Chương 311: Chapter 306 - Irene

Jack sat slouched on the plush leather sofa, eyes glued to the massive screen that took up half the wall. The battle had ended nearly twenty minutes ago, but the commentary kept going—tactical breakdowns, frame-by-frame replays, speculation on unit formations, energy output readings, and even body language analysis. It was overkill. The whole thing felt more like a high-budget sci-fi film than footage from The Tower. An all-out war? Aliens versus what… some kind of Aztec futuristic army?

Snipers, EM cannons, formations, fuckin' robots everywhere… What the fuck was happening in that stage? His thoughts were still swirling when a voice broke through behind him.

"So… was my son there?" Jack nearly jumped. He straightened at once, shoulders tensing as he turned to face the woman standing at the edge of the room. Irene. She wore a flowing beige blouse and a dark skirt that fell just above her ankles, her hair pulled back in an effortlessly elegant style. Somehow, even after months in a coma and waking up to a world flipped upside down, she looked younger than he last remembered.

"No, ma'am," Jack said quickly, clearing his throat.

"If he was, they didn't show him. Or… I mean, the analysts said he wasn't part of that battle." Irene's eyes didn't leave the screen, even though the feed had already ended, replaced by a prompt to visit the ASCENT platform for updates. She never watched the broadcasts live—too afraid of what she might see. Instead, she waited until they ended, then stepped out and asked Jack her questions.

"Strange," she murmured.

"And Ayu—his Thai girlfriend—was she there?" Jack shook his head.

"No, ma'am. Neither of them showed up. Based on what I saw—and what some of the Gen-2s who came back reported—this stage's massive. Like, actual continent-size. Dinosaurs. Civilizations. Whole bloody empires." He scratched the back of his neck.

"So yeah, they could be anywhere." Irene nodded slowly. Her fingers, perfectly manicured, traced the edge of the sofa armrest with silent precision. Jack had learned to read her a bit over the past few weeks. That calm exterior was just a mask—a strong one, no doubt, but behind the eyes, he could see the weight. The worry. She had told Jack about the extensive briefing.

They'd sat her down and laid it all out—how Alonso was humanity's hero, how he'd be granted WARD status upon return, how he was safe, strong, and everything was under control. But they both knew better. Alonso wasn't fine. None of the Gen-1 were. Hell, they were fighting for their lives in there. Not a single one of them knew about the fail-safe upon death. They were killing aliens—real aliens—getting so used to blood and corpses that it didn't even make them flinch anymore.

They were turning into something else, something beyond human, and Jack knew damn well that reintegrating into society wouldn't be natural for them. Not now. Not ever. No matter how much the public broadcasts tried to paint it all in warm colours and polished words—things would never go back to how they were. So yeah… they weren't fine. Jack rubbed his hands together. The fireplace cracked faintly in the corner, casting a soft amber glow against the pristine white walls. Three weeks.

That's how long they'd been here now—living in this surreal estate that the strange, man-in-black, organization had constructed in the middle of the Yarra Ranges. High fences, silent security, top-tier staff. All waiting for one man to return. He glanced at her again.

"He's a tough bloke, ma'am. He will be fine." Irene didn't answer immediately. She folded her hands on her lap, her voice quiet but steady when it came.

"Thank you, Jack." There was a pause before she continued.

"I hear the situation with the returnees worldwide is calming down. That's good to know."

"Yeah… yeah, well, not many left in the Tower right now. Except for that last group still on Stage 2, all three hundred-plus Climbers are in Stage 3 now. So yeah, the problematic ones were already kil— I mean, taken down by the military and stuff… and the voices against them have kinda died down now that they've started helpin' out and all." Irene nodded slowly.

"Many of them are just kids… such a cruel trial for them." She paused again.

"And what about Pablo? How is he doing? I spoke with his parents recently. Silvia is very stressed—it's been so long since his last transmission. And with all that alien control theory going around…"

"Pablo… yeah, not much is known yet. Still no word on any of the Shadows in stage 3, but they're all alive, and that's sayin' something. I'm sure we'll see that lad on the screen again soon. I mean—damn, my two best mates are gonna be fuckin' WAR— I mean, sorry ma'am—both Alonso and Pablo'll be WARDs when they're back. At least here on Earth, they won't have anything to worry about.

Heck, I don't even think the Aussie military could take Alonso down at this point—uh, I mean, yes, ma'am, he's doing alright," Jack coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. Those online forums were really messing with his head lately. Irene chuckled softly.

"Thank you for keeping me company, Jack. I'm sure when my Alonso returns, he'll be very grateful to see you."

"Well… yeah, I wanna see that bloke soon. Not that I'm wishin' him to die quicker or anything, but… I miss him." He hesitated, then added with a sheepish grin, "Though, honestly, not sure I could even shake his hand now without mine turning to pulp." Shit. Shouldn't have said that either. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. Irene gave him a soft smile. She remained quiet as her gaze wandered around the house.

It was clear that the entire decoration had been tailored to her taste—refined, elegant, with warm tones and ornate details that echoed the atmosphere of her parents' home in Spain. The scent of polished wood, the faint floral arrangements, the way the curtains caught the light—every element whispered of old memories and quiet pride. She had tried convincing them to come here, to Australia, to wait for Alonso's return, but her father was more patriotic than a bullfighter on Día de la Hispanidad.

