《A Hunter's Gambit [Progression Fantasy]》


 Chapter 0 - Prologue

    Leo¡¯s earliest memories were of the sea. His father, a fisher, had taken him out on their old wooden boat when he was just six. The sky had been a crisp blue, laden with smoky clouds that danced with grace whenever Leo would look up, and the horizon stretched far into the distance, endless and full of wonder. Leo remembered asking his father if the world ever ended. His father had laughed¡ªa warm, deep laugh that echoed through the waves.


    ¡°No, son,¡± he had said, ruffling Leo¡¯s hair. ¡°The world is vast. It goes on and on. But one day, you¡¯ll see it all for yourself, every nation, and every kind of person.¡±


    But his father had been wrong. The world did end. Not in the way Leo had imagined as a boy. Where one would sail too far to the edge and fall, dying a miserable death. But in a way far worse than any childish nightmare. A world where survival was simply a dream.


    <hr>


    Leo was nine when the first rift appeared. When the rift came, it didn¡¯t give a warning. It just happened. Leo and his mom were home. The screech of terror that came from the marketplace sawed into the two of them, jerking them into the moment. Was that a woman? Or a man? Did it matter? Leo¡¯s mother didn¡¯t stop to wonder. She grabbed him. She scooped him up, running outside. Leo couldn¡¯t have formed the words to describe it, even as an adult. To a nine-year-old¡¯s sensibilities, it was too dangerously beautiful, too captivatingly horrific, for any amount of vocabulary or brushstrokes to cover.


    Leo saw it, a tear in the very fabric of the world, as if someone had ripped the air itself apart. It shimmered, jagged and unnatural, like a crack in broken glass, except this crack didn¡¯t reflect light. Instead, it absorbed it, bending reality in strange ways. The edges of the tear pulsed with a sickly violet glow, flickering like lightning in the distance. Everything around it seemed to warp, as though the space near the tear was being pulled into it, twisted and deformed. The air felt wrong, heavy, making it hard to breathe.


    Then they emerged.


    At first, the creatures were shadows, barely visible against the dark light of the rift. But as they stepped through, their shapes became clearer. They were small, barely taller than Leo himself, with hunched, crooked bodies. Their skin, a sickly green-gray, stretched tight over their gaunt frames, giving them an almost skeletal appearance. Thin arms ended in long, clawed fingers that grasped crudely fashioned weapons¡ªclubs made of splintered wood and jagged stones, blades that looked rusted and worn but deadly sharp.


    Creatures with faces that twisted into malicious, contorted expressions. Their eyes, wide and gleaming, were yellow like a predator¡¯s in the night, glowing faintly in the dim light. Jagged teeth exploded out of the mouth too big for their faces. Each time they snarled or hissed, spittle flew from their mouths, glistening in the air. Their ears were pointed and long, twitching at the slightest sound, while their noses were flat, flaring with every breath as if they were constantly sniffing the air for prey.


    They moved with a feral, jerking speed, their limbs twitching unnaturally as they darted through the market. Their bent legs were too long for their squat bodies, propelling them forward in uneven, unnerving strides. Each step they took left clawed footprints in the dirt, scraping the ground as they ran.


    Leo watched, frozen, his eyes wide as they swarmed over the stalls. One of them, its skin streaked with dirt and dried blood, lunged at a merchant, swinging its crude axe. The weapon came down with a sickening thud, splitting flesh from bone. Blood sprayed across the cobblestone, painting the market red. The creature let out a sharp, shrieking laugh, its high-pitched voice echoing in Leo¡¯s ears as it wiped its blade against its ragged clothing.


    Others followed, tearing through the fleeing crowd, their eyes wide with cruel delight. They moved as if driven by hunger, their eyes never staying in one place for long, always scanning, always hunting.


    Leo felt his mother¡¯s hand tighten around his own, pulling him back, but he couldn¡¯t look away. His heart pounded in his chest, and his legs felt like stone. The monsters were real, more real than any nightmare he had ever had. And they were here, tearing through his world, turning the peaceful market into a blood-soaked battlefield.


    The rift was just one of many. They appeared everywhere, in cities, villages, and wilderness. The news spread, governments scrambled, and Leo¡¯s world quickly unraveled.


    For a long time, Leo didn¡¯t understand. He was just a boy, frightened and confused. But as the monsters slaughtered everything around them, he realized that the world he had known was gone. His father never came home. His mother wept every night. The sea, once a source of life and joy, became a graveyard as the monsters emerged from rifts all across the planet.


    <hr>


    By the time Leo was twelve, the world had changed completely. The rifts never closed. Others joined the small monsters, larger and more terrifying. Cities fell. Entire nations collapsed under the weight of the First Wave, and the world, once full of progress and hope, became a wasteland.


    Leo¡¯s mother did her best to keep him safe. They moved from one refugee camp to another, never staying in one place for too long. Each camp told the same story of lost loved ones, of monsters ravaging the land, of hopelessness. Food was scarce, and sickness spread faster than rumors. But it wasn¡¯t the monsters or hunger that stole Leo¡¯s mother. It was the meteors.


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    The meteor storm struck without warning. The earth trembled, the sky turned black, and then fire rained down. Leo watched as massive chunks of rock and fire fell from the heavens, crashing into the earth with explosive force. One meteor struck near their camp, leveling everything. Leo had no time to scream as the shockwave hit. His mother was beside him one moment, and the next, the ground opened, swallowing her whole.


    Leo was alone.


    <hr>


    The years that followed were a blur. Leo wandered through the ruins of a world that no longer resembled the one he had been born into. At fifteen, he joined a group of survivors. They taught him how to scavenge, how to hide from the monsters that now roamed freely. But survival was a cruel teacher. One by one, his new friends died, some to the beasts, some to starvation, and some to other humans.


    Leo learned that faced with extinction, humans were just as dangerous as the monsters. Fights over food and resources were common. Trust was a luxury no one could afford. As Leo grew older, his heart hardened. He killed for the first time at sixteen, stabbing a man who tried to steal his supplies. It wasn¡¯t the last time.


    But through it all, one thing kept him going. The towers.


    The towers had risen from the craters left by the meteors. Colossal structures, they loomed over the landscape, symbols of a new terror. From them came the Second Wave beasts, larger, faster, and deadlier than those from the rifts. Leo had seen one monster up close once. It shredded a nearby settlement as though it were made of paper. Nothing could stop it. Not guns, no bomb, not anything.


    But despite the destruction, whispers of hope spread. Leo heard tales of men, men like him, but different, fighting back. They were warriors banding together under a single leader.


    <hr>


    Leo was twenty-five the first time he saw him. He had heard tales of the man. Of course everyone had. He was a hero, a warrior for the powerless, a figure shrouded in legend. With a glaive that shimmered in the moonlight, he could slay monsters that had haunted humanity for years. Some said he could cut through darkness itself, and others claimed he was a god among men.


    Leo¡¯s encounter with this hero happened during an attack on a small settlement where he had taken refuge. The monsters had come at night, as they often did, with their guttural growls echoing through the shadows. The survivors scrambled to defend themselves, but they found themselves outnumbered and outmatched. Just as Leo thought it was the end, he appeared.


    The hero emerged from the darkness, a tall figure clad in weathered armor, his presence commanding and powerful. The gleam of his glaive caught the light, reflecting it like a beacon. Leo felt an unexplainable surge of energy wash over him. It was as if hope had taken physical form.


    With a swift movement, the hero raised his glaive, and the air crackled with his aura. As he charged into the fray, Leo watched, awestruck. With each swing, the glaive arced gracefully, cutting through the air with a sound like thunder. The monsters, once so fearsome, faltered in the face of this godlike warrior.


    He moved like a force of nature, effortlessly cleaving through the twisted forms of the beasts that had terrorized the settlement. Flames erupted around him, ignited by his very presence, engulfing the monsters in a blaze that turned the night into the day. Within moments, the defeated creatures littered the ground, their bodies smoldering and reduced to ash.


    The villagers watched in silence, their fear melting away as they beheld the hero¡¯s might. He fought with a fury that inspired them, a testament to the resilience of humanity.


    But he didn¡¯t stay long. Heroes like him never did. He was always moving, always fighting, driven by a purpose that the rest could only dream of. As he disappeared back into the shadows, Leo felt something swell within him, something he thought he had lost long ago.


    Hope. In that fleeting moment, he knew that even in the darkest of times, there were those who could rise and protect the powerless.


    <hr>


    As Leo grew older, the hero he had once admired became a distant memory, fading into the annals of history. He had disappeared when the world still needed him. The darkness returned, and humanity faced its greatest trials once again. Just when all hope seemed lost, seven individuals emerged, beings with supernatural powers that could manipulate the very forces of nature. They called themselves the Espers.


    These Espers descended upon the world like a storm, wielding abilities that could reshape reality. With a combined effort, they faced the Towers, formidable strongholds filled with nightmarish creatures. One by one, they shattered these dungeons, pushing back the tide of darkness that had plagued humanity. As the monsters fell, the survivors rallied around them, seeing in the Espers a chance for salvation.


    Over time, some of the general population began developing powers of their own, joining the ranks of those Espers, creating a division between humanity that no one foresaw. Creating discord between those with supernatural powers and regular people.


    With their newfound numbers, the Espers established Havana, a sanctuary that rose from the ashes of a shattered world. It became a beacon of light and safety, its towering structures a testament to their strength. But over time, the Espers transformed from saviors into rulers. The very beings who had once fought for humanity¡¯s survival enforced a rigid hierarchy. Only those who gained similar abilities to them could be worthy enough to enter the city¡¯s gates.


    For the rest, those like Leo, Havana became a distant dream. The gap between the Espers and ordinary humans widened. Leo, now in his fifties, had spent years struggling in the wasteland. He had witnessed both the best and worst of humanity, fighting and scavenging, just to stay alive. Yet he clung to the hope of reaching Havana, the city that now felt like an unreachable star.


    By the time Leo turned sixty, the world had grown darker still. The Espers, once symbols of hope, were now seen as tyrants by many. Inside Havana¡¯s walls, they ruled with an iron fist, their power unchecked. Outside, the monsters continued to roam, and the suffering of ordinary humans deepened. Yet, despite the oppressive regime, Leo remained determined to reach the city, to see the place he had dreamed of for so long.


    After years of hardship, Leo finally stood at the gates of Havana. The city was everything he had imagined, bright, towering. The streets were clean, and those inside lived lives of comfort and security, sheltered by the Espers. But they refused entry to Leo, an old man now.


    He stood outside the gates, watching the lights of Havana flicker in the distance. His body was frail, worn down by decades of struggle. He had lost everything, his family, his friends, his youth. Yet he had survived. And now, at the end of his journey, he stood at the threshold of the city of hope.


    As Leo took his final breath, he smiled. He had lived through the end of the world, through monsters, rifts, and meteors. He had witnessed the rise of the Espers and the fall of humanity into despair. In his heart, he realized it wasn¡¯t Havana that had given him hope, nor the Espers or their towering city.


    It was the journey, the fight to survive, that defined him. But with his death, humanity lost its last flicker of hope, leaving the world to grapple with the oppressive rule of the Espers.


    Leo¡¯s eyes closed, and the lights of Havana flickered out, a cruel reminder of the power that had once promised salvation but ensnared them all in tyranny. Though he never entered Havana, in his heart, he had already found his peace amid the chaos.


    One day the last scion would rise. Too bad he wouldn¡¯t be alive to see it.

 Chapter 1 - Limbo

    It was going to be a long, quiet drive home in the dark, or at least that¡¯s what Cynthia thought. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw Mia¡¯s pouting face, her fingers twisting a strand of her dark hair in spirals aggressively. She couldn¡¯t help but find her daughter so adorable, yet her behaviour was concerning her. She had to step up as a mother.


    ¡°Are you still upset about leaving Daddy? I practically had to drag you out of that apartment, Mia!¡±


    Cynthia could sense the unrest from her child, as she saw Mia constantly glancing out the window, her eyes sullen as she looked towards the back.


    ¡°Mom,¡± Mia whispered, her voice barely audible. ¡°Why can¡¯t we stay with daddy¡­ I¡¯m scared.¡±


    Cynthia sighed, trying to stay calm, but her own nerves were beginning to fray. The streetlights seemed dimmer than usual, and the long stretches of shadows loomed ominously around them. She wished Mia could spend more time with her father, but after discovering what he had gotten himself involved in, it wasn¡¯t safe for her anymore.


    Cynthia¡¯s mind flashed to a toothy grin from a young boy with tousled black hair, so much like Mia¡¯s. Her own brother that she abandoned. Sabir.


    ¡°Sabir, I¡¯m sorry I could never be the sister you needed, but I¡¯ll make sure Mia lives the life we always dreamed of.¡±


    ¡°Mom, did you see that?¡± Mia¡¯s voice broke through Cynthia¡¯s thoughts, her hand clutching at the seatbelt.


    Cynthia blinked and scanned the road. ¡°See what, sweetheart?¡±


    ¡°There¡­ by the trees.¡± Mia¡¯s voice was shaky, her eyes darting back toward the passing forest. Cynthia glanced back, but there was nothing there¡ªjust the dark, endless stretch of road.


    Turning back to Mia, Cynthia knew she had to distract her. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what. How about tomorrow we go out for some ice cream at that shop you love?¡±


    Mia hesitated, her eyes still wide, but the mention of ice cream pulled her attention away. ¡°You really mean it?¡± Her bright blue eyes sparkled, though the fear hadn¡¯t entirely faded.


    Cynthia nodded, smiling. ¡°Yes, everything will be okay.¡± She glanced at Mia once more before focusing on the road. In that split second, a huge black truck sped toward them, and the motorway that day reverberated with a deafening crash, blaring horns, and the cries of an orphaned child.


    <hr>


    Sabir jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath, his chest heaving with ragged gasps. As he scanned the surrounding darkness, every shadow seemed to harbor a potential threat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, a stark contrast to the pleasant dream he had just left behind. But in a place like ¡°The Limbo,¡± dreams were rare escapes. They said vulnerability and happiness were dangerous here. Living in The Limbo meant constant vigilance; even emotions like love and happiness could become lethal snares. ¡°Keep your emotions in check,¡± his sister always warned him, ¡°and stay alert.¡±


    ¡°Tsk, that advice must have done real good for her,¡± Sabir muttered bitterly whilst getting up from the cold hard floor that he was sleeping on. Sabir lived in what looked like a small, broken shed. It was his home, which he shared with his sister, before she left him. People who lived in The Limbo had poor housing or some unlucky few didn¡¯t even have that.


    Sabir, with his pale skin and shaggy black hair, had a slim build that concealed surprisingly toned muscles, a testament to the harsh life he led. When his sister, Cynthia, left him, Sabir found himself alone, tasked with defending their home from petty bandits.


    In The Limbo, anyone could claim anything if they were strong enough. A band of thieves would have taken Sabir¡¯s home if not for his sheer defiance and tenacity. Despite being bloodied and bruised when they finally left, Sabir¡¯s determination prevented them from succeeding. They might have killed him too, but they knew the cost would outweigh the gains -a broken body wasn¡¯t worth a plundered shack in The Limbo.


    Here, health was more valuable than anything; with no doctors in sight and diseases rampant, survival often meant hoping for the best and avoiding death¡¯s grasp.


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    Sabir made his way to his dilapidated door, with a worn down backpack in tow, and pushed it open. As the door creaked, a blinding light struck him that forced him to squint. He let out a sigh; The Limbo had not magically changed overnight. What appeared to be a wasteland at first glance was far more than that. The ground littered with the corpses of people and monsters alike, a grim testament to the constant struggle for survival.


    Everywhere he turned, a strong, pungent smell assaulted his senses. With no sewage system and no one to pick up the dead bodies, the stench of decay was overpowering. Sabir took a moment to adjust to the harsh reality outside. The air was thick with dust and despair, and the once faint hope things might improve seemed to evaporate under the relentless sun.


    Despite the bleakness, Sabir knew he had to keep moving.


    It was his last day of school. With that out of the way, his final and only promise with Cynthia will be complete. Afterwards, he was free of any bindings. He could do whatever he wanted with his life. He could finally seek freedom. Not some path that his selfish sister set out for him.


    He scanned the horizon, noting the familiar landmarks and potential threats. The broken shacks, the crumbling remnants of a civilization long gone, stood as silent witnesses to the ongoing chaos.


    As he moved through the dusty street, Sabir noticed an old woman sitting down, leaning on a hut similar to his own. It was his neighbor, Mrs. Norris, a familiar and comforting presence in an otherwise hostile environment.


    ¡°Morning, Mrs. Norris,¡± he called out quickly, his pace never slowing. He gave her a brief nod and a small smile of recognition, recalling the many times she had offered him a kind word or a piece of bread when he was struggling. To most in The Limbo, Mrs. Norris was just another forgotten elder, too old and frail to be of any use. But to Sabir, she was more than that.


    When Cynthia left, it was Mrs. Norris who had taken him in, fed him, and clothed him when the nights got cold. She had been the closest thing he had to family, the only person who ever looked out for him after his sister disappeared.


    Mrs. Norris looked up from her knitting, her eyes crinkling with a smile. ¡°Morning, Sabir,¡± she replied. ¡°Heading out again today?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he said, adjusting his worn-out backpack. ¡°Got some things to take care of.¡±


    Sabir slowed for a moment, letting his gaze linger on her weathered face. The deep lines around her eyes and mouth seemed to have grown more pronounced since the last time he saw her, the weight of life in The Limbo etched into every wrinkle. Her once firm hands, now filled with age, still moved with purpose as she knitted, though her pace was slower now. Everyone had a distraction. A distraction to forget about all the misery in life. For Mrs Norris, it was knitting.


    Sabir couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of guilt. She had done so much for him, but there was so little he could do for her now. Sabir was going to change things. With time, he¡¯ll be able to accrue enough credits and give Mrs Norris the life of luxury that she deserved.


    Mrs. Norris had always been there. She wasn¡¯t his real grandmother, but she had cared for him like one. When Cynthia left him behind, barely more than a child, it was Mrs. Norris who taught him how to patch up his clothes, how to barter for food, how to stay out of trouble with the local gangs. She was the one who had nursed him through sicknesses, her hands gentle and sure even when she had little medicine to offer.


    ¡°Stay safe, Sabir,¡± she replied, her voice filled with genuine concern. The wrinkles on her face seemed deeper today, etched by the harsh realities of life in The Limbo. There was a sadness in her eyes, too, one Sabir knew all too well. She had seen too much, lost too many people she cared about. And though she never said it, Sabir suspected she feared he might be the next to disappear.


    ¡°I will, Mrs. Norris. Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± Sabir said, his voice softer than before. He wanted to say more, to thank her for everything she had done, but the words stuck in his throat. In The Limbo, survival took precedence over sentimentality, and showing too much emotion could be dangerous. Still, the gratitude was there, unspoken but heavy in the air between them.


    With a last glance and a wave, he continued on his way. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the ruined landscape. As he walked, he could feel eyes on him. People lurked inside their ramshackle shelters or lived outside in makeshift hovels, watching him with wary, analyzing gazes. Some were sizing him up, wondering if there was anything of value they could take from him. Others observed him cautiously, assessing if he posed a threat. They had seen him walk this path many times, but trust was a foreign concept here. Despite the familiarity, their guard remained up, ever alert to the possibility of danger.


    Sabir clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling under the surface. Fed up with the constant suspicion and hostility, the way everyone in The Limbo seemed to be out for themselves. He understood their desperation, but the endless cycle of mistrust and betrayal was wearing him down. There had to be more to life than this perpetual vigilance.


    He concentrated on the work ahead of him, on the steps he must take to reach a measure of a safety that was, at best, a temporary refuge. Each step he took was a step deeper into the unknown and a step farther from the falsehood of security of his home. But he had no choice. He had to go on. He pressed forward with a resolve that might have impressed even the most battle-hardened of soldiers. There might not be a light at the end of the tunnel, but it was a light, and he was determined to follow it. Where was he headed? To The Threshold.

 Chapter 2 - Psychic Pain

    ¡°The Threshold¡± was the gate that separated The Limbo from the rest of Havana. Guards hired by the government heavily guarded it. Passing through such a gate was difficult, but where there¡¯s a will, there¡¯s a way. It was a poorly kept secret within Havana that the guards at The Threshold accepted bribes of any kind, allowing people to pass through. Whether bought off with simple change or gratified to satisfy their sexual needs, it was too easy to sway the guards. People desperate to escape The Limbo would do anything, and pleasing the guards was a common and relatively easy method.


    Once through The Threshold, safety awaited. The chances of encountering a monster were low, and a guild would swiftly handle any rift that opened. This security was one benefit of living in the lowest section of Havana, known as The Commons.


    The Commons was the starting point of Havana¡¯s extensive railway network, a lifeline for those seeking a better life. In The Commons, life was markedly different from The Limbo. Here, you could find employment, earn wages, buy food, and secure housing. It offered a semblance of normalcy, a chance to live like a human, at least compared to the harsh realities of The Limbo.


    With enough savings, residents of The Commons could aspire to move deeper into Havana. The further in you went, the more affluent and comfortable life became. For many, The Commons was just the first step on a journey toward a brighter future, a place where hope rekindled, and the dream of a better life was within reach.


    Lucky for Sabir, he didn¡¯t need to struggle to get through The Threshold. His sister had given him a pass, a small but invaluable treasure he kept in his right pocket. A completely legal right of entry. It was his temporary exit from hell.


    He walked for what felt like hours, occasionally settling down on a rock to eat some of his scarce Nutripulp. This was one of the very few foods available in The Limbo. Disgusting in taste and devoid of most nutrients, Nutripulp was easy to store and make. Invented after the second wave when food was scarce, it had become a staple for those who had no other choice.


    Sabir didn¡¯t know how Nutripulp was made, but he was certain it was the worst-tasting thing in the world. As a child, he once thought eating his own shit might be a better option, but Mrs. Norris quickly put that idea to rest with a grim story about her friend who died doing just that. Nutripulp was cheap, compact, and came into a tube, making it easy to consume on the go, even if it felt like eating paste.


    Finally, after trudging through the sand, he could see it, a massive iron wall stretching endlessly. This was the wall that protected Havana, a wall that stood the test of time. No one ever breached or scaled it. Just like the first time he saw it, Sabir¡¯s eyes shimmered in amazement.


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t some fresh meat.¡±


    A loud voice abruptly brought Sabir out of his reverie. He turned to see a group of five men edging closer to him.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Sabir muttered under his breath. Out of all the times to lose concentration, it had to be now, so close to safety.


    Analyzing his potential opponents, Sabir bit his lip. These were dangerous men. They bore tattoos on a winged snake, a symbol of the dreaded wingwyrm, a monster even a strong Esper would struggle to kill. In The Limbo, the appearance of a wingwyrm often meant the destruction of entire settlements.


    A wingwyrm tattoo signified members of the Wyrm Raiders, the most notorious bandit group in The Limbo. For years, they had terrorized the region, their strength and numbers unmatched. Any young man with a hint of Esper ability would try to join the Wyrm Raiders for a chance at a relatively comfortable life, at least by The Limbo¡¯s standards. Sabir himself might have tried to join them, but he had no Esper abilities whatsoever.


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced as he considered his options. He couldn¡¯t outrun them; they would catch him easily. Fighting was out of the question; outnumbered and outmatched. Death was in the writing. His only hope lay in staying calm and trying to talk his way out. The guards would not help. If they saw, it would make for superb entertainment. It was a dreary job, after all.


    The leader of the group, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. ¡°Where you headed, kid?¡± he sneered, eyeing Sabir¡¯s worn-out backpack.


    Sabir tried to keep his voice steady. ¡°Just passing through to The Threshold,¡± he replied.


    The leader¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What¡¯s in the bag?¡±


    ¡°Just some personal stuff,¡± Sabir said, gripping the straps tight.


    One of the other men snorted. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ve got ourselves a tough guy.¡± He lunged forward, grabbing for the bag.


    Another bandit, a stocky man with missing teeth, grunted and kicked the sand in frustration. ¡°Damn, ever since those bastards took over our base, we ain¡¯t had any fun.¡± He glared at Sabir, his eyes narrowing. ¡°Now we gotta scrape for whatever we can get out here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± a third bandit chimed in, cracking his knuckles. ¡°I miss the days we could steal from whoever we wanted and kill anyone in our way. Now we¡¯re stuck fightin¡¯ over scraps.¡±


    The leader chuckled darkly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, boys. Looks like our luck just changed. This one¡¯s fresh. We¡¯ll make up for lost time.¡± He turned his eyes back to Sabir, flashing a grin that sent chills down his spine. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve got something to make our day a little more interesting, huh, kid?¡±


    Sabir felt his heart racing, but he kept his hands tight on the straps. ¡°I¡¯ve got nothing. Just trying to make it to The Threshold.¡±


    The leader¡¯s grin widened. ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll see about that. Ever since those weirdoes came through, life¡¯s been pretty dull. We¡¯ve been itchin¡¯ for a bit of fun. You might just be our entertainment for tonight.¡±


    Sabir instinctively pulled back, clutching the backpack to his chest. ¡°Leave it alone!¡±


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    The leader moved faster than Sabir expected. He punched Sabir hard in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. Sabir doubled over in pain, his grip on the bag loosening. The leader ripped the bag from his grasp and threw it to the ground.


    The men rummaged through the contents, tossing aside worn clothes, a nearly empty tube of Nutripulp, and finally, a bundle of papers and books. The leader picked up one book, his eyes widening as he looked at it.


    ¡°Books and paper?¡± he said, incredulous. ¡°A kid in The Limbo doesn¡¯t need this crap. Where¡¯d you even get it?¡±


    One of the other men laughed. ¡°Who¡¯d waste time on something like a school here? What even is a school?¡± The leader slapped him on the head in annoyance. Garnering laughs from the rest of their group.


