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Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 41
41Dylan schooled his features before opening the door, stepping out with deliberate calm. His eyes flicked between the two guards—one broad and stiff, the other wiry but just as rigid.“Gentlemen,” he greeted, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What’s the problem?”The first guard, the burly one, squared his shoulders. “We need to check your pockets, sir.”Dylan let out a slow, amused whistle. “Wow. No hello? No ‘how’s your shopping experience?’ Straight to accusations?”The younger guard narrowed his eyes. “A staff member saw you hiding something in your jacket.”Dylan tilted his head slightly, pretending to be deep in thought. “Did they now?” He looked over his shoulder toward where Gregory had conveniently positioned himself near the register, pretending to be busy but obviously watching. “Let me guess… was it him?”Neither guard answered. Their silence was answer enough.Dylan sighed. “Okay. I see what’s happening here.” He spread his arms slightly, making a slow turn. “If you
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 42
42Dylan’s jaw tightened, his entire body bristling with barely contained fury. He looked from Gregory to the guards, then back again, his voice cold but cutting as he spoke.“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dylan said, his tone low and dangerous.Gregory’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Do you really want to escalate this? You’re making a scene over nothing.”“Over nothing?” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not the one who’s making a scene here. Your buddy Gregory”—he spat the name out like venom—“is the one who’s orchestrated this whole thing.”Gregory’s expression hardened, his gaze flicking to the guards. “Enough talk. Do your job.”The older guard, still uneasy, stepped toward Dylan. “Come on, sir, let’s go. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”Dylan shot a glance at the younger guard, who was practically vibrating with impatience. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re actually going to touch me?”The younger guard’s eyes flashed. “That’s it. You’re coming with
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43But Dylan wasn’t about to step back. He pushed forward, his eyes narrowed. “You’re doing it all wrong!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the tension. “You’re giving her the wrong treatment! You’re going to kill her!”The doctor shot a venomous look at him, snapping, “You’re the one who’s causing damage here! Just stay out of the way!”Dylan ignored him, crouching again as he muttered under his breath. His hands trembled slightly as he began applying pressure to the woman’s chest, using a traditional healing technique that involved manipulating the body’s energy flow. He wasn’t doing it properly by modern medical standards—he was working from instinct, pressing in ways that helped align the body’s natural rhythms.But it was clear to the doctor and bystanders that Dylan was failing to stabilize the woman. His movements were erratic, the healing slow and not precise enough to address her deteriorating condition.“You’re just making it worse!” the doctor barked again, stepping in
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44Panic spread like wildfire. The murmurs in the crowd turned into frantic shouts, people stumbling back, some pressing against the walls as the woman’s body thrashed uncontrollably.“She’s dying!” a voice shrieked.“Somebody do something!” another cried.Dylan didn’t waste a second. He gripped the woman’s arm tightly, his mind racing. The poison had accelerated. The sedative had weakened her body’s ability to fight, allowing the toxin to spread unhindered. If he didn’t act now, she wouldn’t survive the next minute.Gregory let out a loud scoff, shaking his head. “Look at this mess. The great ‘doctor’ can’t even handle a single patient. What a joke.” His words were laced with mockery, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.“Shut up, Gregory,” Dylan snapped, his voice sharp as a blade. “This isn’t some damn game.”“Oh, but it is,” Gregory countered, crossing his arms with an arrogant smirk. “And you’re losing.”Dylan ignored him, turning sharply to the doctor, his expression like
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 45
45Dylan turned sharply to the assistant, his voice unwavering. “Bring me a clean knife and a small glass bottle. Now.”The assistant hesitated, his eyes darting nervously toward the doctor. “I—should I?”The doctor, still reeling from how rapidly the woman’s condition had deteriorated under his care—and just as quickly stabilized under Dylan’s—clenched his jaw. His pride screamed at him to refuse, but the proof was undeniable.“Do it,” he ground out, his voice tight with humiliation.Gasps rippled through the crowd at his reluctant admission. The same doctor who had barked orders with absolute confidence was now deferring to the man he had called an amateur.The assistant scrambled away, returning moments later with the requested items. The tension in the room was suffocating, the onlookers frozen in stunned anticipation.Gregory scoffed, crossing his arms. “Oh, so now you’re playing butcher? What next? Gonna do a rain dance too? Maybe chant a magic spell while you’re at it?”A few p
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 46
46Once outside, Dylan took a deep breath, the weight of the boutique’s gaze still heavy on him. His heart raced—not from fear, but from the surge of adrenaline still coursing through him. He wasn’t surprised by what had happened, but the way the crowd had reacted still left him unsettled.Behind him, the door of the boutique creaked open, and murmurs trickled out.“Did you see that? Did he really just do that?” one voice whispered, barely audible in the cool night air.“I—I thought she was gone, I swear it,” another voice added, shaken. “One minute, she’s convulsing, and the next… just like that… she’s awake.”“That man… he’s no amateur,” a third voice said, filled with awe. “That was deliberate. He knew what he was doing.”Dylan’s hands clenched at his sides as the voices continued.Inside the boutique, the doctor could still be heard, his voice rising in frustration. “You don’t understand! That—what he did—it wasn’t science. It was—”“It was something,” someone interjected sharply.
