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

The morning sun climbed over Thunderclap Port, but the winter air stayed sharp and cold. Down at the beach, the group had split into their usual routine—Angelo, Red, and Blue working together to create more Trinergy stockpiles while Neiva and Sol practiced their abilities nearby.

Neiva focused on her metal energy, shaping it into strange, twisting forms in the air above her hands. After several attempts, she stretched her arm up high, and the metal followed her movement, stretching and hardening into a wide, sharp blade that hovered in the morning light.

Her eyes lit up as she stared at the floating weapon. Even Sol paused his own training to watch, genuinely impressed. Red, of course, got distracted from his energy work and turned to watch the redhead too.

Neiva pulled her arm back and jumped forward with dramatic flair. "Hiyaaa, Neiva Slash!" The blade sliced through the air and cut a clean line through the sand below. "Yes! I actually did it!" She started dancing around in celebration.

Sol walked over with a strained smile. "Please don't tell me you're going to start shouting attack names now too."

Neiva crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. "What's the problem? Everyone else gets to do it. Why can't I?"

"Because it's cringe," Sol said with a chuckle.

Red walked over beside them, grinning like he'd just pulled off the perfect prank. "Don't listen to him, sugar-tits. Don't let this buzzkill ruin your moment."

Sol turned to Red with raised eyebrows. "You're defending this? You guys act like you're in some pro-Auron exhibition match."

Red's eyes went wide with excitement. "Wait, pro-Aurons do that too?" His voice filled with wonder. "We just do this stuff because that's what we saw on TV!"

"RED!" Angelo's voice boomed from across the beach, sharp with mortification.

Red waved dismissively without even looking over. "But it's true! The Silver Rider did this all the time!"

He struck a dramatic pose, pointing toward the ocean. "Silver Stallion!" Red's energy burst into the shape of a horse, complete with flowing mane and powerful legs. He leaped onto its back with theatrical flair. "Silver Charge!"

The energy horse immediately stumbled over its own legs and crashed face-first into the sand, taking Red down with it.

Sol couldn't hold back his laughter. "Are you seriously telling me you learned this from some kids' show?"

Red spat sand out of his mouth and glared up at him. "How dare you! The Silver Rider wasn't for kids—it was rated PG-16!"

In the distance, Angelo and Blue deliberately turned their backs on the entire conversation, throwing themselves into their energy work like they could will themselves deaf.

Sol held up both hands and made them miss each other in a gesture. "Point completely missed, Red."

Red's wild grin faded for a moment, replaced by something more serious. "Easy to judge when you've never been the outcast. Try spending years with everyone avoiding you, see how long it takes before you need something to escape to."

Sol blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "I... wow. Didn't expect that kind of honesty from you."

Red's manic smile returned, but with an edge that hadn't been there before. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises." His tone carried something darker underneath.

Before anyone could dwell on that shift, Neiva stepped forward. "Well, it's the same for me. I had crushing depression for four years before I met Angelo. Video games were my escape."

Sol nodded, understanding dawning in his expression. "Yeah, I'd already figured that out from all your gaming references."

Neiva's energy returned in a rush. "So if they can name their attacks after TV shows, I should be able to name mine like video game skills!"

Sol raised his hands in mock surrender, unable to hide his smile. "Hey, I'm not stopping you. Being weird is perfectly legal."

"Thank you," Neiva said with satisfaction, completely missing the 'weird' part.

Sol's grin widened. "But seriously, you need to come up with something better than 'Neiva Slash.' That sounds like something a kid would make up."

Neiva spun toward Red for support, but he just shook his head. "Sorry, sugar-tits, but pretty boy's got a point here. You need to step up your naming game." He paused, then added with a smirk, "Pun intended."

Neiva sighed dramatically. "Everyone's a critic."

"RED!" Angelo's shout carried across the beach like a whip crack. "Get over here! We still need to make more Trinergy!"

Red's face twisted like he'd tasted something awful. "Why the hell are you yelling at me? I can literally hear your thoughts! You could whisper and I'd still get the message!"

"Just get your ass over here!" Angelo ignored everything Red had just said.

