Rewrite The Star

chapter 80 : BROKEN BACK

CHAPTER 80: Broken Back

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Creed slowly opened his eyes, his arms wrapped around a warm figure. Confused, he blinked a few times before realizing it was Atlas lying beside him.

“What the…” Creed muttered under his breath as fragments of the previous night flooded his memory.

He recalled the tavern, the wine barrels, and the heated argument with Nowell. Then came the endless toasts with Gildarts. Somewhere amidst the chaos, the memory of carrying Atlas home surfaced, followed by the undeniable heat of their passion.

Creed’s face turned red as he glanced at Atlas, who was still sound asleep, his bare shoulders exposed. The sight made Creed’s heart race, but guilt quickly followed as he noticed faint bruises and bite marks trailing down Atlas’s neck and arms.

“Oh no,” Creed whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Did I…? We…”

His thoughts were interrupted as Atlas stirred awake. Groaning, Atlas tried to sit up but winced immediately, clutching his lower back.

“Ugh… Creed, you demon!” Atlas hissed, his face a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “I told you to be gentle, and now I feel like my back’s broken.”

Creed, still mortified, quickly averted his gaze. “I… uh… I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t mean to?” Atlas interrupted, glaring at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to even move right now?”

Creed scratched the back of his head awkwardly, muttering an apology. He quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper, left it on the table, and disappeared in a flash, returning to the depths of Hell.

Atlas groaned again, lying back down. “That demon… he better bring me some sort of remedy for this.”

Meanwhile, in Hell, Creed stormed into Kent’s quarters, his face still flushed from embarrassment.

“My Lord, you seem… unsettled,” Kent observed, raising an eyebrow.

“Enough small talk,” Creed snapped. “Tell me you’ve made progress with the red eclipse project.”

“It's seems we have the last remaining blood of the Phoenix, my lord.” Kent replied.

Kent gestured to a glowing vial on the table. “This is the last of it, my Lord. With this, we’ll be one step closer to conquering Heaven.”

Creed’s expression darkened at the mention of Heaven, but his thoughts drifted back to Atlas. Something about the Heartmiller family lingered in his mind after last night

“Also, my Lord,” Kent continued, sensing Creed’s distraction. “I’ve uncovered more about the Heartmiller lineage. It is said that those who conquer the Heart of a Heartmiller can wield the power to rewrite time itself.”

Creed’s eyes widened slightly, the pieces starting to fall into place. Atlas’s blood, the undeniable connection between them—it all made sense now.

Back on the surface, Atlas was still recovering when Darren arrived to check on him.

“What happened to you?” Darren asked, noticing Atlas’s stiff posture.

“Don’t ask,” Atlas muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Darren smirked but didn’t press further. Instead, he glanced around the room, his attention drawn to the faint glow emanating from the books Larcade had left behind.

“Do you think we’re ready for whatever task Larcade mentioned?” Darren asked, his tone serious.

Atlas sighed. “Ready or not, we don’t have much choice. Whatever’s coming, we need to face it head-on.”

The room fell silent, the weight of their responsibilities pressing down on them. Atlas closed his eyes, steeling himself for the battles ahead, while Creed, miles away in Hell, wrestled with his own feelings and the secrets of the Heartmiller legacy.