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

Two Days Later - Cof-Coffee Cafe

Maxwell sat alone at a four-person table, coffee growing cold in front of him. Footsteps clicked across the tile floor. He glanced up.

"You look better. Still have the bags under your eyes, though."

Vera Holt slid into the seat across from him. Her hair was brushed, clothes actually fit her frame, and she'd even bothered with perfume. But that haunted look hadn't gone anywhere—nothing could fix that except success itself.

"Sleep is a luxury I'm simply too poor to afford." She settled into the chair with the careful movements of someone who hadn't sat across from a prosecutor in years.

Maxwell's eyes flicked to her face. "Did you review what I sent?"

"Yeah." She dropped a folder on the table between them. "So which asylum did you escape from exactly?"

"Same one as Novaria's Chief of Police and Professor Albert Goldstein, apparently." Maxwell added his own folder to the pile.

Vera frowned. "What's this?"

"Read it."

She opened the folder carefully. Her eyes found the title first. "The Components of Pure Energy Theory by Albert Goldstein." She looked up. "I'm not a physicist."

Maxwell set down his cup and crossed his arms. "Don't need to be. Check the acknowledgments section."

She flipped to the back pages. Her eye twitched—just once. "Their names are all here. Angelo, Red, Blue." Her gaze snapped up. "This is legitimate research?"

"Published and peer-reviewed. Look it up yourself if you want—though you'll need an account on one of those academic databases." He waved dismissively.

Vera's hands moved through a series of nervous gestures—touching her collar, adjusting her sleeve, finally settling on gently biting her thumbnail. Maxwell's patience visibly thinned.

She pressed both palms flat on the table. "Alright. Let's say I believe you. Let's say this freak show is real." She leaned forward. "From what you sent me, they're all Aurons. And this Angelo kid? He's the Angel of Death. Criminals wet themselves just hearing his name."

"Correct." Maxwell's expression sharpened like a blade. "Getting cold feet? Your first impression didn't suggest you valued your life particularly highly."

Her face went dark. "Suicide isn't something to joke about."

Maxwell's eyes turned to slits. "I know all too well."

"Right." She didn't push. "Anyway, this isn't about survival—it's about success rates. You want to chase this guy down, force him to slip up?" She gestured at the folders. "We'll need actual combat capability. Meaning Aurons."

Maxwell stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Exactly my thinking."

"Why couldn't you have just gathered all of us at once?" Vera asked suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"You're sitting at a four-person table. Window side—easier access for anyone joining us." She stood abruptly. "Which means I should probably sit next to you in case there's more than one person coming." She moved around the table, then froze halfway into the chair. "Wait. What if I just read too much into this and now I'm making it awkward?" Her thumbnail found its way back to her teeth. "Should I go back?"

Maxwell made a sound that might've been a laugh if he'd allowed it. "Relax. You read it perfectly. They should arrive any—ah, there they are." He straightened in his seat.

Vera turned toward the entrance. A man and woman walked in arm-in-arm, speaking to the host who pointed their way. The man caught sight of them and raised his hand in a sharp wave. The woman's wave was gentler, more controlled. Maxwell nodded back.

As they approached, Vera got a clearer look. The man had silver hair like Maxwell's but styled with deliberate spikes. Younger by at least fifteen years, with stubble along his jaw and dark eyes that looked sharp but not as sharp as his smile. His whole presence felt relaxed but ready.

The woman had darker skin and red hair pulled into a loose bun. Around the same age as her companion, maybe slightly younger. Something about her expression registered as both soft and dangerous at the same time—confident and predatory all at once.

"Kirren. Sienna." Maxwell stood, extending his hand. "Good to see you both in good health."

"Come on, bro." Kirren ignored the hand and pulled Maxwell into a quick hug. "That's no way to greet family."

"Mm." Maxwell returned the embrace briefly, then reached across the table to hug Sienna as well.

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The couple took the seats across from Maxwell and Vera. Maxwell remained standing, turning to his companion. "Vera, allow me to introduce Kirren Guilford—my younger brother. And his fiancée, Sienna Fletcher." He gestured to Vera. "This is Vera Holt. Former detective."

Kirren gave a casual wave. "Hey, Vera. How's it going?"

Sienna offered a small nod. "Pleasure."

Vera shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Uh, same."

Maxwell settled back into his chair. "We were just discussing you both."

Kirren grinned. "Should've discussed a million Lumen instead! Now you're stuck with us!"

Sienna's laugh came out soft and knowing.

Maxwell cleared his throat with obvious intent. "Kirren and Sienna are Elite Rank professional Aurons. They've agreed to assist us with this investigation."

Vera's unease showed plainly on her face. "Professional or not, you're still walking into danger..."

"Eh, don't sweat it." Kirren made a dismissive gesture. "Way I understand it, nobody's fighting to the death here. Besides, I owe Maxi big time. For him? I'd do anything."

Maxwell's composure finally cracked. "Kirren. Please. I have asked you repeatedly to stop calling me that."

"Hold on." Vera pressed forward, looking between them. "Aren't pro-Aurons on insanely tight schedules? Training camps, competitions, sponsorship obligations?"

"Actually, funny you should bring that up!" Kirren leaned back in his chair with a grin.