Red grumbled under his breath as he trudged back to the energy work. After several more minutes of creating pure energy, they finally started the mixing process. Moments later, the silver light of Trinergy erupted around them, shot through with colorful veins of energy. Their muscles flexed with the effort, and the swirling energy crystallized into solid form, looking like a diamond with the colored veins frozen inside. Angelo caught it and tossed it onto a pile of identical spheres.

Meanwhile, Neiva stared at her floating blade with intense concentration, her face scrunched up in thought. Sol noticed her odd behavior and stopped his own training to walk back over.

"What's wrong now?" he asked.

Neiva looked up with genuine distress. "I can't think of a good name for my skills..." She said it like she was weighing someone's life in the balance.

Sol shook his head with amused disbelief. "Just use one of those random name generators online."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Neiva's eyes sparkled with sudden inspiration. "Sol! You're a genius!" She pulled out her phone, which was still tied to Red's pocket figurine, and started frantically searching for name generator websites.

"Glad I could help," Sol said, already walking away.

From behind him, he could hear Neiva testing out new names: "Chromium Reaper Strike!" She slashed through the air, then paused. "Wait, 'Reaper' might upset Angelo." She glanced back at her phone and tried again. "Steel Fang Slash!" Another practice swing. "No... this doesn't look like a fang at all. Should I reshape it to look more fang-like?"

Angelo, who had been listening to every word despite the distance, finally sighed in defeat. "Let's head back to the inn. I can't concentrate with all this noise." He said stuffing the spheres they created so far inside a bag. Without another word, he launched into the air, with Red and Blue's following suit.

"Hey!" Sol yelled after them. "How are we supposed to climb this cliff?"

Neiva held up her phone innocently, showing him Red's tiny figurine dangling from the crimson chain. "We've got pocket Red, remember?"

Sol stared at the miniature for a moment, then sighed. "Oh. Right."

A few minutes later, the trio had squeezed back into their cramped inn room and set up their Trinergy production line once again. Red didn't bother asking permission—he just grabbed the remote and flicked on the television for some background noise.

As the three settled into their energy work, the commercials ended and switched back to the news. "Welcome back to Luminia Today. We're continuing our coverage of Maridian's diplomatic efforts to prevent Luminia from declaring full war on Infernia. As Luminian and Infernian forces continue their daily border skirmishes, casualties mount on both sides..."

Red paused mid-energy creation, his forehead creasing with confusion. "Wait, hold up. I thought we were already at war with Infernia."

Blue shook his head while maintaining perfect focus on his work. "Negative, Red. President Barak declared war specifically on The Sundering Flames organization, not the nation of Infernia itself."

Red knocked himself on the forehead. "Then why the hell are our troops fighting their military, genius?"

Blue let out a patient sigh. "Because Infernia's government stated they would not permit us to conduct military operations on their sovereign territory."

"Oh, right," Red said, the pieces finally clicking together.

Angelo's hand shot out and snatched the remote, switching to Novaria's news channel without a word.

"Hey!" Red jumped in his seat, pointing accusingly at Angelo. "I was actually listening to that, you ass!"

"Maybe we can find something that won't ruin our mood," Angelo replied in his usual flat tone.

As if the universe wanted to mock him personally, the news anchor immediately launched into their next story: "In other news, The Angel of Death appears to have abandoned Novaria entirely."

Angelo's eyes went wide as Red started snickering like a child who'd just seen someone slip on a banana peel. But Angelo wasn't paying attention to Red's amusement—even the energy he was carefully shaping was forgotten as he focused entirely on the broadcast.

"The Angel of Death single-handedly drove crime rates to historic lows here in Novaria," the anchor continued before the screen cut to archived footage of Angelo's interview right after his brutal fight with the Grim Reaper.

"My name is Angelo," he began, each word dropping into the silence like stones into still water. "Some know me as the Angel of Death..."

Angelo's jaw clenched as he watched himself in the broadcast, still visibly wounded from the fight that had cost Bill his life. His hands curled into fists in his lap.

The anchor's voice continued over the footage: "For several months, he offered criminals a simple choice—surrender or face deadly consequences if they resisted. Legal experts argued he operated within the gray areas of Auron self-defense laws."

"Hey, if it's technically legal, then it's legal," Red said cheerfully, his grin taking on a bloodthirsty edge.

"Shut up," Angelo hissed through gritted teeth, straining to hear every word.

"While he remained an extremely controversial figure in public opinion," the anchor said, their expression carefully neutral, "the results were impossible to deny."

