Unholy Player

Chapter 404: Priorities

"Wait, you said Rank 4 Spark?" Henry Bates frowned and leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Did I hear that right?"

One of the City Managers spoke before anyone else. "Not Spark. Sparks. He said it in the plural. He has more than one."

Silence pressed over the table like a weight. In a region where holding a single Rank 4 Spark earned a title and the kind of respect that could move immortal armies, the idea of two cut clean through the room.

Doubt slipped away, first to surprise, then to something warmer. Pride rose into their features, softening jaws and brightening eyes as every gaze returned to Adyr.

He let the moment breathe. Then he glanced at the slim wrist device on his arm, watched the pale display tick forward, and matched it to the steady rhythm he kept in his head. "As of now, set your timers. In three hours, have all forces ready in the Velari Kingdom."

He lifted his chin and met each pair of eyes in turn. "Let this war herald the Human Race."

—

Rhys Graves, with his exoskeleton wrapped tightly around his body like fitted armor, moved through the long corridors of the Player Headquarters.

The matte alloy plates drank in the light; only a faint, cold gleam traced each curve and joint. His steps were silent, the servos tuned so precisely that even the soft hum of metal on metal vanished—clear proof the suit was built for stealth as much as power.

Overhead, the ceiling strips poured a steady wash of cool white light, reflecting off the polished floor and stretching shadows along the walls. Rhys’s smoke-gray eyes stayed locked on the far end of the corridor, his expression unreadable as he passed the STF-uniformed guards. They stood straighter at his approach, saluting with high discipline, but he didn’t return the gesture. His mind was elsewhere, drawn inward, preoccupied with heavier thoughts.

"That boy’s ambition is greater than I thought," he murmured under his breath, his voice low enough to be swallowed by the hum of the corridor.

His thoughts drifted back to the meeting that had ended not long ago—the one that sealed Humanity’s next step with a declaration of war against an alien race.

When Rhys first saw Adyr, he had taken him for the same kind as himself, a man with cold blood and steady hands.

A twisted mind that found pleasure in the grind of suffering and in the quiet of a life fading.

Now he saw it differently. Whether Adyr had changed or had always been this way, Rhys could not say, but the scale of his plans ran larger than the face he showed.

"Isn’t that good?" Eren asked, keeping pace beside him. His metallic bronze skin caught the corridor light and sent it back in faint gleams across his jaw and knuckles. His expression sharpened as he added, "Isn’t this what you... What we all want anyway?"

Rhys smiled at that. "It is. We are a race that burns for conquest and for growth that never ends. How could I say it is not good?"

It was not only about being human. Everyone carried a reason for carving out a place in the Beyond.

For Rhys, it might be the dream of battles that never truly finished.

For Eren, it was a quiet home for his sister, a life filled with good memories.

For the 12 City Managers, perhaps it was the shape of Humanity’s wider future.

But for Adyr?

Rhys could not yet grasp what fed his fire.

Thinking on it, he only realized he’d reached Eren’s door when the two posted soldiers snapped to attention, their crisp salutes pulling him back to himself.

He acknowledged them, then looked to Eren. "Okay, do it. I don’t want to dirty your room with this dusty metal," he said, stopping short of the threshold. He knew Eren’s sister was still healing and was considerate enough not to contaminate her living space with his non-sterile exoskeleton.

"Thank you," Eren answered softly. Gratitude touched his face as he lifted a hand. Rhys and the exoskeleton blurred from the hall and vanished into his Sanctuary.

Next, he placed his palm on the sensor above the frame. The panel pulsed once, the lock slid, and the door opened.

"Brother," Mira called out as soon as she saw his tall frame duck through the doorway.

She was lying comfortably on the couch, her posture relaxed yet careful. Beside her, a doctor and a nurse looked up from their tablets and instruments; both rose from their stools and greeted him with respectful, professional warmth.

"Sis, how are you? How is your health?" He crossed the room with an easy brightness in his voice.

Before Mira could answer, the doctor checked the notes in his hand and replied in a calm, clear voice. "Miss Mira is recovering well. The residual cells from the hereditary disease have been replaced, and the damaged tissue has been repaired or cleared. From here, she mainly needs time for her body to adapt to the new system. During this period, she should eat generously. Her body needs extra nutrients as it adjusts. She also has to keep a regular sleep schedule. It’s just as important as food."

Mira gave a small, guilty smile at his list while Eren let out a breath. "You heard the doctor, right?"

Her greatest trouble now was not illness but stubborn habit: refusing to eat until her brother returned, staying awake until she saw him safe.

Eren’s days were crowded with matters of the other world, and a clean schedule was a luxury he did not have. That same disorder had slipped into Mira’s routine as well.

"Yes, yes, I will listen," she said, making a promise she would never keep, then hope brightened her face as she asked, "Are you hungry? Do you want me to set the table?"

Her hope thinned at his answer.

"I’m sorry. I don’t have time. I need to return to the Beyond immediately."

Her smile faltered, then steadied again, composed and brave. She knew everyone carried their own priorities. "It’s okay. I will keep the food warm if you come back soon."

"Thank you." Eren placed his broad hand on her small head and smoothed her hair once. He looked to the doctor and nurse. "She is entrusted to you." Then he crossed to the game capsule and settled inside, letting the lid seal as his consciousness slipped toward the other world.

Mira looked at the large, pure-white capsule anchored in the corner like a sleeping monument for a while. Her smile stayed in place, light and careful, but deep in her pale green eyes, a small hurt glimmered and slowly colored the shade beneath.

"Do you believe that world is as good as my brother always describes it?" she asked softly, looking to the doctor and nurse beside her.

They answered without hesitation, full of conviction. "Of course. It’s a magical world with so many undiscovered mysteries."

For them, it was far better than their Earth, scarred by nuclear war.

But for Mira, the perfect world wasn’t a larger planet or a fantastic setting; her priorities were different.

"Do you think there will ever be a way for me to walk those lands with my brother one day?" She asked, making those priorities clear and direct.