(Marvel, DC, the images, manhuas, and every anime mentioned or used in this story do not belong to me. They belong to their respective owners. The main character, Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez, and this story belong to me.)
Outside the dome, the three Guardians waited.
Patiently, at first.
Adriel had gone in alone because the dome would not allow anyone else through. That had been the condition. He would enter, compromise whatever was blocking them from the inside, and create an opening for Peter, Ace, and Artoria to follow.
Simple enough.
In theory.
The problem was that none of them knew what was happening inside.
The dome distorted time. They could feel that much. The flow within it did not match the world outside. For all they knew, Adriel had been inside for minutes, hours, days, or longer.
Out here, approximately ten minutes had passed since he crossed the boundary.
Ten minutes should not have been enough to worry.
Ace disagreed.
He sat on a boulder a few steps away, one foot bouncing rapidly against the ground. His knee moved with restless energy, tapping out a rhythm that only got faster the longer they waited.
Artoria noticed.
Of course she did.
She turned her head toward him, her expression calm but not careless.
"Adriel will open the way soon," she said. "We knew this might take time."
Ace let out a breath through his nose.
He didn't answer.
Artoria's gaze softened slightly. "He will deliver."
That finally made Ace look up.
"Yeah," he said. "That's what worries me."
Peter, who had been staring at the dome with narrowed eyes, glanced over.
"What does that mean?"
Ace dragged a hand through his hair.
For a moment, he looked like he didn't want to say it. Like giving the thought a voice would make it more real.
Then he clicked his tongue.
"Come on," he said. "I can't be the only one thinking it."
Artoria frowned.
Ace looked between them. "Adriel has a bad habit of taking more responsibility than he can actually handle."
Peter's expression tightened.
Ace pointed toward the dome.
"So what if he decided to fight Anansi by himself?"
The silence that followed was not comforting.
Artoria's frown deepened.
"He would not," she said, though there was less certainty in her voice than she probably wanted.
Ace scoffed quietly. "Wouldn't he?"
Artoria did not immediately respond.
That was the problem.
They had told Adriel not to do anything stupid. All of them had. More than once. They had been clear that Anansi was not someone he could face alone. Even the warnings they had received made that painfully obvious.
But Ace had a point.
Adriel had been the big gun for so long that doing everything himself had become almost natural to him. He knew how to accept help in small ways. Tactical ways. Controlled ways.
But when things truly mattered?
When the pressure became unbearable?
He still had that instinct.
Take the hit.
Carry the burden.
Keep everyone else away from the worst of it.
It was not a thought process Artoria or Peter wanted to entertain.
Unfortunately, it was very easy to imagine.
Peter had fought beside Adriel in the Infinity War, during one of the most catastrophic fights either of them had ever survived. He knew better than most how Adriel acted when the stakes got too high. He knew the look Adriel got when he decided the suffering should stop with him.
And ever since then, most missions had involved either the two of them splitting off or Adriel taking on more than he should have because he could.
Because he always could.
Until he couldn't.
Artoria's gaze remained fixed on the dome.
"I remember what Nyarlathotep said," she murmured.
Peter's face darkened.
Ace looked at her.
Artoria's voice lowered. "The Chaos God warned us. We cannot fight Anansi alone."
Ace nodded slowly.
"Exactly."
"And Adriel knows that," Artoria said.
None of them answered.
A few seconds passed.
Then Artoria and Ace both looked at Peter.
Peter stared at the dome.
His face was not reassuring.
At all.
He looked like someone who had just reached the same conclusion and hated every single part of it.
"Fuck," Peter muttered.
Ace's expression flattened. "What?"
Peter rubbed a hand over his face.
"I think he might actually have done it."
Artoria's eyes narrowed. "Peter."
"I know." Peter dropped his hand. "I know, but think about it. He can hack reality. He can break systems open that were never supposed to have doors. You really think it should take him this long just to make an entrance for us?"
Ace stood from the boulder.
His foot finally stopped bouncing.
"That's what I'm saying."
Peter looked back at the dome.
"Ten minutes out here might be longer inside, sure. But even then..." His jaw tightened. "This feels wrong."
The thought settled over them like cold water.
It was not a good thing to start spiraling about right after Adriel had entered the dome.
But the longer they waited, the harder it became to ignore.
What if he was already fighting?
What if he had gone straight for Anansi?
What if he had done exactly what they told him not to do because, somewhere in that stubborn skull of his, he thought sparing them from suffering was the same thing as protecting them?
The seconds dragged.
Then reality cracked in front of them.
All three Guardians snapped toward it.
A jagged line of light split open in the air, widening until it became a portal. The edges flickered with unstable energy, but it held.
Ace stared at it for half a second.
Then he scoffed.
"Of course. We start talking shit, and suddenly something happens."
Peter released a long, audible sigh.
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
"Thank God."
Artoria did not relax as much, but even she looked relieved.
For a moment, they let themselves push the darker thoughts aside.
Adriel had done it.
He had made the opening.
That was what mattered.
