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

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" A stocky worker's voice boomed across the crowded office as his colleague fumbled a heavy box.

"Sorry, sorry!" The lanky man scrambled to gather scattered files, his face flushed red with embarrassment.

Lector's polished voice cut through the tension like silk. "Gentlemen, please. We're all under pressure here—no need to take it out on each other."

The stocky worker shifted his weight, suddenly looking sheepish. "Yeah... you're right. My bad, Tommy."

"Exactly what I like to hear." Lector's approving nod carried quiet authority before he turned to the lanky worker. "Though perhaps a bit more care with those files? Some of this paperwork is rather irreplaceable."

"Absolutely, sir! Won't happen again!" Tommy snapped to attention with an awkward salute that belonged nowhere near a corporate office.

Lector chuckled softly and stepped away, letting the workers return to their packing. His expression grew more serious as his train of thought resumed.

"Lady Vienna is moving fast," he muttered under his breath. "We only reached the decision last night and we're already packing." His mind raced, images of Angelo flashing through his thoughts. "Yet this doesn't feel right. In Outlaw's Oasis I'll have to dedicate myself entirely to the facility's defenses and the main project."

The office television droned in the background until two words managed to pierce through his concerns.

"Breaking news." The first anchor's voice carried that practiced gravity reserved for tragedies. "Neptunopolis awoke to devastation this morning."

His colleague picked up the thread. "Two Arch-rank Aurons engaged in combat near Cocolala Beach, their battle creating massive tidal waves that swept across the shore."

Lector's hands stilled on the paperwork he'd been shuffling. "Early morning swimmers and beachgoers were caught completely off-guard," the first anchor continued. "Casualty numbers are still being confirmed."

Another senseless tragedy. Lector rubbed his temples as frustration built behind his eyes. How many more innocent people had to die because criminals couldn't settle disputes like civilized beings?

"What triggered this confrontation?" the second anchor asked her colleague. "Do we know who these Aurons were?"

"Investigation is ongoing. Witnesses report the fight began far offshore during the night, gradually moving toward populated areas." The first anchor shuffled his notes. "Early theories suggest rival criminal organizations escalating a territorial dispute."

"Predictable," Lector muttered, his attention now fully captured by the unfolding story.

"Among the casualties, one name stands out—Lulu Marinez, sixty-three, mother of renowned investigator Milo Marinez."

The second anchor nodded grimly. "Milo Marinez made headlines just last year exposing the Coralslo Hospital scandal. With such personal stakes, she might be the one person capable of bringing these criminals to justice."

"Though we should note," her colleague added, "Marinez hasn't issued any public statements. Taking on an organization with Arch-rank muscle would be suicide for most investigators..."

Lector stroked his chin thoughtfully, a plan already forming in his mind. A talented investigator with personal motivation and nothing left to lose. This could be exactly what they needed.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. "This is Lector. I need a complete file on someone—everything we can dig up."

The sun hung low over Neptunopolis Cemetery, painting the headstones in shades of gold and shadow. Lector stood among the mourners, just another face in the black-clad crowd surrounding Lulu Marinez's gravesite. He'd waited patiently through every ritual—the family's tearful goodbyes, the lowering of the casket, the steady stream of visitors leaving flowers and condolences.

Now night had settled over the cemetery like a heavy blanket, and most of the mourners had drifted away to their cars and their lives. Only one person remained.

Milo sat hunched on a stone bench that faced her mother's fresh grave, dark sunglasses still covering her eyes despite the darkness. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, hands pressed against her face as if she could hold the grief inside through sheer force.

She didn't even notice someone settling onto the bench beside her until a smooth voice cut through the evening quiet.

"You must be carrying quite a burden right now, Miss Marinez." Lector kept his gaze fixed on the distant grave marker. "Please accept my deepest condolences."

"What?" The word slipped out before she could stop it. Milo's head snapped up, startled. "Look, I appreciate that, but I really need to be alone right now. I just want to grieve in peace."

Something flickered behind Lector's eyes—recognition, perhaps understanding. "I know that feeling all too well."

The simple statement hit Milo like a slap. Her composure cracked completely. "Don't you dare!" she burst out, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Don't act like you understand what I'm going through! You don't know what I've lost!"

Lector remained perfectly still, his expression unchanged as her pain washed over him. He let the silence stretch between them like a bridge neither had asked for but both seemed to need.

"Perhaps I could share something with you," he said finally, his voice carrying a gentleness that hadn't been there before. "Maybe it would help us understand each other better."

Milo wanted to tell him to leave, to take his sympathy and shove it somewhere dark. But something in his tone stopped her. She found herself staying quiet, neither accepting nor rejecting his offer.