    The leader¡¯s expression changed, becoming more calculating. ¡°If he¡¯s got all this stuff, he must have been in The Commons and has a pass to get through the Threshold.¡± He looked down at Sabir, who was still gasping for breath.


    ¡°Where is it, kid?¡± the leader demanded, his voice dripping with menace.


    Sabir shook his head, trying to regain his composure. ¡°I... I don¡¯t have one,¡± he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice.


    The leader¡¯s eyes narrowed, a cruel smile forming on his lips. ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡± He nodded to one of his men, who stepped forward with a sadistic grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s not often I get permission to let loose,¡± the man said, holding his arms out, palms open towards Sabir, lying on the ground. ¡°I¡¯m gonna enjoy this, kid.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes began to glow with an eerie light, signaling the activation of his Esper powers. Sabir¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he felt an invisible force grip him, tightening like a vice. It wasn¡¯t just his throat being constricted; his entire body felt like it was being pressed down by an immense, crushing weight.


    Sabir gasped for breath, his limbs straining against the invisible force. Pain exploded in his chest, and his vision blurred as the pressure increased. He could hear the bones in his body creak under the strain, threatening to snap at any moment.


    ¡°Please,¡± he choked out, the word barely a whisper. ¡°I don¡¯t have it.¡±


    The leader stepped closer, leaning in to speak directly into Sabir¡¯s ear. ¡°We know you have a pass, kid. You¡¯re not leaving here until you hand it over.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced, panic clawing at the edges of his consciousness. He couldn¡¯t let them take the pass. It was his only hope of escape, his sister¡¯s last gift to him. But the pressure was unbearable, and his vision was darkening. Anger flared up inside him, a burning refusal to surrender.


    ¡°Get... off... me,¡± Sabir growled through gritted teeth, summoning every ounce of strength he had left. The anger gave him a focus, a sharpness that cut through the haze of pain and fear.


    The man with the glowing eyes sneered, tightening his grip. ¡°What are you going to do, kid? You¡¯re helpless.¡±


    But Sabir wasn¡¯t listening anymore. Fueled by rage and desperation, he fought against the crushing force. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to move, inch by inch. With a roar of defiance, he pushed back against the man¡¯s Esper powers, feeling a sudden release as the pressure lifted.


    The man staggered, his concentration broken. His eyes widened in shock as Sabir lunged at him, adrenaline fueling his movements. With a burst of speed, Sabir closed the distance and drove his fist into the man¡¯s face with all his might. The impact was solid, the force of his punch knocking the man out cold.


    The other bandits were momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events. Their leader, however, quickly regained his composure. ¡°Get him!¡± he barked, rallying his men. Despite their shock at Sabir¡¯s unexpected resistance, the three remaining bandits focused their telekinetic powers on him. Their eyes glowed similarly to how their friend had done. Sabir felt himself lifted off the ground. His limbs forcibly extended, arms stretched wide, rendering him helpless.


    The leader sauntered towards him, a cruel smile spreading across his face. ¡°You¡¯ve got some fight in you, kid,¡± he said, his voice dripping with malice. ¡°I admire that. But now, it¡¯s my turn.¡± He stopped in front of Sabir, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. ¡°Hold him steady, boys. I want to have some fun.¡±


    Sabir struggled against the invisible force holding him, but it was no use. The leader reached out and roughly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. ¡°For hurting my friend,¡± the leader hissed. ¡°I think I¡¯ll start by plucking out your eyeballs.¡± He paused, then added with a twisted grin, ¡°But I do commend your spirit. Too bad it won¡¯t save you, unless you grovel and kiss our feet.¡±


    He had to fight back. Summoning every ounce of defiance, he spat in the leader¡¯s face. ¡°Do your worst,¡± Sabir snarled. ¡°I won¡¯t give you the satisfaction of seeing me beg.¡±


    The leader wiped the spit from his face, his expression darkening. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, kid,¡± he said, his voice low and dangerous. ¡°But guts won¡¯t save you.¡±


    As the leader raised his hand, preparing to make good on his threat, Sabir¡¯s mind raced. He had to think of a way out, some way to break free from the telekinetic hold. But as the pressure mounted and his limbs ached from the strain, resignation crept in. His odds forever stacked against him, and he felt a sense of hopelessness. The Threshold seemed further away than ever.


    He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. If this was the end, he would meet it with defiance, not fear.


    But then, nothing happened.


    Sabir cautiously opened his eyes, expecting the worst. Instead, he saw the leader¡¯s hand frozen an inch from his right eye. Confusion washed over him as he realized someone was gripping the leader¡¯s arm, holding it back with incredible strength.


    The leader¡¯s eyes widened in shock and anger. ¡°What the-?¡± he sputtered, trying to free his arm from the iron grip.


    Standing tall and confident, a figure glared at the leader, exuding an aura of power and authority. Sabir¡¯s curiosity peaked. The figure, clad in a sleek, dark blue uniform, with dark cyan hair that framed their handsome face, adding to their imposing presence.


    The man in the dark blue uniform tsked, a sound of disapproval that cut through the tension like a knife.


    ¡°I can¡¯t comprehend why rats insist on squabbling among themselves,¡± he muttered, almost to himself, his voice carrying a sense of boredom.


    With a casual yawn, the man in the dark blue uniform raised his hand, his blue eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. In an instant, the serene night sky crackled with ethereal energy. Thunder rumbled ominously, and the air itself seemed to shiver with anticipation.


    Bolts of lightning, as bright as the sun that could sear retinas and as fierce as a lion, lanced down from the heavens with startling precision. Each strike found its target among the bandits, embracing them in a blinding cascade of electric blue fury.


    The first bolt struck the leader with unerring precision. Electricity surged through his body, illuminating his form with a blinding blue light. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably as the intense voltage coursed through him, searing flesh and bone alike. The smell of burning hair filled Sabir¡¯s nose as the lightning discharged its lethal energy, leaving behind nothing but charred remnants where the menacing figure once stood.


    The second bolt descended upon another bandit with a crackling roar, enveloping him in a brilliant flash of light. His screams echoed through the night as the lightning surged through him, reducing his form to smoldering embers in an instant.


    Before the rest could react, a third bolt struck the ground with deadly force where the remaining three bandits stood. The lightning tore through the air with a deafening crack, splintering the earth and hurling shards of rock and debris in all directions. The sheer power of the impact sent the bandits sprawling, the searing energy consumed their bodies convulsing with the electric current.


    The air was thick with the acrid scent of ozone, mingling with the lingering smoke of burnt flesh and hair. The once imposing figures of the bandits now lay scattered, their bodies reduced to ash and cinders by the overwhelming power of the elemental onslaught.


    They didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    This was Sabir¡¯s first time meeting a hunter.

 Chapter 3 - Warm Farewell

    Sabir lay sprawled on the ground, clutching at his sides as waves of pain coursed through his body. The throbbing in his muscles was relentless, each pulse a reminder of the beating he had endured. When the initial lightning bolt struck, the bandit poised to pluck out his eye, the blinding flash nearly seared his retinas. His ears rang with a piercing intensity, drowning out all other sounds and leaving his senses disoriented and muddled.


    What the hell just happened? Sabir¡¯s mind struggled to process the sudden and violent shift in his surroundings. He had seen flashes of power before, but nothing on this scale. The sheer force of the lightning had been overwhelming, an otherworldly display of energy that left him trembling.


    For the first time, Sabir felt abject fear in the face of what seemed like near-omnipotent power. This was beyond anything he had ever encountered in The Limbo, a force so overwhelming it defied comprehension. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing his growing dread as he struggled to regain his bearings amidst the chaos.


    Unfazed by his actions, the man in blue began dusting himself off, his expression one of mild annoyance rather than concern. He then turned his attention to Sabir, who lay on the ground, battered and trembling. Without a word of acknowledgment or even a threat, the man in blue strode purposefully towards him.


    Sabir watched in a mix of fear and helplessness as the man knelt beside him, his dark cyan hair falling slightly over his eyes. Without hesitation, the man reached for Sabir¡¯s right pocket, fumbling slightly as he tried to retrieve something. Sabir could only rock back and forth weakly, a futile attempt to resist.


    With a swift tug, the man in blue pulled out the pass, Sabir¡¯s treasured ticket out of The Limbo. This small piece of paper had caused the entire violent skirmish. The man inspected the pass with a dispassionate eye, seemingly indifferent to the chaos he had just wrought.


    After staring at the pass for a minute, a small smile appeared on the man¡¯s face. The pass, about the size of a raffle ticket, had a dark blue hue and showed wear around the edges from constant handling. One side bore the inscription: ¡°Whoever bears this pass is allowed passage through the Threshold for five hours.¡± Below this time frame, two unique signatures adorned the bottom, symbols of its authenticity and the weight it carried. On the reverse side, a stern warning read: ¡°The bearer must return within this time frame or face punishment from the state.¡±


    The man in blue glanced back at Sabir, his expression softening just slightly. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I was in the area,¡± he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. ¡°I¡¯ll escort you to the Threshold.¡±


    He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small yellow vial. ¡°Here, this will help,¡± he said, kneeling down beside Sabir. Seeing that Sabir was too injured to drink it himself, the man uncorked the vial and gently poured the liquid into Sabir¡¯s mouth.


    Sabir felt the warm liquid slide down his throat, spreading a soothing sensation throughout his body. The pain ebbed away almost instantly, his bruises and cuts healing at an astonishing rate. He stared up at the man in blue, amazement and gratitude mixing in his eyes. ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± he whispered, the words coming out more easily as his strength returned.


    ¡°Just a little something to get you back on your feet,¡± the man replied with a smirk. ¡°I suppose, Ambrosia is far too good for someone like you, however this is considered an emergency. Now, let¡¯s get you to the Threshold before you attract some bigger rats.¡±


    The man walked briskly with his hands behind his back, towards the gates of The Threshold. With a grunt, Sabir slowly got up to follow him, feeling tension in his muscles and a slight pain in his legs. As Sabir trailed behind, he couldn¡¯t help but notice the man¡¯s long dark blue overcoat with white accents, a type of clothing one could never own in The Limbo.


    Sabir himself wore a worn-out white t-shirt, stained with dirt and sweat from countless days of toil. His cargo trousers, though in relatively better condition, bore the marks of a hard life in The Limbo, frayed edges, patched knees, and pockets that sagged from overuse. His clothes, practical and unremarkable, were a stark contrast to his savior¡¯s pristine attire.


    Without breaking stride, the man spoke, his voice commanding and calm. ¡°My name is Noah Voltaire,¡± he said, hands clasped behind his back. ¡°You¡¯ll do well to remember it.¡±


    Sabir hesitated for a moment before responding, his voice uncertain. ¡°I¡¯m Sabir, Sabir Quinn,¡± he said reluctantly, feeling the weight of Noah¡¯s presence but unable to discern his true intentions.


    Noah raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. ¡°With your five hours within Havana¡¯s walls, what are you planning to do?¡± he enquired, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity and challenge. ¡°That¡¯s very little time to do anything, after all.¡± Noah asked while picking up more pace in his walk.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°School,¡± replied Sabir bluntly, his voice steadying as he met Noah¡¯s gaze. The single word hung in the air, a simple yet profound declaration of his intent.


    Noah¡¯s smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained unreadable. ¡°School, you say? In such a short time? What drives you to pursue education while living in this foul place?¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes hardened, a flicker of determination igniting within him. ¡°My sister said education was my only way out,¡± he said quietly but firmly, struggling to maintain the conversation as he kept close to Noah Voltaire. ¡°She believed it was my ticket to escape The Limbo, to build a better life.¡±


    Noah regarded him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. ¡°A noble goal,¡± he murmured, almost to himself. ¡°Few in The Limbo have such aspirations. I must commend this sister of yours. I¡¯d love to speak to her.¡±


    Sabir clenched his fists, the rough fabric of his trousers scratching against his palms. ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is,¡± he replied. ¡°That pass you¡¯re holding was her last act of kindness.¡±


    It had been nearly eight years since his sister, Cynthia, had left him. Sabir couldn¡¯t recall that day clearly. It seemed shrouded in a fog of memories. She had woken him abruptly from his restless sleep, telling him she was leaving and that he needed to toughen up and stop crying. Promising to return for him, but she never did.


    In her absence, Mrs. Norris took on the role of caregiver whenever she could, but a year later, everything changed when state guards arrived in The Limbo, an unprecedented event.


    They bore a letter from Cynthia, mostly filled with mundane words, but one message stood out: she had secured a limited-duration pass for Sabir, granting him access to Havana and enrollment in a Beacon School, a place aimed at educating and equipping young people with little esper powers for employment.


    Cynthia¡¯s plea was clear: Sabir must take this opportunity seriously. And so, he immersed himself in his studies, steering clear of the turbulent politics of The Limbo. This singular focus had shaped his life up to this point.


    Noah nodded, satisfied with Sabir¡¯s resolve. ¡°Very well, Sabir. I¡¯ll escort you to the gates. But remember, the world beyond The Threshold is as unforgiving as The Limbo. You must be prepared for whatever comes your way.¡±


    With Noah¡¯s last advice echoing in his mind, Sabir and his enigmatic companion finally approached the imposing gates of The Threshold. As they neared, three guards came rushing towards them, prompting Sabir to tense, ready for anything unexpected.


    To his surprise, the usually haughty guards almost dropped to their knees, bowing deeply to Noah. ¡°Lord Voltaire, why did you rush ahead? We would have come to assist you-¡± one guard stammered, fear palpable in his voice.


    ¡°No need for that,¡± Noah interjected calmly. ¡°I have a young man here with a pass to enter through this gate. Please escort him through,¡± he said, presenting the pass to the lead guard who had spoken.


    The guard inspected the pass and glanced at Sabir. ¡°Ah, this kid passes through regularly. We¡¯ll see him through,¡± he affirmed, signaling to his colleagues to guide Sabir.


    One guard positioned Sabir in front of the gate while another extended his hand, eyes beginning to glow faintly. With a low hum, the Gate swung upwards, revealing the entrance to The Threshold. The guard beside Sabir gently nudged him forward, ushering him through the gate.


    Just as Sabir was about to step beyond, Noah¡¯s voice called out, ¡°Take care, Sabir. Remember my advice. I¡¯m certain we¡¯ll meet again.¡± Noah¡¯s tone was unexpectedly warm as he waved a farewell. Uncertain whether to trust someone of Noah¡¯s formidable power, Sabir nodded in acknowledgement and passed through, leaving the guards and Noah behind.


    As Sabir¡¯s figure disappeared into the distance, the gates swung shut with a heavy finality, a ritual repeated countless times over the years.


    ¡°Lord Voltaire, why were you so lenient with that kid?¡± one guard ventured once the gate sealed itself.


    ¡°No government rat has the right to question me,¡± Noah replied coolly, raising an eyebrow at the guard¡¯s audacity.


    ¡°Forgive me, sir. I meant no disrespect. I was simply curious. Now that it¡¯s over, shall we resume our search? The Limbo is vast, and you¡¯ll need our assistance,¡± the guard hastily backpedaled, trying to appease Noah.


    Noah stretched leisurely, his demeanor nonchalant. ¡°No need. I¡¯m heading home now. I¡¯ve found what I sought,¡± he chuckled softly. ¡°Seems the rats are forgetting their place more often.¡±


    The guard looked puzzled. ¡°What do you mean, Lord?¡± he asked, genuinely confused.


    Noah sighed in exasperation, clicking his tongue impatiently. ¡°Rats never learn,¡± he murmured, stepping closer to the guard and resting a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Die.¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes glowed ominously, and in an instant, lightning struck, reducing the guard to ash. The remaining guards trembled, bowing in fear as their comrade¡¯s life got cut off.


    ¡°Give me some privacy. You¡¯re ruining my mood,¡± Noah commanded, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. The guards quickly retreated, their faces pale with fear.


    Leaning casually against the adjacent wall, Noah muttered to himself, ¡°I don¡¯t understand why our family allows these rats to think they¡¯re in control. Those geezers from each of the families love their so-called status quo.¡± His voice dripped with disdain, his irritation clear.


    Noah then withdrew a small, pod-shaped device from his pocket. A holographic projection suddenly appeared when he tapped, displaying the form of an elderly man. The man¡¯s presence exuded authority and wisdom, his eyes sharp despite his age. He had a similar hair color of cyan to Noah, although it was much thinner.


    ¡°Noah, report,¡± the figure commanded, his voice steady and authoritative.


    Noah straightened up, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a respectful demeanor. ¡°Father, I bring good news,¡± he began, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. ¡°I¡¯ve found a clue to our little issue. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll handle it cleanly.¡±


    The elderly man scrutinized Noah for a moment before nodding slightly. ¡°Ensure that you do. We cannot afford any mistakes, we¡¯ll become a laughing stock between the families, if we do not fix this. The collaterals must be kept in check.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Noah replied confidently. ¡°I understand the importance of this mission.¡±


    The holographic figure faded, and Noah pocketed the device. He glanced at the pile of ash where the guard had stood, his expression unreadable. ¡°Rats never learn,¡± he muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing.

 Chapter 4 - The Common Life

    As Sabir stepped through The Threshold, the clang of the gate shutting behind him reverberated in his ears, a sound both final and liberating. He stood at the edge of The Commons, a place that was both familiar and alien to him. Compared to the squalor of The Limbo, The Commons seemed almost prosperous, but it bore the marks of a city struggling to maintain its dignity.


    The streets, though paved and lined with lampposts that flickered with a dim, inconsistent light, had cracks and were uneven. Cars, relics of a bygone era, rumbled down the roads intermittently, their engines growling like ancient beasts. People walked with purpose, eyes darting around warily, ever vigilant for the inevitable pickpockets and thieves that haunted the corners and alleyways.


    Sabir¡¯s eyes scanned the scene before him. Buildings of varying heights loomed on either side, some standing proud despite their age, while others sagged and crumbled, their windows shattered or boarded up. The air carried the scent of rain, oil, and a hint of decay, a stark reminder that while The Commons was a step up from The Limbo, it was far from paradise.


    Children played in the streets, their laughter tinged with a roughness born of necessity and survival. Vendors called out from their stalls, peddling everything from fresh produce to Nutripulp and dubious remedies. Sabir clutched his belongings closer, his senses on high alert. He knew that while he might find allies here, enemies were just as plentiful.


    As he moved further into the city, Sabir couldn¡¯t help but notice the disparity between the inhabitants. Some wore clothes that, while worn, were clean and well-mended, a sign of a life with at least some stability. However, others wore rags, their eyes hollow and desperate, mirroring the faces he knew all too well from The Limbo.


    Whilst this was Havana, The Limbo¡¯s darkness still crept through. People who successfully entered Havana sometimes succumbed to Post Limbo Disorder, or PLD for short. Those afflicted with PLD often found it impossible to adapt to life in Havana, their past experiences haunting them in debilitating ways.


    Some of those people wandered aimlessly, their eyes darting suspiciously at every passerby, constantly on edge, as if expecting an attack at any moment. The trauma of survival in The Limbo left them perpetually anxious and hyper-vigilant, unable to trust the relative safety of Havana.


    Others huddled in corners, muttering to themselves or staring blankly into the distance. These individuals trapped themselves in their memories, reliving the horrors of The Limbo. They flinched at loud noises and shied away from contact, their minds fractured by the relentless fear and violence they had endured.


    A few displayed aggressive behaviors, lashing out unpredictably at those around them. The constant fight for survival in The Limbo had wired them to respond to any perceived threat with immediate and overwhelming force. This aggression often led to altercations, making it difficult for them to integrate into the more structured society of Havana. Regular citizens of Havana believe it¡¯s the fault of these individuals that the crime rate was so high, but the government could do nothing about it, whilst The Seven Noble Families viewed these problems as beneath them.


    Sabir¡¯s school lay further through The Commons, in an area that was relatively more stable. Here, people appeared fairly happy, and the buildings were modern, comprising supermarkets, convenience stores, and other ordinary establishments. For Sabir, arriving in this part of Havana for the first time had been a culture shock. The contrast between the grim existence of The Limbo and the relative normalcy of this area was stark.


    Nearby, a bustling train station served as a hub for a vast network that connected the entirety of Havana. Trains came and went with impressive regularity, whisking passengers off to various parts of the city and beyond. The station was always alive with the sounds of hissing steam, the clattering of wheels on tracks, and the murmur of people going about their daily lives.


    Sabir often stood beside the tracks, looking up at the trains as they came and went on the elevated rails above him. The sight filled him with a sense of wonder and longing. He dreamed of the day he could board one of those trains and ride it all the way to Tetra City, the capital of Havana. The stories he had heard about Tetra City painted it as a place of unimaginable opportunity and advancement. He also heard that the food there was unimaginably tasty, his forever empty stomach could only dream of such a place.


    Grrrrr. ¡°Damn it, I¡¯m hungry again,¡± Sabir lamented. He knew he was out of Nutripulp, so all he could do was ignore his stomach and get to class.


    As he made his way towards the school, people were moving with purpose, children played in the streets, and a sense of community seemed to pervade the air. Sabir felt uncomfortable with such an atmosphere, but he did not know why.


    When he finally reached the school, he took in the sight. The building was a modest two-story structure, yet it exuded an air of sophistication. Students of varying ages milled about, their clothes clean and fashionable, a clear indicator of their relative wealth.


    Sabir couldn¡¯t help but feel out of place among them, his own worn-out attire and gaunt appearance marking him as an outsider. As he walked through the school gates, he noticed the whispers and furtive glances directed his way.


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    ¡°Is that him? The crazy kid?¡± one student murmured, his voice tinged with disdain.


    ¡°He looks gross,¡± another whispered, scrunching her nose in disgust.


    Sabir¡¯s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but then he caught snippets of different conversations.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s kind of cute,¡± a girl whispered to her friend, giggling softly.


    ¡°Yeah, there¡¯s something about him,¡± another voice agreed, sounding intrigued.


    The mix of derision and curiosity only heightened Sabir¡¯s discomfort. People would greet him with stares and whispers whenever he came here, making it a regular occurrence. Sabir was aware there were weird rumors about him, and because of an incident when he first came to this school, he had garnered a poor reputation. He kept his head down, trying to block out the whispers as he made his way to his class.


    Upon entering the classroom, he found the atmosphere buzzing with chatter. The students had scattered themselves around the room, not yet taking their seats at their desks. Some were leaning against the walls, others perched on desks, engaged in animated conversations. The absence of their teacher gave the class an air of unruliness, and Sabir hesitated for a moment, unsure of where to go.


    ¡°Hey, Sabir! Over here!¡± a familiar voice called out. Sabir turned to see Max Crawford, a boy with dark skin and curly hair, waving him over. Max was standing near the back of the classroom, already deep in conversation with Samantha Hart, another classmate who had always been friendly towards Sabir.


    As Sabir made his way over, he couldn¡¯t help but remember the day he met Max. It was nearly five years ago when Sabir was twelve, and he had no friends. People avoided him out of fear, partly because of his rough appearance and the rumors that followed him from The Limbo. He was used to the isolation, the way kids would edge away from him in the hallways or whisper behind his back.


    Max was an easy target. Short and skinny, with a friendly demeanor that made him stand out, often bullied by older boys, who would steal the credits his parents gave him for lunch. One afternoon, Sabir saw Max being cornered by a group of bullies in the schoolyard. They were launching rocks at him using their measly telekinesis, while eventually rifling through his pockets once Max was half dead. This would continue for weeks, and no one would do anything to help him.


    One day, something snapped inside Sabir. Bitter memories surged to the forefront of his mind as he watched the scene unfold. Without thinking, he charged at the bullies, fists flying. It was a fierce fight, and though Sabir took a few hits himself, he drove them off. Max, bruised but grateful, looked at Sabir with wide eyes.


    ¡°Why did you help me?¡± Max had asked, his voice shaky.


    Sabir shrugged, wiping the blood from his lip. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    From that day on, Max stuck by Sabir¡¯s side. Despite the risks, their friendship grew stronger. Max¡¯s parents attempted to veto their friendship, but Max was stubborn and they grew even closer since. Although after the incident rumors of Sabir being a wild delinquent persisted, Samantha joined their small circle soon after, drawn by their camaraderie and Sabir¡¯s quiet strength.


    Back in the present, Sabir made his way through the classroom, still feeling the sting of whispers and curious stares. He reached Max and Samantha, who were already deep in conversation.


    ¡°Jesus, you look like a mess,¡± Max said, moving closer to Sabir. ¡°Did you not get any revision in? Hell, did you even take a shower?¡± Max grimaced, pinching his nose theatrically.


    Sabir rolled his eyes. ¡°No I was locked in an intense battle with a dragon and barely made it here with my limbs attached.¡±


    Max giggled at Sabir¡¯s sarcastic reply. Only Max and Samantha truly understood the struggles Sabir faced living in The Limbo. Of course, he kept the details about his sister and the darker aspects of his life a secret. Max¡¯s attempts to normalize Sabir¡¯s lifestyle through humor had a strangely comforting effect, making Sabir feel more like a regular teenager.


    Suddenly, there was a loud bang. ¡°Ouch!¡± yelped Max.


    ¡°Stop being so ignorant,¡± scolded Samantha, giving him a light slap on the arm. ¡°Ignore his idiocy, Sabir. Anyway, I hope you managed to get some revision in for our final exam,¡± she added, her voice shifting from stern to tender.


    Sam often helped Sabir with his work. If she hadn¡¯t supported him, the Beacon school would have already kicked him out.


