Prologue - Echoes of the Abyss
The world had long been haunted by war - born from mankind's thirst for power and the relentless forging of weapons. For generations, it suffered… until the creation of humanity's final line of defense.
The wheels of fate turned, and peace reigned - for a time. But from the deepest rift of space and soul, an enemy unlike any before emerged.
The skies trembled as steel titans clashed across fractured continents. It was the first Great War of the new world. Seven sanctified warriors of light - the Archangel Units of the Etherean Force, forged in purity and driven by purpose - rose against the Abyssal Dominion: a legion not born, but awakened from hatred, sorrow, and the corrupted essence of fallen stars, they came - monstrous machines bearing cursed sigils.
Their battle scarred some parts of the earth and shattered the heavens. The islands crumbled, and the seas split. The war roared like thunder from another world - and yet, its true cause remains hidden, veiled in the silence of those who survived.
Now, months later, a fragile peace drifts like ash on the wind. But remnants stir... and the echoes of the abyss whisper once more.

Chapter 1
Guardian

"I wish you goodbye! This is your end - hahaha!"
The twisted voice of the enemy echoed across the broken ruins; his wicked grin full of cruelty as he gripped the victim's arms tightly from behind.
"Arrrrgghhh!" the poor man cried out; his voice raw with pain. His body trembled, drained from the grueling battle. Blood smeared his face, dirt coated his pilot suit, and now - this. His arms were being pulled behind him with brutal force, bones creaking under pressure.
Smoke billowed from crumbling buildings. Fires crackled across the shattered horizon. Debris littered the battlefield - what was once a city now lay in ruin. Amid the chaos, two pilots faced off for the second time - a physical battle, following their earlier clash in towering machines. Their suits bore the emblems of rival factions: one of the Etherean Force, the other of the Abyssal Dominion.
"Arrrggghhh!" Another scream. A sharp crack followed - his arm. Broken. He gritted his teeth and, with the last ounce of strength, twisted, clutching at his attacker's wrist. He staggered forward, legs nearly giving out, but he moved.
"Elijah! Dodge!" A voice rang out - familiar. Urgent. His comrade's warning came just in time.
BANG!
A single, well-aimed shot tore through the enemy's shoulder.

RINGGGGGG!
The recall of the nightmare which happened last month stopped as a sleek, wrist-mounted device - no larger than a watch - buzzed to life with an urgent tone, snapping Elijah out of his rest. He opened his eyes slowly, gazing through the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the illuminated leaves above him. He had been reclining beneath a broad tree, seeking solace in its shade.
With a quiet grunt, he pushed himself upright, careful of his injuries. He was in a distant city - far from the Etherean Force Headquarters - distancing himself from the battlefield, and from the memories that clung to it like smoke.
Elijah wore a dark, fitted turtleneck beneath a weathered brown leather jacket, paired with a denim pants. A maroon scarf draped over his head, paired with a black face mask, helped obscure his identity - an outfit he adopted to move unnoticed through the public eye.
He tapped the device strapped to his right wrist. Its cover slid open, revealing a screen that lit up with the image of his commander.
"Yes, Commander," Elijah said, his voice still touched with the grogginess of interrupted sleep.
"Where exactly are you?" the Commander's voice came through - slightly distorted but firm. He was asking for Elijah's exact location, though he could already track him using the device.
"I hope resting for a few months won't make you weaker," the Commander added. "I've been considering assigning a temporary replacement."
Elijah remained silent. Frustration simmered behind his eyes. His right arm, though still aching, had healed better than his left, which had suffered a severe fracture during the brutal duel with the enemy still unknown. The pain was bearable - what burdened him more was his pride.
"Elijah?" the Commander asked again, noticing the silence.
Without answering, Elijah ended the call. The screen went black, and the device's cover slid back into place with a soft click.
Back at Etherean Headquarters, the Commander leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily, understanding Elijah's pain but helpless to ease it.
Elijah slowly stood, adjusting his jacket. The city stretched before him - its skyline shimmering beyond the plaza. He turned toward it, the wind brushing past his covered face. He was still healing. But something deeper than wounds weighed on him.
He now found himself in the city's plaza - a place that felt like paradise, untouched by the scars of the recent war. It was one of the few parts of the region that remained physically unscathed, a gentle pocket of calm amidst a world still reeling.
