AHEIAID Chapter 20: Don’t Be Afraid, I’m With You
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Monitoring Sector Thirteen.
Core Signal Tower.
The tail fins of the incoming aircraft exploded with a sonic boom, leaving behind streaks of white lines as they raced through the sky, coming to an abrupt halt outside the 66th-floor windows of the Signal Tower!
The assassins sent by the rebel faction, clad in black battle armor gleaming with a dark sheen, broke through the glass with the force of their momentum. As they landed, their weapons locked onto the man standing in the center—the one who controlled the entire Ottoman.
Without hesitation, they fired at Garius.
Zzzzt! Zzzzt!
The bullets sliced through the air with barely a sound, emitting only the faintest vibrations.
Danger surged through Joey’s brain.
The gusts of wind from the shattered window whipped Garius’ golden hair across his face, stinging slightly as strands brushed against his widened black pupils.
0.01 seconds… Instinctively, Joey shut his eyes. The glowing sword in Garius’ hand, seemingly crafted from some unknown material, deflected the bullets at a speed too fast for the naked eye to follow!
0.02 seconds.
Before he could fully open his eyes, his world spun. Garius had already driven his sword through the chest of the nearest assassin, the bloodstained blade piercing clean through their shattered armor. Without hesitation, Garius kicked the corpse away and maneuvered Joey in his arms, shifting positions rapidly. A spray of blood erupted where they had just stood, instantly vaporized by the heat of the bullets.
Joey stared, wide-eyed, at the fallen bodies, the scattered blood droplets, and the blackened debris floating in the air.
He felt like a sack of potatoes, held tightly against Garius' chest as they weaved through the chaos. Several times, bullets skimmed past his legs and arms, their scorching heat seeping through his clothes.
Garius, sword in hand, moved with the grace of an aristocrat from Western legend, each strike elegant yet deadly. Until today, Joey had never imagined he would witness such a surreal spectacle in real life.
A single man, armed only with a sword, dancing through a storm of gunfire, effortlessly cutting down his enemies!
…Blood splattered through the air as the assassins fell one after another, their desperate cries drowned in the chaos.
Finally, streaks of red stained Garius’ once-pristine golden hair and pure white uniform.
Beneath his long, thick lashes, twin droplets of blood slid down the corners of his striking gold-green eyes—like tears pooling at the edge of an inferno. They traced along his luminous, cold-white complexion, leaving behind a breathtakingly sacred yet untouchable beauty.
Joey, still held in Garius’ grasp, stared dumbfounded at his side profile, completely forgetting to be afraid, utterly mesmerized…
In less than a minute, nearly all of the assassins lay lifeless, with only a few struggling to hold on. Meanwhile, the Sector Thirteen combat squads had arrived in full force to provide reinforcements.
—The battle’s outcome was already decided.
As the final assassin collapsed to the ground, Garius stepped forward, towering over him as he used his sword to lift the man's helmet.
The face that emerged was that of an unfamiliar Ottoman, his mouth and nose drenched in blood, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead.
With his crimson eyes wide in fury, he glared at the armed combat squad surrounding him before finally shifting his gaze back to the young ruler. His lips curled in a twisted sneer as he spat out a mouthful of blood and growled:
"I won’t say a thing. We never planned to leave here alive. Damn you, Garius Heine! Remember my name—I am John Shaw—"
Sching!
Garius' glowing sword pierced cleanly through the man's forehead and into the floor beneath. Without a flicker of emotion, he pulled the blade free, leaving behind a trail of blood. The assassin's menacing expression froze in bewilderment before his pupils dilated, life fading from his eyes.
Garius' gaze remained cold.
"I have no time for a dying man’s introductions," he said indifferently.
Without a second glance, he turned and walked away, his golden hair swaying against his straight-backed posture in a sharp, chilling arc, leaving the battlefield of corpses to the combat squad.
At the time, Joey didn’t understand why Garius’ expression had turned so frigid. Only later did he learn that, in Ottoman mythology, introducing oneself to a demon was considered a form of provocation.
That assassin… had been mocking Garius as a devil.
—
"Send the bodies for autopsy, lift the alarm, and increase patrols across all sectors to ensure no enemy infiltrators remain," Amon ordered the squad before turning to his superior with concern. "Are you injured, Your Excellency?"
"I am not."
Garius, still carrying Joey effortlessly in one arm, had a tense, brooding expression. As his hand reached out to ruffle the familiar curls that usually brought him comfort, Joey flinched, his mind flashing back to the image of Garius driving his sword through a man’s skull.
Joey, an ordinary civilian who had never witnessed such carnage before, was doing his best not to shake—not to look at the heap of bodies that made his blood run cold and his heartbeat thunder in his ears.
