Chapter 13-Winter Child's Birthday

As Iris awoke, the remnants of her unsettling dream still clung to her mind, casting a lingering shadow over her morning. The sharp banging on her door jolted her from her thoughts. She quickly rose, straightened her clothes, and opened the door to find Wallace standing there, his expression unusually enthusiastic.

As Iris awoke, the remnants of her unsettling dream still clung to her mind, casting a lingering shadow over her morning. The sharp banging on her door jolted her from her thoughts. She quickly rose, straightened her clothes, and opened the door to find Wallace standing there, his expression unusually enthusiastic.

“When your classes are over, bring your entire class to the third gymnasium. None of them know about this, so it’ll be a wonderful surprise,” Wallace said, his eyes gleaming with a rare warmth.

“Got it. Once again, thank you so much for this,” Iris replied, her voice bubbling with genuine gratitude.

“No, thank you. You all deserve to enjoy your lives—not be treated as mere weapons for protecting mankind,” Wallace said gently, his tone firm yet kind. With a nod, he turned and left, leaving Iris with a profound sense of appreciation for the man who, despite his many secrets, truly cared for them.

As the door closed, Iris wiped away a stray tear, the weight of Wallace’s words settling in her heart. She realized that today wasn’t just about a celebration; it was about giving her friends the normalcy they’d long been denied. With renewed determination, she set her mind to making Xavier’s party unforgettable.

The school day dragged on as Iris impatiently awaited its end. Every minute stretched on, until finally, the last class concluded. Overcome with excitement, she climbed onto her desk, ready to make her grand announcement. The class turned toward her with curious expressions—except for Xavier, who had dozed off.

“Didn't you fall the last time you did that?” Charles remarked dryly, his hands already aglow with aura, as if prepared to save her from any mishap.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Iris declared, her voice brimming with excitement. “I have an announcement to make.”

As Iris gathered her thoughts, the rest of the class watched with rapt attention, waiting for her to continue. Xavier, however, appeared utterly disinterested—he yawned, stretched languidly, and began edging toward the door.

“I require everyone to follow me to gymnasium three. It’s absolutely important—we need everyone there,” Iris insisted, her eyes darting toward Xavier with a mix of urgency and exasperation.

Xavier mumbled indifferently, “I’m not really in the mood today. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to head back to my room,” before he turned to leave.

“Charles, catch him!” Iris ordered sharply, her tone brooking no delay.

In an instant, Charles’s aura flared to life, extending like invisible tendrils that gently encased Xavier. With remarkable precision, Charles lifted him effortlessly into the air. Xavier squirmed slightly, but Charles’s grip was firm yet surprisingly gentle—a silent reminder that beneath his rough exterior lay a reluctant protector.

“Thank you, now off we go to gymnasium three—” Iris began, only to misjudge her own balance in her excitement. In a swift, disorienting moment, she lost her footing and tumbled off the desk.

Before she could hit the ground, Charles’s telekinetic abilities kicked in once more, gently cradling her and lowering her safely back onto her feet. He shook his head with a smirk, his tone teasing yet affectionate.

“How many times will I have to save you, dummy?” Charles quipped, his laughter mingling with the relief in the room.

Iris offered a sheepish grin, brushing off the moment. “I’m fine,” she replied, though her cheeks still flushed from the near-fall. “Let’s just get moving—Xavier, we’re all in this together, even you.”

The playful banter softened the tension, and as the group prepared to head to gymnasium three, a sense of camaraderie filled the room—a reminder that even amidst the chaos of their extraordinary lives, they could rely on each other to keep moving forward.

The class chuckled at the exchange, and even Xavier—still suspended by Charles’s telekinetic grasp—managed a small, genuine smile. Amid the chaos, a palpable camaraderie filled the air. Iris grinned, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. Quickly regaining her composure, she led the way as Charles gently lowered Xavier to the ground. One by one, the group followed her out of the classroom, buzzing with curiosity and anticipation. Today was going to be a day to remember.

As Iris guided her classmates to the gymnasium, a flutter of excitement and a trace of anxiety danced in her stomach. When the heavy doors swung open, they revealed a transformed space that left everyone momentarily speechless. The room had been magically converted into a whimsical paradise—clearly Jonathan’s handiwork, saving money on decorations while achieving an ethereal charm.

Floating above were balloon-like orbs emerging from peculiar, blueish plants studded with small spikes. These orbs bobbed gently, casting a soft, luminescent glow that bathed the room in an otherworldly light. Cascading from the ceiling were delicate roses, their petals detaching slowly and drifting down like a gentle rain of color. The air was heady with the sweet fragrance of blooms, perfectly mingling with the savory aromas wafting from a lavish banquet table.

