Ch. 126 – I Was Trying to Tell You

Rhys stood as he stared down Galen, his boots anchored to the floor like stone pillars.

"Do you want to run that by me again?" his voice dropped low and stern, carrying a sharp, dangerous edge.

This table-war was rapidly becoming far too big of a scene for the rest of the party. He didn't want this quiet resentment to spread like wildfire across the ballroom and ignite "World War: Table."

Galen seemed to calm down a little at Rhys's cold shift in demeanor, his shoulders dropping a fraction.

"Who the hell invited this guy?!" Arthur spoke up then, nudging Darius forcefully beside him with a heavy elbow.

Darius didn't join in on the joke. His face was a picture of pale, sweating panic as he finally retrieved the small object he needed out of his pocket. He kept his eyes locked on his Ifrit wife, who was still slowly, steadily morphing into something else entirely.

Shula picked up her crystal goblet again, completely unbothered by the fact that every single wine bottle on their table was already drained bone-dry. "Where are you going, Heroooo!~" she chimed in a raspy, melodious purr as she took a slow sip. "You can’t just run off again!"

I guess I really can’t, Rhys thought sadly, a heavy weight sinking in his chest. This whole fucking table is a bear trap.

Galen watched Rhys with a hard, unmoving gaze, waiting for an answer. Rhys looked down at Lira, but she simply shook her head slightly, her eyes silently pleading with him not to cause a public scene.

Rhys sat back down like it was an electric chair, his expression locking tight like wet cement.

"Tell me what you want to say," Rhys said smoothly, though the tone was flat and completely devoid of any remaining joy. "Quick. Since I do have to get back to cooking for everyone."

He absolutely hated having to answer to an unknown man right now, especially when every single word spoken felt like it was coming directly at his wife’s expense.

"I-I think we should let our guy here get back to cooking like he said," Ging spoke up again sheepishly, his voice trembling as he glanced around the terrifying table. "He really does have a lot of people to cook for out there, right—"

"I WAS GOING TO SAY..." Galen interrupted, shouting over the tiefling with forced, booming bravado, "...that I actually KNOW you, Rhys. I used to know you, at least." His gray eyebrows set into a dead-serious line.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rhys blurted out, his brows furrowing.

"I was talking to Galen here earlier, honey," Lira said, her voice lighting up just a tiny bit as she tried to soften the blow. "It turns out that he used to be a hero himself, and he recently retired."

A few distant dots suddenly connected in Rhys's head, raising his nervous system to high alert. Makes it make even less sense how a guy like him ended up with a wife like Ariadne, he thought, feeling zero pity for the gray-haired man.

"And what does that have to do with me, exactly?" Rhys asked with a tight, blatantly fake smile.

When Rhys got cornered, his mind instinctively turned petty. Unfortunately, his sudden pettiness blindly ran right over Lira in order to strike at Galen. He turned slightly away from her as the cold message hit Galen head-on.

"Are you going to tell me that you saved my life one day?" Rhys asked, throwing another spanner straight into the gears of Galen's war machine. He played the part of an ignorant, ungrateful civilian perfectly; he was far too used to keeping his secret identity as Omen buried under lock and key.

Galen spluttered, his face flushing red. "What?! No, I—!" he fumbled terribly, completely thrown off his script.

"Rhys... I don’t think you have to treat him like that," Lira leaned in and whispered softly against his shoulder, her hand squeezing his arm.

"I think everyone here is already close enough to know who you really are anyway," Vespera leaned in from his other side, her sultry voice not quiet in the slightest. "I think they all already know that you were a hero... at the very least," she finished, flashing a coy, devastating smile.

"You were a superhero?!" Arthur chuckled in sheer, sudden shock, his bald head practically shining under the chandelier. "Don’t tell me! Were you The Cluster? Mr. Brave? Or... no... were you The Human Branch?!" he asked, getting entirely carried away with himself.

This is exactly why I don’t tell people shit, Rhys thought, glaring down at his cold soup.

Luckily, nobody gave the booming bald man an answer as Arthur chuckled obnoxiously to himself.

Galen cleared his throat, trying to regain control of his lost dignity. "I was Captain Freedom," he announced proudly.

Ohhhh, Rhys thought, a dim lightbulb finally flashing in his mind.

Captain Freedom didn’t amount to much, Omen’s dark voice rang out, the phantom standing directly over Galen’s chair and looking down on him with absolute, unadulterated judgment. He was a hero, sure, but he lacked the raw conviction to ever actually BE a real hero. By the end of his career, he started making sloppy, pathetic decisions. WE were the ones that had to force him out of the game, remember?

"Serephina here... she was one of the absolute best of us!" Galen continued, completely oblivious to Omen hovering over him as he gestured toward Rhys’s wife. "Just like I was complimenting and telling Astraea earlier!"

That’s the exact fucking dot that saved your miserable life tonight, Rhys thought darkly.

Omen abruptly shifted his attention away from Galen and drifted over toward Shula, as if proving a much more dangerous point. The genie was becoming a catastrophic problem.

COUGH! COUGH!