But inside his mind, he was screaming.
There were dead bodies—so many dead bodies—he had killed them!
He actually, actually… What if he kills me too?
Their first meeting, Garius had snapped his rib! If he got angry, would he—could he—would he kill him too?!
Garius' hand froze mid-air.
His striking gold-green eyes, ringed with a faint halo, reflected the unmistakable fear in Joey’s dark pupils.
“Ga-Garius…?”
Joey forced a stiff smile.
After a long pause, Garius withdrew his hand, passing the trembling human to Amon. Fortunately, Ottoman’s natural strength made it easy—otherwise, as a civilian officer, Amon might have struggled to carry Joey.
“Uh… Your Excellency…”
"Take him to Saxis' lounge on the 62nd floor. It’s safer there."
“…Understood.”
Amon, who had served under Garius for years, hesitated to say something but eventually sighed, turning to escort Joey downstairs.
Joey couldn't deny that when Garius had reached for him, every fiber of his being had screamed in resistance. But that resistance was quickly followed by guilt.
He knew who was at fault—it was the assassins, not Garius.
But still… but still…
—
"62nd Floor Special Task Force Lounge. Identity verification: Assistant Amon."
The elevator’s AI chimed in a gentle, feminine voice.
After a brief silence, Amon glanced at the frowning human beside him and finally spoke.
“I don’t know if you’ll understand what I’m about to say, but… listen, Joey. Sector Thirteen is the Empire’s sword and shield. Whether attacking or defending, we always face the enemy directly.
“Incidents like this aren’t exactly ‘routine,’ but they aren’t rare either.”
Joey turned his wide eyes toward Amon, who offered a small smile.
"Lord Heine is deeply, deeply loyal to his country. The Heine family has been the Empire’s guardians for generations. External enemies can’t shake his resolve—but the traitors within our own land can."
"To them, he’s not a protector carrying the burden of the nation. They call him a tyrant, curse him, try to assassinate him. They label him a devil and blame him for every misfortune…"
Amon sighed.
“But no one loves this land more than he does. He holds himself to impossible standards, never breaking his oath. A man like that… doesn’t deserve this treatment. If you can, I hope you’ll spend more time with him.”
Joey blinked in surprise.
“Ever since you arrived at Sector Thirteen, I’ve noticed a change in him. He likes you, Joey.”
The elevator doors slid open, but Amon didn’t step out. Instead, he crouched down, looking Joey straight in the eyes with a calm, steady gaze.
“Right now, his mood is terrible. And you—more than anyone—can be by his side.”
“…”
The gentle words nearly drowned Joey in guilt.
He had doubted. He had flinched. He had run away.
But Garius—Garius had protected him.
A few seconds later, determination lit up Joey’s dark eyes. He pressed his small hand against Amon’s arm and then pointed upstairs.
I’m going back.
If—if I can make even a tiny bit of difference… I want to be there for him!
Amon broke into a broad grin and ruffled Joey’s curls.
"Thank you, Joey!"
Joey grinned back, whispering shyly, "No problem! Hehe~"
—
Back on the 66th floor.
Garius, standing in the corridor discussing something with Saxis, caught sight of them in his peripheral vision. His normally expressionless face showed a flicker of surprise before his brows furrowed slightly.
He turned to Amon with a questioning look.
Amon merely shrugged, feigning innocence—Hey, don’t look at me. It was his decision to come back.
“Garius!”
Before anyone could react, Joey rushed forward and latched onto Garius' leg. Looking up with big, round eyes, he stretched out his little arms—Hug!
Garius paused.
Then, after a moment, he picked Joey up.
This time, there was no fear in those large black eyes staring at him. Instead… was that… a little bit of defiance?
Joey: 0^0
Garius: ?
Joey: 0v0
Garius: ??
Just as the young Guardian of the Empire was puzzling over his tiny companion’s odd expressions, Joey suddenly reached out a small paw—
Plop!
He placed it directly on Garius' golden hair.
Then, he gave it a little pat.
Then… a little rub.
Gasps echoed through the hallway. Everyone’s jaws practically hit the floor.
Joey, still cupping Garius' head, grinned so wide his dimples showed. Leaning in close to the sharp, elven-like ears, he whispered in the softest Ottoman's language:
"Don’t be afraid~ don’t be afraid~"
"I’m always right here with you."
…!!!
Garius' ice-cold pupils widened.
And at that moment, a system notification chimed—
[Congratulations, Host! Garius Heine’s Affection Level +20!]
T/N: Please give support on my ko-fi page, thank you🍊🍊🍊
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