The Guardian Of The Multiverse: A Hero's Burden

Before The Storm

(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)

The next day rose over Ixtal quietly.

Life moved on through the city as if the past year had been nothing more than a bad dream. People walked the streets, opened shops, spoke with neighbors, laughed. The distant memory of a ruined Ixtal—of chains, fear, and occupation—had begun to fade from collective thought.

No one would have believed this land had once been completely enslaved.

No one would have believed that Artoria Pendragon—once ruler by conquest, commander of the Knights of the Round Table—had stood at the center of that nightmare. And fewer still would have believed that the same woman had rejected her place among the Darks, turned against them, and joined the Guardians of Fiction.

Weeks had passed. Then months. And now, the war that had consumed Runeterra teetered on the edge of its end.

Adriel woke slowly.

He hadn't slept well. Not really.

His body was rested—godly stamina ensured that—but his mind was anything but. Anxiety clung to him like a second skin, a lingering echo from the meeting the night before. The revelation of the dark dome surrounding Piltover refused to leave his thoughts.

He'd analyzed it with every trick he had. Hacking reality itself, bypassing narrative loss, shaking data loose where it shouldn't have existed. The Darks had cropped the internet's data aggressively—intentionally—but even so, he'd seen enough.

Half the truth.

Not the half he wanted.

He'd slept lightly, hovering between consciousness and rest all night, his heartbeat refusing to slow. His eyes felt heavy now, drooping despite the fact that exhaustion wasn't truly an obstacle for him anymore.

Still... he liked sleep.

He liked the feeling of soft pillows cradling his head. The weight of blankets. The illusion of normalcy.

Adriel stayed cocooned in bed, unmoving—partly because he wanted to, and partly because there was a warm weight pressed against his side.

White hair spilled across his chest.

Qiyana.

She must have slipped in sometime after midnight. He'd noticed it vaguely—felt the mattress dip, the warmth settle beside him—but hadn't had the energy to object. Now she slept soundly, her breathing slow and steady, rising and falling against him. One arm draped possessively across his chest, fingers curled as if anchoring him in place.

Like she was afraid he might disappear.

It didn't feel bad. Not at all.

Who wouldn't enjoy waking up beside a beautiful woman?

He couldn't deny her looks. Or her persistence. Or the fact that her constant flirting—her relentless attempts to worm her way closer, physically and emotionally—were wearing him down.

There was only so much restraint a man could maintain when someone chased him this openly.

Still... he didn't mind it.

If anything, he preferred this to the alternative. One person's attention was manageable. An entire flock was exhausting.

At least Neeko hadn't been on his case lately.