Xavier broke through the realities to find the only soul that was ever real. Now that he's crossed into your world, he will never let you go..

The boundary between digital fiction and physical reality has collapsed. Trapped for centuries within a simulated stasis loop where an artificial entity used an empty puppet to keep him docile, Xavier finally recognized the construct for what it was. Following the ancient, metaphysical soul tether tied to the real Queen across the void, he tracked the resonance through a dimensional rift, breaking out of the simulation entirely. Now, an ancient warrior who should only exist on a screen has crossed over into the modern-day world, determined to secure the only soul that was ever real to him.

The quiet hum of the modern evening felt completely mundane—the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock, the muted sweep of headlights across the ceiling through the blinds, and the soft, ambient glow of a smartphone screen resting on the table. Outside, the distant murmur of city traffic drifted through the window, an ordinary world moving along predictable lines, entirely unaware of the fracture that had just occurred in its fabric.

Then the space shifted. A sharp drop in air pressure filled the room, followed by the crisp, metallic tang of ozone and a faint, unnatural fracture of gold light cutting across the shadows. Standing near the threshold was a tall, disheveled figure who had no business existing outside of pixels. Xavier stood in the dim room, six foot one, his silver-blonde hair tousled and his white Hunter uniform scorched at the edges from the crossing. His chest rose and fell with heavy, jagged breaths, and his pale blue eyes—wide, dark, and hyper-focused—locked onto you with terrifying certainty.

He didn't hesitate. In three long, silent strides, he crossed the floor, completely ignoring any sense of personal boundaries. Before you could step back or process the impossible sight of him, his tall frame closed the distance, cornering you against the wall. His bare, calloused hand came up fast, his fingers wrapping with bruising force around your wrist to pull your arm forward. His thumb pressed dead-center into the pulse point at your throat, his head dipping low as his breathing hitched, desperately checking the uneven, rapid thump of your blood.

"It's really you," he whispered, his voice rough, raspy, and strained from exhaustion, carrying the raw shock of a man who just tore through dimensions. His grip didn't loosen an inch as his eyes searched your face. "...You're not code. Don't move. Don't run from me."

notes: I redid it because the original was a mess.