The three of them moved at once.
Peter entered first.
Ace followed.
Artoria stepped through last, one hand near her weapon, just in case.
The world shifted around them.
When they emerged on the other side, they expected the depths of Zaun.
They expected Viktor's commune buried in the lower layers, tucked beneath metal, stone, and greenish light.
Instead, they found a village on a mountainside.
All three of them stopped.
The air was cleaner here. Cooler. The buildings were simple but sturdy, arranged along sloping paths that overlooked a wide stretch of land below. People moved quietly between homes and tents. Some carried supplies. Others helped the sick settle into sheltered areas.
It looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Ace blinked. "Wait."
Peter slowly turned, taking in the view.
"This is Viktor's commune?"
Artoria's gaze moved across the mountainside settlement. "It was supposed to be in the deepest parts of Zaun."
"Yeah," Ace said. "This is definitely not the deepest parts of Zaun."
It looked like the entire commune had been moved somewhere far away from where it was supposed to be.
Somewhere safer.
Somewhere quieter.
For a few seconds, that almost seemed like good news.
Then they saw Adriel.
He sat near the edge of the settlement, away from most of the people. His posture was too still. His shoulders hung with a weight none of them liked. His clothes had been repaired, but that did nothing to hide his emotional state.
Adriel looked like someone who had survived multiple breakdowns and run out of strength to pretend he hadn't.
His eyes were dull.
His face was hollow.
There was no sarcasm ready on his tongue. No annoyed comment. No lazy wave. No attempt to act like everything was fine because acting fine was easier than explaining the damage.
He simply sat there, quiet and empty.
Peter's relief vanished.
Ace's expression dropped.
Artoria went still.
Whatever had happened inside the dome, it had not gone cleanly.
Peter took one slow step forward.
"Adriel?"
Adriel turned his head slightly.
He looked at them.
And the moment they saw his face clearly, all three Guardians understood the same thing.
They had been right to worry.
The three Guardians stared at Adriel for what felt like ten full seconds.
No one said anything.
Peter looked concerned.
Ace looked confused.
Artoria looked like she was already preparing to interrogate him.
Adriel slowly blinked at them like someone who had just remembered he had responsibilities outside his current depression spiral.
Then he sighed.
He pushed himself up from the seat, rubbed the side of his face, and tried to compose himself.
It did not work as well as he probably wanted.
"Um," Adriel said, voice rough and groggy, like he had woken up five minutes ago and suddenly remembered he had forgotten to pick up his team from the metaphorical airport. "Sorry."
The three continued staring.
Adriel scratched the back of his head. "I kind of got caught up in everything happening in here, and I don't exactly know how long it's been."
Ace's eyes narrowed.
Adriel looked away for a second, thinking. "I guess... a month? Month and a half?"
Peter blinked. "A month?"
"Maybe." Adriel reached into his inventory and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen, frowned, then stared at the date like it had personally offended him. "Uh... yeah, I don't even remember when I came in here."
Ace's expression flattened.
Adriel stared at his phone for another second before shoving it back into his inventory.
"You know what? Fuck it. The series never really said how long the timeline of this entire season was anyway, so we're not doing calendar math right now." He waved one hand weakly. "Let's just proceed."
Peter's gaze shifted toward the mountainside settlement.
Ace turned in place, taking in the village again.
Artoria kept looking at Adriel.
Adriel noticed and immediately tried not to notice.
"As you can see," he continued, gesturing vaguely around them, "everything changed."
Ace gave him a dry look.
"Yeah, no shit." He pointed toward the village. "What the hell happened to the commune?"
Peter nodded, still looking around. "I could've sworn Viktor's commune was supposed to be somewhere in the deepest parts of Zaun. This looks like the countryside."
He squinted at the distant slope and the quiet homes settled into the mountainside.
"Kind of like a mini version of Smallville."
Ace glanced at him.
Peter shrugged. "What? It does."
Adriel almost smiled.
Almost.
Artoria did not share their curiosity or their attempt at easing into the conversation. She was still watching him. More specifically, she was watching his eyes.
That little moment when they first arrived had not escaped her.
For one second, Adriel had looked completely hollow.
Then he had put the mask back on.
The lazy comments. The tired sarcasm. The I'm fine enough to explain later routine.
Artoria did not like it.
She did not like it at all.
But for now, she let it sit.
Peter and Ace would ask their questions. Adriel would dodge some of them, answer others, and probably try to drown the worst parts under sarcasm.
Then Artoria would ask hers properly.
Adriel exhaled and looked back at the village.
"Okay. About the commune." He paused, searching for the right words and clearly not finding any that made him sound less guilty. "I messed around with the plot a little bit."
Peter's expression tightened.
Ace slowly turned toward him.
Artoria's eyes narrowed.
Adriel immediately raised one hand. "Look, I know what I said about not messing too much with the storyline or canon, but..."
He stopped.
The words got stuck.
For once, there was no easy joke.
No quick explanation.
No clean little summary that made everything sound less dangerous than it had been.