Not even the threat of war, alien invasions, or his own damn grandchild could move that man from his land. Irene sighed. Everything lately had felt surreal, like she was trapped inside a dream. Somehow, she had awoken from a months-long coma with her body healthier than ever, her face looking ten years younger—and then, just like that, reality had shattered.

She learned that her husband was dead, and her son was trapped inside some alien structure, forced to fight and survive, transforming into something beyond human—like a character out of a science fiction film. It was all… too much. Still, Alonso was her Alonso. That would never change, no matter what he became. She had watched the old recordings of him inside The Tower—his stance, his eyes. That same fierce gaze. Just like his father. She knew someone like him wouldn't give up.

The Shemson's were simply that stubborn. It also comforted her, in a way, to know that he had found a partner during such dark times. She had never expected her son to end up with an Asian girl—such things weren't part of the image she had once painted—but life rarely followed expectations. Things were what they were, and she was genuinely happy for him.

It was just a shame she couldn't meet the girl, sit her down for a proper conversation, invite her into their home like any other mother would have done in simpler times. Simpler times… or rather, normal times. A word that no longer meant anything in her life. Her gaze lingered on Jack for a moment longer. Despite his clumsy speech and rough edges, he was a good friend to her son—an honest one—and that mattered far more than etiquette ever could. Without another word, she excused herself and left the living room.

As she stepped out, the head maid bowed politely, and Irene nodded in return before walking out toward the front gardens. Alonso's eyes narrowed as he got closer to the signal—or rather… the series of signals. Ayu detected the vibration traveling faintly beneath her feet. They exchanged a knowing look and dashed ahead.

Several kilometres away, a skirmish was underway between an Ajnal squad and a group of Xok'al. And… it wasn't looking good for the Ajnal. At their helm, the two Lords of Sparks were struggling to hold the three-tails back, while the Stone Jaguars beneath them were dying one after another.

"Dammit… all soldiers, retreat, leave it all—" But then, a gust of wind swept past them, and the head of the leading three-tail was cleanly detached from its body. An instant later, he didn't even need to look—every remaining Xok'al dropped dead to the ground, each with a single, clean cut.

"What the…" It was only then that his eyes managed to focus on the figure now standing before them. She was clad in traditional beastman armor and held a pair of long bone daggers, yet she lacked any of the physical traits of the beastmen. Her body actually resembled that of their own, the Ajnal—slender, tanned, and short—but her facial features, especially her almond-shaped eyes, marked her as something else entirely. But one thing was clear— The Lord of Sparks immediately bowed.

He didn't speak, aware she likely wouldn't understand his language, so he made a respectful gesture to convey gratitude and submission. There was no mistaking it—his entire squad was utterly powerless before that young woman, whose mere presence radiated power on par with a Sun Bearer, if not greater. Yet, as he focused on her, he felt a mental pulse from his partner—warning of another presence behind. His eyes widened. No footsteps. No sound. And yet… there he stood. A man. Young. Tall.

Cloaked, with two long blades sheathed at his waist. Unlike the woman, this one exuded great mastery of the Mind Way, resembling their own Ajnal path. An Ajnal? But he held no Domain, and his armour was not of their tradition. Who were they?

"A Lord of Sparks, I presume?" Huh? He speaks their tongue!?

"Yes, sir. My name is Der'ak. We are grateful for you and your partner's assistance. Is there something we could do for you?"

"There is indeed. I have some friends somewhere out there in the Ajnal Empire—Outsiders, as you call them. Their names are Imani and Arjun. Do you know where I can find them?" Arjun? He wasn't sure about him, but Imani he knew well. And the same went for the Outsiders in general.

"Yes, sir. Imani, like most of the Sun Bearers on the Eastern Front, should still be at the Soaken Eagle Fort. Word just came they were successful in taking down a Warden, with assistance from a High Priest of the Azcoyatl."

Alonso frowned. Sun Bearer? Was that an Ajnal title? Above the Lord of Sparks? And Warden… wait…

"A Xok'al Warden? The five tails?"

"Yes, sir." Alonso lowered his gaze, thoughts running fast. So they had appeared already…

"I see… were there other Outsiders in that battle?"

"Yes, sir. There were several of them, including the High Priest and a large part of her cohort." What!? The High Priest of the Azcoyatl… is one of them? If he had to guess… Chiara?

"Okay. Thank you, Der'ak. Can you transmit the location of this Soaken Eagle Outpost?"

"Well…"

"We're also Outsiders, aiming to regroup with Imani and the rest." The Lord of Sparks stood silent for a moment, then nodded. Alonso felt the pulse—an incoming transmission with a large map displaying his current position and the distant fort, far to the north clearly marked. Without hesitation, he locked eyes with Ayu, and the two vanished from the Ajnal's view in an instant.

"How far is it?"

"Pretty far. Let's speed up a bit—something tells me they don't plan to stay there for long." Ayu gave a nod, and both picked up speed, their forms blurring across the barren lands as they headed northward.

"By the way," she said over the wind, a smirk playing on her lips, "if they're really there… don't show yourself too quick."

"What? Why?" Alonso chuckled, already half-guessing where this was going.

"Just a lesson. They deserve it for putting that damn rock with your name on it." Alonso shook his head, amused.

"Fair enough." Let's enjoy the show.