I Don't Need To Log Out

Arlon lowered his hands and let the magic dissolve around his fingertips. His eyes met Zephyrion's, calm but unyielding.

"It's me," he said simply. "I'm Arlon. And she's June."

June stepped forward beside him, still quiet but standing tall. Her presence alone added weight to his words.

Zephyrion didn't move at first. His eyes flicked between them, searching for signs—subtle tells, cracks in the illusion, a mistake only the real Arlon might avoid.

But there was none.

The fact that he wasn't attacking was already proof that he wasn't here to attack.

Otherwise, he could have killed Zephyrion together with the others here easily.

Zephyrion could feel the power inside him.

But he still wanted to be sure.

So, he used the most basic test anyone could think of. He asked what they had talked about last.

Arlon answered with ease since he remembered.

The pressure faded from the air.

"…You've changed," Zephyrion finally said, voice lower now, no longer aggressive.

"I had to," Arlon replied.

A beat passed, and then Zephyrion gave a small nod, motioning with his arm. "Come on. Let's talk inside."

---

The upper floor of the Citadel hadn't changed.

Same polished stone, same broad windows showing the city beyond. But somehow, after everything Arlon had been through, it all felt... smaller.

The elevating platform reached its destination and before they even stepped out—

Boom.

A blur of violet and gold crashed into Arlon's chest.

"Nyx!" Arlon barely had time to brace before catching her, laughing, arms wrapping around the larger form.

She had grown. Her wings now folded behind her with practiced ease, the shimmering pink hues on her deep purple scales vibrant in the light.

Her golden eyes gleamed with emotion, and her head nuzzled against Arlon's neck, releasing a small trill.

Even though Lady Rael was always with Nyx, she had imprinted on Arlon.

So, she missed him. She was a baby, after all.

"You're back," she said. Her voice was clear now, smooth. There was still the familiar resonance of a dragon, but the awkward pauses and childish tone were gone.

She spoke like a person. "I felt you. From the moment you entered the city. It's really you."

She pulled back slightly, sniffing at him. Her nostrils flared, her breath warm.

"You smell… different. Your aura, it's… heavy. Strange."

Then, after another long sniff, she huffed. "But it's you."

Without another word, she bounded off his chest and landed in front of June, tilting her head.

June blinked, surprised, but didn't back away.

Nyx leaned in close, sniffing her too—slow, deliberate.

"…You're also different. But still you," Nyx said, more to herself than to anyone.

And then, as if nothing had happened, she climbed back up onto Arlon's shoulder like she used to when she was smaller.

Except now, her tail dangled past his elbow, and her wings brushed against his back.

He was shocked to see the change in her and a bit sad that he couldn't see her change.

But what he could see now was something he couldn't see before.

Something Birna and Sheila mentioned.

A link between them. He could see it. But he didn't have time to understand it fully now.

"You're heavier," Arlon muttered.

"I'm majestic," she corrected, curling around his neck.

Ben was standing near Zephyrion's desk, arms crossed, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, this got lively quick."

Lady Rael rose from her seat near the window, her long green hair catching the light.

She inclined her head, a warm smile touching her lips. "Welcome back, Arlon. And June. We've all been waiting."

"It's good to see you both again," Ben added. "Though you might've announced yourselves with something other than a near panic attack."

"That was my announcement," Arlon said, stepping further into the room. "But yeah. Sorry about that."

Zephyrion moved behind his desk again, his massive frame lowering into the reinforced chair with a heavy exhale.

"No need for apologies. Not after everything you've done. We're just… trying to keep things from falling apart."

Zephyrion's voice was steady, but there was a weight behind his words.

His shoulders were squared, but the strain was visible—the pressure of leadership, of holding the line while the world threatened to collapse.

He looked at Arlon with a gaze that held more than just respect. There was fatigue in those golden eyes, yes—but behind that, something steadier. Something warmer.

Hope.

So, Arlon returned it.

"We won't stay long," he said, stepping forward. "We're only here to learn where we're needed most."

His tone was calm, but it carried a quiet edge of urgency. Not the frantic kind, but the kind honed by time—by pain, by resolve.

They already had a general idea of where the fighting was taking place.

The moment Arlon had left the Tower, his system had bombarded him with messages. Dozens of unread notifications.

Some were personal—updates from the Gamers, from June's contacts.

Others were system-generated global notifications—urgent alerts, red banners across his interface announcing attacks on major cities.

Keldar assaults. Frontlines breaking.

But raw information wasn't enough.

They didn't know where he was needed.

Sure, Arlon could teleport to every frontline. With his level and combat ability now, clearing out Keldar forces was no longer a challenge—it was maintenance.

But that wasn't the point.

Every second he spent in the wrong place… meant more deaths elsewhere.

He couldn't afford to make the wrong choice. Not now.

"We need coordination," June added, stepping beside him. Her voice was quieter but just as firm. "If we go in blind, we risk making things worse. We want to support the defense, not replace it."

Zephyrion nodded slowly, leaning forward and steepling his hands on the desk.

"You're right. There are battles happening on almost every front."

He glanced at Ben, who stepped forward and pulled a shimmering map into view, a floating construct of light and mana that expanded between them.

"Here's the current state of conflict," Ben said. "Red marks ongoing engagements. Yellow are cities under threat. Green are stable—for the moment."

The map was a mess of glowing points, red blotches dominating the eastern and southern regions of Trion.

Too many. Too close together.

Arlon's jaw tightened.

He wasn't surprised.

But it still hit harder when he saw it with his own eyes.

"What we need," Lady Rael said gently, "is a strike plan. One that doesn't just patch the wounds but stops the bleeding.

You have the power now, Arlon. But that power has to be used smartly. You're not a soldier anymore. You're a symbol."

Nyx chirped quietly from his shoulder, her tail curling around the back of his neck.

"A symbol of what?" Arlon asked.

"Of possibility," Rael answered without hesitation. "Of survival. Of something greater than fear."

Zephyrion leaned back, eyes thoughtful. "We'll give you everything we have—tactical overviews, civilian locations, movement predictions.

But this has to be coordinated. You'll be faster than our forces. You'll be louder than our forces."

"And that means the Keldars will move," June said, finishing the thought. "They'll react to us."

"Exactly," Ben said. "Which means we can use you. As bait. As pressure. As hope."

Arlon looked at the map again, letting the glow reflect in his eyes.

One wrong move and thousands could die.

But one right one… and maybe they'd all live.

He exhaled slowly, then nodded.

"Then let's start planning."