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47Dylan froze, his hand already on the car door. He turned slowly, half expecting it to be one of the lingering skeptics, trying to further dissect his actions.The woman was rushing toward him now, her eyes wide with gratitude but still filled with confusion. Her steps faltered slightly, but she pushed through, her voice clear and urgent. “Please—thank you. For what you did. I… I need to know why you helped me.”Dylan stood still, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, the time seemed to still, the chaos of earlier falling away as he looked into her eyes—eyes that held a mixture of disbelief, relief, and something else.He could hear her breathing unevenly, still recovering from the ordeal, but she stood firm.“Don’t thank me,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft for all the anger that still burned in him. “I didn’t do it for your gratitude. I just did what needed to be done.”The woman’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But… Gregory said—he said you were a fraud. That you were just pla
Rise Of The Phoenix: Dylan’s Rebirth 48
48Dylan blinked, caught off guard by her request. The way she spoke, her voice so earnest and pleading, made it difficult to dismiss. But his first instinct was still to pull away, to avoid whatever this was, because he wasn’t sure what it meant.She was cute, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to complicate things.“What kind of thanks is this?” he thought, unsure of whether he was more confused or intrigued by the idea. Still, the thought of just slipping away quietly tugged at him. He didn’t owe her anything more than the help he’d already given. And yet, looking at her—at Olivia—he couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. The dimples, the warmth in her smile, the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn’t just offering a thank you; there was something more in her invitation.“Alright,” he said after a long pause, his voice low, though still hesitant. “I’ll come. But I don’t know what else I can do other than just show up and listen. I’m not one for grand gestures.”Olivia’s face lit up w
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Chapter 179: Through the AshesThe ride was silent at first—except for the soft crinkle of Dolly’s lollipop wrapper and the distant hum of the engine. Dylan stared out the tinted window, his jaw clenched, one hand resting protectively on Dolly’s knee.She leaned against him, but her eyes were wide open, darting around the interior of the luxurious car.“Is this a magic carriage?” she asked, voice soft.Dylan chuckled faintly. “Something like that.”She held up the lollipop. “It’s cherry. That’s my favorite.”“I remembered,” he said.Her brows rose. “You remembered? But you said you didn’t know about me.”He hesitated, then smiled. “I didn’t. But your mother used to say, ‘If I ever have a daughter, she’s going to love cherry more than anything else.’”Dolly’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Mama said that?”“All the time.”They fell into silence again, but this time it was less heavy.After a while, Dolly turned her head and whispered, “Do you miss her?”Dylan’s throat tightene
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Chapter 178: A Father’s OathThe mansion’s heavy front door creaked open, letting in the morning light—and a gust of wind that smelled of ash and distant bloodshed. Dylan held Dolly close, her small arms still wrapped around his neck, her cheek pressed to his shoulder.But as they reached the edge of the stone steps, she stiffened in his arms.“Wait,” she whispered, pulling back slightly. “Where are we going?”“Somewhere safe,” Dylan replied softly, adjusting her weight in his arms.“Safe?” Her eyes narrowed. “But who are you?”Dylan froze.“I told you,” he said gently, “I’m your father.”She looked at him long and hard. Her tiny brows furrowed, lips pursed with doubt. “You… you don’t feel like Papa.”His heart cracked a little. “I didn’t know about you, Dolly. Not until tonight. If I had… I would’ve come for you sooner. I swear on your mother’s life.”Dolly blinked, silent for a moment, then asked, “Did Mama really tell you to come?”“Yes.” He crouched down, setting her gently on the
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177Chapter 177: The Search BeginsDylan’s boots thudded against the stairs as he stormed up them two at a time, Seraphina’s blood still drying on his chest like a second heart. His throat burned, but he swallowed the pain. There was no time to mourn. Not now.“Dolly!” he shouted, voice rough and hoarse. “Dolly, if you’re here—please answer me!”The hallway stretched before him, quiet and cloaked in shadows. The scent of old wood and lavender clung to the air—Seraphina’s favorite oil. His hand brushed the wall as he passed a set of closed doors, his mind racing.He threw open the first room.Empty.Just dusty blankets, a cracked mirror, and toys that hadn’t been played with in years.“Dolly!” he yelled again, more desperately this time. “It’s Papa. I’m here. Please—baby, answer me.”His heart thundered. He moved to the next room, nearly ripping the door off its hinges.“Dolly—”Nothing but silence.Then—A faint thump.He froze.It came again.He turned sharply toward the third door.
