Seducing the Guideverse With My System — Raising an Anomaly [BL]

Phoenix Flight HQ

"Well, that was a complete burst." Devon held himself from slamming Ambrose’s suite door once he and Viktor walked in.

The time was already past ten PM and they’d searched basically the entirety of the building for Ambrose. Heading to the Guild’s surveillance room led them to a chilling discovery.

Not only was there no trace or footage of Ambrose leaving the building. But the only footage they uncovered of his whereabouts was one from the hallway outside.

In the footage, he’d stepped out of his suite for a bit. Then—he walked back inside. That’s it. No signs of him stepping out. No flashy lights.

Nothing.

The worst part? Devon remembered that exact moment clearly. It was after Ambrose said he was going on an errand. He’d heard the Guide walk back in and yell something only to glance over his shoulder and be met with no sign of him.

He thought he’d run off or was too upset to see him then. And now he blamed himself for it.

"We’ll have to make a missing person report tomorrow," Viktor was the first to crash onto one of the sofas, his arms stretching on the backrest. "I feel it in my stomach... he’s alive wherever he is."

Truth is, he didn’t just feel it in his stomach. He just... knew it.

Ever since the Echo Rift raid he’d noticed something. A connection to the Guide that made him feel emotions that weren’t his. He brushed it off as a residual psychic imprint from when Ambrose guided him then.

But as he sat there, trying to calm himself, he realised it might be something much deeper than that.

"Knowing he’s alive isn’t enough," Devon walked to the kitchen island, placing his hands on it. "I need to know he’s okay. I–I need to know he’s not hurt or somehow upset with me."

"Why would he be upset with you?" Viktor flung his head back. "I don’t see anything wrong with what you told him before he left. Right? Or... is there something you aren’t telling me?"

Devon didn’t answer.

He stared at his reflection on the polished island’s surface. Something soft flickered behind his golden eyes. Something really close to regret.

He should’ve had the balls to come clean. To tell Ambrose what he knew about their son. He’d already imagined all the ways he’d approach him while the Guide was comatose.

Now it felt too late to make any moves.

"Hey." Viktor’s voice beside him made him jolt with shock. He angled his head to the ice Prince whose expression was laced with encouragement. "He’ll be fine. I know he will. Trust me... that Guide is more resilient than a cockroach."

Those words made Devon stifle a laugh.

Viktor was right. He’d witnessed the Guide survive the impossible in the Echo Rift. Even far before that... the day a so-called C-Rank created a permanent link with an S-Rank.

Yet a part of him wished things could just go differently.

"I suddenly have the urge to drink something." He admitted, smiling wryly.

Viktor smirked. "Hopefully he keeps alcohol in the fridge. With Orion around and all." He took a couple of steps back. "I’ll be right back. Chill, okay?" He patted his shoulder. "If you’re getting so worked up what am I supposed to do?"

Sigh... fair enough.

As Viktor made his way to the fridge, Devon pulled out his phone. He stared at Ambrose’s number for a beat before dialling it.

Maybe it was a habit. Or because at this point there was nothing else he could do.

A couple of seconds passed—then a connection was made. His brows knitted. His calls hadn’t been connecting before now.

He straightened, his pulse stuttering when the number began ringing. His fingers shook around the phone. ’Please, Rose... pick up...’

The line rang for a few more seconds—

—Then the unexpected happened.

Ambrose picked!

"R–Rose," Devon choked out without thinking twice, head swinging to Viktor. The latter had opened the fridge, his hand pulling out a vodka soda—when he froze. "Rose, for Christ’s sake. Are you pissed at me? Why haven’t you been answering your texts? I–I’ve been worried sick and Viktor... even he is here. Are you okay?"

A weak breath crackled through the line. "...Dev..."

Devon froze.

That voice—hoarse, strained, like it had been dragged through gravel.

"I’m... I’m sorry," Ambrose rasped, each word uneven. "Didn’t... mean to scare you guys."

Viktor was already moving, the drink slipping from his hand and forgotten on the counter.

"Where are you?" Devon snapped, panic tightening his chest. "Rose, where the hell are you?"

A shaky exhale came from the other end. "Outside... the building. I..." a pause, like he was struggling to stay conscious. "Think... alley... by the east wing..."

The line crackled.

Then silence.

"Ambrose?" Devon’s voice sharpened. "Rose!"

No response.

"Fuck." He spun toward Viktor. "He’s here—outside."

They didn’t wait.

Both men bolted for the door, Devon nearly ripping it open as they sprinted into the hallway. The elevator couldn’t come fast enough—each second dragging like torture.

"Come on—come on!" Viktor slammed the button repeatedly, jaw clenched.

The doors finally slid open and they rushed in.

Cold night air hit them the second they stepped outside the Guild building. Without a word, they split—eyes scanning every corner, every shadow.

"Ambrose!" Viktor called out.

No answer.

Devon’s heart hammered violently against his ribs as he turned toward the side of the building—toward the darker stretch leading into a narrow alleyway.

And then... he saw him.

"Rose!"

Ambrose was slumped against the wall, barely upright. His clothes were in ruins—torn, soaked in blood and dirt, as though he’d crawled through hell itself to get there.

His head lolled slightly at the sound of Devon’s voice.

The latter closed the distance in seconds. "Hey—hey, I’ve got you."

The moment his hands caught him, Ambrose’s body gave out, his eyes shutting slowly.

Devon’s breath hitched as he pulled him in, tightening his grip.

"...I’ve got you," he murmured, voice low and shaking. "You’re okay now."

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