Angelo gave a slight nod of agreement, his shoulders still rigid with tension.

"However," the anchor continued, and Angelo's stomach dropped, "ever since the New Light Festival terrorist attack concluded, The Angel of Death has been mysteriously absent. This has led to widespread speculation about his fate—some believe he was killed by the terrorists, others suggest he was quietly terminated by the Auron Division. Novaria's police department has refused to comment on these theories."

"But that's complete bullshit!" Angelo exploded, half-rising from his chair. His protest died in his throat as the anchor delivered the final blow.

"Now that people have taken notice of his absence, crime has surged dramatically. We've documented a hundred and six percent increase in overall criminal activity, with numbers rising daily. This has led many citizens to conclude that the Angel of Death was a necessary evil in the fight against crime. Some are even calling for law enforcement to officially adopt his controversial methods."

Angelo's hand trembled as he reached for the remote and clicked the television off. The sudden silence felt oppressive as he turned back to his energy work, his movements sharp and mechanical.

Blue studied Angelo's rigid posture, recognizing the warning signs. "Angelo—"

"Don't." Angelo's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Just... don't say anything."

Blue watched his original continue working in tense silence, then quietly resumed his own energy creation.

Red simply rolled his eyes and kept going as well, though he couldn't resist a quiet complaint: "I actually wanted to watch something, you know." He said it under his breath, knowing full well his words would fall on deaf ears.

While the trio worked through their tense preparations, a very different scene was unfolding at the mine's main entrance. Every miner except Josef had been gathered in a nervous crowd, their uncertain faces tracking Hugo's movements as he paced back and forth like a caged predator. Veronica sat off to the side, watching the interrogation unfold with sharp interest.

"You're probably wondering why I called this little meeting," Hugo began, his usual casual tone completely absent. The miners stood silent as stones, their eyes following the gang leader's every step.

Hugo's voice carried across the group. "I have reason to believe there's a traitor in this town. Someone who's trying to sabotage our... community growth."

"More like sabotage his criminal empire," one miner whispered to his neighbor, then immediately straightened when he noticed Hugo's gaze swinging his way.

Hugo stopped pacing and studied the assembled crowd. "And I believe one of you knows exactly who it is."

An old, weathered miner covered in decades of scars stepped forward from the center of the group. "That's nonsense!" he bellowed with surprising force. "Every miner here is loyal as they come. We do honest work for honest pay!"

"Yeah! You tell him!" Voices erupted from the crowd as the miners rallied behind their spokesman.

Hugo's smile returned—slow, predatory, and sharp as a shark's tooth. "Oh, really? Then perhaps you can explain why Josef isn't standing here with the rest of you."

The miners looked around at each other with growing murmurs, suddenly noticing the absence they'd missed before.

"I'll tell you why he's not here!" Hugo didn't wait for their response. "Because Josef has been colluding with people who want to cause trouble in my town!"

"What? No way!" A massive miner with arms like tree trunks called out. "Josef's one of the best men I know—heart of pure gold! There's no way he'd get mixed up with troublemakers."

Hugo's patience was clearly wearing thin, though he kept his voice controlled. "You talk like you know everyone Josef associates with."

The big miner scratched his head, thinking hard. "Well, aside from those guests of yours, I haven't seen him talking to anyone unusual."

The temperature in the air seemed to plummet. Hugo's grin vanished completely. "Come again? Which guests are you referring to exactly? And what were they discussing?"

The miner suddenly looked like he desperately wanted to disappear. "Uh... it was that tall fellow with the silver hair and the red-haired girl. They said Josef had agreed to help them solve some kind of mystery."

Hugo was frozen in place. "I see." he turned slowly toward Veronica, then looked back at the nervous crowd. "You're all dismissed."

As the miners hesitantly began to scatter, Veronica stepped closer to Hugo. "So is that proof enough for you?"

Hugo dragged his massive hand down his face, suddenly looking tired. "No. It's still not definitive evidence."

"Then what's our next move?" Veronica asked, raising one eyebrow.

Hugo's smile returned—but this time it was twisted and hungry, like a predator that had just caught the scent of blood. "Now I cast my net wide and see what gets caught. If it really is them, they'll take the bait. Time for them to learn exactly why people call me 'The Hanger.'"