Damien stared at Julius, disbelief crashing through him like a tidal wave. Of all the people to find here, in this moment, when everything was falling apart — it had to be him.
If Luka weren't dying right in front of him, Damien would've already had his blade at Julius's throat.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Damien rasped, his voice low and razor-edged.
Julius pushed off the pillar he'd been lounging against, brushing the dust from his rumpled blue combat suit with lazy indifference. He looked worse for wear — his golden hair was matted with dirt and blood, his once-pristine battle suit torn and stained — but none of that seemed to touch the arrogant tilt of his mouth or the glint in his brown eyes.
He still wore that damn smirk.
"I fought off multiple grade two beasts and had to retreat here," Julius said, his voice light, casual, like he was talking about a rough morning jog instead of a battle for his life.
Damien's fists tightened at his sides. His eyes flicked around instinctively, searching for Daeron and Simon. But the platform was empty, save for the four of them.
"And them?" Damien demanded. "Daeron. Simon. Where are they?"
For a moment, something flickered across Julius's face — a crack in the cocky mask. He looked down, jaw clenching tight enough that the muscles twitched.
"They're dead," he said bluntly. His voice was cold and brittle, a shard of anger barely restrained.
Damien didn't mourn them. If anything, a grim, vicious thought surfaced before he could stop it: 'At least something good came out of this nightmare.'
He shoved it down. Now wasn't the time — Luka was dying, and Julius, infuriating as he was, was standing there, alive.
Without warning, Julius started striding toward Luka.
Damien reacted instantly, stepping between them and snapping his sword up, the tip leveled squarely at Julius's neck.
"Stay the hell away from him," Damien snarled.
Julius didn't even blink. If anything, his smirk deepened, lazy and infuriating.
"I'm going to heal your friend," Julius said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Unless you'd rather he bleed out. Your call."
Damien's heart hammered against his ribs. Suspicion clawed at his mind, warring with desperate hope. He narrowed his eyes, voice dripping with scorn.
"First of all, your ability can't heal people," Damien said. "I learned that the hard way, and even if it could, there's no way in hell you're doing this out of kindness."
Julius chuckled, a short, sharp sound that cut through the tension.
"You're right about one thing," he said, tone breezy, cocky as ever. "I can do a hell of a lot more than just beat your ass. Don't cram me into your pathetic little box, Damien." His eyes gleamed with something hard, something dangerous. "And who said anything about kindness? We can talk about what you'll owe me once your little boyfriend's breathing again."
Before Damien could react, Julius casually pushed his sword aside and knelt beside Luka and Summer, utterly unbothered.
Damien's blood boiled. Rage flared up so hot it made his vision swim — rage at Julius's smugness, rage at his helplessness, rage at the memory of how thoroughly Julius had humiliated him before. Every fiber of his body screamed to drag Julius away, to beat that smirk off his face.
But he didn't move.
Because Luka's life was worth more than his pride.
Damien stood there, trembling with barely-contained fury, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, forced to watch as the last person he wanted help from became the only chance Luka had left.
Summer turned her pale, tear-streaked face toward Julius, her voice trembling as she asked, "What are you going to do?"
Julius shot her a cocky grin, as if they weren't all standing at death's doorstep.
"My ability lets me alter bodily functions," he said, voice smooth and maddeningly self-assured.
"I can boost immune systems — mine, or anyone I'm touching. I'll enhance Luka's. But..." he paused, flashing a grin that made Damien want to drive his sword straight through his teeth, "babe, I can't do it alone. This wound's too deep. I'll need you to combine your powers with mine."
Damien's eye twitched violently. 'Did this prick just call her babe?'
For half a second, he thought Summer might punch Julius herself, but she just nodded, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks. Without a word, she placed both hands back on the shimmering bubble that held Luka's fragile life together, pouring everything she had into it.
At the same time, Julius pressed his hand firmly against Luka's shoulder, the glow from before reigniting, fiercer now, as the two abilities intertwined.
Damien stood there, every nerve fraying at the edges. Watching. Waiting. Useless.
He couldn't tear his gaze away. Luka lay there, unmoving, blood still staining the broken ground beneath him. Damien's heart hammered in his chest, loud enough that it almost drowned out the faint hum of the abilities at work.
He couldn't lose him.
He couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone else.
Not Luka.
