Path of the Extra

For a moment, Azriel's mind froze, unable to process the absurdity of the words that had just come out of the small girl's mouth.

That smile—fragile yet weighed down with sadness—made something in him twist. His expression shifted, cycling through confusion, bewilderment, and finally, disbelief.

'I must have really lost my mind...'

Yet no matter how irrational it seemed, Azriel couldn't turn his back on this girl—a Heptarch.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he forced his emotions under control. His voice came out soft but firm.

"What makes you think you're going to die?"

Iryndra looked up, her eyes shimmering, the flickering firelight reflected within them like fragile glass about to shatter. For a second, Azriel almost found himself captivated by those eyes. Almost.

She spoke in a low, trembling voice, each word tinged with an aching vulnerability.

"Because… I'm not strong enough. I haven't been as useful as they wanted me to be. The person I call my father... he's only keeping me around to watch me. I think…"

Her voice faltered, and her small frame seemed to shrink in on itself. Azriel leaned forward slightly, unable to tear his eyes away.

"I think they're starting to reconsider my place as a Heptarch. And if that happens…"

Her expression darkened, the shadow of despair settling over her like a heavy blanket.

"They'll use me. Like a slave. Just like before I joined them. And with a weak body like mine…" She paused, trembling as her small hands curled into trembling fists.

"If I overuse my [Unique Skill] or my affinity, I'll…"

Her words broke off, but the meaning lingered heavily in the silence.

Azriel felt his gaze soften as he looked at her, this small, trembling child.

She wasn't a Heptarch in his eyes anymore. Not a symbol of power or fear.

And suddenly, he understood.

'Oh… I see.'

She was just a child.

A pitiful, broken child.

Unconsciously, Azriel reached out. His hand hovered above her head, frozen mid-air. A war played out in his mind, memories clashing with the present.

'Am I… pitiful too?'

His lips pressed into a thin line as his own question cut deep.

'I was.'

He clenched his jaw.

'But... not anymore.'

Alone—that had been his life for so long. But not now.

Not anymore.

Even though he was still trapped in this nightmare, still lost in a hell he couldn't escape, he had people waiting for him.

People who cared.

Who loved him.

Who worried for him, cherished him, and longed to see him return.

Family.

He had a family.

The thought stirred something in Azriel's chest, an ache that spread and cracked something deep inside him. A splintered fragment he hadn't even realized was there dissolved into dust.

And with it came understanding.

Azriel exhaled shakily, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, clearer than before.

Then he looked at Iryndra.

She was staring down at her hands, her shoulders trembling as she fought to hold back tears.

Azriel couldn't help but smile—a small, gentle thing.

'How selfish of me,' he thought, 'to focus on myself when this girl is trying so hard not to cry in front of me.'

He didn't know what she had endured, but it must have been unbearable.

She wasn't strong; she wasn't powerful. She was fragile. A child forced to wear the mask of a Heptarch, clinging desperately to someone—anyone—she could speak to.

Maybe she didn't even know what comfort felt like.

And yet, she had come to him.

Azriel stood, catching her attention. Her head snapped up, and those dull, tear-glazed eyes met his. She flinched slightly, unsure, her small frame tense.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Azriel crouched in front of her, bringing himself to her eye level as she sat curled on the wooden chair.

'She scared me at first,' he thought, 'being a Heptarch and all. But now… I don't care what she is, or what she's worth, or how powerful she might be.'

He gave her a kind smile, his voice soft and warm, like a quiet ember in the cold.

"Iryndra… can I become your family?"

*****

"Eh...?"

A soft, confused sound slipped from Iryndra's lips as she stared at the boy in front of her. Her expression was a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief.

Her golden eyes began to tremble.

'What... what did he just say?'

Family?

'Him? Becoming my family...?'

She replayed the words in her head, trying to make sense of them. Did she misunderstand?

No.

He was serious.

That smile, gentle and unwavering, and those eyes peeking through his tousled bangs… they looked at her with a kindness she didn't know how to respond to. She averted her gaze, unsure of where to look.

'Why?'

'Is he saying this out of guilt?'

Even if he was, he didn't need to. She hadn't expected much—not even this. She didn't realize it herself, but she was simply tired. Exhausted.

All she wanted was to talk to someone. Anyone. Before it was too late.

Her time was limited. She knew that. One way or another, she would die.

It was almost as if the gods had decided she wasn't meant to live. She didn't hate them for it. But she didn't love them, either.

Iryndra had power others would envy, power that could make kings kneel. And yet her body, fragile and uncooperative, couldn't bear the weight of it. The number of times she had been exploited was beyond counting.

Her golden eyes grew colder, guarded now, as she studied the boy she had... kidnapped. That was what she'd done, wasn't it? She'd dragged him into this mess because he was the only one who felt different.

Warm, even.

She couldn't explain it. Didn't understand it. But something about him felt familiar.

Suppressing the tremor in her voice, she spoke.

"You don't need to force yourself. It's alright, mister. I'm just happy we could talk."

Yet he didn't waver. His gaze remained steady, that same gentle smile on his face, making her brows furrow slightly.

"Who says I'm forcing myself?"

His voice was quiet, but firm.

"Besides… you want a real family, don't you? I already have one, so I can't speak for them, but I can promise you this—I'm willing to be your family. Just me."

Her teeth bit into her inner cheek as he continued, his voice softening, turning a little sad.

"You must have felt alone. Cold. Lonely… afraid at night. Like the entire world was against you. Like it wasn't fair. I don't know everything you've been through, but I've felt that way too. Some days, I still do."

Her eyes trembled again at his words.

'Yes... I feel it too. Every day...'

Before she could respond, he leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting, lightening.

"So how about we make a deal?"

Her voice came out quieter than she intended.

"...A deal?"

He nodded. His smile was warm, unassuming, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

"I become your family, and you become mine. Whenever we feel lonely or sad, whenever we need someone, we'll be there for each other. No matter what."

She stared at him, trying to make sense of it.

There was no lie in his words. She could tell. She'd always been able to tell when people were lying. But this boy… he was honest. Earnest in a way she didn't know how to deal with.

"I won't force you," he said softly. "It's your choice. Whatever you decide, I'll respect it."

Silence stretched between them. Iryndra couldn't bring herself to look at him. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her lips trembling.

'Can I trust him?'

'Is he just like the others?'

'It's a lie, right? He'll use me. Hurt me. Like everyone else...'

But then another thought crept in, quieter, fragile.

'What if it's not?'

'What if… I could finally be happy?'

'What if I could have someone to call family?'

She realized something then.

What did she have to lose?

Death? That was already coming for her if she stayed in Neo Genesis.

Pain? She was already used to it.

But loneliness?

She couldn't bear it anymore.

'I… I don't want to be alone.'

Her head lifted. Tears welled in her golden eyes as she met his gaze.

That smile of his…

It made her chest ache in ways she didn't understand.

Her voice trembled.

"I… I want to be your family."

As the words left her lips, something warm rested on top of her head. Her eyes widened.

"Huh?"

She looked up, startled, and saw his hand gently patting her head. His rough touch felt… soft. Comforting.

He chuckled, his voice light.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Well then, Iryndra… I'll do my best to be a worthy older brother for you."

'Older brother...'

The words were unfamiliar. Foreign.

But they didn't feel bad.

Just like the warmth of his hand.

It was… nice.