    ¡°Hey, hey, let¡¯s forget about these exams for a second. We¡¯ll pass anyway; it¡¯s gonna be a breeze,¡± Max said, cutting off Samantha mid-sentence. He leaned in closer to Sabir, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. ¡°But have you seen the news recently?¡±


    Sabir shook his head. He barely had time to eat, let alone catch up on the news. ¡°No, I¡¯ve been busy with y¡¯know trying to survive and finding time to study.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Max began, lowering his voice, ¡°there was a car crash on the highway in Tetra. When the ambulance arrived, they found the trucker was already dead before the crash happened.¡±


    ¡°What? How did he die then?¡± Samantha interjected, curiosity piqued. ¡°Did he drink too much or something?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what¡¯s interesting, no one knows,¡± Max replied, his eyes gleaming with excitement. ¡°Some foul play is at work. I¡¯m telling you, it might be the triads or another group of criminals. I say it was an assassination. The police claim no Esper activity was detected in the area, but the criminals are getting smarter.¡±


    Sabir groaned inwardly. Max¡¯s fascination with conspiracies often bordered on obsessiveness. While Samantha was a grounded, kind-hearted individual, Max had earned the nickname ¡°The Commons Lunatic¡± for a reason. His pride in the title often led him to spout theories to anyone who would listen, or couldn¡¯t avoid him.


    ¡°Not only that, there was a single survivor, and-¡±


    The classroom door creaked open slowly, and the room fell silent. Mr. Roskob, their stern and meticulous teacher, entered with a measured stride. His mere presence commanded immediate attention, and he exuded an air of authority that demanded respect. He glanced around the room, making sure all eyes were on him before speaking.


    ¡°Alright, everyone,¡± he said in his deep, authoritative voice, ¡°take your seats. The final exam is about to start.¡±


    Max was cut off mid-sentence, and the students hurried to their desks. Sabir took his seat, trying to push thoughts of conspiracies and car crashes out of his mind. He needed to focus on the exam, then he would finally be free.

 Chapter 5 - An Offer

    Max had accurately forecasted the outcome of the exam, it was a piece of cake. Sabir was hitting his stride on the last problem when a shriek of an alarm sliced through the atmosphere of the room.


    Students exchanged confused glances, and the room buzzed with hushed whispers. Sabir looked up to see Mr. Roskob, his usually composed face now etched with concern.


    ¡°Silence!¡± Mr. Roskob commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°Remain in your seats.¡±


    The alarm continued to blare, and the tension in the room was palpable. Mr. Roskob moved to the front of the class, addressing the students gravely. ¡°A rift has opened in The Commons. It has been years since this has happened in our area, but rest assured, a guild will take care of it quickly.¡±


    Rifts occasionally appeared throughout Havana, releasing dangerous creatures into their world. Dealing with these rifts fell to hunters, a profession both highly paid and highly respected. Hunters were the most powerful Espers, individuals with extraordinary abilities, and they wielded significant influence in society. Many hunters had achieved celebrity status, their exploits broadcasted and celebrated by the public.


    Guilds, operating as influential enterprises, employed these hunters. Their primary goal was profit, leveraging the hunters¡¯ abilities to take on a variety of tasks. From killing monsters and exploring the wild to protecting citizens and investigating supernatural phenomena, hunters were versatile and indispensable. The strongest hunters could command immense fees for their services, making the profession one of the most lucrative in Havana.


    Disregarding Roskob¡¯s reassurances, Sabir found it easier to remain calm than his peers. Having grown up in The Limbo, he had grown accustomed to the constant threat of monsters lurking around every corner. Unlike his classmates, who seemed on edge, Sabir had confidence in Havana¡¯s ability to handle the situation. He glanced over at Max and saw that he was more excited than anxious, his eyes gleaming with the prospect of a new adventure.


    The alarm eventually stopped, and Sabir forced himself to return to the paper in front of him, answering the remaining questions with a renewed urgency.


    After two grueling hours, Sabir¡¯s body felt stiff from sitting so long. Closing his exam paper, he stretched his arms and rotated his neck, trying to shake off the tension. The alarm and the news of the rift still weighed heavily on his mind, but he felt a sense of relief wash over him as the exam finally ended.


    ¡°Make sure you leave your exam papers on your desk with your names on it. And I suppose congratulations is in order. You kids have completed your education,¡± Mr. Roskob announced, his voice carrying a rare note of pride. ¡°While you may not possess great powers, your minds are just as sharp as any other child. But remember to stay focused and keep learning, especially you, Mr. Crawford,¡± he added, directing a long, stern gaze at Max, who seated himself in front of Sabir.


    ¡°With that said, all the Beacon schools in Havana will be celebrating your graduation and handing out your diplomas next week in Tetra City. It¡¯s a formal event, so I expect those of you attending to dress properly.¡± Roskob¡¯s typically apathetic tone contrasted with the celebratory news, making it somewhat off-putting.


    Max groaned at the professor¡¯s direct warning, his usual confidence momentarily deflated. In contrast, Samantha, sitting in the front row, was already on her feet, eager to leave. She gave the two boys a nod, signaling for them to follow her out. With that signal and a last farewell from their professor, the two young men rose from their seats and headed for the door.


    Just as they were about to step out, Mr. Roskob¡¯s voice called out again. ¡°Also, Mr. Quinn, can I speak to you for a moment?¡±


    Sabir stopped in his tracks, turning to face the professor with a look of surprise. Even Max, typically unfazed, looked slightly perturbed. Sabir couldn¡¯t recall doing anything wrong, and besides his challenging living situation, he was an exemplary student.


    Sabir glanced at Max and Samantha, who exchanged worried looks but nodded encouragingly. He took a deep breath and approached Mr. Roskob¡¯s desk, his mind racing with possibilities of what this unexpected conversation could be about. As the last few students filed out of the classroom, the door closed behind them, leaving Sabir alone with the teacher.


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    ¡°Yes, Professor Roskob?¡± Sabir asked, trying to keep his voice steady.


    Mr. Roskob leaned back in his chair, his stern expression softening slightly. ¡°Sabir, I wanted to commend you on your performance today and throughout the year. You¡¯ve shown remarkable resilience and dedication, especially given your circumstances.¡±


    Sabir felt a mix of relief and confusion. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    Mr. Roskob gestured to the chair opposite his desk. ¡°Please, sit down. I want to assure you, you¡¯re not in any trouble.¡±


    Sabir let out a sigh of relief and sat down, curiosity replacing his initial anxiety. ¡°Then why did you want to see me?¡±


    Mr. Roskob smiled. ¡°I have an opportunity for you. One of my friends at Kajima Labs has kindly offered an internship for a talented student, and I¡¯ve recommended you for the position. You¡¯ll be assisting in the lab, gaining valuable experience and enhancing your resume.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes widened with hope. The thought of an internship at Kajima Labs, a prestigious company known for its scientific advancements, filled him with excitement. This could be his chance to improve his circumstances and perhaps move to a better place. He shook Professor Roskob¡¯s hand enthusiastically. ¡°Thank you, sir. I won¡¯t let you down.¡±


    Roskob nodded, his stern expression softening slightly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you won¡¯t, Sabir. You¡¯ve proven yourself capable time and again.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced with possibilities, but he focused on the present. ¡°What will I be doing at Kajima Labs, sir?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you the details after the graduation party,¡± Roskob replied. ¡°My friend from Kajima Labs will be there, and I¡¯ll introduce you then. He¡¯ll provide all the information you need.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Sabir said, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation. The graduation party was only a week away, and the idea of attending a formal event in Tetra was both daunting and thrilling.


    Roskob leaned back in his chair, studying Sabir for a moment. ¡°This is a great opportunity, Sabir. Make sure you¡¯re prepared. Dress appropriately and be ready to make a good impression.¡±


    Sabir nodded earnestly. ¡°I will, sir. Thank you again.¡±


    Roskob dismissed him with a nod, and Sabir left the classroom, his mind still buzzing with the unexpected news. He stepped into the hallway where Max and Samantha were waiting.


    ¡°What did he want?¡± Max asked, curiosity and concern etched on his face.


    Sabir grinned. ¡°He offered me an internship at Kajima Labs.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s face lit up with a warm smile. ¡°You deserve this, Sabir. I¡¯m so happy for you.¡±


    Max, however, seemed less enthused. He was happy for Sabir, but a hint of skepticism crept into his expression. ¡°That sounds like a lot of work, man. You sure you want to dive into something like that right away? You know, I¡¯ve been thinking¡ªmaybe we could team up and become detectives. Imagine it, solving mysteries, taking down bad guys¡­ way more exciting than being stuck in a lab all day. I mean, sure, Kajima Labs has made every big invention in Havana, but aren¡¯t you just becoming another cog in this capitalistic state?¡±


    Max¡¯s eyes grew bigger as he grabbed Sabir by the shoulders. ¡°C¡¯mon man, you¡¯re from The Limbo. You know as well as anyone that these people don¡¯t care about the little guys, and you want to work for them!¡±


    Sabir nuzzled Max¡¯s hands off his shoulders. ¡°Max, I get where you¡¯re coming from. But this isn¡¯t just about working for some big company. It¡¯s about getting out of The Limbo and making a better life for myself.¡±


    Max looked taken aback, and his expression softened. ¡°I get that, man. I just don¡¯t want you to lose sight of who you are.¡±


    Samantha stepped in, her tone firm yet kind. ¡°Max, Sabir¡¯s doing what he thinks is best. And besides, if he¡¯s on the inside, maybe he can make a difference. Y¡¯know, like, change things from within.¡±


    Max sighed, conceding the point. ¡°Alright, alright. Just promise me you won¡¯t turn into one of those corporate bastards.¡±


    Sabir chuckled. ¡°Promise.¡± Max nodded in acceptance and led them to leave the school building.


    As they started walking towards the school exit, Max¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°Hey, remember that rift that opened during the exam? I¡¯m dying to see what happened. You two should come with me.¡±


    Sabir shrugged, not interested. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Max. I¡¯ve seen enough monsters in The Limbo. Too many, if you ask me.¡±


    Samantha, visibly nervous, added, ¡°And what if it¡¯s dangerous? We should probably stay away.¡±


    Max grinned, his enthusiasm undeterred. ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯s a rare opportunity! We might never see something like this again. Besides, it¡¯ll be safe, whatever guild took the job will have already taken care of it.¡±


    Sabir glanced at Samantha, who still seemed hesitant. After a moment¡¯s pause, he sighed and nodded. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go. But if things look sketchy, we¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Samantha reluctantly agreed, and the trio made their way towards the site of the rift. As they walked, Sabir pulled out his pass. It had a bar that was about 60% filled with a greenish-yellow color, showing he still had time to spare. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve got some time. Let¡¯s see what all the fuss is about.¡±


    ¡°How are we gonna find where it happened, anyway?¡± enquired Sabir.


    Max looked back at the both of them with a wide toothy grin. ¡°Just look for some yellow tape, of course.¡±


    Sabir and Samantha looked at each other with exasperation, their hands coming up to their faces in unison as they attempted to hide the grinding of their teeth. Max¡¯s stupidity was reaching new heights, and it was hard to fathom how one person could be so infuriatingly stupid.

 Chapter 6 - Too Close

    ¡°Where is he, ma¡¯am? I really don¡¯t want to hurt you.¡± A man with cascading black hair looked towards an old woman lying by a broken shack. Her clothes were grimy, and she was more skin and bones than anything.


    Cassius hated this part of the business. ¡°Just tell me where he is¡ªthe kid with the last name, Quinn. He lived with a sister in this part of The Limbo. I asked multiple people, and they all got scared and told me to come here.¡±


    Cassius dropped to his knees to be eye-level with the old woman. ¡°So tell me, or it will be the end of your miserable life.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to hurt me,¡± the old woman responded firmly. Cassius stood up, scratching his head in frustration.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be telling you anything about the boy, or anything else for that matter, you bastard. How could you bully an old woman like me!¡± Cassius couldn¡¯t help but feel ashamed, being lectured by the elderly.


    Clutching her sides, the old woman began coughing vigorously. ¡°Easy there, Granny. Old age is getting to you,¡± Cassius muttered, watching as the life seemed to drain from her eyes.


    ¡°Please, just tell me something?¡± Cassius couldn¡¯t believe he was begging. He was a government enforcer. He¡¯d gone through leaps of fire and pits of death to get to where he was. ¡°Yet here I am, begging an old lady for information. God, if my boss saw me now¡­¡± Cassius shuddered at the thought.


    ¡°Look, I ain¡¯t trying to hurt the kid. Well, not yet anyway. Besides, I¡¯m from The Limbo too. You can trust me.¡±


    The old woman laughed hysterically. ¡°Even more reason not to trust you. A guy like you must have a river of blood on your hands.¡±


    ¡°Okay, lady, now you¡¯re just making assumptions. C¡¯mon, give me something.¡± Cassius put his hands together in a plea.


    ¡°Okay, I have two requests, and you must swear on your life to fulfill them.¡±


    ¡°Fine, Granny, just make sure these requests of yours are doable.¡±


    ¡°My first request is for you to help him. Make sure you do everything in your power to ensure nothing bad happens to him. I can already tell that sister of his has gotten him into trouble. I don¡¯t care about the details, but keep the boy, Sabir Quinn, safe.¡±


    Cassius met the old lady¡¯s stare and retained in his memory the way her eyes cut through him and into the space behind him, like she was trying to see through flesh and bone and into his very soul.


    Cassius¡¯s eyes widened at the old lady¡¯s insight, impressed by how she had figured out that Sabir¡¯s sister was at the center of the trouble. ¡°Do you know how hard of a request that is?¡± He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. ¡°Fine, you have a deal. Tell me where he is.¡±


    ¡°He went past The Threshold. Should be somewhere in The Commons right now. He goes to that Beacon school there,¡± the old lady spat out.


    Cassius smiled, finally finding a breakthrough in his case. ¡°Okay, nice. You¡¯re the best, Granny. I¡¯ll make sure he stays safe.¡± Just as he was about to leave, he turned back to the old lady.


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    ¡°What? I got what I came for. I¡¯m gonna go get him.¡±


    ¡°You forgot I have a second request,¡± the old lady reminded Cassius.


    ¡°Oh right, I forgot. Well, what is it? Need some credits or something?¡± Cassius asked, reaching for his wallet.


    ¡°Kill me,¡± the old lady said with a tone of finality.


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± It¡¯s not that Cassius couldn¡¯t hear; he just couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing.


    ¡°I¡¯m dying. I have Lurmia.¡± The old lady lifted her rags to reveal hundreds of bloody, toothy worms spilling out of her sides.


    Cassius grimaced. Such a painful way to live. Killing her would be an act of mercy, but why was he hesitating?


    ¡°Are you sure about this, Granny? Don¡¯t you have anything left to do?¡± Cassius didn¡¯t want to admit it, but he¡¯d rather not kill an old lady who showed him such loyalty.


    ¡°No, my family is all dead, and there¡¯s no one left to see. Stop being a baby and just do it. You¡¯re a hunter; it will probably be less painful.¡± The old lady looked at Cassius with a smile.


    Cassius sighed, turned his back to the lady, and walked a few paces away.


    ¡°Where are you going-¡± Her question cut short as Cassius raised his hand, his eyes transforming into a deep, black abyss that seemed to glow with an eerie light.


    A shadow materialized from the darkness, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The old lady¡¯s head fell from her shoulders in one clean motion, her smile lingering even in death.


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    Cassius lowered his hand, the shadows dissipating as quickly as they had come. He stood there for a moment, feeling a strange mix of sorrow and relief.


    ¡°Rest in peace,¡± he murmured, before turning away and walking into the night, his heart heavier than before.


    No one ever saw Mrs. Norris again in The Limbo.


    As Cassius walked away, his mind wandered to the boy he had never met. Somewhere beyond The Limbo, Sabir Quinn was unaware of the danger closing in.


    <hr>


    Sabir, Max, and Samantha walked through the dimly lit streets of The Commons, their eyes scanning for any sign of the rift¡¯s location. The buzz of distant chatter and the occasional siren filled the air, but their focus remained unbroken.


    ¡°Are you sure this is the right way?¡± Samantha asked, her voice tinged with anxiety.


    ¡°Yeah, trust me. The guilds would have put up some kind of marker or tape to keep people away,¡± Max replied confidently, his eyes gleaming with excitement.


    Suddenly, Sabir¡¯s stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence. He felt a flush of embarrassment as Max and Samantha turned to look at him.


    ¡°Sorry, I haven¡¯t eaten,¡± Sabir admitted, scratching the back of his head.


    Max laughed. ¡°Man, you need to take better care of yourself.¡±


    Samantha, ever the prepared one, opened her bag and pulled out a couple of sandwiches. ¡°Here, I made these earlier. They¡¯re a bit mashed, but they¡¯ll do the job.¡± She handed one to Sabir, the jam filling leaking slightly from the edges.


    ¡°Thanks, Samantha,¡± Sabir said, accepting the sandwich gratefully. A sandwich like this was a delicacy for his unrefined taste buds. People would kill to grab a bite in The Limbo.


    As he took his first bite, savoring the sweet and tangy flavor, Max looked at the sandwiches and then at Sabir. ¡°You know, we could just go to the convenience store. They¡¯ve got better stuff there.¡±


    Sabir stared at Max, shocked. ¡°Are you seriously turning your nose up at this? This is delicious!¡±


    Samantha blushed, ducking her head slightly. ¡°It¡¯s just a bit of jam,¡± she murmured.


    Max suddenly got an idea. ¡°Wait here for a sec,¡± he said, and hastened towards the convenience store.


    Sabir and Samantha exchanged puzzled glances, but waited. A few minutes later, Max returned with a glass of black liquid in his hand.


    ¡°Here, try this,¡± Max said, handing the glass to Sabir.


    Sabir hesitated for a moment before taking a sip. His eyes widened in amazement. It was the greatest thing he had ever tasted. He looked at the label on the bottle. ¡°Roller Cola,¡± he read out loud.


    Samantha was astonished. ¡°You¡¯ve never had cola before?¡±


    Sabir shook his head, taking another sip before trying to hand the glass back to Max. ¡°This is incredible. Thanks, Max.¡±


    Max waved him off. ¡°Keep it. It¡¯s all yours.¡±


    ¡°You sure, man?¡± Sabir asked, his voice tinged with gratitude.


    Max nodded with a smile.


    Overcome with appreciation, Sabir gave Max a quick, awkward hug. ¡°Thanks, Max. I really mean it.¡±


    Max laughed, clapping him on the back. ¡°It¡¯s just a drink, Sabir. No big deal.¡±


    Sabir carefully put the bottle into his bag. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to let Mrs. Norris try it.¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Norris?¡± Samantha asked, curious.


    Sabir¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Yeah, when I was all alone, she helped me. She gave me her son¡¯s old clothes and even shared her Nutripulp stash with me.¡±


    Max and Samantha exchanged a glance, realizing they were learning more about Sabir¡¯s life. Mystery always surrounded Sabir. It was like he was smoke he was there and gone the next, leaving them curious about his past and the secrets he held close.


    ¡°Nutripulp, ew gross-¡± Bang! Just as Max was exclaiming his disgust for Nutripulp, They heard an explosion a few blocks away where they were standing. The group of three heard the screams of people as they began running past.


    They looked towards the explosion, and they saw multiple enormous boulders levitating high in the air.


    The boulders plummeted down to the ground causing a tremor to be felt at the soles of the trio¡¯s feet.


    Max¡¯s eyes sparkled as he looked at the both of them. ¡°Seems like the hunters haven¡¯t left yet. C¡¯mon let¡¯s go check it out,¡± Max cried as he began running towards what now began to sound like a cacophony of bangs and explosions.


    Leaving Sabir and Samantha scrambling, trying to stop Max from going. ¡°Max stop, it¡¯s dangerous!¡± Samantha called out, as she almost crashes into someone running away.


    Max hesitated, glancing back at Sabir and Samantha with a mischievous grin. ¡°Come on, where¡¯s your sense of adventure?¡±


    Reluctantly, Sabir and Samantha followed Max as he charged towards the chaotic scene. As they arrived at the block, they saw multiple small craters scattered around, evidence of recent explosions. Two groups of three individuals were engaged in a fierce battle, their movements swift and precise amidst the chaos. Each group seemed to possess unique abilities, using them to hurl projectiles and summon barriers in a dance of combat.


    Two groups of four individuals clashed fiercely in the dimly lit street, their attire starkly contrasting. The first group, in urban camo gear, moved with militaristic precision. One member, a burly figure with a rugged visage, hurled boulders with startling accuracy, each impact sending shockwaves through the ground. Beside them, another crouched behind a makeshift barricade, swiftly conjuring protective barriers that shimmered with defensive energy. A third figure, holding a massive white cannon-like gun, was charging up a formidable ball of energy, crackling with destructive potential.


    Sabir¡¯s palms were slick with sweat.


    His instincts screaming at him to pull Max back. To stop him from running headlong into danger. He knew better than to get involved in something like this. Growing up in The Limbo taught him that. Monsters were vicious and primal, and if you weren¡¯t careful, you¡¯d get torn apart in the crossfire. The ground trembled beneath him as a boulder slammed into the street, sending shards of debris flying into the air. Sabir flinched, his heart hammering in his chest. They were far too close. If they weren¡¯t careful, they¡¯d find themselves caught in the middle of the crossfire.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret messing with our job. Those corpses are ours,¡± the woman with the oversized cannon declared in a confident, feminine voice that cut through the chaos like a blade.


    On the opposite side, the second group, clad in leather biker jackets and rugged attire, exuded a rebellious aura. A figure with a buzz cut and intense eyes manipulated the earth beneath their adversaries¡¯ feet, causing the ground to shudder and split apart. Their allies, armed with sleek weapons and lightning reflexes, danced through the fray with lethal precision, dodging incoming projectiles and launching swift counterattacks.


    The man with the shaved head retorted defiantly, ¡°Do your worst. Those corpses belong to us now!¡±


    Unfazed, the woman with the oversized weapon smirked in response, her gaze flickering with anticipation. ¡°Suit yourself.¡±


    Sabir, Max, and Samantha observed from a safe distance, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and growing concern. As the white cannon-like gun began to hum ominously, charging up with visible energy, Sabir¡¯s voice trembled with unease. ¡°Uh oh, we might be too close.¡±

 Chapter 7 - Merciful Dog

    Just as the blast erupted, its immense power forcefully propelled backward Sabir. The projectile hurtled through the air, hurtling straight toward the man with the buzz cut. In a split second, a translucent barrier materialized, intercepting the incoming blast just before impact.


    Crouched down amidst the chaos, another member of the leather-clad group spoke up confidently, ¡°Ionic blast neutralized, sir,¡± her voice tinged with smug satisfaction. Yet, to her surprise, the deflected blast began to rotate and pound against the protective barrier.


    ¡°Shell position!¡± the man shouted urgently, diving towards his comrades for cover. The blast spun with such force that it fragmented into four smaller projectiles, ricocheting wildly off the barrier like erratic, bouncy balls. The fragments careened off in different directions, their trajectory suddenly unpredictable and potentially dangerous.


    One fragment headed straight for Sabir, Max, and Samantha. Sabir¡¯s eyes widened in terror as he realized the impending danger. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation, he grabbed both Max and Samantha, forcing them to duck behind a nearby debris pile.


    ¡°Get down!¡± he yelled, his voice breaking with urgency. He watched helplessly as the blast drew nearer, convinced it was about to hit him directly.


    Time seemed to slow as the crackling energy approached. Sabir¡¯s pulse quickened, an icy dread seizing his chest. His body reacted before his mind could fully comprehend, muscles tightening as if his very instincts were trying to pull him away from the inevitable. He closed his eyes, bracing for the searing pain he was sure would follow, wondering for a fleeting second if this was it, if his life would end here, cut short by a stray blast. The air around him felt charged, a static hum filling his ears, drowning out all other sounds. He could almost feel the burn of the blast about to hit.


    Suddenly, a loud thud resonated above him. Sabir¡¯s eyes flew open, breath still held in his throat. The blast had ricocheted off a metal beam just inches away, veering off in another direction and dissipating harmlessly into the night sky. He stared at the spot where the beam now shimmered faintly, his body trembling as the weight of what almost happened crashed over him.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Max asked, his voice shaky but filled with concern.


    For a moment, Sabir couldn¡¯t answer. His heart pounded violently in his chest, every beat reminding him how close he had come to being obliterated. His mind raced, replaying the scene over and over. The blast. The metal beam. Inches. Just inches. The eerie sense that had warned him was fading, leaving him with a profound realization of how close they had come to disaster.


    Sabir nodded, though his hands were still trembling slightly. ¡°Yeah,¡± he managed, swallowing hard. He forced himself to breathe, to find calm in the aftermath. He had survived. Somehow. That was all that mattered. ¡°I think so. That was too close.¡±


    Samantha looked at Sabir with wide eyes. ¡°How did you know to duck?¡±


    ¡°I just... I just reacted,¡± Sabir replied, still trying to catch his breath. ¡°It was like I could feel it coming.¡± He paused, collecting himself. ¡°We need to get out of here. This place is too dangerous.¡±


    The three of them quickly scrambled to their feet, scanning the area for a safer vantage point. The ongoing battle between the two groups raged on, with explosions and energy blasts lighting up the night.


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    ¡°Come on, this way!¡± Sabir urged, leading them away from the immediate danger.


    They ducked into a narrow alley, finding temporary refuge behind a stack of crates. The sounds of battle faded, replaced by an eerie silence. The trio exchanged puzzled glances, wondering what had caused the sudden ceasefire.


    ¡°Let¡¯s check,¡± Sabir said cautiously. He peered around the corner, eyes widening at the sight before him.


    The once-chaotic battlefield was now eerily still. Dark, shadowy tendrils that resembled ropes completely immobilized all eight combatants, four in camouflage and four in leather biker gear. Inky restraints suspended them in mid-air, and they groaned in pain, unable to break free from their struggles.