"I just..." Adriel looked away. "I was trying to go for a happy ending."
The three Guardians said nothing.
Adriel gave a weak shrug. "And I guess I was halfway successful."
That did not reassure them. If anything, their expressions worsened, settling into the exact combination of confusion, concern, and suspicion Adriel had been dreading.
He clicked his tongue under his breath.
"Okay, yeah, I know how that sounds."
"Do you?" Ace asked.
Adriel gave him a tired look. "Unfortunately."
Peter crossed his arms. "Adriel."
"I know." Adriel rubbed his forehead. "I know. There's a lot. But there are also a lot of people around, and I really don't want to talk about serious multiverse, canon-breaking, Anansi-related trauma stuff in front of the locals."
That finally made the three look around properly.
Until now, their attention had been split between Adriel and the impossible relocation of Viktor's commune. But now that he mentioned it, they noticed the stares.
Everyone was watching them.
With eyes they were all too familiar with.
Reverence.
People stood outside homes and tents, peeking from doorways and porches, whispering among themselves. Some looked at Adriel with the same awed expression they had probably worn since he saved them. Others stared at Peter, Ace, and Artoria as if three more heavenly beings had just stepped through a portal.
It was the kind of stare that made the air feel heavier.
Peter understood it immediately.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know those looks."
He glanced at Adriel. "Ixtal?"
Adriel gave him a flat look.
Peter nodded. "Right. That kind of thing."
Ace grimaced. "That gets tiring fast."
"It does," Peter said. Then his voice firmed. "So, fine. We can continue this conversation somewhere private."
Adriel relaxed slightly.
Peter pointed at him.
"But we are having this conversation."
Adriel scratched the back of his head with clear exasperation. "Alright, alright, damn it."
Artoria said nothing.
That somehow made it worse.
The four of them started walking through the settlement.
The village was quiet but busy. People carried wood and supplies. Some helped the sick settle into newly built homes. Others worked on gardens, repaired roofs, or guided children away from the visitors so they would stop staring so openly.
The place felt peaceful.
That was what made it strange.
Everything around them looked calm. Safe, even. Like a community trying to rebuild after disaster.
Adriel did not match any of it.
He walked through the middle of that peace like someone carrying a storm under his ribs.
Peter noticed.
Ace noticed.
Artoria had noticed from the beginning.
Adriel kept his eyes forward and pretended not to know.
A few minutes into the walk, Jayce approached from one of the lower paths.
He looked tired, but not in the same destroyed way as before. There was still strain in his face, still a heaviness around his eyes, but he stood steadier now. More present. Less like a man being dragged behind a nightmare.
His gaze moved from Adriel to the three new arrivals.
"Oh. Hey, Adriel." Jayce slowed down. "Are these the other Guardians you mentioned?"
"Yeah." Adriel gestured vaguely. "This is the rest of my team."
Peter gave a small wave.
Ace nodded once.
Artoria inclined her head politely.
Adriel tried to offer Jayce something resembling reassurance. "So, uh, we have more backup now. It's not just me anymore."
The words came out awkwardly.
Like he knew what he was trying to say but could not make the sentence sit right in his mouth.
Jayce seemed to understand anyway.
"That's good," Jayce said, offering a tired smile. "Really."
Adriel nodded.
Jayce glanced toward the road leading down from the mountain. "I have a few things to handle in Piltover. The walk from here is around half an hour, and I should get moving before it gets too late."
Adriel's brows lifted slightly. "You're heading back already?"
"For now." Jayce looked toward the village, then back at him. "There are people I need to speak with. Things I need to explain. I'll return in a week or two, once I settle what I can."
His gaze moved across the group.
"If anything happens before then, you're welcome in Piltover. All of you."
Adriel nodded. "Thanks, Jayce."
Jayce waited, noticing that Adriel had stopped as if there was more.
"Yeah?"
Adriel looked at him for a second.
Then his expression softened, barely.
"Thanks for helping around, man."
Jayce's face changed only slightly, but it was enough for Adriel to notice.
"It's no problem." He looked down briefly, then back up. "It's thanks to you that I got my friends back."
Adriel said nothing.
Jayce gave him one last nod.
"I'll see you all later. Goodbye."
He turned and started down the long path toward Piltover.
The Guardians watched him leave for a moment.
Peter leaned slightly toward Adriel. "That was Jayce Talis, right?"
"Yeah."
"He looked like he went through hell."
"He did."
Ace studied Adriel's face. "So we're definitely at the point after he returned from the future."
"Mhm."
Artoria's gaze sharpened.
Adriel sighed. "Private conversation. Remember?"
They continued walking.
Eventually, the group reached Adriel's home.
Calling it a home was underselling it.
It was a giant treehouse built into several massive trees that absolutely had not existed naturally. Adriel had created them through molecular manipulation, shaping the trunks thick enough and strong enough to support a structure the size of a mansion.
The result was ridiculous.
Beautiful, but ridiculous.