A large, verdant vine stretched elegantly along the far wall, supporting a hand-painted banner that read, “Happy Birthday Xavier.” The banner’s intricate floral designs added a personal, artistic touch, making the celebration feel intimate and heartfelt. Beneath it, a banquet rivaling the best offerings of the school cafeteria was spread out—platters of fresh fruits, savory appetizers, and colorful desserts arranged with an eye for both flavor and presentation.

At the center of the feast stood a grand cake—a confectionery masterpiece. Its white frosting gleamed softly under the ambient light, while vibrant red strawberries were artfully arranged on top. Candles shaped like the number twelve flickered gently, their warm light adding to the festive atmosphere.

But perhaps the most surprising and delightful sight was Markus, standing near the cake dressed as a clown. His costume was a riot of colors—oversized shoes, a frilly collar, and a comically large red nose. His face was adorned with classic clown makeup, bright, cheerful eyes and a wide, painted smile that starkly contrasted his usual serious demeanor. With surprising skill, he juggled a set of colorful balls, infusing the room with playful energy.

When Markus spotted the group, he gave a theatrical bow, his expression a blend of amusement and mild embarrassment. The unexpected display drew a collective gasp before erupting into hearty laughter, shattering the lingering silence.

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Xavier’s eyes widened in astonishment, his usually sleepy expression replaced by genuine surprise and delight. For a moment, he seemed almost speechless, his face softening as he absorbed the scene. Iris felt a swell of pride and relief—her efforts to bring joy to Xavier were already proving worthwhile.

“Surprise!” Iris exclaimed, her voice bubbling with joy and a hint of nervous excitement.

Xavier blinked, still processing the whimsical spectacle. “I…I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, clearly touched by the heartfelt celebration.

“How about a simple ‘thank you’?” Charles teased, nudging him with a mischievous grin.

Xavier chuckled and finally broke into a warm, genuine smile. “Thank you, everyone. This is amazing. I never expected…anything like this.”

Still in character, Markus honked a loud clown horn that echoed through the room, drawing everyone’s attention. “It’s not every day we get to celebrate a truly special occasion,” he declared, his voice exaggeratedly cheerful. “Let’s make today a day to remember!”

The room erupted in applause, and as the group gathered around the magnificent cake, a deep sense of accomplishment filled Iris. The vibrant decorations, sumptuous food, and even Markus’s clown antics had come together to create a moment of pure joy—a rare glimpse of normalcy amid the chaos of their lives.

As the class joined in singing “Happy Birthday” and Xavier blew out the flickering candles, Iris silently vowed to cherish these fleeting moments. She would protect them fiercely, ensuring that no future was marred by further tragedy. For now, they were just a group of friends celebrating a birthday—and in that simple, shared joy, hope was reborn.

Markus approached Xavier as he playfully tossed a tennis ball into the air, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. With a flourish, Markus conjured a golden Seville chrysanthemum from thin air—a flower symbolizing happiness and hope. Smiling broadly, he extended the delicate bloom toward Xavier. The flower, radiant and unexpected, seemed to carry a promise of brighter days, even as Markus’s expression was more absurd than sincere. It was happy smile, an exaggerated smile, a ridiculous smile.

Across the room, Wallace leaned toward Jonathan, a wry remark on his lips. “Do you think this scene is going to get us copyrighted?” he asked, half-joking as he eyed the impromptu display.

Jonathan sighed, shaking his head with a touch of exasperation. “It’s just a reference, Wallace. It shouldn’t be too bad,” he replied, though his thoughts lingered on the potential legal fallout and the ever-looming possibility of a hefty bill.

The playful moment and the banter underscored a rare, lighthearted interlude in an otherwise turbulent world—one where even a simple act of kindness could spark laughter amid the chaos.

Inside the dim, suffocating confines of the birdcage, Future Iris sat with her shoulders hunched in quiet defiance. The room was cold and dark, save for intermittent flickers of ghostly light that seeped through cracks, casting eerie, shifting shadows along the walls. The cage itself hung precariously above a pit filled with bleached, scattered bones—a grim, macabre reminder of the dire consequences of failure.

Then the Demon entered, gliding into the room with an unsettling grace that sent shivers down Iris’s spine. His presence was an abyss of malevolence, a void that swallowed every glimmer of light and warmth. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly hue, and his lips curled into a mocking, derisive smile. When he spoke, his voice reverberated through the room like a dark echo, thickening the already heavy air.