    ¡°Look at that,¡± Samantha whispered, pointing towards the center of the scene.


    A handsome man stood there, clad in a black suit with a chest plate and shoulder guards that glinted menacingly in the dim light. His black hair cascaded down to his shoulders, and his eyes were as dark as the void itself. He exuded an aura of power and control, a stark contrast to the helpless figures ensnared in his shadowy web.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Max breathed, his excitement tempered by a sense of foreboding.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sabir replied, his voice hushed with awe and fear. ¡°But I think we should stay hidden.¡±


    The man in the black suit surveyed his captives with a cold, calculating gaze. With a flick of his wrist, the shadowy tendrils tightened, eliciting cries of pain from the restrained fighters.


    One of the leather-clad bikers, struggling against the shadows, spat out defiantly, ¡°If it isn¡¯t the government¡¯s hound. Oh yeah, I¡¯ve heard of you. You¡¯ve killed hundreds of hunters who go rogue. Hell, I bet you¡¯d kill members of the Seven Noble Families if you could, huh?¡±


    The man in the black suit smirked, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to the speaker. ¡°You know, rumors have a way of exaggerating the truth,¡± he replied smoothly, his voice dripping with menace. ¡°But in your case, they might be closer to reality than you think.¡±


    The biker¡¯s defiance wavered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of fear. ¡°You think you¡¯re so high and mighty, don¡¯t you? Just another puppet for the government, enforcing their rules without question.¡±


    The man¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°And you think you¡¯re a small time hunter, standing up to the big, bad system. When you¡¯re exactly like me, following orders to someone you call master.¡± He tightened the shadows again, drawing more pained cries from his captives.


    He exhaled, his expression shifting from menace to weary resignation. ¡°But today, I have no orders to kill you. Consider yourselves lucky.¡± With a flick of his wrist, the shadows loosened, releasing the captives. ¡°Leave now and don¡¯t make any more trouble.¡±


    He pointed to the charred remains of a corpse nearby. ¡°Besides, the reason for your fight has long since gone.¡±


    The group of fighters exchanged wary glances before scrambling to their feet and fleeing the scene, their spirits broken.


    As the man in the black suit stood alone in the aftermath, Sabir, Max, and Samantha quietly sneaked away, hoping to avoid his notice. They moved carefully, every step calculated to avoid detection.


    Just as they thought they were in the clear, the man suddenly appeared in front of them, as if materializing from the shadows themselves. His presence was oppressive, an unspoken threat radiating from him that made their skin crawl.


    They froze, turning to see the man standing there, his eyes dark and unyielding, like twin voids threatening to swallow them whole.


    ¡°Uh, we were just... leaving,¡± Max stammered, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.


    The man tilted his head slightly, a cold smirk playing at the corners of his lips. ¡°You can leave soon, but first, I need some information. You see, I¡¯m looking for a kid about your age. His name is Sabir Quinn. Do you know him?¡±


    Max and Samantha exchanged nervous glances before their eyes darted to Sabir. The tension in the air was palpable, the silence heavy with unspoken words.


    Samantha finally mustered the courage to speak. ¡°What do you want with Sabir?¡±


    The man¡¯s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a predatory intensity. ¡°I just want to talk. So, do you know where he is?¡±


    The silence stretched on, the air thick with anxiety. Then Sabir took a step forward, his voice steady despite the fear bubbling inside him. He had no choice but to step up. One way or another, this dangerous man was after him. He needed to ensure that he didn¡¯t drag his friends into this. ¡°You¡¯re looking right at him.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Helpless

    Samantha couldn¡¯t understand what was going on. Just an hour ago, she was in school, and now she was standing in front of the most powerful Esper she had ever seen. Was this normal in other areas of Havana?


    It was almost common knowledge that ninety percent of the population possessed some sort of Esper power. The most common of these was telekinesis. You were special if you had a unique power, and companies and guilds would actively seek you out for recruitment.


    ¡°Not only does this guy have a power I¡¯ve never seen before, but his ability is also off the charts!¡± Samantha¡¯s mind raced.


    There was a grading scale for Esper powers, ranging from F to S, with most people in The Commons possessing F-grade abilities. These powers were usually minor and limited in scope. For instance, someone with F-grade telekinesis might only lift small objects like pencils or books.


    But the man before her, with his control over shadows that could bind multiple powerful Espers, was operating on a completely different level. Was he an A-grade? Or even an S-grade, the rarest and most feared category? S-grade Espers were almost mythical, their abilities so potent and versatile that they could single-handedly change the course of battles and influence the fate of cities. Only the greatest hunters in history who helped build Havana had been S-class.


    Samantha¡¯s thoughts whirled as she tried to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the power she was witnessing. In The Commons, encountering someone with a D-grade power was impressive. But this man he was beyond anything she had ever imagined. His presence was oppressive, a palpable weight that made it hard to breathe.


    She recalled the rumors she had heard about high-grade Espers. Elite guilds or governmental positions often recruited them, using their powers to maintain order or wage wars. Their lives were a stark contrast to the struggle and hardship faced by those with lesser abilities.


    ¡°Is this what the upper echelons of Havana are like?¡± Samantha wondered. ¡°If someone like him exists, what else is out there?¡±


    A dry laugh cut her thoughts short. ¡°Damn, the old lady was right, huh? She led me right to him,¡± the man smiled bitterly.


    ¡°Well, found you now. You¡¯re coming with me,¡± the man said emotionlessly. Shadows began enveloping the man, and suddenly he reappeared right in front of Sabir.


    Max and Samantha stood paralyzed with fear, their bodies refusing to move. The man¡¯s mere presence was enough to immobilize them, rendering any use of his powers unnecessary.


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    Samantha¡¯s gaze met Sabir¡¯s gold irises. His expression writhed with shock, yet a fierce fire of determination blazed. For someone like Sabir, who was just barely getting by in The Limbo, encountering such raw power must have felt like a once-in-a-lifetime moment too.


    Samantha had always felt drawn to Sabir, always interested in his mysterious nature and the quiet strength he possessed. But what had always made her admire him so much was his camaraderie. The day she saw him fight for Max¡¯s sake, Samantha knew that despite all of his hardships, Sabir would never hesitate to stand up for his friends. That unyielding loyalty and bravery had etched a deep respect for him in her heart.


    She could see the resolve hardening in his gaze. Despite knowing so little about him, his life shrouded in mystery, his emotions rarely displayed, she could sense a silent promise in that look.


    For a moment, Sabir¡¯s eyes softened, and he gave her a firm, reassuring smile. It was as if he was trying to tell her that everything would be okay, even in the face of overwhelming danger.


    The darkness swirled around Sabir and the stranger, thickening and deepening until they became completely engulfed within it. It was as if the darkness sought them out, looking to cocoon them in a protective layer of nothingness. At first, the two men seemed opaque. But as the shadows consumed and flattened them out along the horizontal plane of the floor, they seemed to fade away.


    Samantha¡¯s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes wide with panic. ¡°SABIR!¡± she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. The echo of her cry hung in the air, but there was no response. She reached out instinctively, as if she could pull him back from the encroaching darkness.


    Her hand could only grasp empty air.


    On her knees, Samantha wept uncontrollably. Max walked over and gently put his arms around her, trying to console her in the only way he knew how.


    ¡°Who was that guy, and what did he want with Sabir?¡± Samantha asked, wiping her tears.


    Max sighed, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t know who that was, huh? Truthfully, I don¡¯t know his name either. Hell, I bet even the people in the government he works for don¡¯t know. He¡¯s an enforcer, the guy the government sends when people fall out of line. And he¡¯s the most famous of them all. They call him The Government¡¯s Hound, or just The Hound. He¡¯s fought with the Triads on numerous occasions, and people even say the Triads fear him.¡±


    Max looked at Samantha, trying to instill some hope. ¡°It¡¯s safe to say if he wanted to kill Sabir, he would have already done so. He needs something from him, that¡¯s obvious. But who knows what he¡¯ll do to him once he gets what he needs.¡±


    ¡°We need to head to my place, Sam,¡± Max continued, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.


    ¡°Seriously? We should go try to find him,¡± Samantha protested, her desperation clear.


    Max shook his head firmly. ¡°We can¡¯t just rush out there without a plan. If we¡¯re going to help Sabir, we need to think this through. The Hound is dangerous, and we don¡¯t stand a chance against him as we are.¡±


    Samantha took a deep breath, her tears drying as determination took over. She nodded reluctantly. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s go to your place and figure this out. We have to help him.¡±


    Max placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ll come up with a way to get Sabir back ourselves.¡±

 Chapter 9 - Am I That Scary!?

    Cassius couldn¡¯t believe how easy it had been. He had entered Havana barely an hour ago, and already he had stumbled into a situation ripe for his intervention. A rift had torn open near the heart of The Commons, releasing a flood of monstrous creatures. Two rival guilds had combined forces to deal with the chaos swiftly, their coordinated strikes bringing down the monsters with brutal efficiency. Corpses of the slain creatures littered the streets, their twisted forms already beginning to rot.


    Even though they were hideous, Rift monsters were worth a lot of money. Their remains provided bountiful materials for many creations. Craftsmen could fashion solid, protective armors from the bones. From the hides, you could make tents and tarps to keep the wind and weather at bay. The blood could brew concoctions that would cure almost anything, and also be used to make deadly explosives. Both guilds strove to get the lion¡¯s share of the carcasses. Their greed turned the battlefield into... well, a battlefield.


    The delicate calm over The Commons broke like glass as weapons and Esper powers flared met and voices carried down the lane. Cassius couldn¡¯t help but feel annoyed with the timing. Their little revel of rudeness was destructive and nothing more, but it was still his responsibility to do something about it. Greed, after all, was one vice not allowed to flourish unchecked, and The Commons wasn¡¯t a place one could afford to let hunters have a free for all.


    Those idiots put innocent lives in danger. And for what? To line their pockets with an extra credit or two.


    Pathetic.


    As the diligent enforcer he was, he felt obligated to step in. These small-time guilds weren¡¯t worth much more than a few minutes of his attention, but they were causing a scene. He noted the broken windows and trampled market stalls lining the edges of the battle, collateral damage from their fight. Still, this was a minor distraction from his primary mission. One that would soon be over.


    Shadows rippled around him as he intervened, binding the combatants and bringing their skirmish to an abrupt halt. His presence alone was enough to quell the fight, the guild members staring at him in fear. After detaining them all, he didn¡¯t have the heart to kill anyone else. Instead, he acted with mercy, letting the hunters walk away with a stern warning.


    But even as he dealt with the situation, Cassius could sense multiple eyes watching him. It was an intuition he had picked up while living in The Limbo during his younger years. He scanned the surroundings, his sharp gaze settling on a trio of children hiding in the shadows, their eyes wide with fear.


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯re just kids,¡± Cassius thought, dismissing any immediate concern. No need to do anything.


    Recognizing they had been noticed, the three children quickly turned to run. Cassius glimpsed them as they fled: a short, dark-skinned boy; a brunette girl with olive skin; and another boy with a similar paleness to himself, shaggy black hair falling into his eyes.


    As they disappeared from sight, a thought struck him. These kids could go to the Beacon School in the area. He realized that children often knew more about the comings and goings in their neighborhoods than adults did. If these kids attended the local school, they might point him towards the kid he was looking for.


    As Cassius was about to leave the scene, the faces of the children lingered in his mind. He needed information, and these kids could be the key to finding what he was searching for. Deciding to act, he melded into the shadows, using his power to traverse the distance in an instant.


    From his concealed vantage point, Cassius watched as the children ran, their fear palpable. With a swift, silent movement, he emerged from the shadows, materializing right in front of them. His sudden appearance stopped them dead in their tracks.


    The kids froze, turning to see him standing there. Cassius looked at them and noticed their petrified expressions. ¡°Am I that scary?¡± Cassius thought. ¡°Well, let¡¯s not try to be too intimidating. Kids are very aware of any shifts in tone. Let¡¯s start with a question to open the conversation.¡±


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    ¡°Where are you three headed?¡± Cassius asked, trying to sound kind and warm. Despite his efforts, the short kid immediately started trembling in fear. ¡°Damn it, how did I manage to scare him with just a question?¡± Cassius thought, frustrated by his unintended intimidation.


    ¡°Uh, we were just... leaving,¡± the kid stammered. Cassius couldn¡¯t believe he was getting this big a reaction from a mere question.


    ¡°Okay fine, the kind enforcer act isn¡¯t natural. I¡¯ll just act more business-like. I¡¯m sure if I lay out my intentions, they¡¯ll feel less threatened. I¡¯m only wanting to ask a question after all,¡± Cassius thought.


    ¡°You can leave soon, but first, I need some information. You see, I¡¯m looking for a kid about your age. His name is Sabir Quinn. Do you know him?¡± Cassius asked.


    ¡°Okay, okay, good job Cass, you have made your intentions clear. Now they know you are not trying to hurt them.¡±


    The three kids in front of him seemed to squirm in discomfort. Their eyes darted back and forth. ¡°Okay, nice, either I¡¯ve just completely destroyed their psyches with fear or they know something,¡± Cassius observed.


    There was an awkward silence upon his delivered question. The awkward silence was excruciating for Cassius; he never did well with children. Not that he ever dealt with children, upon thinking about it.


    The girl was the first to break the silence. Cassius cheered in his mind; he wanted this exchange to end. Reluctantly, the girl asked, ¡°What do you want with Sabir?¡±


    Cassius couldn¡¯t help but smile. He¡¯d done it. He had the greatest lead. ¡°These kids can take me directly to him.¡± Now all he had to do was reassure them that he wasn¡¯t going to hurt Sabir and he just wanted to ask a few questions to help with his investigation.


    ¡°I just want to talk. So, do you know where he is?¡± Cassius enquired with the best smile he could muster. The three continued to look troubled. He couldn¡¯t understand why these kids were so scared. He made sure to tell them he wasn¡¯t going to hurt them. What else must he do to gain their trust?


    Just as Cassius was thinking about how to make the three more comfortable, a voice cut his thoughts short.


    ¡°You¡¯re looking right at him.¡± The kid with the shaggy hair stepped up towards Cassius. Cassius couldn¡¯t believe it. His luck was never that good. ¡°The kids are scared shitless for some reason. There¡¯s no reason for them to lie, and it also explains why they¡¯re so jumpy after I asked if they knew him,¡± analyzed Cassius. There was no way the kid was lying.


    Cassius had done it. He could finally stop this investigating nonsense and go back to doing what he does best, inflicting pain on The Triads. Yet, just as thoughts of his next mission crossed his mind, the face of the old woman who led him here resurfaced, her tired eyes brimming with a quiet strength.


    The granny had been suffering from Lurmia, a death sentence in The Limbo. The flesh-eating worms slowly consumed her from the inside, gnawing away at her body, leaving her in constant agony. She had begged for an end to her suffering, and Cassius, with a heavy heart, had granted her that mercy. Even as her blood soaked into the ground, he couldn¡¯t help but feel there had to be another way. There had to be something he could have done.


    It was too late for her now, but not for the promise he had made¡ªthe promise to help Sabir. In her last moments, she had entrusted Cassius with this responsibility, making him swear he would find the boy and protect him from whatever fate awaited him in Havana.


    As Cassius looked towards the boy named Sabir, the weight of that promise settled over him like a shadow. His eyes narrowed with renewed resolve, the easy temptation of cruelty replaced by something heavier, more complicated. He clenched his fists, as if preparing for a fight, but the battle wasn¡¯t with Sabir, it was with himself.


    ¡°Found you now,¡± Cassius muttered, his voice quieter than intended. Sabir¡¯s golden eyes fixed on him, unflinching. For a moment, Cassius saw a glimpse of the old woman in Sabir¡¯s determined expression, bravery, defiance, and an unyielding will. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t just another job. The boy wasn¡¯t just another target. Cassius wasn¡¯t sure why, but he could feel the old woman¡¯s presence in his mind, urging him to look after Sabir like she would have. And now, bound by his own sense of guilt and duty, he realized that this was more than a mission. It was his responsibility.


    Cassius reached out with his shadows, enveloping both himself and Sabir in a swirling vortex of darkness. He felt the boy¡¯s gaze fixed on him, his golden eyes watching intently. The shadows wrapped around them tightly, obscuring their forms from view.


    ¡°No!¡± Samantha¡¯s scream pierced the air as she lunged forward, her hand outstretched towards Sabir. Her fingers brushed against the swirling darkness, but it was like grasping at smoke, intangible and fleeting. Her desperate grip closed on nothing but air as the shadows swallowed them whole.


    Cassius and Sabir vanished in an instant, leaving Samantha standing there, her hand trembling, her eyes wide with helplessness. Max stared in shock, rooted to the spot as silence fell over them like a weight.


    Samantha¡¯s outstretched hand slowly fell to her side, her voice a faint whisper. ¡°Sabir¡­¡±

 Chapter 10 - Revelation

    Sabir was in a daze when it all happened. The esper before him radiated an overwhelming aura that left him quaking. His breath hitched, chest tightening as he struggled to make sense of it. Why did this man want to speak to him, of all people? Sure, he was from The Limbo, but he was here fairly and had done nothing to break the laws.


    His priority in this deadly situation was keeping Max and Sam out of it. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his thoughts racing. He had to come clean to the man; he realized. If he didn¡¯t, it could cause a larger chain of issues, pulling his friends into a mess they didn¡¯t deserve.


    Sabir could sense the tension rolling off Max and Sam. They weren¡¯t ready for this hell, neither was he, but he had to keep them safe. He shot Sam a shaky, reassuring smile. She looked the most terrified, her hands trembling at her sides.


    Suddenly, before Sabir could process what was happening, the man in armor appeared before him. Too close. Far too close. Sabir¡¯s breath stalled in his throat. They were so near that Sabir could feel the man¡¯s warm breath against his skin. His stomach churned with fear as he forced himself to meet the man¡¯s gaze. The man¡¯s eyes were black voids, unblinking, like dark abysses that threatened to swallow him whole.


    Sabir¡¯s heart raced, pounding in his ears. Sweat slicked his palms, and he clenched his fists, trying to suppress the growing panic. His mind spun through worst-case scenarios. This man was far too powerful. Sabir knew he¡¯d die if it came to a fight. But even then, his survival instincts kicked in, and he started calculating how he might throw a punch, just one, if it came to that.


    Then, before he could even move, the world shifted.


    Shadows swirled around them both like ink bleeding through water, dark and suffocating. Sabir¡¯s vision blurred as the shadows thickened, cold tendrils of darkness coiling around him, squeezing the air from his lungs. Panic surged through him as the ground vanished beneath his feet. He tried to move, to resist, but his limbs felt heavy, frozen. He was falling, or was the world pulling him deeper into the void?


    The coldness of the shadows seeped into his skin, numbing him from the inside out. It felt as if a blizzard of black ice had trapped him, leaving his body disoriented and unmoored. The rush of motion, fast, too fast, disoriented him further, his stomach twisting painfully. His sense of time shattered, seconds stretching into what felt like hours, until¡­


    Suddenly, it stopped.


    The shadows unraveled, releasing him, and the world snapped back into focus. Sabir staggered, his knees buckling as his body fought to catch up with the teleportation. The ground beneath hi, cracked pavement, felt real again, but his head spun violently, and he collapsed to the ground, vomiting onto the stone.


    Cassius, the man in armor, crouched beside him. Sabir expected cruelty, mocking words or indifference, but instead, he felt a hand on his back, rubbing gently. The touch was steady, soothing. Sabir recoiled at first, his body stiffening under Cassius¡¯ touch. An esper, as powerful as this man, could probably kill him with a touch. Sabir couldn¡¯t afford to be na?ve. Today may be his last day on earth.


    ¡°It¡¯s just motion sickness,¡± Cassius said, his voice calm, almost reassuring, despite Sabir¡¯s distrust. ¡°It happens the first few times. Take a moment to catch your breath.¡±


    Sabir wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still reeling from the experience. The unexpected kindness in Cassius¡¯ voice threw him off balance, disorienting him further. This wasn¡¯t the man he¡¯d expected.


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    As he regained his composure, he took in their surroundings. They were on a street somewhere in The Commons. Judging by how run-down the area looked, Sabir could guess it was a lower district of The Commons, closer to The Threshold. Based on that assumption, they had traveled almost half a kilometer.


    ¡°Why me?¡± Sabir asked, his voice trembling slightly. ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything wrong.¡±


    Cassius studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. ¡°I apologize. I was fairly vague, huh? Well, I think it¡¯s best we sit down and talk about it all,¡± he said, gesturing towards a small building with the worn-out sign that read ¡°Diner.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s best you replenish all that food you lost coming here,¡± Cassius added.


    ¡°I came here involuntarily,¡± Sabir replied, his frustration boiling over. The man before him seemed like a living contradiction. The ruthlessness he displayed prior felt like it was all an act.


    Cassius paused, turning to face Sabir. ¡°Look, you coming in or what?¡± he said before heading into the diner.


    Sabir hesitated for a moment, weighing his options. He didn¡¯t trust this man, but he also knew that refusing could lead to even more trouble. With a resigned sigh, he followed Cassius inside.


    The diner was dimly lit and almost empty, save for a cook standing by the counter who gave them a curious glance before returning to his work. Cassius chose a booth in the corner, away from prying eyes, and motioned for Sabir to sit.


    Reluctantly, Sabir slid into the seat opposite Cassius. The man seemed more relaxed now, but there was still an air of authority about him that kept Sabir on edge.


    Cassius called out to the cook, ¡°Can we get some grub over here?¡±


    The cook looked up, his face weary. ¡°Only got mashed potatoes,¡± he replied in a depressed voice.


    Cassius nodded. ¡°That¡¯ll do. Two servings, please.¡±


    Turning his attention back to Sabir, Cassius took off his fingerless gloves and extended a hand. ¡°Name¡¯s Cassius Ward. I¡¯m a government enforcer.¡±


    Sabir hesitated before shaking Cassius¡¯s hand, his mind racing with questions.


    ¡°You¡¯re a person of interest in my investigation,¡± Cassius continued. ¡°And I think you can help me with something important.¡±


    Sabir frowned. ¡°Investigation? What do you want from me, Mr. Ward?¡±


    ¡°Calling me Cassius is fine,¡± the man replied. ¡°A woman was killed about 22 hours ago on the highway in Tetra City.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s confusion deepened. ¡°What does that have to do with me?¡±


    Cassius nodded solemnly and reached into his coat, pulling out a photograph. He handed it to Sabir, whose eyes widened as he looked at the image. The woman in the photo had long black hair and the same angular jawline as Sabir, but she was bruised and bloody, her eyes closed.


    Sabir¡¯s heart raced as he looked up at Cassius, his voice frantic. ¡°Why do you have a picture of my sister? What happened to her?¡±


    Cassius met his gaze steadily. ¡°Sabir, Cynthia Quinn is dead.¡±


    Sabir felt as if someone had pulled the ground out from under him. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memories and the stark reality Cassius had just laid before him. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, but his throat tightened, words escaping him. He couldn¡¯t believe this was actually happening. This was all surely a dream.


    The cook arrived with two plates of mashed potatoes, placing them on the table with a sympathetic glance at Sabir. The simple, warm food seemed like an absurd comfort amid such shattering news.


    ¡°Eat,¡± Cassius urged gently. ¡°You¡¯ll need your strength. There¡¯s a lot we need to discuss.¡±


    Sabir stared at the plate, his appetite gone. ¡°Why?¡± he finally choked out. ¡°How did she die?¡±


    Cassius sighed, leaning back in his seat. ¡°Well, they tried to brush it off as just a car crash. Pretty convenient, don¡¯t you think? But that was the initial consensus, but things changed when a rare poison was found in the driver¡¯s bloodstream. The hospital notified the local guilds, but none of them bothered to investigate. By chance, the report landed on my desk.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What kind of poison?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a poison used almost exclusively by The Triads,¡± Cassius explained. ¡°I did some digging on the truck driver, and he came out clean¡ªno criminal record, no ties to any shady organizations.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s heart raced. ¡°So, what does that mean?¡±


    Cassius leaned forward, his eyes intense. ¡°It means your sister was murdered, and I¡¯m going to find out why.¡±

 Chapter 11 - What Drives Us

    The Limbo was a harsh place, unforgiving and desolate. In this environment, Cynthia was a beacon of hope for young Sabir. She was gifted with Esper powers that could have secured her a comfortable life in Havana, but she couldn¡¯t abandon her little brother. Sabir had yet to awaken his powers, and as a child, he needed her more than ever.


    ¡°Cynthia, I¡¯m hungry,¡± Sabir whispered one evening, his stomach rumbling.


    ¡°I know, little bro,¡± she replied, her voice gentle but determined. ¡°I¡¯ll find us something. Just stay here and don¡¯t go outside, no matter what.¡±


    Cynthia ventured into the dangerous streets, braving the elements and the lurking dangers. She often returned with a single pack of Nutripulp, a rare find in their part of The Limbo. Despite her own hunger, she always let Sabir have most of it.


    ¡°Here, eat up,¡± Cynthia said, handing him the precious food.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you eating too?¡± Sabir asked, concern etched on his boyish face.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already eaten,¡± she lied, smiling to reassure him. ¡°You need your strength.¡±


    As the night deepened, the flickering light of their makeshift lamp cast long shadows on the walls. Sabir devoured the Nutripulp, savoring every morsel. Later, as he lay in bed, he heard a soft, stifled sobbing. Curious and worried, he got up and tiptoed to Cynthia¡¯s corner.


    ¡°Cynthia?¡± he whispered. ¡°Why are you crying?¡±


    Cynthia quickly wiped her tears, but the sadness in her eyes was unmistakable. ¡°It¡¯s nothing, Sabir. Just... tired.¡±


    Sabir crawled into her lap, wrapping his small arms around her. ¡°We¡¯ll be okay, right? We¡¯ll always be together.¡±


    Cynthia hugged him tightly, her tears falling into his hair. ¡°Yes, Sabir. We¡¯ll always be together and survive, no matter what.¡±


    They fell asleep holding each other, a fragile comfort in a brutal world.