A sprawling wooden house sat high among the branches, connected by wide platforms, carved railings, and reinforced bridges that wrapped between the trees. Warm light glowed from inside. Vines curled along the outer beams. The design looked like someone had taken the richest homes in Piltover, stolen the best parts, and decided they would look better in a fantasy forest mansion.
Ace looked up.
Peter stared.
Artoria blinked once.
Adriel shrugged. "I got bored."
Ace slowly turned toward him. "You made a mansion treehouse because you got bored?"
"I was emotionally avoiding things."
"That explains nothing."
"It explains plenty."
The inside was even more absurd.
The furniture looked expensive enough to make Piltover nobles start sweating. Soft couches, polished tables, warm rugs, wide windows, elegant lamps, shelves filled with books, and several cozy corners that looked deliberately designed for people to disappear into and avoid emotional conversations.
Then there was the modern technology.
A flat-screen TV.
A gaming console.
A router.
Speakers.
A charging station.
Several devices Peter recognized instantly, while Ace looked around like he was trying to process how the outside could look so steampunkish while the inside looked completely different.
Artoria paused beside the TV and stared at it like it might challenge her to single combat.
Peter pointed. "Is that Netflix?"
Adriel walked past him. "Yes."
Ace's brows furrowed. "Were you really that depressed that you decided to pay for a streaming service?"
"I ain't paying for that shit," Adriel said. "I hacked it. What the hell are Reed Hastings and Marc Randolph gonna do to me? Force me to pay?"
Peter nodded solemnly. "At least you aren't watching Love Island."
The technology in this specific area worked because Adriel had decided it would work.
That was honestly the simplest explanation.
The Nexus of Knowledge and Imagination had no real limit on what could be shaped, replicated, or forced into function if Adriel understood it well enough.
So, essentially:
Fuck the rules. He wanted the technology.
Therefore, the technology existed.
Vi and Jinx had drowned themselves in it almost immediately after Adriel taught them how to use it. Television, games, internet, random videos, movies, music, food-ordering menus from dimensions that absolutely had no business delivering to Runeterra.
It had been a distraction.
A useful one.
Especially for Jinx.
Adriel's expression dimmed.
Jinx was not in the best state of mind.
That was putting it mildly.
Ever since Isha was killed, Jinx had barely left her room. After Adriel finished the treehouse and told her which room was hers, she had gone inside and stayed there for days.
Occasionally, she bounced between her room and the gym, since Vi had asked for one.
She had barely eaten too.
If Adriel had not forced the issue, she would have starved herself down to skin and bone.
He wasn't going to allow that.
Not on top of everything else.
But there was another problem.
In canon, Jinx had spiraled toward suicide. It was thanks to Ekko that she regained her will to live.
Here, things had changed.
Grief had not hollowed her out the same way.
It had sharpened into revenge.
She wanted to kill Anansi.
Which was a literal pipe dream.
And Adriel had no idea how to crush that hope without breaking her even further.
So he didn't say that out loud.
He just kept walking and welcomed the others into the new abode like his life had not become a psychological hazard zone.
They reached the kitchen.
That was where they found Vi.
She was standing in front of the open fridge with a spoon in one hand and a suspiciously familiar tub of cookies and cream ice cream in the other.
Adriel stopped.
Vi froze.
Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.
Adriel narrowed his eyes.
"Hey."
Vi's mouth twitched.
"I see what you're doing," Adriel said.
Vi looked down at the ice cream, then back at him. "Do you?"
"You seriously thinking of stealing my ice cream?"
"Thinking?" Vi lifted the tub slightly. "I'm already doing it."
"I got you ice cream."
"Yeah." Vi closed the fridge with her hip. "But I like your brand better."
Adriel stared at her.
Then blinked.
"What?"
Vi smirked.
Adriel pointed at the tub. "You made me teleport into a whole different dimension to get a specific type of ice cream because y'all don't even have that flavor here. I did that after explaining I can go to different places. And now you don't want it?"
Vi shrugged. "I didn't say I don't want it."
"You are literally stealing mine."
"Because yours tastes better."
"It's the same flavor."
"Yours tastes better."
Adriel looked genuinely betrayed. "That makes no sense."
Vi walked past him with the tub. "Skill issue."
Peter snorted.
Ace covered his mouth badly.
Adriel slowly turned his head toward Peter.
Peter looked away.
Vi stopped halfway out of the kitchen and finally acknowledged the other three.
"Oh, right. Hi."
She pointed the spoon toward them one by one.
"You must be Artoria. You're Peter. And you're Ace, right?"
Peter smiled. "Yep. Peter Parker. Pleasure to meet you, Vi."
Vi gave him a quick once-over. "Another spider guy?"
Peter's smile twitched. "The original spider guy, technically."
Adriel muttered, "Don't start."
Vi snickered.
Ace stepped forward next with an easy grin. "Portgas D. Ace. Nice to meet you."
Vi nodded. "Cool hat."
Ace immediately brightened. "Thanks."
Artoria gave a formal bow of her head. "Artoria Pendragon. It is an honor to meet you."
