Rise of the Crusader



Raphael's gaze shifted between Gus and the lifeless body of Latario, a chilling stillness settling upon his face.

The sight before him left him dumbfounded, his mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what had transpired. Latario, an SS-Rank meta, now lay motionless while Gus stood ominously before him.

"You... You're an SS-Rank meta," Raphael stammered, his voice betraying a mixture of astonishment and disbelief.

As his realization sunk in, Raphael took a hesitant step backward, his body instinctively tensing for the unknown. The sheer power possessed by Gus, capable of dispatching someone as formidable as Latario, left him in awe.

The disparity in strength was staggering, emphasizing the overwhelming might Gus possessed.

Even with Latario's unparalleled regenerative abilities, had been a force to be reckoned with. But against Gus, it seemed futile, as if the very essence of his powers had been nullified.

Raphael's eyes remained fixed on the woman standing before him, his muscles poised to react at a moment's notice. This encounter would be unlike any other—more dangerous, more unpredictable.

"I'm not your enemy, Raphael," Gus spoke, her voice carrying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the situation.

Raphael's expression hardened, the shifting emotions within him manifesting as a resolute response. "And you're certainly not a friend," he retorted, his voice laced with caution and mistrust.

Gus felt a lump form in her throat, her voice caught somewhere between an apology and a desperate attempt to explain herself.

She paused, her gaze fixed on Raphael, trying to gather her thoughts before finally exhaling a heavy breath.

"Why did you appear now?" Raphael's words pierced the air, his voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and anguish. "You had the power to defeat Latario without revealing your true. So why did you choose to reveal yourself to me?"

Raphael's pain was palpable, etched in every syllable he uttered, and the sense of betrayal in his eyes was like a dagger to Gus's heart.

In that moment, a flood of memories surged through Raphael's mind, casting vivid images of their shared experiences.

Visions of a young boy with tousled brown hair and a loyal blue owl perched on his shoulder flickered in Raphael's consciousness.

As the memories played out before him, he found himself biting down harder on his lower lip, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within him.

"Has everything that unfolded been part of some elaborate scheme?" Raphael's words burst forth, a mix of accusation and pain. "A collaboration between you and the Queens?"

The weight of his question hung heavily in the air, the room enveloped in a tense silence. Gus, her expression a complex blend of regret and determination, met Raphael's gaze, searching for the right words to ease his torment and salvage what remained of their connection.

Gus responded swiftly, vehemently denying Raphael's accusation. Her head shook with an urgency that mirrored the sincerity in her voice.

"No," she replied, her tone laced with conviction. "You've got it all wrong."

Raphael's next question sliced through the charged silence. "Is your name even Gus?" he demanded, his skepticism palpable.

A moment of silence followed his inquiry, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. Indira's gaze remained fixed on Raphael, her eyes filled with a mix of apprehension and sincerity. With a steadying breath, she finally spoke, her voice imbued with a touch of vulnerability.

"My real name is Indira," she admitted, her words hanging in the charged atmosphere.

Upon hearing her admission, an expression of disgust washed over Raphael's face, his disdain laid bare for all to see. He made no attempt to conceal his repulsion, a testament to the depth of his wounded trust.

Sensing the weight of Raphael's emotions, Indira knew she had to offer an explanation, an opportunity to bridge the chasm between them.

Her voice, calm yet tinged with remorse, broke the silence.

"I understand that you have questions, misconceptions," she began, her eyes searching his face for any glimmer of understanding. "And I promise, I will explain everything to you."

Just as Raphael was about to respond, Indira interjected, her words swift and resolute. "I am associated with the Queens, yet I am not truly aligned with them," she confessed, her voice bearing the weight of conflicting loyalties.

"It all ties back to your father. My involvement with the Queens stemmed from him, but when he disappeared, our relationship fractured."

A flicker of pain crossed Indira's features as she continued, her voice tinged with regret. "I was forced into hiding soon after. It was a matter of survival."

Raphael's sneer remained etched upon his face, his skepticism unwavering. "So why, out of all moments, did you choose to reveal yourself now?" he demanded, his voice laced with defiance.

Indira took a deep breath, her words poised on the precipice of revelation. "He is back," she declared, her voice carrying a weight that reverberated through the room.

Raphael's silence hung in the air, his eyes fixed on Indira as he absorbed the magnitude of her statement.

Sensing his reticence, she pressed on, her voice gentle yet insistent. "Your father, he has returned, Raphael."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with possibility, waiting for Raphael to grasp their significance. "Did you hear what I said?" Indira probed, her voice tinged with urgency.

A firm nod escaped Raphael's lips in response. "Yes, I heard you," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of resignation and curiosity. "So, what am I supposed to do?"

Indira's gaze softened, her eyes reflecting empathy and understanding. "I know you harbor resentment toward him, but there is always a reason behind every action," she said, her voice brimming with conviction.

"If you were faced with the same circumstances, you would have made the same choices."

Raphael's disbelief was palpable, his head shaking in vehement denial. "Leave his wife to suffer? Allow her to endure the humiliation inflicted by his family? Abandon his only child?" he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness.

He met Indira's gaze, his eyes filled with a fierce determination. "If you believe I would do such things, then you clearly don't know me," he added, the words escaping his lips with a resolute clarity.

Indira's lower lip bore the mark of her teeth as she absorbed Raphael's words, her expression a mix of sorrow and empathy. "I understand it's difficult to fathom, but he had no choice," she explained, her voice carrying a trace of sorrow.

"To protect both of you from those who sought to harm him, he had to make the heart-wrenching decision to leave his family behind."

With each word that escaped Indira's lips, a deepening frown etched itself upon Raphael's face. The disappointment in his eyes was undeniable as he grappled with the weight of his father's actions.

"If he couldn't protect what he had, why did he even have it?" Raphael's voice echoed with a mix of frustration and disillusionment, his gaze piercing into Indira's soul.

The question hung heavy in the air, carrying with it the bitter taste of shattered expectations.

Raphael's disappointment was evident, a reflection of the pain he had carried for years.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, Raphael couldn't help but voice a lingering doubt. "And now that he's back, is that why you're here, telling me all of this?" he questioned.

"You're going to return to his side."

Indira's mouth opened slightly, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of her response seemed to bear down upon her, her hands clenching into tight fists as she summoned the courage to speak. Her voice, though tinged with sadness, carried a resolute conviction.

"Yes," she replied, her words hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "I will return to his side."