Chapter 172: The Space Between Them

At the excavation site, Lara’s anticipation unraveled the moment she stepped through the East Gate.

What greeted her was not the grandeur she had imagined—but a barren stretch of land, a hundred square meters of lifeless, leveled ground.

It felt wrong. Too clean. Too empty. As if something had been erased rather than unearthed.

A narrow cobblestone path, barely two meters wide, cut straight through the clearing. It ran forward like a forgotten vein, stretching nearly a hundred meters before dissolving into nothing.

Beyond it rose a towering wall—fifteen meters high—formed from layered volcanic ash and compacted soil. The surface was unnaturally intact, its strata sharply defined, as though time itself had been pressed and preserved within it.

That was the area yet to be excavated, where Hevenfort remained hidden.

For a fleeting moment, Lara’s vision wavered.

The emptiness bloomed into life.

She saw lush grass rippling under a gentle breeze, vibrant and impossibly green. Manicured hedges lined the quadrangle, sculpted into intricate sigils—those of Calma and its vassal kingdoms.

Bright flowers spilled color along the edges, reds and golds and violets dancing in harmony.

Children laughed as they tumbled across the lawn, their carefree joy echoing through the air.

Then it was gone.

The illusion shattered, leaving only the dry heat and the hollow silence of excavation.

“We’ve stopped using heavy machinery,” Tony said, his voice grounding her back in the present. He gestured toward the towering wall, now more cliff than structure.

“There’s something beneath this. If we’re not careful, we might destroy it before we even know what it is.”

Lara nodded faintly, her gaze sweeping across the site.

Several dozens of workers clung to the scaffolding beside the earth wall, chipping away at it with primitive tools—brushes, chisels, small picks. Their movements were painstaking, almost reverent.

Progress crawled.

At this rate… it would take years to fully uncover Calma

, she thought.

Years before the buried truth even began to surface.

She tilted her head back, squinting at the sky.

The late February sun bore down mercilessly, its heat clinging to her skin like a second layer. Sweat gathered at her temples.

“Here.”

The voice came before the gesture.

Aquilo stood beside her, already holding out a bottle of water. He must have noticed before she did—her fatigue, the way her shoulders had subtly tensed.

“Thank you,” Lara said, softer this time.

Their fingers brushed—brief, accidental.

Aquilo stilled, just for a fraction of a second.

Then he stepped back, the movement controlled, almost too deliberate. His expression remained composed, but his grip on the strap of his backpack tightened slightly. Even in the sweltering heat, his uniform remained immaculate, every line disciplined into place.

Lara glanced at him.

“You should take that off,” she said, nodding faintly at his outer layer. “You’ll overheat.”

“I’m fine,” Aquilo replied.

A simple answer that was too quick.

Not fine, Lara thought. Just unwilling.

That was the moment Ares arrived.

Alongside him were Philip Hardy, Flavio Rossu—the lead archaeologist assigned to the Hevenfort excavation —and Eric Castro, Ares’ assistant who had just arrived, as Jack stayed in Lanura to take care of Obsidian Peak.

Their steps slowed almost imperceptibly as they took in the scene before them.

Ares saw it all, and it was… unsettling.

The offered water. The closeness. The way Aquilo had leaned in—not enough to be improper, but enough to feel… familiar.

Something in Ares sharpened. Something about the ease between them struck a nerve he hadn’t expected.

For reasons he couldn’t immediately name, he found himself recalling the Norse siblings—and, to his own surprise, preferring their overt protectiveness over this quieter, subtler closeness.

It wasn’t obvious, but the air around him cooled by a degree.

“Eric,” Ares said quietly, eyes still fixed ahead, “who is that man in uniform?”

Eric followed his gaze, already knowing the answer.

“He is Aquilo Vibora an army colonel. He’s assigned to secure the new excavation site at the western side.”

Ares gave no outward reaction. He simply continued walking.

But his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.

“Tony,” Philip called out as they approached, his tone cutting through the tension, “where’s the person who can decipher the inscription at the East Gate?”

Tony turned immediately. “It’s her,” he said, pointing at Lara.

Philip’s face lit up in recognition as he stepped forward.

“You again,” he said warmly. “Your previous input was invaluable. Our geologists confirmed your theory—the upper layer of this island is largely volcanic ash and pumice.” He paused, clearly impressed.

“We cross-referenced records globally. Three hundred years ago, Mount Etna had a catastrophic eruption.”

Lara’s eyes flickered, but she said nothing. She guessed right. It was Mount Etna. She awakened.

“We believe an entire city may have been buried here during that eruption,” another man added. He wore glasses, his features suggesting he came from somewhere farther east.

Philip gestured to him. “This is Flavio Russo, from Treasures of the Past. An alliance of countries to search for archaeological sites. He is here to help us.”

Flavio stepped forward, extending his hand—but his attention shifted the moment he truly looked at Lara.

He paused and studied her closely.

“So you’re the one?” he said, smiling. “I didn’t expect someone so young… and so beautiful.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Ares didn’t move—but his gaze did.

It turned, sharply, toward Flavio.

At the same time, Aquilo shifted his stance.

Just slightly.

Not enough for most to notice—but enough that he now stood a fraction closer to Lara, his presence no longer casual. Protective, but restrained. Measured.

Ares noticed.

Their eyes met for the briefest moment.

No words were said. Just recognition.

And something unspoken passed between them—quiet, cold, unmistakable.

Flavio felt it.

The weight of two entirely different kinds of pressure bearing down on him at once.

One sharp and cutting.

The other steady and immovable.

The smile on his face faltered.

“Ah—” he cleared his throat, forcing a lighter tone. “Forgive me. I can be… blunt. That’s just how we are. It’s a cultural thing.”

No one responded immediately.

Lara, unaware—or perhaps deliberately ignoring it—shifted her attention back to Philip. “You mentioned an inscription?”

The tension didn’t break.

It simply… settled.

Like something waiting.

Ares finally stepped forward, his presence slipping seamlessly into the space beside Lara—as though it had always belonged there.

Not close enough to touch.

But close enough to be felt.

Aquilo’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptibly.

And just like that—

The excavation site held more than buried ruins.

It held a quiet, growing fault line.

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