The Guardian Of The Multiverse: A Hero's Burden

Not Alone Anymore

(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)

No Pov

The portal snapped shut behind them with a shimmer of residual heat, leaving the two Guardians standing in a plain that didn't know peace anymore. Ash drifted down like poisoned snow, coating the dead earth in shades of gray. The sky above was cloudy, not from weather—but from the remnants of something ancient being burned away.

Ace took a long breath, then coughed it out. "Damn," he muttered, brushing embers off his shoulder. "Adriel really dropped us in the prettiest vacation spot."

Peter adjusted the settings on his visor. "He dropped us eight miles outside the border. Guess he didn't want us to attract attention warping right into the capital."

"Yeah, great," Ace grunted, rubbing his temple. "Except it's six in the damn morning. Did he even let you sleep?"

"Two hours. Maybe," Peter replied. "He messaged me mid-recalibration and said we were leaving immediately. Just threw a mug at the wall, ate something quick and followed protocol."

Ace gave a tired smirk. "I barely got to chew through half a protein bar. You know how long I've been waiting for breakfast?"

Peter shot him a look. "Didn't you down like, eight slices of flame-bacon last night?"

"Flame-bacon isn't breakfast. It's a lifestyle. You wouldn't understand."

The ground beneath them cracked slightly as they stepped forward. Not from weight—just decay. The magic here had soured. Nature had given up trying to reclaim it.

Peter knelt and touched the dirt. "Nothing's growing here."

"More like nothing dares to," Ace said, eyes scanning the distance. "It's quiet. Too quiet."

They both looked to the horizon. What once had been the lush, structured countryside surrounding Demacia was now barely more than a battlefield grave. Trees had withered. Stonework monuments lay half-sunk in the mud. The ruins of old towers jutted from the earth like broken bones.

A breeze passed, dragging with it the scent of scorched steel and forgotten prayers.

Peter flicked open a holographic map from his wrist display. "If we're walking, we'll reach the outer walls in about thirty minutes."

"I say we burn the thirty minutes," Ace muttered. "I hate this already."

"You hate everything before 10AM," Peter replied.

"Facts."

They walked in silence for a few beats, their boots crunching over bones and cracked marble. Off to the side, a Demacian standard fluttered weakly from a ruined post—burned black, sigil unrecognizable.

Peter spoke again, quieter this time. "Feels like Shinra's aftermath. Remember that scorched village in Bilgewater?"

Ace's expression darkened. "Yeah. Same stench of loss. Same kind of silence that begs you not to look too close."

"Except this time, no demons. Just us."

"And whoever's still standing behind those ruined walls."

They paused at the crest of a crumbled hill. Ahead, past the husks of abandoned farmland, the first towers of Demacia emerged—cracked, leaning, weeping corrupted light.