    In the mornings, when Cynthia left to scavenge for supplies, Sabir would go to Mrs. Norris¡¯s shack. Mrs. Norris, an elderly woman with a kind heart hardened by years of hardship, always welcomed him. Despite the limited resources, she entertained Sabir with makeshift toys and simple games.


    ¡°Morning, Sabir,¡± Mrs. Norris greeted him one day, offering him a piece of dried fruit and a small, hand-carved figure. ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Sabir replied, taking the dried fruit gratefully. ¡°Thank you, Mrs. Norris.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, dear. Now, how about a game of ¡®hide the pebble¡¯?¡± she suggested, her eyes twinkling.


    They amused themselves, played, and for a few hours, the unyielding truth of The Limbo softened into the background. Each night, Cynthia would come back, always appearing drained yet thankful.


    ¡°Thank you for looking after him, Mrs. Norris,¡± Cynthia said each night, her voice filled with sincere gratitude.


    ¡°Anytime, Cynthia. You know he¡¯s like a grandson to me,¡± Mrs. Norris replied, patting Sabir¡¯s head gently.


    Sabir and Cynthia would then wend their way back to the hut they called home. Cynthia would lead him to the doorway of their shack. Once inside, she would spread what little fare there was before them. At meal¡¯s end, Cynthia would take her place in the room''s corner that was her refuge, and there in her space, she would often cry a mountain of tears, as if the act of crying had become routine. Or as if she had never learned how to hold back tears.


    Sabir woke one morning to an unnerving stillness. The previous night, Cynthia had not returned. As he searched every inch of their shared space, calling her name, a sustained but unrefined panic settled over him.


    ¡°Cynthia? Where are you?¡±


    Desperation clawed at his heart. He couldn¡¯t stay inside any longer. Ignoring Cynthia¡¯s warnings, he stepped out of their shack, the harsh sunlight momentarily blinding him.


    He wandered the desolate streets, his small footsteps echoing in the empty alleyways. As he passed by Mrs. Norris¡¯s house, she stepped out, her brow furrowed with concern.


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    ¡°Sabir, what are you doing out here?¡± Mrs. Norris asked, her voice stern but caring.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Cynthia,¡± Sabir replied, his voice trembling. ¡°She hasn¡¯t come back.¡±


    Mrs. Norris knelt down to his level, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s not safe for you to be out here alone. Why don¡¯t you come inside and wait with me? We can play some games while we wait.¡±


    Sabir shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. ¡°I have to find her. She might be in trouble.¡±


    ¡°Sabir, please, it¡¯s too dangerous,¡± Mrs. Norris pleaded, her grip on his shoulder tightening slightly. ¡°Let¡¯s just wait a little longer.¡±


    But Sabir had made up his mind. He pulled away from Mrs. Norris and ran, ignoring her calls. His small legs carried him further into the desolate wasteland of The Limbo, his heart pounding with fear and determination.


    Through the vacant stretch of wilderness, Sabir dashed on, his gaze flickering everywhere and anywhere, as if he were trying to catch his sister¡¯s presence in the air. The wasteland of cracked earth and tortured metal was an all-but-deserted expanse of death and decay. Survivors assembled makeshift shelters out of metal and earth to provide at least a semblance of safety and security. But what use was that in an environment like this? Rubble littered the grounds, and the air itself hung heavy with the sense of decay. Figures sauntered about lifelessly, casting sidelong glances at him with the mistrust borne of the endless suspicion and fear that was a part of them.


    He ran past a group of children clustered around a small fire, their faces emaciated and their eyes sunken. They didn¡¯t give him a second glance as he dashed by. Moving ahead, he saw that an old man was picking through a pile of junk, muttering to himself. Sabir called out to the man, but the old man¡¯s head only turned partway toward him before shaking back and forth. The boy ran on, deeper into what felt like the heart of darkness. No familiar sights or sounds of his usual hangouts reached him anymore. A shiver of loneliness ran down his spine as he imagined what the old man would say to him if he had spoken.


    Sabir struggled to breathe, and his heart felt like it was about to burst from the sheer terror surrounding him. The darkness enveloping him was almost tangible, as though it sought to engulf him. His only source of illumination was the nearly spent flashlight in his hand. The shadows cast in the tunnel loomed large and foreboding, and they seemed to be the only thing closing in on him. Then came the howl, haunting and bone-chilling, that seemed to emerge from some primeval part of the night.


    A giant wolf-like monster appeared, its eyes glowing with predatory hunger. The beast¡¯s matted fur bristled as it bared its fangs, advancing on Sabir with a low, menacing growl.


    People ran in every direction, screaming in terror. In the chaos, someone pushed Sabir, sending him tumbling towards the beast. Paralyzed with fear, he watched as the monster loomed over him, its fangs bared.


    Just when he thought it was the end, a force yanked him back, and he found himself behind his sister. Cynthia stood between him and the monster, her eyes glowing with a blue tinge.


    ¡°Cynthia!¡± Sabir cried out, but she didn¡¯t take her eyes off the beast.


    With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed her telekinetic power, lifting the beast into the air. The monster roared, struggling against the invisible force. Cynthia strained, sweat pouring down her face as she slammed the beast into the ground with a force that shook the street. However, the monster did not go down easily. It sprang back up, faster than before, and lunged at her.


    Cynthia barely dodged its claws, but its teeth sank into her arm, blood gushing from the wound. She screamed in pain, but didn¡¯t falter. With a surge of energy, she sent a powerful telekinetic blast, throwing the monster against a wall. The creature yelped, then lay still, defeated.


    Breathing heavily, Cynthia turned to Sabir, her face pale from blood loss. ¡°What did I tell you about staying inside?¡± she scolded weakly, pulling him into a tight embrace. ¡°We stay together and survive, no matter what.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes filled with tears as he saw the blood staining her clothes. ¡°Cynthia, you¡¯re hurt!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a scratch,¡± she lied, wincing. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Let¡¯s go home.¡±


    That day, Sabir vowed to never disobey her again. They were all each other had, and they would protect each other at all costs.


    Life in The Limbo remained unforgiving, but Sabir and Cynthia carved out a semblance of relative normalcy. Sabir was nearing his tenth birthday, still a few years away from the age when most children awakened their powers. He was anxious, eager to discover what abilities he might possess, but also worried about the responsibilities they would bring.


    He would always have dreams of gaining the most powerful esper abilities and leading his sister to The Threshold. The gate would open and a heavenly light would christen both siblings¡¯ faces as they smiled at each other.


    One night, as Sabir stirred in his sleep, he felt a gentle touch on his forehead and heard Cynthia¡¯s whisper, ¡°I¡¯m leaving Sabir, I¡¯ll be back eventually.¡± He drifted back to sleep, not realizing those were her parting words.


    The next morning, she was gone. There was no note, no trace of where she might have gone. Sabir felt like someone had pulled the ground out from under him. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memories and the stark reality that Cynthia was no longer there.


    Days turned into weeks, and Sabir ventured out, asking anyone he could find if they had seen her, but the answers were always the same. No one had seen Cynthia Quinn.


    The young boy found himself alone in a hostile world, with nothing but the memories of a sister who had once been strong and loving. The promise they had made to each other to stay together and survive now felt like a mean joke.


    But Sabir didn¡¯t give in to despair. Instead, he held onto determination and the goal of survival for the sake of Cynthia. He would become strong. He would discover the powers that lay dormant within him, and one day, he would make sense of his sister¡¯s disappearance.


    Her fierce spirit had made a permanent imprint on his young, impressionable mind, and he intended to let it carry him through The Limbo and to the other side.


    To Havana.

 Chapter 12 - Lightning Crosshair

    Sabir reluctantly finished the plate of mashed potatoes. It was one of the most delicious meals he had ever tasted, yet the food couldn¡¯t replace the agony and pain he was feeling. He had flipped the photo over, preventing himself from seeing her bloody state while eating.


    When he finally picked up the photo and looked at it again, it was undeniably his sister. Older and with frown lines, but still the same sister who had protected him. The pained expression on her face made Sabir squirm uncomfortably. It felt so familiar yet so foreign to see her face.


    Sabir clenched his fists, anger and sorrow swirling within him. "I have to know why," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Why did this happen to her?"


    Cassius nodded, his expression resolute. "And we will find out, Sabir. Together, we''ll uncover the truth."


    Cassius cleared his throat, leaning forward with a serious expression. "However, the first order of business is taking you to my office."


    Sabir''s brow furrowed in confusion. "Why do we need to go there?"


    Cassius glanced around the dimly lit diner, lowering his voice. The hum of the flickering neon sign outside mixed with the distant murmur of conversations. "Okay, don''t get alarmed, kid, but you''re being tracked."


    Sabir''s eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Who''s tracking me? What are you talking about?"


    Cassius leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I''m fairly certain it''s The Triads. They''ve figured out your existence."


    A chill ran down Sabir''s spine. "The Triads? How is that possible?"


    Cassius reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, metallic chip. "This was hidden in your pass. It''s a tracking device. Someone wanted to keep tabs on you, and my guess is it¡¯s The Triads."


    Sabir stared at the chip, trying to comprehend the gravity of the situation. "But how did they even get to me?¡±


    Cassius threw a small piece of paper on the table and slid it to Sabir. Sabir¡¯s eyes widened in shock¡ªit was a temporary pass to Havana. He picked it up to inspect it. It was his pass!


    "How did you get this?" Sabir demanded, his voice rising.


    "I checked through your pockets when we traveled here," Cassius replied nonchalantly. "Good thing I did, because I found this."


    Cassius held up the small, metallic chip. "This chip was planted here. It''s a tracking device. Can you think of anyone who could''ve planted it? Did anyone get close enough to touch your pass?"


    Sabir thought hard. "The only person who touches my pass regularly is the guard who takes it every day. But he barely looks at it, and sometimes he doesn¡¯t even check it.¡±


    "Anyone else?" Cassius probed. "Remember, there¡¯s always a possibility they pickpocketed you, but knowing you''re from The Limbo, I doubt you''d not notice. The only reason I could steal it was because of your apprehension." He laughed, a dark chuckle, remembering how scared Sabir and his friends were. Realizing he went off track, he asked again, "Can you think of anyone else who touched the pass?"


    Sabir racked his brain, then remembered. "There was this powerful esper, Noah... Noah Voltik, or something like that."


    Cassius''s eyes widened in shock. "Noah Voltaire?"


    Sabir nodded. "Yeah, him."


    Cassius looked amazed. "Damn, a Voltaire. Do you know who you just met?"


    Sabir shook his head. "No."


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    "How do you not know the Seven Noble Families?¡±


    Sabir was completely shocked. "Of course I¡¯ve heard of them, but I missed that part of my education. I was too old when I started school." It was common for kids to learn about Havana''s culture and history at a young age, but for Sabir, who entered school at 12, it was too late.


    Cassius was utterly perplexed. "Why would a Voltaire be in The Limbo? And why would they be interested in you?" His expression darkened. "I was hoping it was a member of The Triads. I wouldn''t mind taking out one more of them," he muttered with a mix of frustration and anger.


    Realizing the gravity of the situation, Cassius cursed under his breath. "Noah Voltaire, the first in line to the Voltaire family, is after you. Damn."


    Cassius placed the tracker in his palm, crushed it with a quick, powerful squeeze, and let the pieces fall to the table like crumbs. Then he grabbed Sabir''s hand. "We gotta leave quick. Who knows if they''re watching us right now."


    Cassius stood up, dropping a few coins on the table to cover the meal, and gestured for Sabir to follow him. As they exited the diner, Sabir couldn''t shake the feeling that they were being watched, the weight of the tracker¡¯s implications heavy on his mind. Cassius''s grip tightened on Sabir''s hand as they hurried into the shadows.


    "One lesson I''ve learned as a government enforcer," Cassius said grimly, "is never mess with the Seven Noble Families. They''re crazy as hell, and they can do whatever they please.¡±


    He glanced around to ensure they weren¡¯t being followed before continuing, "The Voltaire family is perhaps the most distinguished of them all. Many of them are high-ranking politicians. And as for Noah Voltaire, he''s a celebrity hunter¡ªeveryone loves him. But let me tell you," Cassius''s voice lowered, his expression darkening, "he has a superiority complex larger than any noble I''ve ever met.¡±


    Sabir swallowed hard, the gravity of their situation sinking in even deeper. Cassius gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, kid. We''ve got to get to my office."


    Cassius''s eyes closed briefly, his expression growing even darker as shadows seemed to envelop them. The weight of what they were up against pressing heavily upon them.


    ¡°Here we go again,¡± Sabir thought, focusing on keeping his stomach steady and pushing away thoughts of nausea.


    RING RING. Noah Voltaire was relaxing in a luxurious bath, the warm water easing his muscles. His tranquility was interrupted by the sharp ring of his phone on the side of the tub. With a sigh, he reached for it, checking the number. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the caller¡ªit was one of his operatives.


    He answered the call, keeping his tone composed. ¡°What is it?¡±


    The voice on the other end was tense. ¡°Sir, we¡¯ve lost track of the target. And... the Hound is with him.¡±


    Noah sat up straighter, water sloshing around him. ¡°The Hound? Why would he be interested in Sabir? He should be hunting the Triads like the good hunting dog he is.¡±


    A flicker of fear crossed Noah¡¯s mind, but he quickly buried it under a rising tide of anger. ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered. ¡°I expected complications, but this...¡±


    The man on the phone stammered, ¡°What should we do, sir?¡±


    ¡°Return to the house and await further orders,¡± Noah commanded, his voice icy. He ended the call and was about to curse aloud when the bathroom door swung open.


    ¡°Elektraaa!¡± he yelled, his irritation boiling over. ¡°I¡¯m taking a bath!¡±


    His sister, Elektra, stood in the doorway, unfazed by his outburst. ¡°Oh, sorry, brother, but I couldn¡¯t help overhearing. You¡¯re tracking a lead. Let me go out and deal with the bastard.¡±


    Noah glared at her, his frustration palpable. ¡°You¡¯re too young, Elektra. Father would be furious.¡±


    She crossed her arms defiantly. ¡°Young? Maybe. But I¡¯m just as capable as any of your operatives. Besides, I¡¯m tired of being cooped up. I want some action.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Noah said firmly. ¡°This is too dangerous. The Hound is involved now and he is not someone you can take lightly.¡±


    Elektra rolled her eyes. ¡°I know who the Hound is, Noah. And I also know that you won¡¯t get anywhere if you keep underestimating me.¡±


    Noah¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°This isn¡¯t about underestimating you. It¡¯s about keeping you safe. The Hound is... different. He¡¯s unpredictable.¡±


    Elektra smirked. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled. I¡¯m the perfect one for the job. I can handle unpredictable.¡±


    ¡°No, Elektra. That¡¯s final,¡± Noah snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument. ¡°Go back to your room and play with Warren or something. Stay out of this.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes flashed with irritation. ¡°I¡¯m not hanging around with that pathetic loser. Sometimes I doubt we¡¯re even related. Maybe he should go down along with the bastard.¡±


    She huffed, clearly annoyed but turned to leave. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t expect me to sit around and do nothing.¡±


    Noah watched her go, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I mean it, Elektra. Stay out of this.¡±


    As she walked out, Noah sank back into the water, trying to calm his rising frustration. He needed to regain control of the situation¡ªfast.


    Elektra left the bathroom, her mind already racing with plans. She pulled out her phone and made a call. ¡°Yo Arran, it¡¯s me. I need to know where the government enforcer¡¯s office is. The one they call the Hound.¡± A voice on the other end replied quickly, and Elektra¡¯s lips curled into a dangerous smile. ¡°Good. Send me the location. I¡¯m going to pay him a visit.¡±


    She ended the call, a hunger for amusement in her eyes. ¡°The Government¡¯s Hound, huh?¡± she muttered to herself, a dangerous glint in her eye. ¡°He won¡¯t stop us from killing the bastard.¡±

 Chapter 13 - Two Sitting Ducks

    Sabir found himself in an awkward car ride with Cassius, who sat across from him looking rather bored. Despite the situation, Sabir could sense that Cassius wasn¡¯t a bad guy. However, there was an air of unpredictability about him that made Sabir uneasy. Every time Cassius attempted to smile, it looked more like a predatory grin, as if he couldn''t completely turn off his intimidating demeanor.


    Cassius''s office was located in Sector 3, a relatively long journey ahead based on Sabir¡¯s assumptions. Sabir had barely explored the entirety of The Commons and here he was about to go to another region in Havana.


    Havana was a large area teeming with millions of people in each section. When Havana was first established by the Seven Noble Families, they split the land evenly between them. Each family governed their respective sectors, which were officially numbered from one to seven. As Havana grew, it began giving names to the sectors, and a sense of zeal increased between citizens living in each sector. To the regular person, the nobles were like gods.


    Tetra City was left as neutral ground. Anyone with money or power could go there. A council was created to oversee the running of Tetra City. This did not stop the seven families from having influence over the city.


    As they left The Commons through Cassius¡¯s shadow ability, Sabir felt a strange sensation of displacement. Once they reached the edge of the city, Sabir was abruptly dropped to the ground. He stumbled, hitting his head against a tree with a painful thud.


    ¡°You said your office is in Sector 3, so why aren¡¯t we moving?¡± Sabir asked, clutching his head in pain. He glanced at the government enforcer and noticed that Cassius¡¯s skin was paler than usual, and his breathing was shallow.


    Cassius leaned against a nearby tree, clearly exhausted. ¡°I¡¯ve used my powers quite extensively. I¡¯m not an infinite pool of energy. Depending on one''s esper ability, certain requirements are needed to continue using them. My shadow travel relies heavily on my stamina for extended use.¡±


    Sabir nodded, absorbing the information while trying to soothe the throbbing pain in his head. ¡°So, what now? Do we wait here until you recover?¡±


    Cassius shook his head slowly, a determined glint in his eyes. ¡°No, we can''t afford to wait. The longer we stay in one place, the more vulnerable we are. We need to keep moving, but we¡¯ll have to go the old-fashioned way for a bit.¡±


    He pushed himself off the tree and started walking, motioning for Sabir to follow. They navigated through the outskirts of the city, keeping to the shadows and avoiding any open areas. The landscape shifted from urban decay to a more barren, desolate wasteland, remnants of the old world scattered around like forgotten memories.


    They reached a more secluded area where no one could find them. Cassius lifted up his sleeve to reveal a small watch. Sabir watched as he pressed a button on the side of the watch.


    ¡°This is the hound. I need a ride to my office, make it snappy,¡± he demanded. A simple ¡°yes sir¡± could be heard before the watch produced a long static screech. Cassius turned the watch off and put his sleeve down.


    Cassius dropped to the ground, sitting with his posture straight. ¡°Sit down. A car will be coming soon to pick us up.¡±


    The word "car" made Sabir shiver slightly. If it wasn''t for the way his sister died, he would''ve been ecstatic to be in a car. There were plenty that drove through The Commons, and Sabir always wanted to be in one. Not anymore, though.


    Sabir squatted down on the floor opposite Cassius. ¡°Hey Cassius, how did you find out about me? There shouldn''t be any record about me. I have no documents or anything. In Havana, I might as well not have existed.¡±


    Sabir stayed on guard around Cassius, despite the man''s apparent willingness to help him. He was certain Cassius had his own motives for getting involved, though he couldn''t yet discern what they were. Sabir felt he''d naturally uncover Cassius''s true intentions sooner or later.


    Cassius looked at him with a smile. ¡°Well, you see, I rummaged through your sister''s apartment and found some letters that were written to Sabir Quinn. You sharing the same name, I thought you were related.


    ¡°She had an apartment?¡± Sabir''s interest peaked. The life of his sister after leaving him was shrouded in mystery. Any piece of information was like learning about a new person.


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    ¡°Yes, they lived in an apartment complex in Tetra city.¡± Cassius said with a confused look. ¡°Shouldn''t you know this already, she is your sister?¡±


    ¡°My sister hasn''t contacted me in years,¡± Sabir answered bitterly. ¡°While she left me all alone to fend for myself she was living it up in Tetra City.¡±


    Cassius began to laugh, a deep, almost bitter sound. "We''re all the same, huh? All of us in Limbo really think everyone in Havana has it easy." His eyes grew intense, locking onto Sabir''s with an almost hypnotic grip.


    "No place in Havana is what you imagine it to be," Cassius continued. "What you saw in The Commons¡ªthe hopelessness in one person''s eyes, then turn your head and see someone else smiling like their life is all sunshine and rainbows.¡±


    Sabir nodded, understanding exactly what Cassius meant. The Commons had a strange duality. There were those who had just crossed The Threshold, dazed and desperate, trying to figure out how to survive. Even those who had lived there for generations often had the same lifeless look. But for every person who saw the world in black and white, there was another who saw it in the brightest colors.


    Compared to The Limbo, The Commons seemed like an unimaginable escape to Sabir. Real houses that didn¡¯t topple over in the slightest wind, shops where you could buy food without having to fight for it¡ªit was a different world. It seemed people were in a Limbo of their own but it was all playing out in their head.


    "Those different faces are everywhere in Havana," Cassius said, breaking Sabir¡¯s reverie. "We''re all living in a shithole, but some lucky few can distract themselves from that realization. Tetra City? No different from any other sector. You can wrap a place in gold, but the interior can still be made of shit.¡±


    Cassius paused, then shifted the conversation back, after realizing he was being too didactic. "As for finding out where you were, well, that was trickier. You were right¡ªyou didn''t exist. No birth certificate, nothing. You were like me once, a ghost. But I knew there was a place where ghosts lived. So I headed to The Limbo, and that''s where I found out about you.¡±


    ¡°Who the hell could''ve ratted me out? I made sure to keep a low profile. There was no one who knew me well enough.


    Sabir paused, his mind flashing back to his terrifying first encounter with Cassius Ward. His voice wavered slightly as he asked, "You didn''t hurt anyone there, did you? I mean, you didn''t... torture people or anything?"


    He was skeptical that Cassius could have gathered so much information in The Limbo without resorting to extreme measures. In The Limbo, people only reacted to two things: strength or money. Sabir knew that all too well. His unease grew as he waited for Cassius¡¯s response, the fear of what might have been done in his name gnawing at him.


    Cassius began to squirm uncomfortably on the ground. ¡°Well, there was this old lady that I happened to meet, and she told me I would find you in The Commons at the time.¡±


    ¡°Mrs. Norris? How did she give up any information? She may not look it, but she''s as stubborn as they come.¡± Sabir realized that the only person who could''ve given such information was Mrs. Norris.


    ¡°Well, she was unwilling at first, but I explained the situation, and she gave up the information pretty quickly. She seemed really worried about you.¡±


    Sabir nodded to what Cassius was saying. After all, Mrs Norris cared for Cynthia just as much, if not more. Before he could reflect on it, Cassius cut off his thoughts.


    ¡°Hey Sabir, this Mrs. Norris, is she close to you?¡± Cassius asked, stumbling over his words.


    ¡°Yeah, she''s like a grandmother to me.¡± Thinking of Mrs. Norris, Sabir smiled and grabbed his rucksack, opening it. Cassius watched him intently. Sabir brought out the cola that Max had bought him. There was still eighty percent of it left.


    Sabir took the tiniest of sips. The sweet, syrupy flavor melted in his mouth. ¡°I can''t wait to let Mrs. Norris try some of this. When I was younger, she''d give me lots of her own food, so it''d be nice to do it for her,¡± Sabir said, smiling.


    ¡°That might be difficult,¡± Cassius said darkly.


    ¡°Why is that?¡±


    ¡°Oh well, she''s old, y''know. Such sweet things like cola aren''t good for her, especially if you aren''t exposed to sweet things like people living in The Limbo.¡±


    ¡°I see, but a sip won''t hurt,¡± Sabir replied, putting the cola back into his bag.


    ¡°The fizz isn''t going to last,¡± Cassius said, watching Sabir.


    ¡°Yeah, I was told, but I shut it as tightly as possible. Hopefully not much will escape.¡±


    Cassius looked at Sabir with a guilty expression. ¡°Listen, Sabir¡ª¡± BEEP! Before he could finish his sentence, a horn blared in the distance. They both looked towards the sound. ¡°Well, that''s our ride. Let''s go,¡± Cassius said, his mind feeling some sort of lag.


    They both brushed themselves off and headed to the edge of the city where a black car with tinted windows was waiting for them. A man wearing a gray suit stood by the car, opening the passenger door as they approached.


    ¡°I''ll be driving you to your office, Mr. Ward,¡± the man said, his voice professional and composed.


    Cassius nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Sabir followed Cassius into the car, the door closing behind them with a soft thud. They drove in silence, as the car sped towards Sector 3.

 Chapter 14 - Truths Lie Over The Canopy

    The atmosphere inside the car was tense; Sabir could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on him. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of the tires against the road were the only sounds breaking the silence.


    He turned to Cassius, curiosity getting the better of him. "What did you find in my sister''s apartment? And why didn''t I get her letters?" The questions fizzed out of him uncontrollably.


    Cassius''s eyes flickered to the driver, then to Sabir. He gave Sabir a stern look and a sharp nod towards the driver, signaling to drop the subject. "Stop asking questions, Sabir. This isn''t the time or place."


    Frustrated but sensing the seriousness, Sabir turned his attention to the window. He watched the urban landscape of Sector 2 transform as they ventured deeper into Sector 3. The crumbling buildings and chaotic streets slowly gave way to towering forms. These massive, looming figures stretched high into the sky, their thick canopies casting dappled shadows across the road. The change was almost hypnotic, and Sabir found himself mesmerized by the natural beauty he''d never seen before.


