Duvan was about to ask Lucifer about their primary objectives—which Magism Unos facilities to hit first, what resistance to expect—when his communication crystal vibrated.

  Silvia's name appeared on the small display.

  His expression immediately shifted to concern. Silvia didn't call unless it was urgent. And given that she'd just left to protect Hera, this couldn't be good.

  "Excuse me," he said to Lucifer, stepping away.

  He answered. "Silvia, what—"

  "Don't do what you're planning today." Her voice was strained, breathless in a way he'd never heard from the ancient elf. "Something big is happening. Soon. Maybe within hours."

  Duvan's grip on the crystal tightened. "What kind of something?"

  "Another invasion from the Deep." A pause, filled with ragged breathing. "Not a probe. Not a test. A real assault. Multiple points. Coordinated."

  His expression went grim. "How certain are you?"

  "Completely. I just saw it shift—the entire future changed, Duvan. New paths appeared. The Magism Unos situation became... secondary."

  What?

  Duvan's mind raced. He'd confirmed with Silvia years ago that her Foreshadow ability showed relatively fixed futures—limited paths based on major decision points. The future wasn't perfectly set, but it followed patterns. Certain trajectories based on key choices.

  But if the entire future had suddenly shifted—if new paths had appeared that weren't there before—

  What changed? he thought frantically. Is it the Deep itself? An unknown variable entering the equation?

  Either way, priorities had to change immediately.

  "I understand," he said, his voice controlled despite the turmoil in his mind. "Mobilize whatever you need. I'll coordinate with the others."

  He ended the call and turned back to Lucifer, whose expression had already shifted to concern—probably reading Duvan's body language.

  "The Deep is moving," Duvan said simply. "Major invasion. Soon. Silvia just foresaw it."

  Lucifer's eyes widened—genuine shock crossing features that rarely showed surprise.

  "Well," the demon said after a moment, letting out a long sigh. "That's... problematic."

  "That's one word for it."

  "Though—" Lucifer's expression became thoughtful. "We should at least assign someone to monitor Magism Unos. Make sure they don't try anything stupid while we're occupied with actual threats."

  Duvan nodded. That was sensible. Just because a bigger problem had appeared didn't mean the smaller one would conveniently wait.

  He pulled out his crystal and contacted Vivian.

  "Cancel all operations against Magism Unos," he said without preamble. "Defensive monitoring only. Rally the soldiers for emergency deployment. Full combat readiness."

  "Sir?" Vivian's surprise was evident even through the crystal's limited audio. "What happened?"

  "The Deep is coming. Big assault. Details to follow."

  He cut the connection before she could ask more questions. There wasn't time.

  Lucifer was already moving toward the door. "I need to prepare my demons. We'll coordinate at the usual staging point?"

  "Yes. One hour."

  The Prince of Darkness nodded and disappeared in a swirl of shadow—his preferred dramatic exit method.

  Duvan stood alone in the reception area, his mind already shifting gears.

  From dismantling a religious organization to defending humanity from existential threats, he thought with dark humor. Just another Tuesday.

  Back at Duvan's home, Silvia was still breathing hard, one hand pressed against her chest like she could physically slow her racing heart.

  The information flood from her Foreshadow ability had been overwhelming. Too many new paths. Too many variables. Too many futures suddenly appearing where there should have been clarity.

  "Silvia?" Hera's voice was concerned, her hands hovering uncertainly—wanting to help but not sure how. "What happened? What did you see?"

  "Change," Silvia managed. "Fundamental change. The future just—"

  She stopped.

  Because she heard something.

  Footsteps. Approaching the house. A single person, moving carefully. Slowly. Like someone uncertain of their welcome.

  Then a voice—young, female, careful.

  "Hello? Is anyone here?"

  Hera immediately moved, positioning herself between Silvia and the entrance. Protective instinct overriding everything else.

  Because Silvia was a Grand Protector, yes, but she wasn't a combatant. She was support. Intelligence. The seer who kept humanity alive through information rather than violence.

