Cassius slowly closed his eyes.

He could not bear it anymore. The sight of guns raised against his people, the emptiness that settled in his chest, the helplessness that wrapped around him so tightly it was hard to breathe. His lashes trembled, brows knitting together, and his jaw clenched in silent rage. Beneath that still exterior, he was overflowing with anger, frustration, and self-hatred.

He failed. Again.

He failed to protect them. Failed to save the people who trusted him. Failed as a Watcher. Failed as a leader. Failed as a father. Every life that could possibly be taken in front of him right now would forever carry his guilt.

Inside his head, there were only voices screaming.

If only he had been stronger. If only he had seen through the Chief earlier. If only he had been ruthless enough to end this war before it even started. Maybe none of them would be in this situation. Maybe Zephany and Kendrick would not be lying half-conscious, pale, and weak. Maybe Brent would still be alive. Maybe nobody would have been forced to suffer this nightmare.

His hands curled into tight fists until the veins on his arms surfaced. Still, he did not open his eyes.

He did not want to see death happen again right in front of him.

He tilted his head downward, a bitter sound escaping from his throat, something close to a humorless chuckle.

"Seems a happy ending is impossible for us," he murmured weakly to himself.

There was no strength in the words. Only resignation.

He embraced the silence that preceded death. He prepared himself for the sound of gunfire, the sharp smell of gunpowder, and the painful screams that would surely echo after. He braced himself for another regret he would live with if he even lived through this.

He waited.

One second.

Nothing.

Two seconds.

Still silent.

Ten seconds.

Only his own breathing echoed inside his ears.

Thirty seconds.

Confusion began to slip into his chest, but he refused to open his eyes yet. Maybe they were simply savoring the moment, torturing them with false hope before ending it all.

One minute passed.

There was still no gunshot. No cry. No sound of bodies hitting the ground.

Two minutes passed.

The silence stretched far longer than it should. It became unnatural, uncomfortable. This was not how a massacre sounded. Something was wrong.

Cassius frowned and slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze first returned to where his allies were standing, expecting to see them already shot or at least already falling. But what he saw instead made his heart jolt violently inside his chest.

The soldiers.

The Nulls.

Every single one of them.

Their guns were no longer pointed at Cassius and his people.

All of them were now aiming toward the Chief.

The Chief stood frozen in the center, eyes wide in disbelief, his confident and arrogant expression shattered completely as he realized he was the one being targeted.

For a brief moment, nobody spoke. The air itself seemed to forget how to move.

Cassius blinked, his mind racing to catch up with reality.

What is happening?

The Chief finally snapped back to his senses. His chest heaved as fury replaced the shock.

"What is going on?" his voice boomed across the area. "Aren’t you all on my side?" His face twisted angrily. "I ordered you to kill Cassius’s allies! So how dare you point your guns at me?!" 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

His voice cracked at the end.

It was the first time he sounded genuinely terrified.

Cassius and his group remained frozen. They were just as confused. Sophia exchanged looks with Reynold. Jeric stared in disbelief. None of them understood what had changed.

Then a new sound broke through the tension.

A furious muffled shout.

"Let go of me!"

Everyone’s attention snapped toward Dr. Farah.

Two men had pinned her face down against the cold ground, one hand on her head, another forcing her arms behind her back. Her mouth was stuffed with some cloth to silence her, yet she still tried to scream and struggle wildly.

More armed men rushed past her. They headed toward Kendrick and Zephany, who were quickly transferred onto emergency stretchers, intravenous fluids already being attached, checking pulses, checking oxygen. The sight was so sudden and shocking that Cassius almost could not breathe.

What is happening?

Even the Chief could not process it.

His mind reeled. The control he believed he owned was slipping between his fingers like sand.

Everything was supposed to be his victory. Everything had been under his command. The Nulls. The soldiers. The Archive. Power was finally within his grasp. He was so close to winning. He could almost taste it.

So why?

Why were his men betraying him now?

He turned toward Cassius, hoping to find some hint, only to freeze again.

Cassius looked just as startled as he was.

So it was not Cassius.

Then who?

More footsteps echoed around them. Firm. Confident. Unhurried. The kind of presence that did not need to rush to command the world.

Everyone turned their heads toward the sound.

From the shadows, an old man slowly walked into the open.

He wore a dark long coat, hair silvered with age, back straight, and gaze steady. His presence alone felt like a storm pressing down on the atmosphere. It was calm yet terrifying, gentle yet suffocating. Authority radiated naturally from him.

Cassius’ eyes widened. The Chief’s breath hitched in horror.

Realization struck both of them at the same time.

Of course.

So that was it.

The old man released a tired sigh as he approached, his footsteps echoing meaningfully through the stunned silence. He stopped right in front of Cassius.

"I am getting far too old to keep cleaning up after your mess," he said calmly, although there was a hint of scolding in his tone. "Do you not think so, son?"

Cassius’ throat tightened.

Hope filled his eyes.

For the first time since the chaos began, relief washed over his face, shaking his shoulders slightly as his chest loosened. His lips parted but for a moment no words came out. Emotion clogged his throat.

"Dad..." his voice trembled faintly. "I am sorry."

It was all he could say, yet behind those words was everything he wanted to express. The burden. The guilt. The exhaustion. The relief that his father was here.

His father simply lifted his hand slightly.