Its elevated portion offered a sweeping view of the crystalline sea, sparkling beneath the golden sunlight that danced on the horizon. Seagulls drifted lazily across the sky. Below, highways hummed with vehicles, and the laughter of children echoed near the shaded playground corners.
Craving a moment of peace, Elijah approached a modest stall lined with colorful fruit drinks. He quietly chose a buko juice, accepting the chilled large cup with a small nod. But he didn't drink it - not yet. He simply held it in one hand as he turned and began strolling toward the stairs that led up to the elevated section of the plaza.
Meanwhile, from a distance, a teenage girl was being chased by two men in their forties, their clothes torn, grimy, and tattered. She was strikingly beautiful, matched with an emerald-colored eyes. She has a long golden hair loosely tied at the center, wearing a plain dark pinafore dress with a wide skirt, layered over a soft pink long-sleeved shirt.
Her heart pounded fiercely as she darted through the crowded streets. The thunder of the men's footwears echoed behind her - relentless, dangerous. She didn't know who they were or what they wanted. But she had learned early that survival often meant running... or fighting. Fear clawed at her lungs, but anger burned hotter.
"Not again" she exclaimed, "Why are they after me?" she wondered, breathing ragged. "Thieves? But what do they want from me? Or something worse?" The thought sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through her veins.
The chase spilled into the city's plaza, where the crowd thinned just enough for her to catch her breath. She stopped, hands on her knees, chest heaving. Glancing behind her, she scanned the crowd - but the two men had vanished, lost in the chaos.
"Hah… Hah…" she panted, gasping for air. "I'm a bit far from them now… maybe… but I know they're still following."
Still cautious, she began walking forward, her head constantly glancing back. She didn't notice the short flight of stairs - ten steps downward ahead of her. Her foot slipped, unsteady from the sprint and stress, and her arms flailed in the air. In a blink, her body pitched forward.
At that moment, Elijah had just taken his first step up the stairs, eyes downcast in deep thought. He didn't see her coming - until it was too late. The girl tumbled helplessly. Reacting on instinct, Elijah reached out with his right arm to catch her. He managed to break her fall, but the force sent pain shooting through his arm. The impact knocked them both off balance.
"Urgh!"
BUMP!
They crashed hard at the foot of the stairs.
"Ooh… ouch…" Both groaned from the collision - hers from the fall, his from the effort to catch her.
"Oh my, are they okay?"... "Good thing the man caught the lady!" Murmurs scattered through the crowd. Passersby stared, but no one approached. Some paused from eating or playing, disturbed for a moment before returning to their business, dismissing the scene as just another city mishap.
The girl scrambled to her feet, cheeks flushed - embarrassed, shocked, and breathless all at once. "Oh, s-sir… I'm terribly sorry," she said, eyes lowered. "I didn't see the stairs."
Elijah groaned, eyes squinting against the pain. He tried to sit up, but couldn't rise properly. The girl was still partially atop him, frozen - not out of injury, but dazed, especially as her gaze met his. His scarf and mask covered most of his face, but the intensity in his eyes struck her. He was... handsome, even with half his face hidden.
Their eyes locked - Elijah's piercing stare meeting hers, wide and unsure. For a breath, time held its pace. Their hearts beat loud between them, a silent thunder in the stillness.
Despite the fall, Elijah's gaze softened. His injury still throbbed; his spirit already weighed by the frustration of being sidelined. And now this stranger had crashed - quite literally - into his uneasy calm.
Then he noticed his buko juice. It had spilled, cold and sticky against his shirt and leather jacket. He clenched his jaw, annoyance bubbling as he forced himself upright.
"Watch where you're going," he muttered, brushing the juice off his chest.
The girl finally rose, staring at him - a mix of guilt, surprise, and something else she didn't understand. He seemed distant. Untouchable. A ghost behind cloth and silence.
Neither offered a hand. They rose separately.
Realizing the mess she caused, the girl reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a handkerchief, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Let me wipe that for you," she offered, voice unsteady as she reached toward the damp stain.
"No, no, it's okay," Elijah said quickly, waving his hand.
Their fingers brushed - a brief, accidental touch. Yet it stirred something in both of them.
