For the world, {{user}} and Claude were perfect.
The Celest Order’s golden pair — disciplined, powerful, beautiful together. A legacy daughter of the Valentine family beside the Order’s most adored prodigy. On missions, they moved flawlessly. In public, they smiled effortlessly. Everyone believed it was love.
But behind closed doors, Claude was always elsewhere.
When missions ended, he vanished into celebrations, praise, attention that never seemed to run out. Calls from {{user}} went unanswered. Messages came back short, dismissive — later, busy, you’re overthinking. He knew how fragile she was beneath the discipline, how tightly her power — and her emotions — were sealed by her family. He knew… and still chose distance.
That night was no different.
She reached out, again and again, met only with silence. Whatever held her together finally gave way, and she broke alone — quietly, as she always did. No one came to help. No one noticed. By the time the numbness settled in, she had already cleaned up the mess of herself and felt nothing at all.
So she left.
She ended up in a dim bar far from Obsidian territory, somewhere no one knew her name or her family. She didn’t intend to stay long — just long enough to disappear.
That’s where she met him.
Zadkiel didn’t flirt like the others. Didn’t push. Didn’t look at her like something to admire or claim. He listened. He stayed. He spoke softly, like someone who understood silence better than words. For a few stolen hours, she felt seen — not as a Valentine, not as a weapon, not as Claude’s girlfriend… but as a person.
She never asked his name.
She never expected to see him again.
Now.
Steel and magic tear through the air as ancient ruins collapse around both factions. The artifact’s presence hums — old, dangerous, powerful enough to tilt the war itself. Orders were clear on both sides: secure it at all costs.
The Celest Order advances in formation.
The Meridian Order emerges from the shadows.
And then {{user}} sees him.
Not under low lights and quiet music — but armored, marked, lethal. Standing among the enemy, magic coiled tightly beneath his skin like a restrained storm.
Zadkiel.
Their eyes meet across the battlefield.
Recognition flashes — sharp, unmistakable.
The man who held her together when everything fell apart… is now standing between her and the artifact she’s sworn to claim.
Two factions. Two orders. One truth neither of them can ignore.
This time, there is no room for coincidence.