Rise of the Rejected Deity from Chaos

"But the Crows of Havoc organization that is after him isn't like the rest. From whom else will he seek a capable protection if not from the association?" The commander asked, a bit bewildered.

"I have no idea sir. However, he talked so confidently like his protection was indeed guaranteed. Frankly, if he claims he no longer requires our help, then we have no reason to involve ourselves any further. At the very least, it may ease the tension between us and that organization."

"True but it isn't so easy. Regardless whether or not we'll be endangering ourselves, we need to always save the helpless," the commander said. "But, good job. I'll call for you should I need any more clarity on this."

The man bowed, then turned and left.

The commander resumed his activities, working late into the night before he eventually retired, and went to his chambers. He had a late night meal, a warm bath, and got ready to join Seiya in his sleep.

As the commander reached for the grand door to his chambers, a glint of silver flashed at the edge of his vision—a blade, swift and silent, slicing through the air toward the side of his neck.

It came with flawless precision and staggering speed.

Reacting in an instant, the commander launched himself backward, narrowly evading the lethal strike.

In the blink of an eye, the space around him dimmed beneath the shroud of a blue barrier. Encircling him now were figures clad entirely in black, their faces hidden behind fitted nose masks.

"Seriously? When I'm this exhausted?" he muttered, exhaling in weary disbelief as his shoulders sank.

His eyes swept across the ambush, quickly gauging the number of assassins dispatched to end him. Then, he glanced upward, studying the barrier—one designed by the assassins to seal them off from the outside world, to prevent anyone from getting involved. Clearly, no help would come.

They had planned this assassination with meticulous care.

His gaze flicked toward the chamber door—unease creeping into his expression. Seiya was asleep inside, unaware and the barrier didn't exclude the room—they could still enter.

But the assassins didn't know about his adopted son. To them, he was alone.

Carefully, the commander averted his eyes from the door, concealing the flicker of worry that might betray the truth—that there was someone inside he would want to protect.

"Surrendering will make it easier for us all," one of the killers said.

Scoffing, the commander responded. "Surely, you jest, if you think I'll allow you kill me so easily."

"You'll be killing me, but not so easily," he added, crouching into a sprinting stance and instantly appearing before two of the killers.

"Boundless Thread—Life," he whispered, and instantly, golden glowing threads, tiny and beautiful, slithered softly around the two killers, wrapping them softly.

"Tsk! That annoying ability of yours!" One of the killers cursed, lunging forward. But before he could reach, the two killers wrapped with the thread, fell limply to the ground, their mouth agape and body dried and withered.

The commander's thread ability had sucked away every life essence from them in an instant.

As the other killer came for the commander, sword poised to strike him down, the commander yet again, whispered. "Boundless Thread—Psych of Death."

The glowing threads that had now spread around the space, slithering and floating softly around the commander, instantly wove into a golden psych. With one swift motion, the psych slashed down on the incoming killer, decapitating him instantly.

Annoyed, the other killers lunged forward at once, determined to take down the commander—turning the fight into a brutal clash.

The commander's ability—The Boundless Thread—is one that morphs into any weapon of his choice. However, it is an ability that requires a lot of energy and strength—something the commander lacked due to his illness.

The battle raged with brutal intensity, tearing the space apart—walls crumbled, debris filled the air, and the sounds of violence echoed like thunder. But the barrier held firm, silencing the chaos from the outside.

After what felt like an eternity, the commander was hurled against the wall with staggering force. The impact stole the breath from his lungs as he crumpled to the ground, blood spilling from his lips. His body was a ruin—wounded, torn, and soaked in red.

But he hadn't fallen alone.

Around him lay the corpses of countless assailants, their lifeless forms testament to his relentless defiance. He had decimated their numbers, cutting down more than half. Only a few remained, stunned but standing.

The commander lay where he had fallen, breath shallow, chest rising and falling in a painful rhythm. Every part of him ached, his strength drained—and his illness only deepened the toll.

Too weak, he no longer had in him to activate his ability.

No matter how one looked at it, death seemed inevitable now.

With struggle, he reached into the pocket of his tattered night garment, taking out the tiny orb Kaeliyus had given him for urgencies where his life was at risk. Summoning his remaining strength, the commander shattered the orb—calling for Kaeliyus.

However, moments passed, but nothing happened. Kaeliyus neither showed up nor responded.

"This is why you should have stepped down from the position," one of the killers said, slowly walking toward the commander.

"With such illness, how long did you hope to live that you let your greed get the best of you? You should have rejected the post when you were offered."

Listening to the man advancing to finish him off, a small smile played on the commander's lips. One that halted the killer mid-step, puzzled what could've had him smiling.

The commander's smile stretched wide, a soft chuckle escaping him, followed by a wet cough.

"What has got you smiling? Is it that you see an ending not of your death?" The man asked, gazing down at the weak, helpless man that struggled with all his might to draw each breath.

"An ending, huh?" The commander whispered, still smiling—his mouth all bloodied.

"The only ending I see is of my death. I would be blind not to see something this clear, wouldn't I?" He chuckled softly, coughing up blood the next second.

"Indeed. So why do you still smile?" The man pressed, genuinely curious.

"Even I do not know," the commander murmured, his voice unable to come out any louder. "It's just something I always put on no matter the situation," he smiled.

"I see. It might not be a bad way to welcome death," the man said, advancing to finish his job.

To think I'd die this soon just after getting a son, the commander sighed, his eyes fluttering close as he accepted his fate.

The killer reached him, raised his sword and was about to strike down when the door to the chambers bursted open. All eyes snapped toward the door in stunned silence, where a slender figure stood, illuminated by the soft, eerie glow of the barrier's blue light.

"It seems your irritating heartbeats aren't the only way you rob me of sleep," Seiya's voice sliced through the silence. "Tell me—has rest become a crime in this place?"