk. Most people had gone to bed, but with them night owls, Novaria never truly slept, especially with the festival approaching. Street vendors were already setting up decorations, their lanterns casting long shadows across the pavement.

"I still can't believe you let that guy go. You're getting soft, Angie," Red's voice bounced around in Angelo's head, practically dripping with disgust.

"In what universe does arresting a criminal constitute 'letting him go'? Do enlighten us, Red." Blue's response came quick and sharp, like a teacher correcting a particularly slow student.

Angelo dragged his hand down his face, too exhausted to keep their argument contained in his head. "Could you two just shut up for five minutes..." he muttered out loud, making a couple that passed him by look back in confusion and quicken their pace.

The all-too-short silence that followed felt like a held breath.

"Is anyone going to acknowledge the one who has been tailing us throughout the entire chase?" Blue's mental voice cut through the quiet with scholarly precision.

"One?" Red's response crackled with dangerous amusement. "Could bet my left ass cheek there were two of them back there."

"Probably some Aurons who wanted to see some police action..." Angelo replied, but even through their mental link, his doubt leaked through like water. He slowed his pace, straining his ears to focus on the footsteps echoing behind him in the nearly empty street.

"Ooh, ominous," Red's tone was filling with the kind of bloodthirsty excitement that usually meant trouble. "Want me to give them a scare?"

When the footsteps grew close enough that Angelo could feel them like a drumbeat against his spine, his eyes lit up like twin flames as his orange aura burst to life around him. He spun around with predatory speed, his arm reaching out to grab his follower. "You got three seconds to explain why you're—"

Angelo stopped dead, his words dying in his throat. Another hand wrapped around his wrist—orange energy meeting orange energy in a grip that felt both foreign and familiar. Their owner's orange eyes bore into Angelo's with the intensity of molten metal, and that confident smirk spread across their face like an old scar reopening.

"Heh, not bad at all, kid."

Angelo's eyes went wide, his fingers twitching helplessly in his captor's iron grasp.