Chapter 150: Summoner’s Bonding

Chapter 150: Summoner’s Bonding A bright blue light shimmered in the air, swirling like an unstable storm caught in a glass sphere. Then, in a flash, it collapsed inward—and in the very next second, two boys appeared in a completely different world. Kairos blinked a few times, his vision adjusting to the new surroundings. The first thing that registered in his senses was the overwhelming stench of damp decay. As his eyes finally focused, he realized they were standing in a narrow alleyway—lonely, damp, and utterly abandoned. Only he and Darnell were present. It was eerily quiet, save for the faint, irregular hum of the city behind the tall stone buildings. Darnell was silent beside him, his head turning slowly, eyes scanning every inch of the dark environment. He was absorbing everything, trying to understand where they had landed. It was nighttime. The sky above was ink-black, broken only by the dim flicker of golden bulbs that hung from rusted poles. The buildings surrounding them were constructed from a strange dark stone—partly resembling weathered rocks, yet layered like bricks, giving them a crude, jagged appearance. The ground was far worse. Trash clung to every corner, some of it so old it seemed part of the street itself. Filthy puddles glistened in places, but these weren’t from any rain; their murky hue and foul smell made it clear they came from something else entirely. "Don’t say a word to anyone," Kairos said firmly, his voice slicing through the silence. He took a step forward and turned to face Darnell directly, making sure their eyes locked. "If you see anything disturbing, look away. No one here needs anyone. If you try playing hero, you’ll get robbed." Darnell folded his arms, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Is it that bad here?" Kairos’s face fell into a blank mask. He didn’t answer—he just turned around and started walking, leading Darnell through the alley and into the belly of the city. As they emerged onto the wider streets, the presence of people became obvious. Old men sat slouched against crumbling walls, their ribs showing through ragged clothing. Women wandered aimlessly, their eyes hollow. Children—barefoot and filthy—huddled together in dark corners. Everyone was wrapped in layers of torn fabric, most of it barely holding together. The air was thick with an indescribable stench. Darnell couldn’t tell if it came from the people or the city itself. He found it hard to follow Kairos’s advice. His gaze kept drifting, his heart tugged by the sight of so many lives lived in misery. The stores they passed were barely more than wooden stalls—empty, lifeless, and run by elderly figures in clothing so tattered it was hard to believe it once had color. ’So this is what Kairos’s home looks like,’ Darnell thought, a sense of dread welling up inside him. He had heard rumors about the state of the outer cities after the war. But seeing it—truly seeing it—was something else entirely. These people had clearly suffered a terrible blow. The war had left scars, but it was the civil conflict that followed that had ravaged this place beyond recognition. For the first time, Darnell understood a fragment of Kairos. The way he acted—distant, calculating, cautious—it made more sense now. This city didn’t breed trust. It nurtured survival. "So this is where you had to live?" Darnell asked quietly, not even sure why he said it aloud. Kairos suddenly stopped walking. His hand covered his face, and then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "This?" he said, removing his hand and waving around them. "No. This is my home. Every part of it." His tone was sharp, laced with something unreadable. Darnell wasn’t sure if it was pride or pain. And then— "I hate this place," Kairos added, his voice lower, more bitter. Darnell blinked, confused. He wanted to ask, but before he could, they arrived at a large house located at the very end of the street. Compared to the rest of the city, it stood out like a relic of a forgotten time. It had a tall gate, still intact despite the rust, and walls that seemed to retain some form of durability. Out of every decayed structure in this miserable city, this one still had some semblance of strength. Kairos placed his hand on the gate. A soft chiming sound echoed, almost magical, and slowly the gates began to creak open. But before they could open completely, they stuttered—then stopped, stuck halfway through their motion. "They’re old," Kairos said with a shrug. "But they’ve kept the house safe all these years." He stepped through the gap without hesitation. Darnell followed. As soon as they were inside, the gates