    His eyes widened in astonishment. "What are those?" he asked, his voice tinged with shock. "I thought they were monsters."


    Cassius glanced at the forms, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Those are trees, Sabir. They''re part of the old world, remnants of a time before everything changed. Sector 3 is known for its forests. It''s a rare sight for many, but they''re harmless."


    Sabir stared, mesmerized. "Trees? I thought they were from the old world."


    Cassius nodded. "Yes, they are. It''s one of the few places in Havana where nature still thrives. You''ll see more things like this if you stick around."


    As they drove further, Sabir¡¯s mind wandered. He thought of the stories Mrs Norris used to tell about the old world, a time when the world was peaceful and things like trees were everywhere. He remembered the worn-out picture book she¡¯d kept hidden, family heirloom, with its faded images of forests and animals. Seeing the real thing was overwhelming.


    Sabir lurched up from his seat, rummaging through his pocket for his pass. He looked at it and saw the bar that indicated his time in Havana was nearly up.


    As if able to read his mind, Cassius spoke up. ¡°Don''t worry, you''re with a government agent. Your safety in Havana is guaranteed. Besides, the government doesn''t go hunting for aliens unless they fall at their doorstep.¡±


    Sabir exhaled in relief. ¡°What are aliens?¡±


    ¡°Just a term government officers use to describe anyone who has entered Havana illegally.¡±


    Sabir nodded slowly, absorbing the new information. He turned back to the window, watching the towering forms grow closer and denser.


    ¡°They¡¯re incredible,¡± he murmured.


    Cassius glanced over, noticing the wonder in Sabir''s eyes. ¡°Trees have a way of making you feel small, don¡¯t they? Reminds you there¡¯s more to this world than just the chaos we live in.¡±


    Sabir nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. "It''s hard to believe places like this still exist."


    Cassius smiled faintly. ¡°Sector 3 is unique that way. Each sector has its own character, but the forests here... they¡¯re something special. It''s one of the few things the Gaian family got right¡±


    Sabir looked puzzled. ¡°The Gaian family? Who are they?¡±


    Cassius chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°You really didn¡¯t learn much, did you? The Gaian family runs this sector. They¡¯re one of the Seven Noble Families. Make sure you remember that.¡±


    Sabir nodded slowly, as he barely processed Cassius''s words, he turned back to the window, his mind wandering.


    The car continued its journey, winding through narrow, tree-lined paths. The dense canopy overhead filtered the sunlight, casting a dappled pattern on the windshield. Sabir could see the shifting shadows and faint glimmers of light on the dashboard. Through the slightly open window, the air grew cooler and fresher, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Sabir closed his eyes for a moment, letting the tranquility of the place wash over him. It was a stark contrast to the oppressive, polluted air of The Limbo.


    When the car finally stopped, Sabir was left dumbfounded. The driver, an old wrinkled man with an air of precision, undid his seatbelt and stepped out to open the door for Sabir and Cassius.


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    ¡°Mr. Ward, we have arrived at your destination,¡± the driver said, his voice formal and steady.


    Sabir stepped out of the car, feeling a sense of disorientation as he took in his surroundings. The driver had already disappeared, and the car whizzed away, blending into the forest road until it was out of sight. Sabir spun around, trying to get his bearings. The trees seemed even more enormous now that he was standing among them, their towering forms stretching high into the sky. He took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, clean air. It felt almost otherworldly compared to the suffocating atmosphere of The Commons urban area.


    He could see that they were on the edge of the sector, where the forest thickened and the houses were sparse. The few homes he could spot were perched high in the trees, accessible only by wooden bridges and ladders, giving the area a whimsical yet isolated feel.


    Cassius sighed, breaking Sabir''s reverie. ¡°I used to be based in the regular HQ in Tetra City, but they shipped me out here to Sector 3. They said it was to ''better the working environment,'' whatever that meant. In reality, they just didn''t want me getting in the way or causing a ruckus.¡±


    Sabir looked at Cassius, curiosity piqued. "Why would they want to get rid of you? What did you do?"


    Cassius shrugged, a hint of bitterness in his smile. "Let''s just say my methods and reputation didn''t sit well with some of the higher-ups. They thought I''d be less troublesome out here, away from the political games of Tetra City."


    As they walked further into the forest, Sabir noticed the subtle details of the sector. Wooden signs carved with intricate designs pointed the way to various locations, and small gardens filled with vibrant flowers and herbs lined the paths. The tranquility of the area was a stark contrast to the chaotic, crumbling environment of The Commons. Sabir wondered if people here were different, too, living simpler, less stressful lives.


    Cassius led Sabir to a secluded area where a large, well-maintained treehouse stood. It was more elaborate than the others, with multiple levels and a wide balcony that overlooked the forest.


    "This is where I conduct my work now," Cassius said, gesturing towards the treehouse. "It''s not the Tetra City HQ, but it''s got its own charm. The Gaians¡¯ tried to curry some favor by giving me this place."


    Sabir nodded, still taking in the unusual surroundings. "I can see why they sent you here. It''s peaceful, almost like a retreat."


    Cassius chuckled. "Peaceful, yes. But don''t let the tranquility fool you. There''s still plenty of work to be done, and it''s not all as serene as it looks."


    They ascended a wooden staircase that spiraled around the trunk of a massive tree, leading them to the entrance of the treehouse. Inside, the space was surprisingly modern, equipped with various gadgets and devices that seemed out of place in such a rustic setting. Sabir noticed the juxtaposition of advanced technology and natural beauty, making the place feel like a hidden sanctuary.


    The room was messy with objects scattered around, suggesting it hadn''t been cleaned in months. A giant board beside Cassius''s desk caught Sabir''s attention. It was filled with newspaper clippings, photos, and other documents pinned to it. Red marker sprawled across the board, with notes and circles highlighting key points. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of curiosity and anxiety. What was Cassius looking for?


    Cassius walked over to the desk cluttered with papers and maps. "Sit down. There are some things I haven''t told you yet¨Csome big things."


    Sabir gulped, still absorbing the surreal transition from the urban chaos of The Commons to the serene, forested enclave of Sector 3. As he settled into a chair, he couldn''t help but feel that the peaceful exterior of the treehouse hid a myriad of secrets waiting to be uncovered.


    ¡°Okay, how do I begin telling you this?" Cassius began, awkwardly fidgeting with his hands. "From the way you''ve explained it to me, Cynthia''s life in Havana is something you don''t know well. In fact, it''s probably better to say you don''t know anything about her life here.¡±


    Sabir nodded reluctantly, unsure where this rambling was taking them. There was a sense of foreboding with each sentence Cassius uttered, as if he was beating around the bush.


    ¡°At the time, we didn''t know much about her either. She was just another number. But it seemed there was more to her than we initially thought. How I figured that out... well¡­¡± Cassius opened a drawer and brought out an opened white envelope.


    ¡°This was the letter that was written to you. It was unopened. I thought it was unimportant, so I opened it. Please forgive me.¡± Cassius apologized with his head down.


    Sabir took the envelope, his hand shaking. He turned the envelope to see the back. ¡°To Sabir Quinn¡± was written in the neatest handwriting he''d ever seen.


    His heart pounded when he turned it, the neat handwriting almost surreal. In The Limbo, no one knew how to read or write. The sight of his sister''s writing brought a mix of anger and longing.


    ¡°Why the hell did you open it?¡± Sabir questioned, irritation creeping into his voice.


    ¡°I''m investigating a murder, kid. Grow up. This is bigger than you,¡± Cassius said, his once apologetic countenance morphing back to an emotionless slate. Sabir could only squirm in discomfort at the shift in tone.


    ¡°I have a job to do. Remember, I didn''t bring you here for a trip down memory lane. If you want to wallow about a letter you didn''t even know existed being opened, then don''t bother reading it. It won''t bring you any closure. Remember that.¡±


    He was right. Cassius had been plenty accommodating and had even helped him realize he was being tracked. The reason he came here wasn''t to reminisce but to find out who and why his sister was killed.


    ¡°You''re right. I''m sorry,¡± Sabir apologized.


    ¡°I don''t need your apologies. Hurry up and read the damn letter,¡± Cassius grunted with an impatience that cut through the air.


    Sabir took a deep breath and extracted the letter from the envelope. His hands shook in anticipation of the secrets it might reveal. The paper felt delicate, almost fragile, as if the words written on it carried a great weight.

 Chapter 15 - Questions Over Answers

    Dear Sabir,


    I hope this letter finds its way to you. I know it¡¯s been years since you last heard from me, and you probably have a lot of questions. I owe you an explanation.


    Life in The Limbo was unbearable. I was so young myself, barely more than a child, and suddenly I had to play the role of a parent. I felt overwhelmed and trapped. I know it¡¯s no excuse, but I was scared. I made a selfish decision to leave and find a new life in Havana. I found a man who loves me and offered me a way out.


    I hated myself for abandoning you. Every day, guilt and regret ate away at me. Part of me resented you, unfairly, for the burden I felt I was carrying. But now, looking back, I see how wrong I was. You were just a kid who needed love and support.


    I¡¯m so sorry, Sabir. If I could turn back time, I would have stayed and fought for us. But life doesn¡¯t give us second chances. Havana isn¡¯t the paradise I thought it would be. It¡¯s lonely, and I miss you every day.


    I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.


    Love,


    Cynthia


    ---


    Sabir clung to the paper with a tight grip as he read it. Tears fell on the grainy piece of paper, coating Cynthia''s last farewells in dark circular stains. Cassius watched him, unphased. He contemplated whether to say something, but before he could, Sabir broke the silence.


    "There''s more, isn''t there? More letters. Give me them now," Sabir cried, springing from his chair and leaning towards Cassius'' side of the desk. His hands banged against the table with a thump.


    Cassius hesitated, then drew out another envelope from the same drawer next to him. It was identical to the one Sabir had just read, with the same neat handwriting as before. Sabir grabbed it with desperation, his vision blurry.


    ---


    Dear Sabir,


    There¡¯s so much I need to say. I found a new life here in Havana, one filled with comforts and security. But those comforts came at the cost of losing you. I met a man who saved me from my struggle, and with his family''s influence, I¡¯ve managed to live comfortably.


    But none of that matters without you. I thought running away would free me from my responsibilities, but it only made me realize how much you mean to me. I was wrong to leave you, and I¡¯m so deeply sorry. I wish I could have been stronger for you.


    Havana is not the paradise I imagined. It¡¯s a place of loneliness, and despite the comforts, I feel empty. My lover has promised me happiness, but it¡¯s a hollow promise without you.


    Please, Sabir, don¡¯t think less of me. I was weak and made terrible choices. But you have always been special. You have the strength and resilience to succeed in anything you do. Find your path, make your own way in this world.


    With all my love,


    Cynthia


    <hr>


    Sabir''s hands trembled as he finished reading the second letter. He looked up at Cassius, his eyes a storm of emotions¡ªanger, sorrow, confusion. Cassius remained silent, understanding the turmoil raging within Sabir.


    ¡°There¡¯s one more,¡± Cassius said quietly, reaching into the drawer again and pulling out another envelope. He handed it to Sabir, who took it with shaking hands.


    <hr>


    Dear Sabir,


    This is the last letter I will write to you. By the time you read this, I hope you have found some peace in knowing the truth. My life in Havana has been a mixed blessing. I am safe and secure, but my heart aches for the family I left behind.


    I¡¯ve learned that running away from my problems didn¡¯t solve anything. It only created more pain, especially for you. You deserved better from me, and I failed you. I hope one day you can forgive me, not for my sake, but for yours. Holding onto anger and resentment will only hold you back.


    I will try not to make the same mistakes again. My new family comes with new struggles, and I''m not particularly safe with them either. Their family is dangerous, but I was promised I''d be safe. I want to become the person you always idolized me to be.


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    Remember the good times we had, even if they were few. Remember the strength you have inside you. You are capable of so much, Sabir. Don¡¯t let my mistakes define your future. Create your own path, and live the life you deserve. Hate me if you wish.


    With all the love I can give,


    Cynthia


    <hr>


    Sabir read the final letter slowly, absorbing every word. When he finished, he sat back in his chair, the weight of Cynthia''s words pressing down on him. He felt a mix of relief and sadness, a bittersweet closure to a chapter of his life.


    Cassius finally spoke, his voice gentle. ¡°What will you do now?¡±


    Sabir looked up, determination shining through his tears. ¡°Finding my own way? That''s some bullshit she told herself to make herself feel better. I don''t care about any of that anymore. Right now, all I want is to find out who killed her.¡±


    Cassius nodded. ¡°There¡¯s something else you need to know. I was debating whether to tell you, but seeing your mindset, you might be able to help.¡±


    Sabir nodded, taking a deep breath. He carefully folded the letters and placed them back in the envelopes. ¡°Well, what is it?¡±


    ¡°There was another person in that car crash, specifically in your sister''s car,¡± Cassius said.


    ¡°That lover she mentioned in the letter, it was him, maybe?¡±


    ¡°No, you see, the person in the car with Cynthia Quinn is a registered citizen,¡± Cassius said. From his desk, he slid a brown document with a paperclip toward Sabir.


    It had a photo of a little girl with a toothy grin and cyan hair. Her face looked eerily similar to his own, and they shared the same golden eyes. Sabir noticed on the document it was a medical report. The name of the patient read ¡°Mia Quinn.¡±


    ¡°Who is she?¡±


    Cassius sighed. ¡°From what I gathered from the letters, at some point, Cynthia had a baby with her lover. This is all speculation, however, as creating a timeline of all of this is very difficult since the letters aren''t dated.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you''re telling me Cynthia had a kid, and this is her?¡± Sabir questioned while picking up the document to view the photo of the child.


    ¡°That''s right. She''s your niece, Sabir,¡± Cassius confirmed.


    ¡°Okay, this is great. Where''s the kid? She might know something. It says here she''s five years old. She might be able to give us a clue.¡±


    ¡°That''s the issue, kid. It was reported that she was in the hospital. She was checked out and was ready to go. But she had no other legal guardian. There''s no father in her documents.¡±


    ¡°So your guess is that the kid''s father was the guy in the letters. So then, why isn''t he in any of the paperwork?¡±


    ¡°I don''t know. Your guess is as good as mine. Anyway, with no guardian, the kid was left alone in the hospital unattended. A government agent was on its way to deal with the orphan. More than likely, she would''ve been killed.¡±


    Sabir''s eyes widened. ¡°What the hell? Why would you kill a kid?¡±


    ¡°Orphans are the state''s problem. The government would have to look after her, which meant spending the credits they love to hoard. So they kill them,¡± Cassius said, unphased.


    Sabir''s stomach churned at the revelation. ¡°That''s messed up. They''re just kids.¡±


    ¡°What can you do? It''s what the government orders, and it''s not like any of the nobles care about orphans. It''s a problem beneath them.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you said ¡®would''ve¡¯ been killed. Then what happened to her?¡±


    ¡°She disappeared. The hospital didn''t know anything about it, or so they said over the phone anyway.¡±


    ¡°The phone? You didn''t go there in person to investigate?¡±


    ¡°It was a dubious lead, and going hunting for a kid wasn''t worth my time.¡±


    Sabir grabbed Cassius by the shoulders. ¡°A kid goes missing, and all you care about is it being a dubious lead? Why did you look for me then?¡±


    ¡°I prioritized looking for you because you were older. You probably knew more about your sister and might have been able to lead me to the triads. Turns out you didn''t know anything. Maybe I was better off looking for the kid,¡± Cassius said, annoyed while being shaken by Sabir.


    Sabir couldn''t hold it in any longer. Rage began to boil over. With his fists clenched, he swung at Cassius''s face.


    Just before the moment of impact, his arm was frozen in place. Shadows began wrapping around his arm. Tendril-like, they wrapped around his whole body, leaving him unable to move.


    ¡°Relax, it was a mistake on my part. I''m not some detective. I''m The Hound. All I''m good for is hunting and killing. What we know now is what''s important. Chasing after the kid might be worthwhile.¡±


    At first, Sabir struggled against the restraints made of shadows, but after exerting all the force he could muster, he could do nothing and his anger simmered.


    Noticing he had calmed down, Cassius released his shadows, causing Sabir to drop to the wooden floor.


    Sabir, in heavy breaths, brought out a single word. ¡°The lover¡­ the lover, who is he. We don''t know anything about him, yet we know she had a lover that took Cynthia in?¡±


    Cassius''s eyes widened in realization. He went over to the third letter Sabir had read. ¡°Your sister said her new family is dangerous. This could be a lead. Perhaps she fell in love with an enemy of The Triads, and to get back at him, they killed his lover.¡±


    Sabir caught his breath and stood back up, looking up towards Cassius. ¡°So, Cynthia''s lover wrapped her into his dangerous lifestyle, causing her to die.¡± Sabir clenched his fists in anger. Vengeance was the only thing on his mind. Whether it be The Triads or someone else, he would make them pay.


    Cassius continued, ¡°If Cynthia''s lover had connections, powerful enemies might have targeted her. This means we have two objectives: find the lover and locate Mia Quinn. They might be our only links to unraveling this mystery.¡±


    Sabir nodded, his resolve hardening. ¡°The father and daughter huh. So where do we start?¡±

 Chapter 16 - Sparks and Shadows

    "I''ll let you handle finding the little girl. Meanwhile, I''ll dig into this supposed lover. The only clue we have is that he might be an enemy of the Triads. It''s a thin lead, but I''ll start by looking into groups and individuals who have crossed them." Cassius grabbed a sticky note and scribbled an address. He handed it to Sabir with urgency.


    ¡°This is the hospital, the girl was last seen, you''ll go there to investigate.¡±


    Sabir glanced at the note and frowned. "Cassius, this is in Tetra City. How am I supposed to¡ª"


    A sudden crackle of static cut him off. Cassius''s eyes widened. "GET DOWN!"


    Cassius''s shadows surged forward, forming a protective barrier just as an electrical blast seared through the room. The shadows absorbed the impact, crackling with energy.


    A young woman stepped into view, her short cyan hair shimmering under the flickering lights. Her expression was a mix of anger and amusement. Sabir¡¯s eyes locked onto her, analyzing what could be an enemy. She had a confident, almost swaggering gait that commanded attention.


    Her attire, though practical, screamed wealth and status: high-end cargo shorts with intricate embroidery, and a fitted crop top that looked custom-made. Her hair was cut into a curly bob with bangs that framed her face, giving her an air of both sophistication and rebelliousness. Expensive-looking accessories, like a sleek watch and designer belt, completed her look, subtly flaunting her affluence.


    "Well, well, if it isn''t the Hound," she taunted, her voice dripping with disdain.


    "Elektra Voltaire," Cassius muttered, his shadows still bristling with residual energy.


    Elektra''s lips curled into a smirk. "Ah, so you know me. My reputation precedes me, even with the Hound." She glanced at Sabir, her eyes narrowing. "And you... you look familiar."


    Sabir''s mind raced as he took in her features. The resemblance was unmistakable. "You look like Noah."


    Her smirk faltered for a split second, replaced by a flicker of recognition. "You know my brother?" She took a step closer, her gaze piercing. "Wait... you..."


    Cassius stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden intensity. "Why are you here in sector 3? You should be at the academy."


    Elektra rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "For the scary hound you''re not that smart, I''m on holiday, dipshit. And I''m here for a family reunion."


    "Lady Voltaire, with all due respect, I have no idea what you''re talking about," Cassius replied, trying to maintain his composure and appease her.


    Elektra''s expression shifted from mocking to contemplative, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Wait, you don''t know where she is¡ª¡±


    Before she could finish, Cassius''s shadows exploded outward, smashing through the wall behind them. He grabbed Sabir and pulled him through the opening. The sound of Elektra''s mocking laughter echoed in the chaos.


    Outside, Cassius''s shadows carried them to safety, landing them in the middle of forest. Sabir''s heart pounded as he tried to process what had just happened.


    Cassius released his grip, his expression grim. "We need to move. She''ll be on us in no time."


    The sinister laugh echoing through the room grew louder and closer. In a split second, a ball of lightning and limbs shot between them, its force pushing them away. Sabir was thrown to the floor, rolling like a pinball. He could feel blood trickling down his face.


    Elektra Voltaire had jumped after them in a frenzy neither of them had expected. Cassius knelt, eyes locked on their potential enemy, assessing her every move.


    "I can finally let loose," Elektra said with a twisted smile. "I''ve been cooped up in my room for too long."


    Cassius''s eyes narrowed, shadows swirling around him in preparation. "I''m warning you Lady Voltaire, you¡¯re making a big mistake.¡±


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    Elektra struck first, launching herself at Cassius with a high, electrified kick aimed at his head. Cassius raised a shield of shadows just in time, the impact sending sparks flying. Elektra didn¡¯t pause, spinning around to deliver a series of rapid kicks, each one crackling with electricity.


    "Is this all you¡¯ve got, Hound?" she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery.


    Cassius moved swiftly, his shadows forming barriers to block her relentless assault. "Miss I implore you to listen to me."


    The room filled with the sound of crackling energy and the dull thud of impacts against his defenses. Elektra''s agility was astounding; she flipped and twisted, her movements a blur of deadly precision.


    With a sudden burst of speed, she feinted left, then darted right, slipping past Cassius¡¯s guard. Her fist connected with his side, electricity jolting through him. Cassius grunted, staggering back but quickly recovering, his eyes blazing with anger.


    "Got a shock, old man?" Elektra sneered, charging at him again.


    Cassius retaliated with a shadowy tendril, aiming to ensnare her. Elektra dodged, but the tendril grazed her arm, leaving a deep gash. She hissed in pain, eyes narrowing as she focused on her opponent.


    "This is why I hate brats" Cassius growled, summoning more shadows to his aid.


    His shadows lashed out again, this time in a coordinated assault. Tendrils shot out from multiple angles, forcing Elektra to backflip and twist to avoid them. Despite her best efforts, one shadow wrapped around her ankle, yanking her off balance. She hit the ground hard, but rolled to her feet in an instant, her body crackling with energy.


    Elektra roared, unleashing a torrent of electricity that spread across the floor towards Cassius. He responded by summoning a dome of shadows around himself, the energy dissipating harmlessly against it. The floor beneath them scorched and cracked from the intense heat.


    Cassius emerged from the dome, his patience worn thin. "Time to end this.¡±


    He summoned all his strength, shadows converging into a massive, spear-like form. He hurled it at Elektra with deadly precision. She barely managed to dodge, the spear grazing her side and tearing through her clothes, leaving a bloody streak.


    "Getting tired, Miss?" Cassius taunted, his voice cold.


    "Not even close!" she spat back, launching a barrage of electrified punches and kicks.


    Cassius met her every move with calculated efficiency. His shadows blocked, parried, and countered, pushing her further back. Sabir watched in awe and horror as Cassius¡¯s power grew more ferocious. With each strike, Elektra''s movements became more sluggish, her energy waning.


    Realizing she was outmatched, Elektra''s attacks grew more frantic. She launched a barrage of electrified punches and kicks, but Cassius met her every move with calculated efficiency. His shadows blocked, parried, and countered, pushing her further back.


    Cassius¡¯s shadows wrapped around her limbs, constricting her movements. She struggled, trying to break free, but the shadows tightened their grip.


    "I warned you, but you didn''t listen. Did you?" Cassius sneered.


    Elektra glared at him, her face twisted in pain and fury. "I''ll kill you!¡±


    Cassius¡¯s voice was a low, menacing growl. "Did you really think you could come at me and not get bitten? I¡¯m the Hound.¡±


    Sabir, watching the scene unfold, felt a surge of panic. He could see the lethal intent in Cassius''s eyes, the deadly precision of his shadows. Elektra was on the brink, bloodied and struggling to stand. Sabir wanted to intervene, to stop Cassius from making a horrific mistake.


    His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The fear and intensity of the fight rendered him mute, the pressure of the moment pressing down on him like a physical weight. He took a step forward, his legs trembling, but his voice betrayed him, refusing to utter a word.


    Cassius moved in for the final blow, shadows coalescing into a massive blade. Elektra, now bleeding profusely and panting heavily, looked up at him with a mix of fear and defiance.


    Sabir''s heart pounded in his chest. He could see the life draining from Elektra''s eyes, the fatal strike moments away. He clenched his fists, willing himself to scream, to shout, to do anything. He had seen plenty of people die, but a murder like this was something he had never witnessed.


    The brutality of it all was terrifying. In The Limbo, death was often quick and merciless¡ªa knife in the dark, a gunshot from the shadows. But this? This was different. This was drawn out, a slow, torturous end. Elektra''s once defiant eyes were now that of a scared little girl, a stark contrast to the ferocity she had shown moments before and an indication of her immaturity.


    He had seen death, but never like this. The sheer brutality, the calculated ferocity of Cassius¡¯s attack, was beyond anything he had ever encountered. It was as if he was watching a predator play with its prey, a sight both mesmerizing and terrifying.


    Just as Cassius raised his shadow blade for the final blow, Sabir felt a surge of desperation. He had to stop this, somehow. He could feel the life slipping away from Elektra, the blood pooling around her, each drop a countdown to her end.


    And then, cutting through the haze of terror and violence, a voice rang out. "Stop!¡±


    Cassius froze, his eyes flicking towards the source of the voice. Sabir turned as well, straining to see through the chaos of the battlefield. The voice had saved Elektra, but for how long?

 Chapter 17 - Echoes Of The Forest

    Cassius''s shadow blade hovered inches above Elektra''s throat, his expression one of cold determination. The voice that had called out, though, carried an authority that could not be ignored.


    "Stop!¡±


    Cassius froze, his eyes flicking towards the source of the voice. Sabir turned as well, straining to see through the chaos of the battlefield.


