The Heroine is My Stepsister, and I'm her Final Boss-Chapter 101: Reunion

{{{...As expected of the Chosen Avatar... I will come

....i will come back...and take revenge for the dreaming....for the monsters you released upon us....}}}

Lara’s spine snapped rigid. Atlas froze, blade still raised. Even Henry, watching from the balcony, narrowed his eyes to slits. And then, as if the world itself recoiled, the presence vanished. Clouds that had split apart stitched themselves back together; the sky mended its fracture. The weight pressing down on the battlefield lifted.

Whatever had spoken—whatever had watched—was gone. For now.

Lara’s heart still thundered. The air tasted of ozone and blood, sharp and acrid. Around them, broken banners sagged, and distant cries echoed from wounded souls. She felt Aurora’s pulse beneath her fingers: slow, uneven. The older woman’s chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

"This is him," Lara thought, recalling her fiery declarations of strength. She had trained for this—years of drills, endless dawns spent bleeding beneath Aurora’s stern gaze—believing that if she honed her steel and her will, she might stand side by side with Atlas. Instead, she now stood beneath his blade, feeling every fragment of her pride shatter.

He wasn’t just her brother anymore. He was something else entirely. Something terrifying. Yet she still wanted to hold onto him. Still wanted to believe she mattered. Still wanted to be enough.

Atlas did not move. The hum of his sword reverberated through his gauntleted fist, a low resonance that made the stones tremble. Lara thought she could see magma pulsing within him, a heart forged from grief. He had left Berkimhum, left her behind, hoping to shield her from the destiny inscribed upon his flesh. But she had followed anyway—like always.

She wondered if he blamed her, or if relief flickered behind his golden gaze. Because if she saw what he had become... what would he see in her eyes? Would she still call him brother? Or recoil in horror?

Aurora blinked, staggering to her feet, eyes glazed with exhaustion and something like awe. "I nearly did," she whispered, and it sounded like an apology.

Lara studied her mentor: the once-godlike aura now dimmed to mortal exhaustion, the worn staff she still clutched like a lifeline. ’She gave him the stage’ Lara realized—Aurora had bound the sky itself with her Laws, bled raw power for Atlas to wield. And that sacrifice had nearly destroyed her. ’He must succeed where she would fail.’

Aurora pressed a hand to her chest, steadying herself. "You have my blessings, Even though the whole world is against it. " she whispered, voice small but firm. "Go.... Go get your mans."

Lara could not believe ir. She blinked once and then twice, unable to believe what she just heard. Someone, someone had seen her heart. Her true heart for Atlas.

Aurora placed a hand on her shoulder. Nodding to her. Giving her permission and all her support.

At the wall near the gates, Dust settled in the air like ash from a dream, drifting down around Atlas as he stood in the ruins of the shattered wall. Every grain of sand that settled on his skin felt impossibly small against the weight of everything he’d become.

Lara landed infront of him. A landing which had crushed the earth beneath giving a small quake of its own.

She saw him. And he saw her. Atlas could not help bit smile.

"...I’m back..." he muttered. His voice gentle and soothing, and before he could react Lara clung to him, her arms locked around his chest so tightly he could almost feel the echo of her heartbeat through his ribs. She smelled of wind and iron—battle and fire—and something else, something he hadn’t realized he missed until now.

He didn’t hug her back. Not at first. He simply felt the warmth of her body pressed against his, realized in a heartbeat that he was naked from the waist up and also a bit down below. Her embrace left no space for hiding the reaction stirring within him.

She felt it too—the bulge down below, guarded by no pants....only shreaded coverings, her breath catching. Then she pulled back a fraction, eyes narrowing in surprise and something like embarrassment. Atlas, still dust-covered and bruised from battle, looked at her with mild amusement.

"...Lara... would you mind... giving me your cape?" His voice was low, almost teasing.

She blinked. Then blushed so fiercely he could feel the heat from her cheeks all the way over his shoulder. Without a word, she tore off her crimson cloak and, with a flick of her wrist, sent it sailing through the dust-choked air. Atlas caught it easily, draping it around his waist like a makeshift kilt.

She crossed her arms, cheeks still aflame. The cold air of the evening breeze did nothing to cool her fury—or her flush.

"You could’ve warned me," she muttered.

"I didn’t think I’d be fighting a sky full of dragons wearing nothing but my dignity," Atlas replied dryly, the ghost of a grin tugging at one corner of his mouth.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head as though to dislodge the humiliation. "You idiot..."

Her voice softened, just a whisper: "...I missed you."

Atlas stared, the cloak slipping slightly as he exhaled. For the first time in years, he didn’t know what to say.

A twitch at the edge of his mind reminded him why he’d come home. Dust settled over shattered stone and broken banners. He could taste the sharp tang of ozone and old blood on the wind.

Frost crept along the marble parapets where Aurora’s Law had briefly held back fire itself. A distant thud still echoed every time a dragon’s husk hit the streets below, rattling windows in the lower districts.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the acrid, metallic scent of victory and ruin. ’The Guide was right, trouble would find me. One way or another.’

He had left Berkimhum—left her—to protect her. But she followed anyway. Like always. And now, standing beneath the fractured sky he’d remade, he felt more exposed than he had on any battlefield.

Lara’s hand brushed a stray lock of his hair from his brow. He could feel the soft tremor in her fingers—the same tremor that used to betray her confidence in sparring sessions long ago.

"I knew you would come back...," she added, eyes glistening. "If thought...I thought If you hated me...for leaving, just like that...."

Atlas’s breath caught, memories of their last bitter farewell flashing through his mind: her tears, his resolve, the rupture between them that had seemed unbreakable. He swallowed, voice rough. "I never hated you." His thumb brushed her cheek, hesitant. "I was trying to come back strong enough... for both of us."

Her tears cupped in golden lamplight, falling one by one onto his chest. Each drop sizzled where it landed against the cloak’s fabric. She flinched, as though the world had shifted beneath her feet again.

Atlas’s heart clenched. He took a breath, steadying himself. ’tears for me..?...its been long...very long..’

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