His hair was a wild, unkempt blaze of bloody red, streaked with flashes of cyan as if stained by the blood of countless victims. His eyes—gray, empty voids rimmed with blood-red sclera—seemed devoid of all mercy, staring through everything as though nothing mattered. Crimson scales adorned his arms, and a long, draconic tail swished menacingly from his back, while imposing horns jutted sharply from his head. Draped in regal, black attire that accentuated his aura of superiority, he appeared to float above the room, both literally and figuratively, an embodiment of unrestrained, ancient evil.

“Would you like to know how today’s event went?” the Demon asked, his tone dripping with sinister delight.

Future Iris lifted her gaze, her eyes hardening as they locked onto his. “Just tell me already,” she snapped, her voice steady despite the dread coiling in her stomach. “I can’t endure this routine every day.”

The Demon chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling in a winter wind. “An absolute success,” he purred, his false sweetness oozing through each syllable. “Jonathan proved a cheapskate with the decorations—last-minute arrangements meant no presents were given. Yet, the birthday that he never celebrated with you will become his happiest memory… until his death.”

At those words, Future Iris’s eyes flared with fierce intensity. “He will live a long life,” she retorted, her tone edged with steel. “They all will. You will not orchestrate their tragedies any longer. My past self will stop you, you bastard!”

Leaning closer to the bars of the cage, the Demon’s expression darkened further. “For one of your upcoming messages,” he murmured in a silken, dangerous tone, “I want you to edit the contents. Have Iris save Wallace’s life. That day will be far too dull if she isn’t put in harm’s way just a little.”

Future Iris's eyes narrowed, and a grim smile tugged at her lips. “I was already planning to,” she replied, defiance dripping from every word. “Wallace's death during the invasion is a tragedy I refuse to let repeat. I will help my past self rewrite all of their doomed fates.”

The Demon’s grin widened, sending a chill down her spine. “That’s what I love about you,” he purred, his tone laced with mocking affection. “You always take risks, no matter how improbable, and you always bring results. But why fight so hard? This timeline is set, even if you save her.”

Future Iris’s gaze remained steady, her resolve unyielding. “I wonder why,” she murmured with a taunting whisper. “Sadly, nothing in our contract forces me to tell you, damned demon.”

For a moment, the Demon’s smile faltered, replaced by a flash of cold fury. “Fine—be that way,” he snarled, his voice hardening. “But mark my words, you’ll regret it. Your past self will face an ending far worse than the one you’re trapped in now.”

“I promise you,” Future Iris hissed, her voice trembling with a savage resolve, “I’ll make sure you have the worst ending possible. In this, and every timeline, you’ll suffer an unimaginably painful death.” A humorless laugh escaped her lips, a grim echo in the darkness.

A flash of anger ignited in the Demon’s eyes. Without warning, he lunged forward, seizing her by the neck. His grip was cold and merciless, draining the air from her lungs.

Yet a trace of defiance still flickered in Future Iris’s gaze. “Go ahead,” she rasped, forcing the words past her tightening throat. “But without me, you’ll be lonely, won’t you?”

The Demon—smiled cruelly. “Keep playing this game. Once the timeline loops back around, I’ll torture your future self, then kill you. I’ve dreamed up a far more agonizing death than what I planned for Maxwell. You know just how terrible that coffin was for him.”

“F-fuck you,” Future Iris choked, her eyes watering as Superbia’s hold tightened.

He tilted his head and spoke in a low, almost pleasant tone. “Can’t you at least say my name? I’d really appreciate that.”

Her vision blurred, but her voice didn’t waver. “Go to hell, Superbia… I’ll drag you down there myself.”

“Good girl,” he purred, a mocking note of approval in his voice. Leaning in, he planted a chilling kiss on her cheek before releasing her. She collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

Superbia turned to leave, dissolving once more into the encroaching shadows. “Goodnight, my dear pet,” he called back, a vicious edge to his parting words. “I look forward to tomorrow.”

As the room fell eerily silent, the darkness seemed to thicken around Future Iris. She raised a trembling hand to wipe away a tear. Despite the Demon’s threat echoing through her mind, her resolve only hardened further. She would not yield. She had survived too much to cave in, to despair.

Gripping the cold bars of the cage, Future Iris steadied her breathing, willing her heart to slow its frantic pace. She knew the road ahead for her past self would be paved with peril and heartbreak, but there was hope—faint, but present. Clutching that hope like a lifeline, she promised herself that, no matter what horrors lay in wait, they would fight. They would endure. And one day, they would break free of the shadows cast by this ancient evil.