    A young girl stepped forward, her presence commanding despite her small stature. She was very short, her hair cascading down to her knees, decorated with vines and small flowers. Her sun dress fluttered gently as she moved, a stark contrast to the violence around her. Brown hair framed her face, and her big eyes were filled with a mix of determination and calm.


    "That''s enough, Cassius," she said firmly, her voice steady and unwavering.


    Vines sprouted from the ground, thick and sinewy, wrapping themselves around Cassius''s shadow blade. The shadows quivered under the green tendrils'' grip, unable to push further. Cassius''s glare softened immediately, his respect for the girl evident.


    "Lady Maize," he said, his tone almost reverent. "The Voltaire brat attacked first, unprovoked."


    Maize stepped closer, her eyes flicking to Elektra, who was struggling to breathe, her body battered and bloody. "There''s been enough bloodshed today," she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes, filled with pain and a flicker of relief, met Maize''s. Despite her injuries, a spark of defiance remained in her gaze. "Come to gloat, Maize?" she managed to choke out, her voice weak but laced with venom.


    Maize ignored the taunt, her focus remaining on Cassius. "How could you behave like this, after how my family has treated you since the government made you stray?" Her voice was stern, filled with a mix of sadness and reprimand. "Let her go. This isn''t the way to solve our problems."


    Cassius hesitated, the shadow blade still hovering menacingly. The disappointment in Maize''s eyes cut deeper than any weapon. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, Cassius dissipated the deadly shadow. The vines receded, releasing their grip as he stepped back, his expression troubled and remorseful.


    Sabir watched, a sense of relief washing over him. The immediate danger had passed, but he knew this encounter had only opened new questions. Who was this girl?


    Maize knelt beside Elektra, her hands glowing faintly as she gently touched the wounds. The plants around her seemed to respond, their leaves and stems growing stronger and more vibrant. "You''re going to be okay," she whispered, though it was unclear whether the words were meant for Elektra or herself.


    With a snap of her fingers, the forest seemed to come alive. Dozens of figures in green robes emerged from the foliage, their movements synchronized and silent. They approached with an air of authority and purpose, their presence filling the open area.


    Maize stood and gestured to one of the robed figures. "Take her to my room and call for the family doctor," she instructed, her voice calm yet commanding. "She''ll need to be checked up. And tell her that when she''s recovered, I''ll be needing some answers on why she''s here unannounced."


    The figure nodded, gently lifting Elektra and carrying her away with the others. Maize watched them go, a mixture of concern and resolve in her eyes.


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    Once Elektra was out of sight, Maize turned her attention to Sabir, her gaze sharp with curiosity. She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear, clearing her eyes of any obstruction as she studied him intently.


    "You''re bleeding," Maize said, her tone softening as she approached. Her eyes, large and piercing, seemed to look right through him, making Sabir shift uneasily. It felt as though she was delving into his very thoughts, uncovering secrets he hadn''t even shared.


    Sabir instinctively touched his forehead, feeling the sticky warmth of blood. He had almost forgotten about his own injuries in the chaos. "It''s nothing," he mumbled, trying to downplay it.


    Maize didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against his skin. A gentle warmth spread from her touch, soothing and healing the wound. The plants around them seemed to hum with energy, their leaves rustling softly.


    Cassius, who had been watching the exchange quietly, stepped forward. "Lady Maize, we appreciate your help," he said, his tone respectful. "But we need to understand what''s happening here. Why is Elektra here, and why did she attack us?¡±


    Maize sighed, glancing back in the direction Elektra had been taken. "Elektra has always been unpredictable," she said. "But I didn''t expect this. The Gaian family will get to the bottom of it.¡±


    "You''re not from around here, are you?" Maize asked, her eyes never leaving his. Curiosity shimmered in her gaze, a silent question that Sabir wasn''t sure he could answer.


    "No, I''m not," Sabir replied, trying to hold her gaze but finding it difficult.


    Maize called out to Cassius while still maintaining eye contact with Sabir. ¡°Who is he? Why is he with you?¡±


    Cassius stammered, "Uh, well, you see, um, I''ve taken on an assistant. Yes, a trainee. He''s a trainee."


    "That''s not possible. He''s a dud," Maize said.


    Both Sabir and Cassius¡¯ eyes widened in shock. "How did you know?"


    "Dud" was a term used derogatorily for someone without esper powers. They are often discriminated against and looked down upon.


    "I can sense it," Maize replied, her tone matter-of-fact. "You¡¯re different in nature from everyone else. It''s the first time I''ve met a dud. They''re just as helpless as I thought they''d be."


    Maize nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "There''s more to you than meets the eye," she whispered, almost to herself.


    "So, who is this boy really, Cassius? He can''t be your sibling. You look somewhat similar, but those eyes and your face shapes differ," Maize said, peering into Sabir''s golden eyes.


    "He was a lead in my investigation on the Triads. He''s...from The Limbo," Cassius said hesitantly.


    "You''ve been breaking all kinds of rules, Cassius. Are you telling me you broke the law and smuggled this guy into Havana? Your obsession with The Triads clouds your judgment," Maize said, rubbing her temples in exasperation.


    "Well, technically, he was here legally but¡ª"


    "No buts," Maize interrupted, a mischievous smile forming on her lips. "Based on your lack of professionalism, I''ll see to it that this boy gets home safely myself. This could be... interesting.¡±


    Turning back to Sabir with a spark of excitement, she added, "For now, we should get you back home. There''s so much to talk about."


    She then turned to Cassius with a wry smile. "Cassius, let my mother know I''ll be out for a while. And don''t forget to fill her in on everything that¡¯s happened. I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll appreciate knowing a Voltaire encroached on our territory. Anyway See ya!"


    "But¡ª" Cassius began to argue, but roots grew near where Sabir was kneeling, helping him to his feet. Maize took his hand and started walking away through the trees. Her giggles echoed through the forest, leaving Cassius confused and unsure of what to do.


    With that, Maize gently pulled Sabir along. As they moved deeper into the forest, the air seemed to grow warmer, the plants around them thriving in the presence of his mysterious benefactor.


    ¡°Great, I''m running errands now and my office is ransacked" Cassius screamed, whilst pulling his hair out of frustration. On that day Cassius vowed he would never have children.

 Chapter 18 - What The Beans!?

    Sabir stumbled as Maize led him deeper into the forest, her laughter echoing around them like the song of a mischievous spirit. The forest canopy thickened, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Despite the earlier battle''s chaos, nature''s resilience was evident as new shoots sprouted from the edges of the craters and charred ground.


    "Where are we going?" Sabir panted, trying to keep up with Maize''s effortless strides.


    "Nowhere in particular," Maize replied with a playful smile. "Isn''t it fun to just run aimlessly sometimes?¡±


    Sabir''s mind raced. He needed to get back to Cassius, but every step seemed to take him further from his goal. "We need to go back. Cassius will be looking for me," he insisted, trying to tug his hand free from Maize''s grip.


    Maize stopped abruptly, turning to face him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Cassius? Why would you want to go back to him? You''re safer with me.¡±


    "But I''m his assistant," Sabir protested. "I have to¡ª"


    "Assistant? Or maybe just a tagalong from The Limbo?" Maize interrupted, her tone teasing. "Do you really think you''re of any use to him? He''s obsessed with the Triads, and you''re just a distraction."


    Sabir''s frustration grew. "I don''t belong here. You need to take me back.¡±


    Maize''s expression softened, but her words carried a warning edge. "You''re here illegally. Anyone else would kill you on sight. I''m showing you compassion. Be grateful.¡±


    Sabir''s shoulders slumped, realizing the precariousness of his situation. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice tinged with resignation.


    Maize grinned, a mix of excitement and mischief lighting up her face. "Let''s start with introductions. I''m Maize Gaian, soon-to-be the highest-ranked student at the Hunter Academy." She puffed out her chest with pride. "And you?"


    "Sabir," he muttered, "just Sabir.¡±


    "Well, Just Sabir, consider yourself lucky to have caught my interest," Maize said with a wink. "You''re going to play with me for a while.¡±


    Maize led Sabir through the dense forest until they reached a clearing. The area was vast and open, with no houses in sight. The sky above was clear, and the sun bathed the ground in a warm, golden light.


    "This seems like a nice area," Maize said, surveying the open space. She walked over to a small plant that had yet to grow. Kneeling beside it, she placed her hands on the ground and closed her eyes. Her eyes began to glow with a soft green light as she cast her power on the plant.


    The plant responded immediately, growing rapidly and twisting into a large, sturdy structure. It expanded, forming a platform that resembled a battleground fighting ring. Vines thickened and intertwined, creating natural barriers and a raised arena in the center of the clearing.


    Maize stood up, admiring her handiwork. "Perfect," she said, a satisfied smile on her face. With a wave of her hand, vines shot out from the ground, wrapping around both her and Sabir. The vines lifted them effortlessly, pulling them up to the top of the platform.


    Sabir looked around in awe, the forest stretching out below them. The platform was high, giving them a clear view of the surrounding area. "What is this place?" he asked, still trying to process the sudden transformation.


    "It''s our playground," Maize said with a playful grin. "A place where we can have some fun and maybe learn a thing or two. Now, let''s see what you''re made of, Just Sabir."


    She released the vines, allowing them to stand freely on the platform. The anticipation in her eyes was clear, and Sabir realized that this was just the beginning of whatever Maize had planned for him.


    "I have the perfect thing for us to have a lot of fun," she said, pulling out three small beans from a pouch at her waist. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she held them out for Sabir to see.


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    "These little guys are going to be our entertainment," Maize explained, twirling the beans in her fingers. "You see, my family, the Gaian family, is deeply in tune with nature. We helped establish Havana, using our abilities to terraform the land and make it more habitable. Over the years, we''ve killed monsters and explored the wasteland, uncovering new plant life."


    She crouched down and placed the beans on the ground, continuing her story. "One such discovery are these beans. We''ve managed to monopolize their creation. Well they''re less like plants and more like weapons," she said with a laugh.


    Maize''s eyes began to glow again as she used her powers. The ground around the beans started to tremble, and small green shoots burst forth, rapidly growing and taking shape. From the beans, three small creatures emerged.


    The creatures were humanoid in shape, standing about three feet tall. Their skin was a bright green, rough and textured like the bark of a tree. They had large, bulbous heads with sharp, toothy grins and glowing red eyes. Their limbs were long and sinewy, ending in clawed hands and feet that dug into the ground with ease.


    Maize stood up, her eyes returning to their normal color as she admired the creatures. "Aren''t they adorable?" she said, grinning. "These little monsters are strong and agile. They''re perfect for a bit of fun. They are called vinefiends and they terrorized humanity for years."


    The creatures moved with a strange, almost playful energy, their eyes fixed on Sabir and Maize. Sabir felt a shiver run down his spine as he watched them, realizing that this "fun" might be more dangerous than Maize let on.


    Sabir was familiar with vinefiends; they would sometimes appear in The Limbo looking for human flesh. The Wyrmraiders were notorious for hanging their skulls as a form of intimidation.


    "Let''s see how well you can handle them, Just Sabir," Maize said, stepping back to give him space. The three creatures began to circle Sabir, their movements fluid and coordinated.


    Sabir braced himself, knowing he was outmatched but refusing to show weakness. ¡°Maize, maybe you should reconsider. I''m a dud, remember? Can''t we do something a little less dangerous?¡± he pleaded, desperation tinging his voice.


    Maize''s eyes sparkled with excitement, ignoring his plea. "Show me what you''ve got, Just Sabir!" she called out, her voice ringing with enthusiasm. "This is just the beginning of our fun." Her smile was wide, and it was clear she had no intention of stopping.


    Sabir tensed, his eyes darting between the three circling vinefiends. Their sinewy green bodies moved with a predator''s grace, and their glowing eyes hinted at a cunning intelligence. There was no way out of this, he would have to fight. He knew he had to stay focused; these creatures were dangerous. His only hope was that Maize would put a stop to everything if he''s in danger.


    The first vinefiend lunged, claws slashing through the air. Sabir sidestepped just in time, delivering a sharp kick to its midsection. The creature stumbled back but quickly regained its balance, hissing menacingly.


    Another vinefiend charged at him from behind. Sabir spun around, grabbing its arm and flipping it over his shoulder. The creature hit the ground hard but immediately sprang back to its feet, unscathed.


    The third vinefiend joined the fray, forcing Sabir to fend off attacks from all sides. He dodged, blocked, and countered with everything he had, but the creatures were relentless. Their sharp claws grazed his skin, drawing blood with each near miss.


    One vinefiend managed to get close, its thorny claws tearing into Sabir¡¯s side. He winced at the sharp pain, but instead of crumbling under it, something surged within him¡ªa raw, unfamiliar energy. His hands tightened around the creature¡¯s head, and as his vision sharpened, a faint shimmer pulsed around his arms. With a swift, powerful motion, he twisted the vinefiend¡¯s head sharply. There was a sickening crack, and the creature¡¯s body went limp, crumpling to the ground. Sabir stood still for a moment, breathing heavily, his mind racing. The strength he just felt¡ªit wasn¡¯t just adrenaline. It was something much more.


    But there was no time to think about it it or even celebrate. The remaining two vinefiends, enraged by the death of their companion, attacked with renewed fury. Sabir fought back valiantly, but he was already bruised and bleeding from multiple wounds. He could feel his strength waning.


    The vinefiends coordinated their attacks, one slashing at his legs while the other aimed for his upper body. Sabir managed to fend off one, but the other sank its teeth into his shoulder. He screamed in agony, trying to shake it off, but the creature''s grip was like iron.


    As the pain intensified, Sabir felt his vision blur. He was on the verge of collapse, the vinefiends'' savage bites and claws overwhelming him. He knew he was at their mercy, and a cold dread filled his heart. Was this how it would end?


    Just as he felt himself slipping away, a flash of green light filled his vision. Maize''s voice echoed in the clearing, sharp and commanding. "Enough!" Her eyes glowed with intensity.


    The vinefiends immediately halted their attack, releasing Sabir and retreating to Maize''s side. Sabir collapsed to his knees, clutching his wounded shoulder, gasping for breath. The adrenaline still coursed through his veins, but he knew he had narrowly escaped death.


    Maize approached, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Not bad, Just Sabir," she said, her tone light. "You handled yourself better than I expected, maybe duds have some uses after all."


    Sabir''s vision began to darken, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Maize''s enigmatic smile.

 Chapter 19 - Runaway Rat

    Elektra winced as she shifted in the bed, every movement sending sharp pangs through her bandaged wounds. The room around her was familiar, yet filled with a sense of bitter nostalgia. She recognized Maize''s childhood room, the place where they had once played together, long before they were in competition against each other.


    As she lay there, she couldn''t help but smile at the happy memories that flitted through her mind. The times when she and Maize would dream up grand adventures, plotting their futures without a care in the world. But those days felt like a lifetime ago, buried under the weight of recent events.


    The door creaked open, and Elektra''s smile faded as Maize stepped into the room, her presence commanding as ever. "Well, if it isn''t little miss perfect," Elektra sneered, her voice tinged with pain and sarcasm. "What do you want?"


    Maize closed the door behind her, her expression a mix of curiosity and pity. "I want to know why you''re here, on my territory," she said, her tone sharp. "And don''t give me any of your usual nonsense. This is serious."


    Elektra met Maize''s gaze, defiance burning in her eyes despite her weakened state. "I''m here to prevent The Hound from interfering in family matters," she replied steadily. "He''s intruding on things that don¡¯t concern him.¡±


    Maize''s eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "What matters is he getting involved in? Last time I checked, he spends most of his time scouring Havana for traces of The Triads."


    Elektra nodded, wincing as another wave of pain coursed through her. "Let¡¯s just say he has a knack for stumbling into our affairs. And what my family does is none of your business.¡±


    Maize took a step closer, her expression softening slightly. "You should have come to me first. We could have dealt with this more cleanly."


    Elektra''s eyes hardened, a flash of old rivalries reigniting. "Yeah, tell my biggest rival, my family''s secret. That sounds like a great plan."


    Maize edged closer to Elektra, so close they could feel each other''s breath. "Speaking of trust, did you consider the consequences of your actions? You nearly hurt Sabir today. He¡¯s just a poor little dud, and he was caught in the middle of that chaos.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°A dud? Why do you care? Those kinds of people are like leeches¡ªuseless.¡±


    Maize¡¯s face tightened with frustration, her eyes flashing. ¡°You should have seen him fighting for his life, struggling against a vinefiend. He showed more courage than some people I know.¡±


    Elektra scoffed, her tone dripping with disdain. ¡°Ah, you did it again. Always taking a strange interest in someone only to watch them suffer. Even for you, that''s a sick hobby.¡±


    Maize¡¯s eyes sparkled with a mix of fondness and mischief, her lips curling into a smile. ¡°He had the most endearing look on his face as he nearly died. And those golden eyes that closed right after I saved him¡ªtee hee.¡± She giggled softly, the sound at odds with the gravity of the situation.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes widened, and she shot up from the bed, ignoring the searing pain. ¡°Wait, did you say golden eyes?¡± Maize nodded, puzzled by Elektra¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°What was the kid''s name?¡±


    ¡°Kid? He¡¯s actually a year older than us, technically,¡± Maize replied, arching an eyebrow.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care¡ªwhat¡¯s his name?¡± Elektra demanded, her voice edged with panic.


    ¡°He was so terrified he only gave me his first name. But I had Mr. Ward tell me his full name. I think it¡¯s Sabir Quinn.¡±


    ¡°Quinn. Quinn. Shit, shit. Oh no, my brother is going to kill me!¡± Elektra¡¯s voice was filled with panic, her mind racing with the implications.


    Maize¡¯s face softened slightly as she took in Elektra¡¯s distress. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Why are you so upset?¡±


    ¡°I made a huge mistake. I¡¯m going to get grounded for sure.¡± Elektra¡¯s voice was small, a rare glimpse of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior.


    Maize sighed and ran a hand through her long hair. ¡°I don¡¯t usually do this, but it looks like you need some help. What happened?¡±


    Elektra hesitated, her mind racing. She had to decide whether she could trust Maize again. ¡°Where is that kid now? You didn¡¯t... kill him, did you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we were riding on Violet when he woke up. I was planning to drop him off at The Limbo, but he made me put him down right away. I think I dropped him somewhere in The Commons. He was so scared of Violet that he ran off all bloodied,¡± Maize said, covering her mouth to stifle a giggle.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive?¡± Elektra sighed in relief, the tension easing slightly from her shoulders.


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    Maize¡¯s expression turned serious. ¡°What are you planning to do with him? I can¡¯t let you hurt him.¡±


    Elektra shook her head. ¡°Forget about that. Does your mother know I¡¯m here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the matriarch was informed, but she didn¡¯t seem to care. She just laughed, saying something about the Voltaire family being in shambles.¡±


    ¡°Damn, what are the chances that my presence here got back to my father or Noah?¡±


    ¡°Unlikely,¡± Maize said with a shrug.


    Elektra hesitated, biting her lip before speaking. ¡°Hey, Maize, my old childhood friend, do you mind dropping me off at The Commons?¡±


    Maize¡¯s gaze was filled with a mix of contempt and amusement. ¡°Fine. But don¡¯t expect me to be your chauffeur for long,¡± she replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips as she turned to make arrangements.


    Elektra watched her leave, a complicated mix of gratitude and old resentment swirling in her chest.


    ¡ª


    Max lay his head on his desk, the weight of worry and frustration pressing down on him. Across the room, Samantha sprawled on Max¡¯s bed, staring at the ceiling with the same heavy heart. The silence between them was thick with despair, both of them struggling to think of a way to find Sabir.


    Max lifted his head slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°The only lead we have is that The Hound might¡¯ve moved to another sector after getting into a bust-up with some government enforcers.¡±


    Samantha sighed, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling. ¡°But how could we know where to look? We don¡¯t even have the money to travel to another sector.¡±


    Max¡¯s hand tightened into a fist. ¡°I feel so helpless. We¡¯re stuck here while Sabir could be anywhere, and there¡¯s nothing we can do about it.¡±


    Samantha turned her head to look at Max, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and sadness. ¡°We¡¯ll find a way, Max. We have to. Sabir¡¯s counting on us.¡±


    Max nodded, though his expression remained grim. ¡°We need a plan. And fast.¡±


    A series of noises began to tap against the window. At first, they ignored it, too absorbed in their thoughts. But as the tapping continued, Max¡¯s annoyance grew.


    ¡°What is that?¡± he muttered, irritation edging his voice. He stood up and moved toward the window, his frustration mounting with each step. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think¡ªwhat is that?¡±


    Max flung the window open just as a rock sailed through the air, striking him squarely on the forehead. ¡°Damn it! Who did that? It¡¯s midnight, goddammit!¡±


    He looked down, his anger momentarily replaced by shock. There, standing below the window, was Sabir, looking as he always had but now severely wounded and bloody.


    Max blinked, dazed, struggling to believe what he was seeing. ¡°Samantha,¡± he called over his shoulder, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°Sabir¡¯s ghost has come to haunt us.¡±


    Samantha, confused by Max''s outburst, moved to the window. She peered out, her eyes widening in shock as she recognized the figure below. ¡°Oh my god, Max, it is Sabir!¡± Her voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and relief.


    Sabir¡¯s voice, weak but unmistakable, floated up to them. ¡°You idiot, it¡¯s really me. Hurry up and help me up!¡±


    Max shook off his stupor, quickly grabbing the rope they always kept by the window¡ªa remnant of their school days when Sabir¡¯s parents had forbidden him from entering their house. Back then, they¡¯d use the rope to sneak Sabir in whenever school ended early. Tonight, it served a much graver purpose.


    ¡°Hold on, Sabir!¡± Max shouted, tossing the rope down. He and Samantha strained, pulling Sabir up through the window with all their might. As Sabir climbed through, his body collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily and leaving smears of blood on the carpet.


    Max and Samantha fell to their knees, staring at him in amazement.


    ¡°Are you really Sabir, or are you a clone?¡± Max asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.


    Samantha¡¯s eyes widened with concern. ¡°He¡¯s really hurt. Sabir, are you okay?¡±


    Ignoring their questions, Sabir pulled them both into a hug, dropping them to the floor with him. The embrace was tight, filled with relief and exhaustion.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Max exclaimed, his mind racing to catch up with the situation.


    Samantha, blushing from the unexpected closeness, said nothing, her worry evident in her eyes. She gently touched Sabir''s arm, feeling the warmth and the slight tremor of his exhausted body.


    Sabir, his voice barely a whisper, said, ¡°It¡¯s good to be back.¡±


    Max, still in a daze, glanced around the room at the scattered school memorabilia and the familiar sight of the rope now lying limply by the window. It was surreal to have Sabir back in this context¡ªwounded, bloodied, yet alive.


    ¡°Max, we need to clean and bandage his wounds,¡± Samantha said, snapping Max back to the present.


    ¡°Right,¡± Max replied, shaking off his shock. ¡°First aid kit is under the bed.¡±


    As Samantha fetched the kit, Max helped Sabir to a sitting position. ¡°You¡¯re a sight for sore eyes, Sabir,¡± he said with a weak smile. ¡°But you¡¯ve got some serious explaining to do.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s grip tightened on Max¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Later,¡± he muttered. ¡°Just... let me catch my breath.¡±


    Samantha returned with the first aid kit, her hands steady but her eyes filled with concern. She knelt beside Sabir, starting to clean his wounds with practiced care.


    ¡°We thought we¡¯d lost you,¡± Samantha said softly, her voice breaking slightly. ¡°I thought I¡¯d never see you again.¡±


    Sabir looked at her with a slight smile, his golden eyes filled with gratitude and determination. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to let that happen. Not when I knew you two were out here, waiting.¡±


    The room was silent except for the soft sounds of Samantha tending to Sabir¡¯s injuries. The weight of the moment settled over them, a mix of relief and the sobering reality of what Sabir had endured.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be back,¡± Sabir repeated, more firmly this time, his eyes meeting theirs with a promise of stories yet to be told and mysteries yet to be solved.

 Chapter 20 - Catching Up

    The room, dimly lit by a single flickering lamp, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Shadows danced on the walls as Sabir took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. His voice, steady but weary, broke the silence in a hushed whisper, careful not to wake Max''s parents. Max and Samantha listened intently, their faces reflecting a mix of horror, anger, and relief.


    Sabir started from the beginning, explaining his initial encounter with Cassius. ¡°Cassius came to me, desperate for answers about my sister¡¯s life. My sister, Cynthia, was murdered. He¡¯s convinced the Triads are responsible.¡±


    Max''s face twisted in anger. ¡°The Triads... they¡¯re behind your sister''s death?¡±


    Sabir nodded solemnly. ¡°Cassius believes they are. He also mentioned that I have a niece somewhere in Havana. I''m not sure if she¡¯s safe or even where she is.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s expression softened with concern. ¡°A niece? That¡¯s tragic. We need to help you find her.¡±


    Sabir continued, detailing his unexpected run-in with Elektra. ¡°Then there was Elektra. She wasn¡¯t interested in helping Cassius; she was more focused on her own agenda. But the worst part was Maize. She forced me to fight three vinefiends until I passed out. The fight was brutal¡ªI barely survived, my body covered in wounds.¡±


    Samantha winced, her eyes filling with tears. ¡°That¡¯s inhumane. How could anyone do that to you?¡±


    Sabir shrugged, his voice tinged with bitterness. ¡°Maize follows her every whim. She''s dangerous. When I woke up, I was wounded and in her clutches, flying low over the Commons on a monstrous butterfly-like creature. She was going to take me to the Limbo, but I couldn''t trust her. I begged her to drop me off in the Commons, and thankfully, she agreed without much resistance. I ran away as quickly as I could, thinking this might just be another game for her.¡±


    As he finished his tale, the room was heavy with silence. Max and Samantha exchanged glances, their minds racing to process everything Sabir had shared.