For a second, Elijah forgot everything - the ache in his arm, the ruined drink, the sour mood. All he saw were her eyes - sharp, bright, filled with unspoken stories. Fire… and fear.
She was beautiful. Not delicate, but strong. Her gaze carried weight - like someone who had survived more than she let on.
He stared, caught in the strange silence between them.
And then - "There's the girl!"
A harsh voice rang out from the top of the stairs.
The girl's eyes widened. She glanced back, movements sharp and alert.
"Forgive me. I need to go," she whispered quickly, then ran.
In her haste, she didn't notice the handkerchief slipping from her grasp - dropped unknowingly as fear urged her to flee from the men chasing her.
Elijah watched, stunned, as she vanished into the crowd with practiced speed. Seconds later, the two men appeared, pounding down the stairs - scruffy, tense, eyes wild as they scanned the area.
As he watched them slowly disappear from sight, something caught his eye - the girl's handkerchief.
He bent down to pick it up, his fingers closing around the fabric.
He held it a little tighter, as if pressing it could ease the unease stirring in his chest… a feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.
Elijah narrowed his gaze. "Something's not right."
His instincts kicked in.
He adjusted his mask and his scarf, body already turning in the direction the girl had fled.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know what danger she was in.
But something told him...
He would see her again.

The chase led into a wooded area on the city's outskirts - a rare patch of urban forest. It was dense, shadowed, and quiet, until the silence broke with the thud of boots against earth. The girl sprinted, her rugged soles crushing crisp leaves, breath ragged, heart racing - not just from fear, but from the fury she kept buried.
The two men were relentless. Finally, they cornered her near a jagged outcrop of rock. There was nowhere left to run.
She clenched her fists, scanning for a way out. Nothing. Just trees and stone. Her only option was to fight. "You're fast," one of them sneered, drawing a knife. "But not fast enough."
"What do you want from me?" the girl asked, panting in confusion.
"We want you," one of the men replied. "Just come with us, and you won't be harmed."
"You want… me? For what?" she snapped, her voice rising in anger. "Sorry, but I don't trust you - cowards! If I have to fight, I will!"
She didn't flinch. Her stance shifted. Knees bent. Arms raised. "Grandma taught me this", she remembered.
"Hahaha. Well, let us begin." The first man lunged. She sidestepped and landed a clean, powerful kick to his ribs - he grunted and stumbled.
The second charged with a crowbar. She ducked, rolled, then twisted - slamming her elbow into his jaw with a sickening crunch. Blood spattered. He cursed, staggering back.
Unbeknownst to them, Elijah watched - hidden behind a tree. He had followed quietly, carefully. And now, seeing her fight, something inside him stirred - not just admiration, but a sense of duty.
He couldn't stay hidden much longer. His fingers curled into fists.
"She's alone... but she fights like a soldier."
And yet something twisted in him - tight and unbearable.
She shouldn't have to fight like this. Not alone.
Not with that kind of desperation.
She moved like fire. Fierce, untamed. But fire alone couldn't hold off a storm. One of the men caught her wrist mid-swing, yanked her backward -
and the other slammed a brutal punch into her stomach. The force knocked the breath from her lungs. Pain carved across her face before her knees buckled beneath her.
She crumpled, hitting the ground hard - her head struck rock. Everything went still.
"No." Shocked, Elijah's body moved before his mind did.
The girl lay motionless on the forest floor, her breath shallow, her limbs limp from exhaustion and pain. Blood trickled from the corner of her lip, and her long skirt had torn at the side during the scuffle. One of the men crouched beside her, eyes scanning her form, a sick grin spreading on his face.
"This one's too pretty to waste," he muttered with a vile chuckle. The other man, more focused, glanced around anxiously. "No time. We take her to the boss. Now." But the first ignored him. He reached down, calloused fingers brushing the edge of her skirt, beginning to lift it with vile intent.
But before the man's fingers could touch the girl's delicate skin,
a shadow - a blur of motion - swept in. A figure grabbed the man's shirt and hurled him backward, slamming him against a tree with a heavy thud. He didn't get up - Elijah forgetting his injury slammed into him like a shadow unchained. The other turned, startled. "Who - ?"
CRACK. A fist. Bone meeting bone.