slammed shut behind them with a rusty thud. The yard was barren. The grass was dead, the ground cracked. The front door of the house looked like it had been clawed at by time itself—splintered wood, a broken handle, and deep marks along the frame. Darnell’s eyes roamed over everything. Something terrible had happened here. He could feel it in the walls, in the air, in every step they took. He was about to ask, but another question slipped from his mouth first. "Kairos, are your parents home?" The moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. Kairos froze. His shoulders tensed, and for a second, it felt like time had stopped. Then he turned around slowly and gave Darnell a wide, eerie grin. "My parents? They’re both dead." Darnell’s heart sank. His eyes widened in panic. Stupid. Why did I ask that? Fuck. "I’m—oh, sorry! I didn’t know!" he stammered, bowing his head again and again, each time more frantically than the last. Kairos shook his head, his grin vanishing. "No need for that," he said flatly. "They’re already dead, so it doesn’t affect me that much. But now that you bring it up, I’ll share my past—since you seem curious. And you’ll share yours." ’Yes... this will be the perfect time for me to learn more about Darnell,’ Kairos thought. Darnell nodded slowly. "Okay." Kairos sighed as he turned the key and pushed the door open. The inside of the house was a mess—furniture scattered, dust covering every surface, objects thrown across the floor. Darnell hadn’t expected it. Kairos never struck him as the messy type. Instinctively, Darnell reached to set a toppled lamp upright. "Don’t," Kairos warned, grabbing his hand. The gesture sent a wave of discomfort through Darnell, who slowly lowered the lamp back to the floor. They moved deeper into the house until they reached a pair of old chairs. Kairos gestured for them to sit, and once they were both down, he began. "I’ll start by telling you about my father and mother," he said, voice distant. "I don’t remember much. Just fragments. But I know they were the best. Strong. Kind. They were either part of a faction or the military. They were killed. And in this very house—I met their killer." Darnell’s gaze shifted around the room again. Now the chaos made sense. The disarray wasn’t laziness. It was memory. Kairos had left it untouched, a museum of pain. The mess was his way of never forgetting what had happened. "So you grew up here... alone?" Darnell asked, his voice almost a whisper. Kairos nodded. "Most of my life. I was taken to an orphanage, but I escaped. Lived on the streets. Learned everything the hard way. I survived by stealing, scamming, getting small jobs—until I earned enough to apply for the academy. And got to awaken for free." Darnell gave a crooked grin, impressed in a deeply uncomfortable way. "That’s... cool," he said, his stomach twisting from the guilt of saying something so casual about such a tragic past. Kairos looked at him, then nodded. "And yours?" This was it. The moment Kairos had been waiting for. Now, he would finally learn what secrets Darnell had been hiding—especially about Ravin. Darnell’s expression changed. He looked almost... relieved to speak. "I have no idea who my real parents were," he began. "I was raised by Papa Murphy and his sons—he was the village head, a retired general. Life was good. Simple. We were happy. Then Ravin came." He paused, his fingers nervously tracing the outline of his palm, as if the memory itself hurt to hold. "Ravin took everything from me. He destroyed the village, took my friends, and then... experimented on me. He forced me to unlock the Legendary Titan when I was just eight. I’ve had a summon since then. But it wasn’t normal. His experiments changed it. Tainted it." Darnell’s voice dropped, and Kairos leaned in. "The Titan... it embodies hate. Bloodlust. One day it forced itself out of me. I don’t remember much—just destruction. Fire. Screams. When I woke up, I was in Professor Goldric’s arms. He saved me. Trained me. Gave me purpose again. He’s the reason I can control my powers. And he funded my journey to Titanfang." Kairos sat in stunned silence. Darnell’s story held just as much pain—maybe even more. But there was still one thing. "So you have no idea where Ravin is? Or how to kill him?" Darnell shook his head. "Nothing. All I remember is that during his time with Papa Murphy, he used to talk about something called Dark Wing." Kairos’s teeth clenched. His fists curled tight. There it was again. Dark Wing. That name again. ***Author’s note*** End of volume 2. Please gift this story magic castle or any super gift if you are enjoying this work. And if any suggestions, please comment.