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

Angelo dragged the rickety chair and small table against the wall, creating a cramped workspace in their already tiny room. The scraping furniture made Sol and Neiva bolt upright in their beds just as Red and Blue materialized from wisps of colored smoke.

"Wait, you're starting this madness right now?" Sol asked, watching all three versions of Angelo ignite their auras.

Angelo didn't look up from positioning himself. "You seriously asking that? You know how long permanent matter takes to forge. Add the mixing process on top..." He let the math speak for itself.

Sol ran a hand through his silver hair. "Okay, fair point. But what happens when you screw up the mixing and turn us all into crater dust?"

Angelo finally met his eyes, though something flickered in his expression. "Won't happen. We've got the formula down perfectly." His tone wasn't quite as confident as his words.

Neiva caught it too, shooting a worried glance at Sol. "Uh oh. I really don't like the sound of this."

"Makes two of us," Sol said flatly.

"Oh, quit being such drama queens!" Red waved them off with theatrical flair. "It'll be fine! Just get some sleep—if we do blow up, at least you won't feel a thing."

Sol's voice dripped sarcasm. "Wow, Red. That's incredibly comforting. I feel so much better now."

Angelo thrust his hands forward, orange energy beginning to swirl. "Let's just get started. They'll relax once they see nothing explodes." Red and Blue mirrored his stance.

Neiva's eyes went wide with betrayal. "Even you, Blue? I thought you'd be the voice of reason here!"

Blue's perfect posture wavered slightly. "Well, that is to say... the circumstances require..." He fumbled for words, clearly struggling.

"Leave the smart guy alone, princess!" Red snapped, jumping to Blue's defense. "He's doing what needs doing!"

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Blue shot him a withering look. "Your support somehow makes me question my own judgment."

Red's face darkened. "What the hell? I'm trying to back you up, you ungrateful ass—"

"ENOUGH!" Angelo's voice cut through the room like a whip. "We don't have a choice here! It's this or we're all corpses by the weekend!"

Silence crashed down on them like a heavy blanket. The weight of their situation settled over everyone.

Sol finally exhaled slowly. "Fine. But promise me—the second you start feeling tired, you stop. No heroics."

Angelo nodded curtly. "Yeah, yeah, I got it." He turned to his duplicates. "Can we please get moving now?"

Sol and Neiva reluctantly settled back into their beds, though neither looked ready to actually sleep.

"We should forge the permanent matter individually first, then attempt the combination process," Blue said, slipping into his scholarly mode. "Small batches would be prudent—mixing unequal amounts could prove... explosive."

The others agreed, each focusing on their respective colored sphere of energy. Minutes ticked by in tense concentration until Red suddenly perked up. "Hey, maybe I should flip on the TV. Make this boring-ass process a little less soul-crushing."

Angelo sighed without breaking concentration. "Did you forget the TV's busted because of—" He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the perfectly intact television. "What the hell?"

Red's grin could have powered the entire building. "Ta-da!"

Blue hesitated before asking, "What did you do?"

"What?" Red tried to look innocent, failing spectacularly. "Lavvy's room was already trashed. Nobody's gonna notice one more broken thing in there."

Understanding dawned on Angelo's face. "You switched them?"

"You make it sound like I robbed a bank or something." Red's satisfaction was impossible to miss. A smoky tether of crimson energy snaked out, grabbing for the remote. "Aw, crap. This is the busted one's remote."

He held his partially formed permanent matter steady, letting it dissolve back into smoke as he closed his eyes. The crimson mist squeezed under their door.

In Lavvy's dark room next door, the smoke reformed into a miniature Red. The tiny figure spun through the air, trailing more smoke that touched every surface—bed, floor, broken furniture. Through the particles, Red could map the entire room like a supernatural radar.

"Bingo!" he thought, feeling something remote-shaped on the floor near the wreckage.

The puppet dove down, snatched the object, and zipped toward the broken window.

Angelo winced at the sound of more glass shattering. He shot Red an irritated look.

"Oops," Red shrugged, hopping up to crack their window open. The tiny figure zipped inside with the remote held high like a trophy. "Mission accomplished!" He flicked on the TV with theatrical flair.

And so they continued their dangerous work, at least now with some background noise to break the tension. All of them knowing that everything—their lives, the town, maybe more—hung in the balance of what they created tonight.