"Argh!" Arthur grunted as he woke up clutching his head. The pain shot through his skull like lightning.
He bolted upright, eyes scanning his surroundings—white walls, medical equipment, the steady beep of monitors. A hospital room. Relief washed over him as he realized everything had gone according to plan.
A nurse jumped up from her chair in the corner. "Mr. Arthur! You're awake."
She approached the bed, clipboard in hand. "How are you feeling? Any dizziness? Nausea?"
"Just a headache," Arthur said, wincing as he shifted. "Where's Charlotte? Is she okay?"
The nurse smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about your sister. The doctors are taking excellent care of her. She's in the room next door."
Arthur immediately swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I need to see her."
"Sir, please," the nurse placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. "Let me just do a quick check on you first. Please?"
Arthur fixed her with a hard stare, then relented with a nod.
The nurse worked efficiently, checking his vitals and reflexes. "Everything looks stable. I'll inform Mr. Gates—he asked to be contacted the moment you woke up. He wants to talk to you."
"Fine." Arthur slipped on the hospital slippers beside the bed and headed for the door.
"Sir, where are you—"
"To see my sister," he cut her off, already stepping into the hallway.
He moved quickly to the adjacent room, pausing at the closed door. "Can I come in?"
The nurse who'd followed him shook her head. "Yes and no, sir."
Arthur's eyes narrowed.
"You can enter after wearing appropriate isolation gear," she explained quickly. "But currently, no. We need to protect her from any kind of pathogens. Her immune system is... fragile."
Arthur nodded, a knot forming in his stomach. He moved to the observation window instead.
Charlotte lay on the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. Her face was peaceful, as if she were merely sleeping. But Arthur could see how thin she'd become, how pale.
'Two more days,' he thought. 'When the merge happens, her condition will improve...even if a cure isn't currently possible,'
The timer in his mind continued its countdown: [36:42:19]
He placed his palm against the glass, as close as he could get to her for now.
"I found you," he whispered. "And I'm never letting you go again."
Soon, Gates was notified inside Armageddon. He and his daughter Tiana were in the middle of a joint hunt—a father-daughter bonding experience that usually absorbed his full attention.
Gates immediately called off the hunt, sheathing his weapon. "Tiana, log out. I want to introduce you to someone."
Tiana frowned, lowering her bow. "In the middle of our hunt? We finally found a good area to hunt!"
"This is more important," Gates said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Remember what I told you about the special guest at our facility?"
Her eyes widened with understanding. "The guild leader with the abilities? He's awake?"
Gates nodded. "And I need you to be on your best behaviour. No attitude, no questions about his powers, and above all—do not anger him. Understand?"
"I'm not a child, Dad," she protested, though she straightened her armor instinctively. "I know how to act around important people."
"This isn't just about importance. It's about safety." Gates met her eyes. "Promise me."
Tiana nodded, finally grasping the gravity of the situation. "I promise."
They both logged out, consciousness shifting from Armageddon to the real world.
Gates had brought Tiana to the facility hours ago—part of his contingency plan.
They changed quickly into some presentable clothing. Gates opted for his usual business attire while Tiana chose something casual but neat— a long, blue dress.
"Don't mess up," Gates said as they walked toward Arthur's room.
Instead of finding him inside the room, they found him somewhere else.
There he was—standing motionless at the observation window, palm pressed against the glass, utterly absorbed in watching his sister breathe. The intensity of his focus was unnerving, as if nothing else in the world existed.
Gates approached carefully, signaling Tiana to stay slightly behind him.
"Arthur," he said quietly.
The boy turned, and Tiana barely suppressed a gasp. This was no ordinary teenager.
Instead of seeing a man that she thought would be scary from what her dad had told her. She found a boy with a tear sliding down his cheek.
Arthur wiped the tear before responding.
Arthur's gaze flicked from Gates to Tiana, who stood with hands clasped in front of her, trying to project calm and friendliness despite her racing heart.
"You must be Gates' daughter," Arthur said, his voice surprisingly normal for someone who'd killed over two dozen people hours earlier.
Tiana nodded, finding her voice. "I'm Tiana. It's... good to meet you."
Arthur's attention returned to the window. "How is she really? And don't lie to me."
Gates exchanged a glance with his daughter before answering. "Her condition is serious. But we're exploring treatment options."
"What do you mean?" Arthur's voice remained calm, but the temperature in the hallway seemed to drop several degrees.
Tiana watched her father carefully navigate the conversation, realizing that in this moment, she was witnessing something she'd never seen before—her powerful, confident father walking on eggshells.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
"Arthur..." Gates inhaled deeply, weighing his words. "Charlotte's cancer has reached the final stage. It's spread throughout her body."
Arthur's expression didn't change, but his knuckles whitened against the glass.
Gates continued, his voice steady and clinical. "The facility that held her—they kept her sedated with sleeping pills and pumped her full of synthetic endorphins. It masked her symptoms but accelerated the cellular breakdown."
"How long?" Arthur asked, the question like a knife.
"Without intervention? A few days."
"We have a treatment option," Gates said carefully. "Protocol Lazarus—experimental regenerative nanotechnology combined with genetic reconstruction. It's never been field-tested on cancer this advanced."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "The risks?"
"Significant. Complete systemic failure is possible. Pain levels would be extreme during the process."