  If someone was approaching now, after everything that had happened today—

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  A figure appeared at the destroyed entrance. Small. Cloaked. Only their eyes visible—and what eyes they were.

  Heterochromatic. One blue, one gold.

  Both glowing faintly with power that made Hera's breath catch.

  "Hello," the figure said, their voice definitely belonging to a young woman. "Sorry to intrude. I'm looking for Silvia?"

  Silvia's hand on Hera's shoulder was gentle but firm. "It's alright. I know who this is."

  Do you? Silvia thought to herself. Because I'm not entirely certain.

  But she had suspicions. And those suspicions made her Foreshadow ability spike with interference—too many paths, too many possibilities, all centering on this cloaked figure.

  This person, Silvia realized with something like awe and dread. This is what changed everything. This is the new variable.

  "Who are you?" Silvia asked aloud, her voice carefully neutral.

  The cloaked figure stepped fully into view, her movements graceful despite obvious caution.

  "You can call me Cyrus," she said.

  It was a lie. Silvia could see that immediately—not through her Foreshadow, but through centuries of reading people. The name was chosen, not given. A mask, like the cloak.

  But Silvia didn't challenge it. Not yet.

  "What do you want, Cyrus?"

  "To talk to you. Privately." The girl's eyes—one blue, one gold—shifted to Hera. "If that's acceptable?"

  Hera was trembling. Not from fear, but from recognition she couldn't quite place.

  That gold eye. That specific shade of gold.

  She'd seen it before. Recently. Often.

  In her husband's eyes when he used his abilities.

  Who is this girl? Hera thought desperately. Why does she have Duvan's—

  "Silvia," Hera started, protest clear in her voice.

  But Silvia was already nodding. "Yes. We can talk privately."

  "Silvia—"

  "It's alright, Hera." The elf's expression was unreadable. "Stay here. We won't be long."

  The girl—Cyrus—led Silvia outside. Once they were a safe distance from the house, she raised her hand and made a complex gesture.

  Reality rippled.

  A bubble formed around them—not visible to the eye, but tangible to magical senses. A time bubble. Complete isolation from the outside world. No sound in or out.

  She can manipulate time, Silvia noted. That's... concerning. And telling.

  Cyrus lowered her hood, revealing features that were both familiar and impossible.

  And Silvia understood.

  "You're—"

  "From the future. Yes." The girl's expression was serious, far too serious for someone who looked barely older than a teenager. "And before you ask—yes, I'm breaking several rules by being here. Yes, this could cause paradoxes. Yes, I know how dangerous this is."

  "Then why?"

  "Because the alternative is worse." Cyrus's heterochromatic eyes met Silvia's. "I need your help. And you need to know what's coming."

  The Grand Protectors convened via emergency communication network—no time for physical gathering.

  Duvan's image appeared in the holographic display alongside Gawain, Celeste, and Lucifer. Silvia's spot remained empty—she was occupied with the mysterious visitor.

  "Confirmation from our scouts," Gawain said without preamble, his usual jovial demeanor completely absent. "Multiple breaches in the barriers. Coordinated. The Deep is pushing through at seven points simultaneously."

  "Seven?" Celeste's luminous form flickered with concern. "That's unprecedented."

  "That's intentional," Lucifer added darkly. "They're forcing us to divide our forces. Classic siege tactic."

  Duvan studied the tactical map being shared across their displays. Seven breach points, scattered across the outskirts of multiple settlements. Each one would require significant resources to contain.

  "What kind of forces are we seeing?" he asked.

  "Voidlings, mostly. Standard hordes." Gawain paused. "But there's something else. Our scouts are reporting... anomalies. Entities that don't match any known classifications from the Deep."

  "Show me."

  Images appeared—grainy, taken from long distance by scouts who'd barely escaped with their lives.

  Creatures that looked wrong. Not just monstrous, but fundamentally incorrect. Like reality itself was rejecting their existence.

  Duvan felt a chill run down his spine.

  What are those?