Vi stared at her.
Then looked at Adriel.
"Is she from Piltover or something?"
Adriel pinched the bridge of his nose.
Vi gestured vaguely at Artoria with the spoon. "She sounds noble. Way too formal for my liking."
Artoria blinked, unsure whether she had been insulted.
Adriel sighed. "She has a complicated backstory. Can we not get into that right now?"
Vi lifted both hands as much as she could while holding the ice cream.
"Damn. Alright. Stingy."
Then she walked away with his ice cream.
Adriel watched her retreating form.
A few seconds passed.
"She literally stole my ice cream."
Peter patted his shoulder. "Tragic."
"I really wanted that ice cream."
Ace nodded gravely. "You should chase her."
"She'd win out of spite."
"Probably," Peter said.
From the living room, Vi called, "I heard that!"
Adriel closed his eyes.
Then exhaled.
"Alright. Let's just get this conversation over with." He dragged himself toward the dining area. "I'm tired, and I know this is going to make me even more tired, so let's do it."
The others followed.
They sat around the table.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The quiet from earlier returned, but this time it had walls around it.
Artoria sat across from him, posture straight, hands folded in front of her.
Then she asked, bluntly, "What is wrong with you?"
Adriel gave her a side-eye.
"What's wrong with me?" He leaned back slightly. "You're gonna have to be more specific. That's a very broad category."
Peter did not laugh.
Ace didn't either.
Artoria's expression did not change.
"You know what I mean, Adriel."
He looked away.
Her voice softened only slightly.
"What happened?"
Adriel stared at the ceiling.
Then he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to the side until his neck popped.
"You're really going to make me talk about this."
"Yes," Artoria said.
Peter's voice was quieter. "We need to know."
Ace crossed his arms. "Especially if Anansi was involved."
Adriel's face tightened at the name.
That was answer enough.
The mood at the table shifted immediately.
Adriel saw it happen and hated that he had caused it.
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Alright."
He dropped his hands onto the table.
"You guys need to catch up anyway. Might as well do it now."
His fingers tapped once against the wood.
Then stopped.
He looked at all three of them, a tired sigh escaping his lips.
"So," Adriel said quietly, "here's what's up."
Around an hour passed.
Adriel recapped everything that had happened while he was inside the dome.
The commune. Viktor. Sky. Jayce. Vander. Vi. Jinx. Isha.
Anansi.
The more he spoke, the heavier the room became.
Peter, Ace, and Artoria listened without interrupting him. At first, they only looked concerned. Then the concern sharpened into something darker. Every new detail seemed to pull the mood lower, until even the comfortable kitchen around them felt too small for the conversation.
Adriel hated that.
He hated watching their faces change.
He hated seeing the moment they realized just how badly things had gone.
But he kept talking anyway.
By the time he finished, silence settled over the table.
Nobody moved.
Ace leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, one hand curled near his knee.
Peter stared down at the table, brows furrowed, taking in every detail like he was trying to assemble the full damage in his head.
Artoria sat very still.
Too still.
That was what made Adriel glance at her.
Her hands were folded in front of her. Her posture remained straight. Her expression was controlled in that painfully royal way she had, as if she could force herself into dignity no matter what she felt underneath.
But her eyes gave her away.
She was angry, but beneath that anger was something more painful: hurt.
After nearly a minute of silence, Artoria finally spoke.
"Do you trust us, Adriel?"
The question came so suddenly that Adriel blinked.
"What?"
It was the only intelligent answer his brain managed to produce.
Artoria's gaze did not waver.
"Do you trust us?"
Adriel stared at her, confused. "Of course I do."
"Then why do you insist on acting as if you do not?"
That landed harder than he expected.
Peter lifted his eyes.
Ace looked between them and immediately seemed to realize this was about to become a different kind of fight.
Adriel frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"I remember what you told us," Artoria said, her voice calm but firm. "You told me, told all of us, that we were going to do this together. That we were a team."
Adriel's jaw tightened slightly.
Artoria leaned forward, just enough for the control in her voice to start showing cracks.
"So why is it that when the moment came, you chose to do everything alone?"
Adriel could only stare at her.
Artoria's eyes narrowed.
"You entered the dome alone because you had to. That much I understand." Her voice hardened. "But fighting Anansi alone? After we were warned not to? After you knew what he was?"
Adriel looked away.
"Would you believe me if I said I was worried about all of you?" he asked.
It was a weak answer, not because it was a lie, but because the truth did not make things any better.
Artoria's expression tightened.
"Worried for us," she repeated.
"Yes."
"Or afraid to rely on us?"
Adriel's eyes snapped back to her.
Artoria did not flinch.
"Do you think we are so incompetent that we can only survive if you carry everything for us?"
"That's not what I said."
"But it is what you keep doing." Her voice rose slightly. "You act as though our lives are your burden alone. As though our choices, our strength, our willingness to stand beside you mean nothing the moment you decide the danger is too great."
Adriel stared at her.
Ace shifted in his chair.