Lector took her silence as permission. "I lost someone important to me as well. Twenty years ago now." He clasped his hands in his lap, staring at something only he could see. "Back then, I was head butler for a prestigious family in Infernia."

— New Solaria, Capital of Infernia, 20 Years Ago —

Three skyscrapers burned against the night sky like massive torches, their flames reaching toward the stars as if trying to escape the earth itself. Smoke poured from shattered windows, turning the air thick and choking.

A car screeched to a halt behind the police barriers, its driver bursting out before the engine had even stopped. Lector shoved through the crowd of horrified onlookers, their faces lit orange by the distant flames.

"ELIZABETH!" His voice cracked as he threw himself against the police barrier. "My daughter's in there!"

Two officers immediately blocked his path, their hands firm on his shoulders. "Whoa there! Where do you think you're going?"

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"You got some kind of death wish?" the second officer added, gesturing toward the inferno. "Those buildings are about to come down!"

Lector's eyes were wild with panic. "She's not answering her phone! I have to get to her!" He struggled against their grip. "Please, I'll take full responsibility! Just let me through!"

The officers exchanged grim looks before the first one shook his head. "You even an Auron, old man? Look at those fires—ain't nothing walking out of there alive."

The words hit Lector like a physical blow. "What?!" He lunged forward again, his voice breaking. "ELIZABETH! ELIZABETH!"

"Hey, listen!" The officer's voice softened with genuine sympathy. "I'm real sorry about your daughter, but there's nothing you can do except pray right now."

"Where are the Aurons?!" Lector's voice rose to a desperate shriek. "Why are you just using water?! Why isn't anyone helping them?!"

"Are you kidding me?" The second officer gestured toward the blazing towers. "The Aurons are inside trying to save people! But this fire's too big—even they can't stop it!"

"No... no, no, NO!" Lector clutched his head, spinning in place as he searched desperately for any solution, any hope.

That's when he spotted him.

Standing apart from the crowd, arms crossed, completely untouched by the chaos around him—an Enlightened Society member. People gave him a wide circle, as if his very presence commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

Lector approached like a man possessed. "You..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I've seen you before. You're with the Enlightened Society."

The man glanced over with bored irritation. "Yeah? What's it to you?"

"Why aren't you doing anything?!" Lector's composure shattered completely. "People are dying in there! My daughter is burning alive and you're just standing here!"

The Enlightened member spat into the dirt. "Some fire Auron went psycho and torched the whole district. Nothing I can do about it now."

Lector's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Nothing you can—she's my only child! I'm begging you, please!"

"Are you deaf, old man? Or do I need to draw you a picture?"

"You're supposed to protect humanity!" Lector's voice cracked with rage and desperation. "You call yourselves guardians and you won't lift a finger?!"

The man spat again, his expression turning cruel. "You know what? I'm glad this was man-made. And even if it wasn't, I still wouldn't help. What do you think of that?"

Something snapped inside Lector's chest. His vision blurred red as pure fury consumed him. "You bastard!" He lunged forward, fists raised.

Hands grabbed him from behind—other civilians pulling him back. "Are you insane?!" someone shouted. "Do you know what he could do to you?!"

The Enlightened member's grin turned predatory. "Come on then! Give me an excuse!" His eyes began to glow with barely contained power. "I'd love a reason to put you down!"

Lector strained against the hands holding him, murder in his eyes. But then the earth shook beneath their feet.

A thunderous crack split the night air. Everyone's heads snapped toward the buildings as the first skyscraper began to lean, then topple. Like dominoes made of steel and glass, all three towers collapsed in a cascade of destruction that shook the ground.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Lector's scream joined a chorus of anguish from dozens of other voices. But underneath it all, cutting through the grief like a knife, came the sound of laughter.

The Enlightened member was laughing—deep, genuine amusement at the destruction, at the death, at the suffering of everyone around him.

That laughter would haunt Lector's nightmares for the rest of his life.

In his blind grief, he never noticed the elegant woman who slipped away from the scene as quietly as she'd arrived.

The next day found Lector sitting alone in the cemetery, staring at a fresh headstone that bore his daughter's name. His clothes were wrinkled, his face hollow, his eyes empty of everything except pain.

Soft footsteps approached across the grass, but he didn't look up until a gentle voice spoke.

"I understand what you're going through. And I came here to help."

Lector slowly raised his head to see a beautiful young woman standing before him, her expression filled with genuine compassion.

His voice came out as barely a whisper. "How...?"

"By giving you the one thing you need most right now." She knelt beside him, her voice carrying quiet strength. "Purpose."

— Neptunopolis, Present Day —

Lector finished his story and closed his eyes, a soft smile touching his lips despite the sadness that lingered there like an old wound.