Shula suddenly broke into a violent, hacking coughing fit. With a careless flick of her wrist, she hurled her heavy glass straight over her shoulder. The goblet shattered against the stone floor, spraying dark red wine everywhere—though Omen's spectral clones moved in with lightning speed to sweep away the glass before it even settled.

"What the fuh—" Shula rasped out, her voice dropping an octave into something unnatural. She whipped her head around to face her husband, her eyes gleaming. She grabbed Darius's wrist, her lips pulling back into a smile that bared menacing, elongated canines. "Darius... my love... what the fuck did you just slip into my drink?"

Aw, fuck, Omen said bluntly, tossing his ghostly hands into the air. He completely dropped the ball... we are all totally fucked.

Rhys didn't even bother asking what the shadow meant. He could clearly see that Shula was already past the point of no return.

She violently flung Darius’s hand away after forcing his grip open. Clutched in his palm was a tiny glass tube, roughly half-filled with a fine, shimmering powder made of ancient, golden sands. As if to make a sick, defiant point right in front of the entire table, Shula snatched the tube, popped the cork with her teeth, and inhaled the remaining dust straight through her nose.

"MMMMMHMMMM~" she mused softly, rolling her head back as her eyes flared. "Smells just like home."

It was horrifyingly obvious that her chaotic, corrupted power had outgrown the exact dose Darius usually relied on to keep her calm.

"Um... so like... did she just snort drugs, or...?" Marcus finally spoke up, staring across the table in absolute, pure confusion.

Rhys would have loved to burst out laughing at his brother's sheer ignorance if it weren't for the relentless mental and physical assault coming at him from all fronts.

"Galen... you were saying that I was one of the best just now," Serephina chimed in smoothly, completely rebounding from her shock. She brushed aside the chaos unfolding around her as if it were entirely invisible.

"No, but really though... was that actual drugs just now?" Marcus asked again, leaning over toward Vespera. "Like... we are literally a table packed full of heroes. Shouldn’t we arrest her or something?!" he whispered, not being quiet in the slightest.

Vespera gently patted the top of Marcus's hand, completely ignoring his question. "Yes... the 'Captain' here was singing your high praises at the altar, angel. Do you want him to sing a little more?" she asked, her tone heavy with deliberate shade.

Yeah! Get her ass! Rhys thought, completely abandoning his stoic character.

He felt Vespera's soft, warm leopard tail slide right back onto his inner thigh, as if silently returning his chaotic mental sentiment.

"I was only saying all of that earlier because I wanted to make the point that Rhys should do it! It is more than an honor to bring another divine light into this world." Galen blurted out in Serephina’s defense.

The sudden silence that followed was so absolute you could practically hear the collective heartbeat of the entire room.

"Why the hell would you say that?!" Rhys snapped out loud, every remaining inhibition flying completely out the window.

"Because it’s the truth!" Galen said, standing his ground stubbornly. "It’s the obvious choice. With the Aasimar race already getting "muddied", Rhys is actually the best fit. Especially, since you have already volunteered to sire for Shula over here as well!" 

Shula let out a deep, booming laugh that made Galen flinch violently when he looked back over at her.

It looked as though the Ifrit woman had literally grown two inches taller since Rhys last looked away. Intricate, shifting black tattoos were crawling up her throat and around her jaw, her glowing eyes had narrowed into terrifying yellow slits, and her skin had turned from a deep purple into a dark, abyssal blue.

"That’s rigggghhhhtt!~" Shula cooed into the air, her voice echoing strangely through the ballroom. "I’m the one who claimed the crown jewels first!~" She cackled maniacally, raising her hands.

"OKAY!" Lira shouted, slamming both palms down onto the wooden table so hard the remaining plates rattled. "I have officially had about enough of this!"

Bad. This is very, VERY bad, Rhys thought frantically, his stomach plummeting to his boots.

"Oh, but you’ve waited so patiently until now, haven’t you, Astraea?" Vespera chimed in, smoothly snatching everyone’s undivided attention with the subtle flex of her sharp claws. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her water before speaking. "You wouldn’t want to leave before hearing the absolute best story of all, would you? Especially since it brings crucial information for this big decision." She purred coolly, her cat ears twitching.

Lira tensed up instantly, her frame locking stiff. Rhys noticed that Marcus tensed up right alongside her, his playful face suddenly falling completely blank.

"But let me build off the wonderful lesson our dear 'Captain' here just taught us all," Vespera continued smoothly. "I’m going to give the floor to the very person the story is about... if she wants to be the one to tell it first."

What is she on about now?! Rhys thought with a tidal wave of rising dread. We can never just be on good terms... for even ONE minute, can we?!

Vespera had warned him earlier that she held a dark secret, and it was officially loaded into the chamber and ready to fire.

Lira turned her head slowly to look at Rhys.

"I was trying to tell you earlier, honey..." she murmured, her voice trembling as her defensive walls crumbled entirely. "But we kept getting swept away by everything, and... I just hope you can understand when I say this..."

Her face was already breaking, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

I hope with everything in my heart... that you choose right now... NOT to say it, Rhys thought, completely defeated as the entire world crashed down around him.