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176“I forgave you,” she said suddenly, her voice clear for a brief second. “For everything. For the things you did… for what we became. I forgave you a long time ago, Dylan. I just wish you could forgive yourself.” His chest tightened so sharply he could hardly breathe. “You don’t get to say goodbye. Not like this. No. No—stay awake. Don’t close your eyes. I need you. We need you.” “I’m tired,” she whispered. “But listen… the Alliance… it’s burning. They’re tearing it apart because of you.” He flinched, guilt sweeping over him. “I never wanted this war. I built Dragonia to unite our lands, to end bloodshed…” “But you left,” she said, blinking slowly. “You left it behind… and it turned into a battlefield.” He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes wet with grief. “Because I couldn’t face what I lost. Because I was a coward.” “You’re not,” she murmured. “You were always brave. Stubborn… cruel, sometimes. But brave.” “I don’t want to be brave anymore,” he whispered. “I just want you
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175“Please…” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”A long silence stretched between them. The forest around them was too quiet—no birds, no wind, just the rising smoke and the smell of iron and earth.Then—suddenly—her hand caught his wrist.His heart leapt.Her grip, weak but deliberate, made his breath hitch.“…It’s too late,” she whispered, a faint smile pulling at her cracked lips.“No. No, it’s not.” His voice was thick with tears as he shook his head. “I’ve got you, I can—”“You can’t.” Her voice was softer than a breeze, fragile and final. “Not this time. Dylan…”His jaw clenched. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying, do you hear me? You’re not—!”She squeezed his hand, surprising him with a flicker of strength. “Listen to me. There’s something I never told you…”His heart pounded violently against his ribs. “What?”“Our daughter.”She coughed, blood spilling from the corner of her lips, staining the side of her chin.“Her name… is Dolly.”Dylan froze.“What…?” His voice cracked.
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Chapter 174 Dylan’s hands trembled violently as he knelt beside Seraphina’s broken body. Panic surged through him like wildfire, fast and merciless, as he stared at the blood soaking her clothes. It pooled beneath her like a cruel mockery of life, staining everything it touched a deep, damning red. Her lips were pale. Her breath was shallow. But he wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not like this. “I know what to do,” he muttered under his breath, barely hearing himself over the roar of his heartbeat. “I can save you. I can fix this, Seraphina.” Her lashes fluttered. A small, pained groan escaped her lips. Dylan yanked the pouch off his belt—the one he hadn’t touched in years, the one covered in old leather and tied with fraying string. His fingers shook as he undid the knot, revealing a weathered collection of dried herbs, crushed roots, and dusty vials—everything he had once learned from the old masters in the Eastern Mountains. He swallowed hard. Manwa medicine. Ancestral craft. No
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173The brick came down hard.Once.Twice.The thug’s skull cracked under the force, blood spraying with each blow. His body spasmed, twitched violently, then stilled.Silence.Dylan stood over the body, chest heaving, blood smeared down his arms and soaking into his jeans. His fingers, still clenched around the brick, trembled uncontrollably. The weight of what he’d done—what he had to do—settled like a stone in his stomach.He staggered back a step.And then he heard it.A soft, broken whimper behind him.“Dylan…”His heart seized. The brick dropped from his hand with a dull, wet thud. He turned.Seraphina lay crumpled against the wall, her face bruised and streaked with blood. Her hand trembled in the air, reaching for him. Her eyes, barely open, shimmered with unshed tears.He dropped to his knees beside her. “I’m here,” he breathed, wiping at his face with a shaking hand. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.”Her voice was a rasp. “You’re bleeding…”Dylan looked down. His forearms were
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172 Her body jerked in the air like a puppet cut from its strings. Her mouth opened in a silent cry, and then she fell—crumpling into Dylan’s arms, dead weight, blood already soaking through his shirt. “Seraphina—Seraphina! No, no, stay with me!” Dylan’s voice cracked as he lowered her to the ground, cupping her face, her bloodied hair clinging to his fingers. She gasped, just once. Her lips trembled. “Told… you not… to be a hero…” “Shut up,” Dylan choked, blinking rapidly. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not leaving me. You hear me? I won’t let you.” Behind them, the man snarled in frustration. “You stupid bitch! You ruined it! You ruined everything!” He raised the gun again, eyes wild. But Dylan wasn’t finished. He laid Seraphina down gently, the look in his eyes shifting—no longer just pain. Now, fury burned through him like fire through dry grass. He lifted his rifle with one hand, the other still clenched around Seraphina’s, and aimed. This time, he didn’t hesitate. Bang.
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171 Dylan’s mind spun, thoughts crashing like waves in a storm. His back pressed against the cold concrete wall, breath coming in shallow bursts as adrenaline surged through his veins. His eyes flicked desperately between the grimy floor, the cracked ceiling, the flickering lights—anywhere, anywhere he could find an advantage. But all he saw was Seraphina, trembling and cornered, with a pistol pressed against her temple. The bastard holding her hostage—tall, grimy, scarred from a hundred bad choices—grinned like a wolf that had cornered a lamb. The barrel of his gun gleamed under the flickering light, and his finger never left the trigger. “Aww, look at you,” the man sneered, voice slick with mockery. “All that muscle, all that training—decorated hero, aren’t you?” He clicked his tongue. “But none of that means jack now, does it?” “Let her go,” Dylan said through clenched teeth. “You want someone to use as leverage? Use me. Just let her go.” The man laughed—low, condescending. “Oh