Milo shifted on the bench, processing what she'd heard. When she finally spoke, her voice carried careful distance. "Look, I'm genuinely sorry about your daughter. But I don't see how your tragedy connects to mine."

"How do you mean?" Lector's tone remained gentle, encouraging.

She gestured toward him, then back at herself. "You lost your daughter because some ES bastard refused to help when he could have saved lives." Her voice hardened. "I lost my mother because criminals decided to have their pissing contest near a beach full of innocent people. The Enlightened Society had nothing to do with it."

"That's certainly one way to look at it." Lector's words flowed like silk. "But perhaps I could offer you a different perspective."

Milo raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms defensively. "I'm listening."

"Tell me something—do you think an Enlightened Society member could have prevented yesterday's tragedy? Could they have saved your mother and all those other innocent people?"

"I..." Milo hesitated, clearly thinking it through. "Maybe. Probably, actually. But I can't blame them for not being there when it happened."

Lector's chuckle held no warmth at all. "That's where you're mistaken, my dear. They're always among us—walking our streets, shopping in our stores, living in our neighborhoods. They simply choose to hide behind outdated rules rather than dirty their hands with real help."

His eyes locked onto hers with laser focus. "They call themselves humanity's guardians, yet they stand by and watch while evil people get the final laugh."

He leaned forward slightly. "You want to use your considerable talents to hunt down the criminals directly responsible for your mother's death. But I believe those skills would be better served punishing the ones who could have saved her life and chose not to. In their own way, they're just as guilty."

Milo's mouth fell open. "Wait, hold on. You're asking me to go after the Enlightened Society?" She stared at him like he'd suggested they take a walk to the moon. "Are you completely insane?"

Lector raised a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. "What I'm about to share with you is classified information. You're free to walk away, but understand that discussing this with anyone else would be... unwise."

Milo blinked at him in disbelief. "Did you get this recruitment speech from a spy movie? Because it sounds like something out of a bad thriller."

A knowing smirk crossed Lector's face. "Guilty as charged. I also picked up this little trick from those films." He tapped his chest meaningfully, drawing her attention downward.

When Milo looked down, her blood went cold. A small red dot danced across her jacket, moving slightly with each breath she took. Her eyes snapped up to scan the distant skyline until she spotted it—a thin red line cutting through the darkness from a tower miles away.

She let out a low whistle of grudging respect. "That's got to be at least two miles out."

"Two and a quarter, actually." Lector's tone remained as casual as if they were discussing the weather. "Quite the skilled marksman we have on payroll."

"Impressive." Milo's voice carried the cool confidence of someone who'd stared down worse threats. "So what do you call yourselves? I want to know who is pointing a sniper at my chest."

Lector's smile widened with genuine pride. "We're the cure for the Enlightened Society's disease. The Anti-Enlightened Society—dedicated to reforming the ES through any means necessary. As for me, I'm but one of it's many messengers," He stood up and bowed like a professional butler. "Lector Handison, at your service."

"Well, I have to admit, joining a terrorist organization wasn't on this year's bucket list." Milo's dry humor cut through the tension like a blade.

"Life is full of surprises." Lector's response came smooth as expensive whiskey.

"Alright, you've got my attention." Milo settled back against the bench, studying him with sharp intelligence. "My blood's practically boiling for revenge right now, so convince me of one thing and I'm all yours."

Satisfaction radiated from Lector like heat from a fire. "What would that be?"

"Why should I waste time going after these so-called guardians instead of hunting down the actual murderers who killed my mother?"

Lector's smile turned predatory. "The answer is beautifully simple. Both parties are equally responsible for your mother's death. One group consists of the misbehaving children making a mess of the playground. The other represents the parents who allow such behavior to continue unchecked."

"That still doesn't answer my question." Milo's tone sharpened. "If they're both guilty, why choose one target over the other?"

"Ah, I see your point. Two reasons, actually." He raised one finger with theatrical precision. "First, correcting the Enlightened Society would benefit all of humanity. We can't bring back your mother or my Elizabeth, but we could prevent countless others from suffering the same loss."

Milo shook her head with a bitter laugh. "You're assuming I give a damn about other people's problems. That's a hell of an assumption."

Lector continued without missing a beat. "The second reason is purely practical. After we achieve our primary objective, you'll have access to vastly superior resources and connections for hunting down your 'misbehaving children.'"

Milo pulled out a cigarette and lit it with steady hands, the flame illuminating her face briefly in the darkness. The red laser dot remained fixed on her chest, but she paid it no more attention than she would a bothersome fly.

"And there's the real pitch." She took a long drag and exhaled slowly. "Very well, Mr. Lector. You've made your sale. Where do I sign up?"