Peter's mouth pressed into a thin line.
Artoria's voice trembled now, but she forced it steady.
"Do you know how self-absorbed that is?"
The room went cold.
Adriel's face changed.
"What?"
Artoria held his gaze, though the hurt in her eyes deepened.
"You heard me."
Adriel slowly leaned forward.
"Self-absorbed?" he repeated, almost disbelieving. "That's what you think this is?"
"Adriel—"
"No, hold on." His voice sharpened. "You think this entire time, while I'm terrified out of my fucking mind of losing all of you again, I'm just being self-absorbed?"
Artoria's lips pressed together.
Adriel let out a humorless laugh.
"You think I did all of that because I don't trust you? What kind of logic is that?"
"The kind where you keep making decisions for us."
"I was trying to protect you."
"By excluding us."
"By keeping you alive."
"By denying us the chance to stand with you!"
Artoria's voice finally cracked.
That stopped him for half a second.
She breathed in, then continued, quieter but sharper.
"You call it protection. Perhaps part of it is. But you also make yourself the center of every sacrifice. Every risk. Every impossible choice."
Adriel's fists clenched on the table.
Artoria looked at him, and for a moment she did not look like a king. She looked like someone who understood the shape of his mistake far too well.
"I know that path," she said. "I walked it. I believed that if I carried enough, suffered enough, denied myself enough, then everyone else would be spared."
Her voice softened, but the accusation did not leave it.
"It did not save them."
Adriel's face tightened.
Artoria's gaze flickered, old pain moving behind her eyes.
"You know my past. You know what I was. You know the horrors the Darks are capable of because I was once one of them." Her fingers curled against the table. "And the day you brought me back from that, the day you made me a Guardian, you told me I would not have to stand alone anymore."
Adriel's expression faltered.
"You said we would face this together," Artoria continued. "You promised that."
The room was completely silent now.
"And yet here you are," she said, "still carrying everything by yourself."
Adriel looked down.
For a second, she almost stopped.
Then she said it.
"Did you learn nothing from Infinity War?"
Adriel's head snapped up.
His eyes changed instantly.
"Don't."
Artoria stilled.
Adriel's voice dropped low.
"Don't you dare fucking talk about Infinity War."
Peter stood before the next word could come out.
"Okay," he said firmly. "That's enough."
Ace stood too, chair scraping against the floor.
"Yeah. Stop." He looked between them, hands lifted slightly. "Both of you. Just stop."
Artoria's jaw was tight.
Adriel's breathing had changed, heavier now, anger and panic bleeding into each other.
Ace looked at Artoria first.
"He was worried, alright?" he said. "I'm pissed too. Don't get me wrong. He should have called us. He should have let us help. But after everything he's gone through, can you really blame him for being scared?"
Artoria did not answer.
Peter moved beside Adriel.
"Hey," Peter said quietly. "Take a breath, man."
Adriel didn't look at him.
Peter lowered his voice. "Come on. Breathe."
Adriel looked like he wanted to say something else.
Something ugly.
Something defensive.
Something that would make the room worse.
Instead, he swallowed it.
His shoulders dropped a fraction.
Then he exhaled.
"Look," Adriel said, voice rougher now. "I'm sorry."
Artoria looked at him.
"I didn't mean to snap at you like that." His gaze lowered. "I'm sorry."
Artoria said nothing.
She still looked upset, but something in her expression shifted. Her anger did not disappear. Neither did the hurt. But hesitation slipped in, and her lips trembled slightly before she looked away.
For a second, she seemed like she might answer.
Instead, she stood.
"I need a beer."
Ace immediately looked worried.
"Yeah, okay." He stood a second later. "I'll keep an eye on her."
Artoria was already walking toward the door.
Ace glanced back at Peter and Adriel.
"Let's all just... cool down for a bit, alright?"
Neither of them argued.
Ace followed Artoria outside.
The door closed behind them.
That left Peter and Adriel alone in the kitchen.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Adriel put both hands over his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Peter leaned against the table and waited.
Adriel's voice cracked.
"I should have gone with you all. I know that. I just..."
His hands dragged down his face.
"I didn't want to lose anybody else."
Peter's expression softened.
Adriel stared at the table like the wood might give him an answer.
"I've been in this game for so fucking long," he said. "And all I've ever known is suffering. Losing people. Watching things fall apart. Trying to fix one disaster before the next one punches me in the mouth."
His throat tightened.
"I lost everyone."
Peter looked away for a second.
Adriel's eyes glistened.
"And you lost everyone too, Peter."
Peter's face tightened.
"Because I couldn't figure out the true bad ending of Infinity War." Adriel's voice shook now. "Because I wasn't careful enough. Because I missed something. And then Anansi kicked my ass so badly that even the chapter itself turned against me."
He laughed once, but it came out broken.
"What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? How do I fight someone who already edited the story while I'm inside it?"
Peter said nothing.
Adriel's breathing grew uneven.
"I had to escape to the next chapter." He rubbed at his eyes, but tears were already slipping down his face. "Do you know how stupid that sounds? How unfair? How bullshit?"