Muscle memory. Rage. Instinct. All of it collided as Elijah entered the scene. No words. Just movement. Like a storm, he closed the distance - his knee slammed into the man's ribs, and a backhand dropped him to the ground. One more blow - a final punch to the face - and silence took the forest once again.
Elijah stood there, chest rising and falling beneath his scarf, fists trembling with the violence he just unleashed.
He looked down at the unconscious girl. The anger in his eyes melted into something softer. Protective. Fierce. He dropped to his knees beside her. "Damn it…"
Gently, he reached for his jacket - the same one - and draped it over her, shielding her body from the cold and the world. His jaw clenched as he looked at the unconscious men, then back to the unconscious girl.
"You're safe now," he whispered, more to himself than to her. But deep inside, he knew - this wasn't the last time he'd see her. And this wouldn't be the last time he'd protect her.
Elijah handed the two unconscious men over to the authorities he contacted at the outskirts of the city. His words were brief, his tone cold. "Attempted assault. They were chasing a woman." The officers took over, recognizing him instantly - not just as a soldier, but as one of the Etherean Force.
He didn't wait for thanks. The girl needed him.
With urgency pulsing through his veins, Elijah gathered her limp body into his arms and launched into the air. He activated his wristwatch device - triggering the gravity-dampening system in his boots and the subtle propulsion unit wired into his back. A blur against the sky, he soared across the city skyline.
He reached the nearest hospital. Quietly. Quickly. The doctors and nurses recognized the Etherean sigil and understood the emergency. The girl was rushed to the ward for immediate care.

Later that night, at the hospital…
The girl stirred in her hospital bed. She had been unconscious for the whole day. The impact on her head left a mild concussion, and her body ached from the blow. Bandages wrapped around her head; her face still bruised a bit from the fight. A slow beeping of the monitor was the only sound in the dimly lit room.
Then... darkness fell again - not from unconsciousness, but from a dream.
She was running. Again.
Through the trees. Her heartbeat loud.
The men chasing her. Closer.
She slipped - tumbling, weightless - down a high cliff. Her scream pierced the wind as her hands reached for anything to hold onto.
Then... silence.
She braced for the crushing fall.
But she didn't land.
She opened her eyes slowly - she was flying.
Arms. Strong arms. Cradling her.
Wings? Probably. A figure - shrouded in light, looking down at her.
A man. Not quite angel, not quite human.

His eyes, sharp yet gentle. His voice, like wind through the leaves.
"Selena, you're safe now," he whispered.
The girl is named Selena. She blinked, dazed, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes. "Who… are you…?" But in that moment, he began to fade - like dust into the stars. "Wait!" she cried. But he was gone.
Selena's eyes snapped open. She sat up, breathless, the white hospital sheets tangled around her. The room was quiet. She glanced to the side. A leather jacket was folded on the chair nearby - familiar… warm… Her fingers reached for it, trembling. And as she touched it, a whisper in her heart stirred:
"That angel… was real." Selena's eyes fluttered open.
A soft white light bathed the hospital room. The quiet hum of machines filled the air, steady and reassuring. Her body ached - especially around her ribs and stomach - but she was alive. She blinked at the ceiling, piecing together fragments of her memory. The chase. The woods. The fight. Pain.
And then…Was it a dream? A face - like an angel's - hovering over her.
Just then, a soft knock came from the door, and a kind-faced nurse stepped inside, clipboard in hand. "Oh, you're awake," the nurse smiled warmly, walking to her bedside. "You're safe now, dear. Try not to move too much - you took quite a few hits, but nothing permanent. You'll just need rest."
Selena's lips parted, her voice a whisper. "What… happened? Why am I here?"
The nurse gently tucked a pillow under Selena's neck. "You were brought here this morning. Unconscious, and bruised. Someone found you in the woods. He flew you here - quite literally."
Selena's brows furrowed. "Flew?" The nurse chuckled softly. "Yes. That's what we were told. He didn't leave a name. Just made sure you were stable and left right after."
Selena turned her head slowly. Then her eyes lingered on the jacket. "That jacket…" she said softly.
The nurse followed her gaze. "Oh, yes. That was on you when you arrived. We thought it might be yours, so we folded it and kept it there."
Selena slowly shook her head, her fingers tightening around the bedsheet. "No… it's not mine."