Maxwell crossed his arms. "They're both preparing for The Crucible—happening in Lumecent six months from now."

Sienna's eyes lit up. "It's the biggest Elite-Rank competition in all of Luminia! Held every three years, and we actually got accepted!"

Vera's thumbnail went back between her teeth. "Then shouldn't you be training for that? What if this investigation costs you the tournament? Or worse—what if you get injured and can't compete at all?" Her voice climbed with each word. "Oh no..."

"Easy there." Kirren's relaxed demeanor never shifted. "We got six months to kill. Way we see it? This whole thing counts as training."

Sienna's soft laugh carried an edge underneath. "Ho, ho. I just hope our target can actually keep up with us."

"Exactly!" Kirren's enthusiasm filled the space around him. "Overcoming challenges, reforging yourself—that's what The Crucible is all about! This is perfect preparation!"

Vera looked between the brothers like she was watching a tennis match. "You two are complete opposites. If you didn't have the same face, I'd never guess you were related."

"Yeah, we get that a lot." Kirren chuckled.

"Indeed," Maxwell agreed dryly.

Vera shook her head, something almost like a smile touching her tired features. "One brother becomes a courtroom warrior, the other an arena fighter. I don't think I'll ever figure out how that happened."

"Ha! That's where you're wrong!" Kirren pointed at Maxwell. "Big bro here is a fighter through and through. He's actually stronger than me!"

"What?!"

"Kirren." Maxwell's voice could have cut glass. "That's quite enough."

"Right, right." Kirren dialed it back. "Touchy subject. Got it."

Maxwell placed both hands flat on the table. "Now that introductions are out of the way, time for the meat of this meeting, let's discuss why we're actually here."

"Hehe... meat of the meeting..." Kirren whispered sideways.

"Kirren, please!" Sienna whispered back, failing to hide her grin.

Maxwell's eye twitched. He pinched the bridge of his nose, took a breath, then continued. "Our targets—plural—" He set down a printed screenshot from Ramirez's surveillance footage. "Angelo Ashworth and his other selves, Red and Blue. Complete anomalies in every sense."

Everyone's attention snapped to the image.

"According to my sources, Red is unpredictable and violent. Don't assume you can outsmart him—you can't." Maxwell's finger moved across the photo. "Blue is the strategist. He's cataloging your weaknesses while Red keeps you busy. Angelo coordinates them both." He looked up. "You won't be fighting one person. You'll be fighting a coordinated team."

Kirren raised his hand like an eager student. Maxwell tried ignoring him. The hand stayed up. Finally, Maxwell broke.

"...Yes, Kirren?"

"Question!"

"I gathered that. What is it?"

"So what exactly is the mission? Like, I get that we need to... engage with them." He turned to Sienna. "Not like we're engaged, babe."

"I know, love." Sienna's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

"But why?"

Maxwell dragged a hand down his face. "I was getting to that if you'd allow me to—"

"Then stop getting sidetracked! Just say it already!"

"Kirren, I swear..." He inhaled deeply through his nose. "The short version: Angelo likely killed someone using Red as an accomplice. He exploited the fact that their condition is legally unprecedented to secure a not guilty verdict." Maxwell leaned forward. "To expose the truth, we need to understand their three-way existence. And potentially convince Blue to cooperate with us and testify privately about what really happened."

"Hold up." Kirren shook his head. "You want him to snitch on his own brother? That's not cool, bro."

"They're not technically brothers... I think." Maxwell realized he understood them as poorly as everyone else. "Regardless, this is about duty. About justice and upholding the law." His voice took on that prosecutorial edge. "No one exists above the law. As a warrior of justice, I must set things right."

"Alrighty then." Kirren straightened like a soldier. "We know the details. What's next?"

Maxwell nodded, then turned. "Vera?"

"Me? Oh—okay." She immediately started gnawing her thumbnail, leaving small indentations. "Logically, the next step is locating him. In the file you gave me, you mentioned they left town?"

Maxwell nodded.

"Then we need to figure out where he is. Or at least where he's headed."

Sienna pressed a finger to her lips, thinking. "But how do we accomplish that?"

"Hmm..." Vera's eyes unfocused slightly, pulling from old training. "Back when I was on the force, if we had contact information, we'd call the target and trace the signal. Triangulate their location." She looked at Maxwell. "Do we have access to that kind of equipment? And his phone number, obviously?"

"Contact information, yes—courtesy of his former chief. As for the tracing equipment, I believe I can arrange it."

Kirren whistled low. "Damn. Prosecutors really do have serious connections, huh?"

"I should have it ready by tomorrow." Maxwell stood, the meeting clearly over. "I'll contact you all once we're prepared to move. Pack thoroughly—we may be gone for some time."

"Ohhh..." Vera grabbed fistfuls of her own hair. "But those traces weren't always accurate! What if it sends us on a wild goose chase across the country? What if this whole thing fails because of me?"

Maxwell shook his head, reaching down to pull her arm and help her up. "You worry too much. Come on. Time to go."

"Ohhhhh..." Vera's groan continued as Maxwell ushered her toward the exit.

The group dispersed in different directions. Another team formed to pursue the divided trio. Another set of gears began turning, carrying them all toward an inevitable collision.