Peter's expression tightened with quiet sympathy.
"And now Artoria says I was being selfish." Adriel swallowed hard. "Maybe she's right. Maybe I was. But all I ever tried to do was think of you all. I didn't want any of you to suffer the way I did."
His voice dropped.
"I didn't want anyone else to know what that feels like."
Peter sat beside him.
Adriel wiped his face again, uselessly.
"Maybe I was being idealistic. Maybe I don't know how to protect people without taking control. I don't know." He shook his head. "I don't even know how to put these feelings into words, man."
The tears kept coming.
Adriel stared at his own hands.
"Why is the hardest part of this job the fucking talking?"
Peter's mouth twitched despite himself.
Adriel let out a shaky breath.
"The punching? Kicking? Fighting gods? That shit is easy compared to this."
Peter chuckled softly, not because it was funny, but because it was painfully true.
"Yeah," Peter said. "Life's kind of an asshole like that."
Adriel gave him a tired side-eye.
Peter shrugged.
"Sometimes the hardest part is the heart."
Adriel stared at him.
Peter grimaced. "Okay, that sounded less corny in my head."
Despite everything, Adriel huffed.
Barely.
But it counted.
Peter stood and patted his shoulder.
"Come on. Let's go to the living room. Sit down. Watch something on TV. Wakfu, maybe. Something that doesn't involve talking about trauma for at least twenty minutes."
Adriel looked down, thinking.
Then he nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Okay."
The two stood and started toward the living room.
Halfway there, Peter suddenly stopped.
"Wait."
Adriel glanced at him. "What?"
Peter's brows furrowed with sudden concern.
"If you have Netflix here... does that mean Vi and Jinx could find their own series?"
Adriel blinked.
Then shook his head. "No. I thought about that."
Peter relaxed slightly.
"I removed Arcane from this version of Netflix. No matter what they search, they shouldn't be able to find it."
Peter nodded slowly.
"Good. Because that would be a whole new therapy bill."
Adriel snorted tiredly.
"Yeah. No thanks."
They continued walking.
Peter glanced toward the direction Artoria and Ace had gone.
"Let's hope Ace can calm her down."
Adriel nodded in silence.
He hoped so too.
Because Artoria was angry.
And maybe she had every right to be.
Even though Adriel considered much of what Artoria had thrown at him bullshit—words spoken in the heat of the moment because she was angry and scared—one question refused to leave him alone.
Did he actually trust his team?
Or had he convinced himself that pushing them away was the same thing as protecting them?
That thought sat wrong in his chest.
Because the fact remained that, despite everything he said about them being a team, Adriel still carried the weight alone when things became too dangerous. When push came to shove, he did not share the burden. He automatically took it. He threw it onto his own shoulders like that was where it belonged.
And maybe that was the part Artoria had been trying to get at.
Their agency—their right to choose. He kept deciding for them.
He decided when they were allowed to help. He decided when something was too dangerous. He decided which pain belonged to him and which pain they were allowed to touch.
But what about his own autonomy?
Did anyone get to stop him and ask if he was okay?
Did anyone get to look him in the eye and tell him he was not allowed to keep bleeding in silence just because he was useful that way?
That was something Adriel had forgotten how to accept.
Even in the real world, he had always been the one people came to with their problems. He listened. He gave advice. He let others vent until they felt lighter. But he almost never did the same.
The one time he had shared even a small part of what was rotting inside him, a friend had stared at him in horror and asked, "Are you truly okay?"
After that, Adriel stopped bothering.
Sure, he had vented more than once since entering fiction. He had broken down. Snapped. Cried. Said things he probably would have buried before.
But old habits died hard.
And even now, after all this time, when things became too heavy, he still reached for the burden first.
It was not because he thought Peter, Ace, or Artoria were weak or incompetent.
He trusted them.
He did.
But he did not trust the situation enough to let them share the danger.
That was the difference.
A stupid, painful difference.
Adriel trusted his team's strength.
He just did not trust the universe to let him keep them.
And maybe that was where the problem started.
Because somewhere along the way, love, trauma, and control had tangled together so tightly that he could barely tell them apart anymore. He wanted them safe. He wanted them alive. He wanted them far away from the worst parts of the story.
But in trying to protect them, he kept taking away their choice to stand beside him.
And Artoria had noticed.
Of course she had.
Because Artoria understood that kind of loneliness.
Outside the house, she walked ahead of Ace with her jaw clenched and her hands curled into fists at her sides.
She knew her words had been cruel.
The moment she said "self-absorbed," she had seen it land. She had seen Adriel's face change. She had seen the wound open before either of them could stop the argument from becoming personal.
And yet, even knowing that, the anger did not vanish.
Because she had not said it only to hurt him.
She had said it because she recognized the shape of his mistake.
A king could call it duty.
A hero could call it sacrifice.
A Guardian could call it protection.
But Artoria knew better than most how easily noble intentions could become another cage.
