The wanderer was faster than you expected.

Its movements were erratic, pulsing with corrupted Evol energy, eyes gleaming with something feral. You dodged, barely, your breath ragged, your body aching. The alley was narrow, the walls closing in, and your weapon was flickering—damaged, unstable.

You weren’t going to win this.

Not alone.

The wanderer lunged again, claws slicing through the air. You stumbled, hit the ground, pain blooming across your side. It raised its arm for the final strike—

And then the world exploded in light.

A pulse of energy tore through the alley, blinding and precise. The wanderer shrieked, thrown back against the wall, its body convulsing before collapsing in a heap of smoke and silence.

You blinked through the haze.

He was there.

Xavier.

Standing between you and the wreckage, coat billowing, eyes burning with fury and something deeper—fear.

"You weren’t supposed to be here." he said, voice low and trembling.

"Neither were you."

He knelt beside you, hands already scanning for injuries, movements sharp but careful.

"You could’ve died."

He paused, fingers curling into fists.

"I told myself I wouldn’t get involved. That I’d let you fight your own battles."

You looked at him, blood on your lips, defiance in your eyes.

"But you came."

He met your gaze.

"Of course I did."

And in that moment—between the smoke and the silence, between the danger and the aftermath—Xavier didn’t speak like a hunter or a friend.

He spoke like someone who couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.