  "We're calling them 'Anomalies' until we have better intelligence," Gawain continued. "But they're dangerous. Very dangerous. They seem to... disrupt abilities. We've lost three Ascenders already who got too close."

  Ability disruption, Duvan noted. That's a problem.

  "Tactical assignments," he said, taking command. "I'll target the Anomalies with Future Tech forces. We have weapons designed specifically for ability-resistant threats."

  Lucifer nodded. "Celeste and I will focus on civilian evacuation and protection. Once the settlements are secure, we'll join the main combat."

  "I'll rally the Adventurer's Guild," Gawain added. "We'll provide support wherever you need it most. Mobile response."

  "Agreed. We're deploying troops and reinforcements to all breach points immediately. Delay tactics—give residents time to evacuate to the main city."

  The plan was simple, efficient, and probably inadequate for whatever was coming.

  But it was what they had.

  "Meeting adjourned," Duvan said. "Move fast. Stay alive. We'll coordinate as the situation develops."

  The holograms flickered out.

  Duvan immediately pulled out his communication crystal and texted Hera:

  Go with Silvia. Her elves are the last line of defense. You'll be safest there.

  A moment later, a response:

  Be safe. Please.

  He allowed himself one breath. One moment of human connection.

  Then he became the Time Prince again.

  Duvan returned to Future Tech's armory—a section of the building that most employees never saw.

  Weapons lined the walls. Not the commercial products they sold to the Adventurer's Guild. The prototypes. The experimental designs. The things too dangerous or expensive for mass production.

  And in the corner, his personal equipment.

  He'd never been one for flashy gear. No ornate armor or ceremonial weapons. Just practical tools that worked.

  A reinforced coat—dark fabric woven with protective enchantments, light enough to move in but durable enough to turn blades. High collar that could be pulled up to protect his neck and face.

  Gloves—fingerless for dexterity, but with reinforced knuckles and embedded magic focuses that enhanced his time manipulation.

  Boots—sturdy, quiet, with grip patterns designed for both urban combat and rough terrain.

  A weapons belt holding various tools—blades designed to pierce magical defenses, containment devices for capturing threats, emergency medical supplies.

  And his primary weapon: twin short swords. Nothing fancy. Just well-balanced steel with edge retention that bordered on supernatural.

  He suited up with practiced efficiency, checking each piece of equipment with the thoroughness of someone who knew that overlooked details killed people.

  Vivian appeared in the doorway as he was finishing.

  "All forces deployed," she reported. "We have fifteen squads moving to intercept at designated points. The barriers are holding for now, but the strain is increasing."

  "Expected casualties?"

  "High. These Anomalies are—" She paused, choosing words carefully. "—beyond our normal parameters. I've authorized use of the experimental weapons."

  Duvan nodded. The experimental weapons were expensive, sometimes unstable, and definitely not approved for standard deployment.

  But desperate times.

  "Coordinate with Gawain's forces," he said. "Make sure there's no overlap in coverage. And Vivian—"

  "Sir?"

  "If this goes badly, if the barriers fall—activate Protocol Seven."

  Her expression became grim. Protocol Seven was the evacuation plan. The absolute last resort. Abandoning the outer settlements and consolidating everyone in the main city behind maximum defenses.

  It meant giving up ground. Admitting defeat.

  It meant people would die.

  "Understood, sir."

  She left to coordinate.

  Duvan took one last look in the mirror. The Time Prince stared back—composed, ready, showing no hint of the complicated emotions churning underneath.

  Somewhere out there, Hera was probably terrified. Kieran was protecting their daughter in this very building. Silvia was dealing with some mysterious visitor who'd apparently changed the entire future.

  And the Deep was pushing through in their most coordinated assault in decades.

  Just another day saving humanity, Duvan thought with dark humor.

  He activated his time manipulation—just a small burst, accelerating his perception to make sure everything was working properly. The world slowed around him, golden light reflecting in his eyes.

  Perfect.

  He grabbed his communication crystal, checked his weapons one final time, and headed out.

  The battle was coming.

  And the Time Prince would meet it head-on.