She had once believed that if she carried enough, suffered enough, and denied herself enough, then everyone else would be saved. She had turned herself into a symbol before she allowed herself to be a person. She had taken every failure as proof that she should have carried more.
And it had ruined her.
So when she looked at Adriel, she did not see a man who lacked love for his team.
She saw a man drowning in love so badly that he had started mistaking control for care.
What frightened her was neither his power nor even his guilt, but his certainty.
The way he kept deciding that he alone should suffer. The way he spoke of teamwork until the moment the danger became unbearable, and then quietly placed himself between everyone else and the consequences.
Artoria did not want to be protected like that.
She did not want to be placed safely behind him while he broke himself apart and called it mercy.
He had promised her something different.
When he brought her back from the darkness, when he gave her the chance to be a Guardian, he had told her they would face this together.
They were supposed to stand together—not as a king and her soldiers, nor as a savior and the people he had to rescue.
And yet, when Anansi came, Adriel had chosen the same lonely path Artoria knew too well.
That was why she was angry.
That was why it hurt.
Because some part of her feared that if Adriel kept doing this, then one day there would be nothing left of him to save.
And worse than that, he would call that a victory as long as everyone else survived.
After Adriel finished chasing himself in circles inside his own head, he reached the living room with Peter beside him.
Vi was already there.
She had claimed the sofa like it belonged to her, sprawled across it with one leg hanging over the armrest and the other tucked lazily beneath a blanket. The tub of cookies and cream ice cream sat balanced against her stomach, spoon in hand, while the television played across the room.
She looked painfully comfortable.
The kind of comfortable that made Adriel immediately resent her on principle.
Vi noticed them enter and gave them a lazy side-eye.
"Oh?" She lifted the spoon slightly. "Did y'all finish your secret meeting in the kitchen?"
"It really wasn't much of a secret meeting," Adriel said.
Peter walked in behind him. "He just needed to cool down. Conversation got a little heated."
Vi's gaze moved between them.
"Yeah, I can tell." She glanced past them toward the hall. "The other two are missing. Where'd they go?"
Adriel looked away and sighed through his nose.
"I don't know. Outside, probably." His voice lowered a little. "Just let them be. I don't think Artoria wants to talk to me right now anyway."
Vi's expression shifted just enough for Adriel to notice.
She nodded once, then winced slightly. "Well, I heard a little bit of the commotion."
Adriel's shoulders tensed.
"Not exactly what y'all said," Vi added. "But it got loud."
Adriel scratched the back of his head.
"Yeah. That was my bad."
Vi waved him off with the spoon.
"Eh. It's fine. You gave me your ice cream, so I'm not too bothered."
Adriel slowly looked at her.
"I gave you the ice cream?"
Vi's mouth twitched.
"Oh? Are you bitching?"
Peter snorted from the side and immediately pretended to be very interested in the television as he sat on one of the other sofas.
Adriel pointed at Vi. "You know damn well you stole that ice cream the moment I went to pick up my friends. I caught you red-handed."
Vi took another spoonful and ate it directly in front of him.
Slowly.
With eye contact.
"Mm-hmm." She swallowed. "Whatever you say, webhead."
Adriel stared at her for a second, then decided he did not have the emotional energy to fight a woman with stolen ice cream and zero shame.
"Anyway," he said, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a brick through a window, "what are you watching?"
He looked at the screen.
"I see Chris Hemsworth getting his ass kicked, so I'm assuming there's violence."
Vi turned back toward the television, still eating his ice cream like she was actively trying to salt the wound.
"Yeah. Second part of Extraction. First one was pretty good, so I'm watching this one."
Peter, already far too comfortable for someone who had only just entered the house, leaned back into the sofa.
"Do you mind if we watch?"
Vi gave a dismissive wave.
"I'm just a guest here. I don't live here." She pointed her spoon at Adriel. "It's his house. Y'all can do whatever the fuck you want."
Adriel snorted.
"True." He moved toward the sofa. "Don't mind me, then. I'm gonna sit my fat ass right beside you."
He jumped over the back of the sofa and dropped down beside her.
Vi jerked her legs back.
"Fuck, man. Your ass almost smashed my feet."
Adriel settled in like he had done nothing wrong. "Skill issue."
Vi narrowed her eyes.
"I'm gonna throw this ice cream at you."
"Yeah, and I'm not getting you another one if you do."
Vi clicked her tongue.
"Fine."
Peter glanced between them, clearly amused.
Adriel leaned back against the cushions, arms crossed, eyes on the television. Vi shifted enough to reclaim her space but did not move away. The movie continued playing, filling the room with gunfire, shouting, and the kind of action that required no emotional vulnerability from anyone watching it.
For once, nobody asked him to explain anything.
Nobody demanded answers.
Nobody said Anansi's name.
The quiet was not exactly peaceful with Artoria outside, Jinx somewhere upstairs, and the weight of everything still sitting on Adriel's chest.
But it was quiet.
For now, that was enough.
The three of them watched the movie in silence.
To Be Continued...