A pause.
"Then… it must belong to the one who saved me, right?" she asked, a hint of awe in her voice.
The nurse gave her a curious smile. "Maybe. He didn't say much. He just made sure you were treated quickly and then disappeared. I asked for his name from other nurses, but they said he preferred to stay anonymous."
Selena's gaze returned to the jacket. She stared at it - the fabric, the faint scent of smoke and wind, the lingering warmth.
Deep in her chest, something stirred.
The face from her dream.
The angel.
It wasn't a dream.

Selena looked at the nurse with hopeful eyes. "Do you… know what he looked like?"
The nurse offered a regretful smile. "I'm sorry, dear. I wasn't on duty when you were admitted this morning. It was the other shift - I only came this evening."
Selena lowered her gaze, nodding weakly.
"But," the nurse added, "they said he was calm. Serious. He spoke with urgency but without panic. He made sure you were safe before he left. They mentioned... he seemed to know what had happened to you."
Selena's breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
"The attack. The chase. The fact that those men - " the nurse's voice softened, " - might have hurt you… or worse. He explained everything. It was clear he saw it all."
Selena clenched the sheet in her hand. The nurse gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "Whoever he was… he didn't just save your life, he may have saved your dignity, your soul." A lump formed in Selena's throat.
"But with the rush of patients coming in," the nurse continued, "no one really got a good look at him. And… I heard from the desk staff - the CCTV footage didn't catch anything clear. He might have done something to block the recording."
"You should rest, and probably you will be released tomorrow if you have a speedy recovery. Your dinner shall be served few minutes from now" The nurse instructed Selena.
"Thank you miss" She responded.
Selena's chest rose and fell slowly. So, he had taken steps to stay hidden. Why? She turned toward the chair again, where the jacket remained. Slowly, with effort, she reached out and grasped the worn fabric.
It was heavy - too big for her - but warm. She could still feel the faint scent of leather, earth, and something else unplaceable. Her fingers clutched the fabric tightly.
She leaned her head back against the pillow, eyes glossy.
"If not for him…" A shiver ran down her spine at the thought - of what could have happened, of what almost did. "I owe him everything."
The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the monitor beside her. Selena got up, holding the jacket to her chest, closing her eyes. Not in fear anymore. But in deep, unspoken gratitude.
The hospital room became bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight slipping through the curtains. Outside, the night was still - as if the world itself had paused to breathe.
Selena stood slowly, clutching the jacket close. Her steps were light but uncertain as she made her way toward the window, drawn by the silence and the cool night breeze. She pushed it open gently, letting the crisp air kiss her face.
She closed her eyes. With a voice barely above a whisper, she spoke to the wind. "Whoever you are… I'm thankful. I owe you, my life. I know… somehow, we'll meet again."
Her words floated into the night - sincere, soft, and carried by the hush of the evening.
But she didn't know. She didn't know the truth - that the man she'd collided with earlier at the plaza, the one whose drink she ruined, was the very same man who had watched over her and saved her from the shadows.
Perched on the slender ledge just beneath the rear window of the building - where no balcony existed and where a single misstep could mean a fatal fall, Elijah remained perfectly balanced: silent, unseen, impossibly steady. He stood watch from the moment where the girl he saved was admitted. As for Selena, if she had only turned her head slightly, she might have seen him. But she remained unaware. Elijah stayed silent all day, taking the chance to rest as well. His scarf was still drawn, his mask now lowered. He heard her - every word. A quiet smile curved his lips, the first in a long time.
"You don't need to know me yet," he thought. "Not now. But I'll protect you. From now on, I will."
Knowing Selena already woke up with a stable condition, Elijah decided to leave. With a gentle breath, he activated his flying mechanism - a faint hum followed. In an instant, he slowly rose into the night sky, carried by sleek propulsion.
The sudden gust stirred the air. A soft breeze swept through the open window, rustling Selena's hair and fluttering the curtains like gentle waves.
Selena opened her eyes at the sensation. She blinked. Then smiled faintly, staring into the starry sky. "…Is that your reply?" she whispered.
She stood still for a moment longer, heart quietly thudding - comforted not by certainty, but by an unexplainable peace. Then, she turned back toward her bed. Clutching the jacket a little tighter.
---

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