But as he stood there, sword gripped so tightly it shook in his hands, Damien realized it wasn't Julius's arrogance that burned the hottest inside him.
It was the fury he felt toward himself.
He was the one too weak to save Luka.
He was the one standing here, helpless, while the person he despised most in the world did what he couldn't.
The anger clawed at his insides, making his vision blur. He clenched his fists tighter, his nails biting into his palms. His whole body vibrated with the need to do something, anything, but all he could do was stand there and watch.
'Please... don't die.'
The seconds dragged out like hours, each heartbeat a brutal hammer against Damien's ribs.
And then —
He saw it.
The horrifying tear in Luka's chest began to close, the gaping wound drawing together thread by agonizing thread. Internal organs, once exposed and torn, stitched themselves back in place in slow, fragile motions. Skin rippled and wove itself anew over muscle and bone.
Damien's breath caught.
It wasn't instant, it wasn't perfect, but it was happening. Luka's broken body was becoming whole again, piece by painstaking piece.
Slowly and surely, he was coming back.
Damien sagged slightly where he stood, the weight of it all crashing into him at once — hope, rage, guilt, and a fear so deep it left him hollow.
And still, through it all, Julius kept that infuriating smile on his face, as if this was just another day, another win, another game he was in control of.
Damien didn't look away.
He couldn't.
Because this time, he needed to memorize exactly how it felt — this helplessness. This humiliation. This powerlessness.
He would never, ever feel it again.
Sweat beaded on Julius's forehead as he kept his hand pressed firmly against Luka's shoulder, his cocky expression finally dimming under the strain. Summer, too, was trembling, her arms shaking violently as she pushed every last drop of energy into the shimmering bubble.
Minutes passed — long, brutal minutes — but at last, Luka's breathing hitched. His chest rose, shallow but steady.
Damien's throat tightened.
He's alive.
Summer let out a choked sob and collapsed to her knees, her strength spent. Julius pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers as if testing for damage, then stood up slowly, dusting off his hands like he'd just finished a tedious chore.
He turned to Damien, a smirk crawling back onto his face like it had never left.
"There. I did your job for you," Julius said, his voice rich with smug satisfaction. "You're welcome."
Damien didn't move. Didn't speak.
He stared at Julius — at the arrogant tilt of his chin, the infuriating gleam in his bloodshot eyes, the way he knew exactly how much Damien hated him right now.
And Julius loved it.
"You owe me," Julius added casually, rolling his shoulders. "Big time."
Damien's knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. Rage boiled inside him, so fierce it nearly drowned out the relief flooding through him at Luka's survival.
But he forced himself to stay still.
He forced himself to breathe.
Not because Julius deserved it, or because he was above it.
But because Luka needed him to be calm. Summer needed him to be calm.
He could kill Julius on a later day.
Damien's jaw tightened as he sheathed his sword with a sharp, deliberate motion. His heart still raged in his chest, but he shoved it down, burying the fire deep where it would burn hotter, quieter, waiting.
He walked past Julius without a word and knelt beside Summer and Luka. Summer was still crying silently, her hands hovering uncertainly over Luka as if afraid to touch him and break whatever fragile miracle had just taken place.
Luka's chest rose and fell in small, even breaths. His face was pale, but color was returning to his cheeks, faintly, yet visible.
Damien reached out and placed a hand on Luka's shoulder, gripping it firmly. His best friend — his brother — was alive.
And Damien would make damn sure he stayed that way.
No matter what it took.
"So, about my payment..."
Damien didn't even let him finish. He snapped, his voice low and venomous, "What do you want, bastard?"
Julius's face lit up with that insufferable, cocky smile — the one that made Damien's fingers twitch for his sword.
"Is that any way to talk to the man who just saved your best friend's life?" Julius taunted, stretching lazily as if Damien's rage was little more than background noise. "You should be groveling at my feet right now."
It took everything Damien had not to close the distance and ram his sword straight through his smug heart. His whole body shook with restraint, every muscle taut, every instinct screaming for violence.
But instead, he forced himself to take a slow, grinding breath, and spat out the words like broken glass, "Thank you. Now what do you want?"
Julius, clearly savoring every second, gave a mock bow, as if Damien's reluctant gratitude had been the finest tribute. Then he straightened, the gleam in his eye turning sharp and calculating.
"Considering I don't have a team anymore," Julius said, smirking, "how about you let me join yours... and we'll call it even."