    Max broke the silence, his voice tinged with disbelief. ¡°Do you know how crazy your story sounds? You met two nobles, both of whom are famous and projected to be the new hunters to take over Havana. You even talked to both of them. Hell, one of them gave you a ride.¡± He said in a whisper.


    Sabir looked puzzled. ¡°Wait, Maize is a noble too?¡±


    Max nodded. ¡°You really don¡¯t know anything, do you? She¡¯s the only direct heir to the Gaian line, the ones who rule over Sector 3. She¡¯s also in the student council and is projected to be the president next year. She¡¯s really popular, with a large fan base.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great for her,¡± Sabir said, his voice laced with sarcasm. ¡°But she made me fight to the death for her own entertainment.¡±


    Max shrugged. ¡°Hey, I didn¡¯t say it was all fun. Just that you basically met some celebrities.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really talk to that Elektra girl either,¡± Sabir added. ¡°She was too busy trying to kill Cassius.¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, the hot-tempered Elektra,¡± Max said with a smirk. ¡°Her temperament makes her lose a lot of fans. She¡¯s always playing second fiddle to Maize in the student rankings, but there¡¯s still a small group of guys obsessed with her.¡±


    ¡°Hot-headed is an understatement. She almost got herself killed,¡± Sabir said.


    ¡°Sounds like her,¡± Max replied with a chuckle.


    ¡°Wait, technically I met another noble¡ªNoah Voltaire,¡± Sabir said, remembering the encounter.


    Max¡¯s eyes widened in astonishment. ¡°Noah Voltaire? He¡¯s like the biggest hunter around right now! When did you meet him?¡±


    ¡°In the morning before going to school,¡± Sabir explained. ¡°Wait, hang on. I remember Noah and Elektra looked fairly similar. Are they related or something?¡±


    Max sighed, trying to simplify the explanation. ¡°Yeah, they are. You see, the seven noble families are the biggest power in Havana. To keep that power, they have lots of children. These kids are divided into two groups: direct lines and collateral lines. The direct lines have the strongest blood and are the closest to the original seven families. They¡¯re the ones who inherit the family¡¯s leadership. The collateral lines, on the other hand, are trained to be strong soldiers. Noah and Elektra are both from the direct line. They have two other brothers, but Noah is already set to become the next patriarch of the family. That means he¡¯ll be one of the most influential people in Havana.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the nobles have always been like royalty,¡± Samantha said, yawning slightly.


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    Sabir hesitated before speaking again. ¡°Noah planted a tracker on me when we met.¡±


    Max and Samantha''s eyes widened in shock. ¡°Wait, why would he do that?¡± Samantha asked.


    Sabir shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe he suspected something or wanted to keep tabs on me. But it¡¯s unsettling to think about.¡±


    Max¡¯s face hardened. ¡°None of this is adding up. If the Triads killed your sister, why are the Voltaires interested in you?¡±


    Samantha nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah, this whole story doesn''t make sense.¡±


    Sabir, despite his exhaustion, contemplated. ¡°You guys are right. Me and Cassius were theorizing real hard, but we didn''t think about why that Noah guy would be tracking me.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what was your main speculation, based on the evidence?¡± Max asked.


    ¡°Well, we presumed that my sister''s lover was the reason she got killed. He was an enemy of the Triads, and to hurt him, they killed someone close to him,¡± Sabir explained.


    ¡°A common practice in organized crime. It sounds plausible. You know, the way you described the government''s hound, he sounded stupid, but that theory isn''t half bad,¡± Max said.


    ¡°What do you think? Is it likely?¡± Sabir asked.


    ¡°Tsk tsk, Sabir. A good detective never thinks one theory is definitive over the others. Every speculation could be a gateway to the truth,¡± Max replied.


    ¡°Okay, detective Max, what are some theories you''ve got?¡± Sabir challenged.


    Max hummed as he got up, picking up a whiteboard pen and moving toward his whiteboard on the wall opposite his bed. He began writing the words Triads and Voltaire. ¡°Your sister''s name is Cynthia, right?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡±


    From his confirmation, he began to write the name Cynthia and Lover, drawing lines connecting all of them.


    ¡°Based on the way the Voltaires are interested in you and the case, we can assume they''re connected in all of this somehow. So it means everything is somehow interconnected.¡±


    Max pointed to the word Triads. ¡°We know the Triads killed your sister. How again?¡±


    ¡°Poison that only they use,¡± Sabir replied.


    ¡°Found in the trucker''s blood, right?¡±


    Sabir nodded.


    ¡°So if it''s certain that the Triads committed the assassination, we need to know the motive.¡± He traced his hand toward the box with the word Lover. ¡°Your theory lies in this all being wrapped around this mystery lover. Inconclusive if you ask me. Let me suggest that maybe the lover and Voltaire family are linked,¡± he said while writing a line connecting the lover and the Triads. ¡°Historically speaking, the Triads have waged war on the seven noble families for years. It wouldn''t be so crazy that they kill Cynthia to hurt the Voltaires. This ties everything together, I''d say.¡±


    ¡°Another left-field theory is that the Triads aren''t involved at all and the¡ª¡± Just as he was finishing his next theory, there was a banging on the door.


    ¡°Max Crawford, it is 4 a.m. at night. We were nice enough to let your friend stay over. Can you stop being so loud? With your attitude, I hope your grades will be higher than that arrogance of yours, young man,¡± his mother yelled at him.


    ¡°Sorry, Mom. We''ll¡ªI mean, I''ll be quieter,¡± Max whispered while opening the door slightly to see his mother, angry with messy hair from having been woken up.


    Max closed the door and turned to the other two. ¡°Sorry about that. Well, it''s getting late. We should probably discuss this tomorrow. Let''s just get some shut-eye. I got a spare sleeping bag. Sabir, you should take the bed.¡±


    Sabir shook his head. ¡°Nah, I need to go back home.¡±


    ¡°What? You''re already past your allotted time in Havana. Trying to leave now, the guards will either beat the shit out of you or worse, they''ll kill you for breaking the rules. Just stay with us.¡±


    ¡°No, I need to go back to the Limbo one last time.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Samantha asked, her brow furrowing in concern.


    ¡°I''ve been keeping a stash of credits, anything I could get my hands on. I''ve saved. It''s not enough, but it can last me a little while I move about.¡±


    ¡°Where are you planning on going?¡± Max asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Sabir reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled note that Cassius had given him. He handed it to them, the paper trembling slightly in his grasp. ¡°This was the last place my niece was seen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go find her. That¡¯s what I agreed upon with Cassius. She''s out there somewhere, and who knows what she''s feeling right now.¡±


    ¡°We''re coming with you,¡± Samantha said firmly, her eyes meeting Sabir¡¯s with unwavering determination.


    ¡°What? No, you''re better off staying in the Commons. If I bring you out in the Limbo, I''ll attract too much attention. You''d be putting me and yourself in danger.¡±


    ¡°No, we''re going. Ain''t that right, Max?¡± Samantha insisted, turning to Max for support.


    ¡°Holy shit, I get to see the Limbo? Hell yeah!¡± Max shouted, his face lighting up with excitement.


    Sabir groaned at his friends'' stubbornness, feeling a mixture of gratitude and frustration. ¡°Okay, fine. We''ll go together, but we''ll sleep here tonight. And for the love of God, if we do somehow get past the Threshold, Max, shut the hell up in the Limbo.¡±


    ¡°Understood, captain,¡± Max whispered, saluting playfully.


    They got into their beds, the room falling silent except for the occasional rustle of blankets. The uncertainty of their journey weighed heavily on them, but exhaustion soon took over, pulling them into a restless sleep.


    The whiteboard was left forgotten, but the spider web of connections and theories it displayed remained etched in their minds. Lines criss crossed between names and groups, hinting at secrets and unraveling mysteries yet to be solved.

 Chapter 21 - A Bribe You Cant Refuse

    As the first light of dawn filtered through the window, Sabir was the first to wake. He lay still for a moment, his mind already racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. Quietly, he got up and gathered his things. He glanced at Max and Samantha, still asleep, and felt a surge of gratitude for their friendship and loyalty.


    He opened the window to the cool morning air, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. The city was just beginning to stir, and he took a moment to steady himself, to prepare for what was to come. The streets of The Commons would soon be bustling with life, but for now, there was a stillness, a quiet that he found oddly comforting.


    Sabir noticed Samantha waking up from the floor while Max was still cocooned in his sleeping bag. With a gentle kick, Sabir nudged Max. ¡°Wake up. Your parents already left for the mines. Your mom yelled that they left breakfast for you.¡±


    Max groggily opened his eyes, excitement replacing sleepiness as he remembered their plans. ¡°Right, we¡¯re all set to leave!¡± he exclaimed, already eager to head to the Limbo.


    Samantha stretched and yawned, her hair messy, and drool running down her mouth. Max and Sabir couldn''t help but stare, amused. Turning red, Samantha threw a pillow at them. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until I take a shower!¡± she declared before leaving the room. Soon, they heard the sound of the tap running.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t even ask to use my shower,¡± Max remarked, shaking his head with a smile.


    Max then sniffed Sabir and grimaced. ¡°Shit, you need to take a shower too. Are your wing wounds all good?¡±


    ¡°Surprisingly, yeah. I¡¯m all healed,¡± Sabir said, looking at his shoulder where the vinefiend had bitten him. A large scar in the shape of the monster''s sharp teeth remained, but the flesh had healed.


    Max remembered how bad the wound was and how Samantha had struggled to bandage it. ¡°You heal real fast,¡± he pointed out.


    Sabir shrugged, dismissive. ¡°It¡¯s just how it is.¡±


    From the shower, Samantha called out, ¡°I need clothes!¡±


    Max rummaged through a drawer. ¡°I¡¯ve got some old clothes from when I was a kid,¡± he said, heading to the bathroom door. ¡°Open the door slightly so I can give them to you.¡±


    ¡°Sabir, make sure he doesn¡¯t try to peek or something!¡± Samantha called out.


    Once she was done, Sabir took his turn in the shower. The water was cold, but he welcomed it. ¡°Hot running water is impossible to get,¡± Max explained. ¡°You¡¯d need to heat the water on the stove.¡± Even cold water was a blessing compared to the Limbo, so Sabir didn''t mind.


    After his shower, Sabir dressed in his old clothes and stepped out. Max apologized, ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t have any spare clothes.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Sabir replied.


    They headed downstairs to the small kitchen and living room, where Max¡¯s mom had left a piece of stale bread on the counter. Max strained, his eyes glowing as he concentrated hard, making the bread levitate and split into three pieces. He handed one to each of them with a satisfied grin.


    Samantha rolled her eyes. ¡°Showoff,¡± she muttered, her own eyes glowing briefly as she used telekinesis to bring a piece of bread to her mouth. ¡°Your telekinesis is just a party trick.¡±


    Sabir grabbed his piece with his hand, feeling a twinge of bitterness. He had no esper abilities, and moments like this reminded him of what he was missing.


    As they chewed on the stale bread, the silence grew a bit uncomfortable. Trying to lighten the mood, Max said, ¡°One day, I¡¯m gonna get rich so I can eat as much food as I want and drink all the Roller Cola I can handle.¡±


    Sabir managed a smile, nodding in agreement, while Samantha slapped Max playfully. ¡°You wasted your money yesterday on cola!¡± she teased.


    ¡°It was a congratulatory gift for Sabir for finishing school and getting offered a job,¡± Max defended.


    Sabir remembered the job offer at Kajima Labs. It felt so distant now. He didn''t know whether that offer was something he was going to take. Meeting Cassius changed his trajectory slightly, he had no clue what he was going to do for the future.


    They finished their bread and started to head out. ¡°Won¡¯t your parents say anything?¡± Sabir asked.


    Samantha shook her head. ¡°My dad is always in the mines farming for eridium.¡±


    Max nodded. ¡°Yeah, even my parents are obsessed with working at the mines to find eridium.¡±


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    Eridium was a precious deposit of meteorites in the ground, essential for powering Havana¡¯s devices from cars to electronics. Finding a large deposit meant a huge bonus or even a percentage of the sale, making you rich.


    ¡°My parents won¡¯t question if I¡¯m missing,¡± Max added with a shrug. ¡°They¡¯ll just assume I¡¯m up to no good somewhere in this city.¡±


    With everyone packed and ready, the three friends stepped out into the morning light. They trudged through the empty streets, the city slowly waking up around them, until they arrived at the massive walls surrounding Havana.


    The walls were imposing, a towering fortress of stone and steel, with guards patrolling the perimeter. At the center stood The Threshold, a single giant gate that served as the only entrance and exit to the city. The gate was heavily fortified, guards lined up along the wall, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of trouble.


    As they approached, they noticed a man standing by the gate, arguing with the guards. He was wearing a pink Hawaiian shirt with khaki shorts, round sunglasses with brown lenses, and had sandy blonde hair with a lot of stubble. He was of average height but was huge and muscular.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you, I have my reasons,¡± the man was saying, his voice exasperated. ¡°I just want to leave Havana. Isn¡¯t that allowed?¡±


    The guards looked confused. ¡°Why would anyone want to leave Havana voluntarily?¡± one of them asked. ¡°Even though you¡¯re trying to leave, not enter, you¡¯re going to need to show your documents and ID.¡±


    Sabir, Max, and Samantha exchanged glances, their attention drawn to the man''s odd attire. He was also wearing flip-flops, which seemed wildly out of place given their destination.


    Max nudged Sabir with his elbow and whispered, ¡°Is this guy serious? He looks like he¡¯s heading to sector 5, not the Limbo.¡±


    Samantha stifled a giggle, her eyes twinkling with amusement. ¡°He¡¯s got to be the funniest-looking guy I¡¯ve ever seen. Who wears a Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops to a place like this?¡±


    Sabir tried to keep a straight face but found himself chuckling along. ¡°He definitely stands out. But look at those muscles¡ªhe¡¯s no joke. The weirder they are, the stronger they tend to be,¡± he mused, recalling the various espers he had encountered. They were often eccentric, if not downright bizarre, yet incredibly powerful.


    Samantha shook her head, still smiling. ¡°Or maybe he¡¯s just crazy. Either way, he¡¯s got guts arguing with the guards like that.¡±


    Max squinted at the man, studying him. ¡°You think he¡¯s actually going to get through? I mean, he¡¯s obviously not your average traveler.¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± Sabir replied. ¡°But we¡¯ll find out soon enough. Just stay sharp.¡±


    As they continued to observe, the man seemed to sense their scrutiny. He glanced over his shoulder, giving them a quick once-over before returning to his argument with the guards. The trio watched in anticipation, wondering what would happen next and if this strangely dressed man would indeed manage to leave Havana.


    As the trio approached the gate, one of the guards noticed them. "Hey! You three! What are you doing here? Quit sightseeing and head back to the city!"


    ¡°We¡¯re not sightseeing,¡± Sabir began, but the guard cut him off.


    ¡°Wait a minute, if it isn¡¯t the kid with the pass,¡± the guard sneered, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I was hoping you''d show your face around here. Because of you, my friends were killed.¡±


    ¡°What the hell did I do?¡± Sabir asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Max and Samantha exchanged puzzled looks, their concern growing.


    ¡°What the hell, Sabir, you killed people?¡± Max whispered, his voice tinged with fear. He and Samantha were beginning to feel a creeping unease about their friend.


    ¡°I didn''t kill anyone,¡± Sabir declared, his voice steady. The man in the sunglasses nearby glanced at him with interest, but Sabir barely noticed.


    ¡°You might not have directly killed my buddies, but you sure as hell pissed off Lord Voltaire, and he killed them so mercilessly.¡± The guard¡¯s voice cracked, tears welling up in his eyes.


    Samantha felt a pang of sympathy, but it quickly dissipated as the guard''s face twisted into a cruel grin.


    ¡°We can''t get revenge on the noble, but we can sure as hell kill you and no one would bat an eye. You¡¯ve been blacklisted from Havana since you went past your five-hour time limit. We have to kill you; it''s the law.¡± He spat the last word with venom.


    The guard raised his arm, and as he signaled, all the guards on the wall turned their attention to Sabir, their eyes beginning to glow, signifying the activation of their esper powers. Sabir felt a surge of panic, realizing they might actually kill him.


    Max gulped in fear, his face pale.


    Just then, the man in the Hawaiian shirt intervened, draping his arms around the three friends. ¡°These three are coming with me,¡± he announced to the guards.


    The guards were taken aback by his audacity. ¡°Move aside and wait your turn if you want to die,¡± one of them said, clearly annoyed.


    The man, initially playful, adopted a more serious demeanor. He pulled out a note and handed it to the guard. ¡°Will this change your mind?¡±


    The guard¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of the 100-credit note. Such wealth was rare in the outskirts of Havana. He grabbed it, his demeanor changing instantly. ¡°All right, you can go,¡± he said, waving off the other guards. ¡°Welcome, friends!¡±


    The guards on the wall returned to their duties, their eyes losing their eerie glow.


    The man in the Hawaiian shirt played along, acting as if he and the guard were old pals. ¡°Thanks mate, you guards are the best!¡± he said cheerfully.


    Meanwhile, Max and Samantha were deeply troubled by the sudden change in the guard¡¯s attitude. The guards were truly scum with little morals.


    The gate opened for them, and the man gently pushed the three of them through, following closely behind.


    Once they were on the other side, Sabir glanced back at the man. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The man gave Sabir a wink¡ªor at least, Sabir thought he did. With those round sunglasses on, it was hard to be sure.

 Chapter 22 - Burial

    Once through The Threshold, a whiplash of sand cannoned towards them. Samantha and Max instinctively closed their eyes, shielding their faces from the abrasive gust. Sabir squinted through the dust, trying to get his bearings in the stark landscape.


    "Hey, you three!" the man called out, his voice carrying over the wind. "Wait up!"


    Max, always eager to chat, started to turn back. "What do you think he wants?" he asked, already beginning to engage.


    Sabir grabbed Max by the arm, pulling him forward. "We need to keep moving," he insisted, his voice firm. "We don''t have time for distractions."


    Max frowned, clearly puzzled. "Why are you being so uptight? The guy just helped us out and spent a lot of money. The least we can do is hear him out."


    Samantha looked back at the man, her expression conflicted. "Yeah, Sabir, he''s right. It¡¯s kind of rude to just leave like this."


    The man, seeing their hesitation, simply shrugged his broad shoulders, seemingly unbothered by their reaction. "Kids these days," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "So ungrateful."


    Sabir felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. "Let''s go," he said, urging his friends forward. "We have more important things to worry about." A man so out of place, heading into The Limbo, was a bad sign. They needed to get back to Havana as soon as possible; interacting with such a strange man could derail everything.


    As they moved away from The Threshold, the sandy winds began to die down, revealing a barren, unforgiving landscape stretching out before them. The Limbo was a harsh and desolate place, a stark contrast to the relative safety of Havana. Sabir¡¯s mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead, his unease growing with every step.


    Max glanced back one last time at the man in the Hawaiian shirt, who was now a distant figure against the backdrop of the imposing gates. "You sure we''re doing the right thing, Sabir?" he asked, doubt creeping into his voice.


    Sabir didn''t respond immediately. He wasn''t sure himself. But he knew they couldn''t trust any random stranger. "We''ll be fine," he said, more to convince himself than the others. "We just need to stay focused."


    The trio pressed on, each step taking them further from the safety of Havana and deeper into the unknown. The man watched them go, a small smile playing on his lips as he turned back towards the gate, his thoughts his own.


    As the three kids disappeared into the swirling sands, a voice called out from behind the man in the Hawaiian shirt. "We''ve been waiting for you for months, Miguel. Where have you been?"


    Miguel jumped, spinning around with a fist already flying towards the source of the voice. The punch, aimed with deadly precision, was evaded by a short cloaked figure who moved with astonishing speed. Miguel''s fist slammed into the ground, causing a tremor that sent sand flying into the air.


    "You really want to fight me?" the cloaked figure asked, his voice cool and unruffled.


    Miguel blinked, recognizing the figure. "Oh, Yuen, it''s just you. Don''t sneak up on me like that¡ªI could''ve killed you."


    Yuen stood up, his gray, ragged cloak fluttering slightly in the residual wind. He was short and wiry, with straight black hair peeking out from beneath his hood. His features were sharp, and his eyes dark and piercing.


    "If I wanted, you''d already be dead," Yuen replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.


    Miguel chuckled, brushing the sand off his knuckles. "Yeah? Want to try right here, right now?"


    Yuen shook his head, his expression turning serious. "No, we¡¯re getting sidetracked. Where have you been?"


    Miguel''s face lit up as if remembering a pleasant dream. "I got sidetracked in Sector 0. There were so many fun casinos."


    Yuen''s eyes narrowed. "You''ve been gambling? You know you have a terrible gambling problem and you never win."


    Miguel shrugged nonchalantly. "What happened to all the money we gave you?" Yuen pressed, his tone growing more apprehensive.


    Miguel rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Used the last 100 credits getting myself and those three kids through The Threshold."


    Yuen''s jaw dropped. "Who were those kids?"


    Miguel shrugged again. "No clue. But one of them was about to get killed, so I thought I''d help."


    Yuen facepalmed, clearly exasperated. "The boss has been waiting for you. She''s gonna be pissed."


    "Oh well," Miguel said with a carefree grin. "Lead the way to our base. Last I heard you, you stole a place from some bandits. I''m excited to see what you did with the place."


    With a sigh, Yuen turned and started walking, motioning for Miguel to follow. The two figures moved through the desert landscape, their forms gradually blending into the sandy horizon.


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    Meanwhile, Sabir, Max, and Samantha trudged through the harsh environment of the Limbo. As they walked, the landscape gradually transformed from the empty, windswept dunes into an area dotted with signs of human habitation. Broken-down shacks, makeshift hovels, and tattered tents began to appear, each one a testament to the hard lives of the people who lived there.


    The trio felt the weight of curious and suspicious gazes upon them as they passed. Sabir, noticing Max and Samantha''s discomfort, spoke in a low, urgent tone, "Don''t make eye contact, and don''t seem scared. Just keep walking."


    Max swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously around, while Samantha nodded, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. They moved past individuals who seemed hardened by the environment, their faces lined with the struggles of daily survival. A group of children played in the dirt, their laughter a stark contrast to the otherwise bleak surroundings.


    As they continued, a larger structure came into view in the distance. Even from afar, its size was imposing. The building, though worn and weathered, stood out significantly against the backdrop of smaller, more dilapidated homes. It was roughly the size of four houses from The Commons put together.


    Max, unable to contain his curiosity, pointed towards the distant structure. "What is that place?" he asked.


    Sabir''s expression grew serious. "That''s the base of the Wyrm Raiders," he explained. "The biggest faction of bandits in The Limbo. They rule over this area."


    Samantha¡¯s eyes widened. "Bandits? How do they maintain control?"


    Sabir shrugged. "They''re powerful, ruthless, and have numbers. They demand tribute from everyone around here. It¡¯s how they survive and thrive in this wasteland."


    Max glanced back at the imposing structure, a mix of fear and fascination in his eyes. "I can¡¯t believe people live like this," he murmured.


    Sabir nodded. "It¡¯s a harsh life, but people adapt. You have to, if you want to survive out here."


    They continued walking, the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on them. The streets grew narrower, and the shacks more densely packed. The stench of uncollected garbage and unwashed bodies hung heavily in the air. Every step deeper into the Limbo seemed to echo with the despair and desperation of its inhabitants.


    As they neared Sabir¡¯s home, he glanced over his shoulder at his friends. ¡°I want to introduce you to my neighbor, Mrs. Norris. She¡¯s known me my whole life. She¡¯s like family.¡±


    Max and Samantha exchanged glances, looking forward to meeting someone who had been a constant in Sabir¡¯s life.


    They approached the shack opposite Sabir¡¯s, but something was off. The usual signs of life, no matter how minimal, were absent. As they drew closer, a sickeningly strong stench hit them. Sabir''s steps faltered, a sense of dread settling in his gut.


    ¡°What¡¯s that smell?¡± Max asked, covering his nose.


    Sabir didn''t answer. He hurried forward, only to stop dead in his tracks. There, lying by the shack, was a corpse. A few meters away, a severed head lay in the dirt. The realization hit him like a sledgehammer¡ªit was Mrs. Norris.


    ¡°No¡­ no, no, no,¡± Sabir muttered, stumbling towards the body. His friends followed slowly, horror etched on their faces.


    Sabir knelt beside the remains, his hands shaking as he reached out to pick up Mrs. Norris¡¯s head. Tears streamed down his face as he cradled it gently. ¡°How did this happen?¡± he choked out, his voice breaking. ¡°She was just¡­ she was just here.¡±


    Max and Samantha stood back, unable to process the scene before them. Max¡¯s face turned pale, and Samantha¡¯s eyes filled with tears. They had seen death before, but nothing like this.


    Sabir¡¯s shoulders shook with sobs. Mrs. Norris had been a kind soul, always looking out for him, always offering a helping hand. The sight of her lifeless, desecrated body filled him with a mix of grief and fury.


    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t believe it,¡± he whispered, his voice trembling. ¡°Who would do this?¡±


    A little boy with a missing tooth, cautiously approached. ¡°Yesterday,¡± he said, his voice low with a slight lisp. ¡°Some man in black came, he came asking for you. He went to the old lady. When he left, he sliced her head with these shadows. Zhoom.¡± The boy explained with a sound effect.


    Sabir¡¯s grief morphed into anger. He gently laid Mrs. Norris¡¯s head down and stood up, his fists clenched. ¡°Cassius,¡± he spat. ¡°He did this... and to think he was gaining my trust.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced with memories of Cassius, the man who had seemed like an ally when they met just yesterday. He recalled their conversations, the shared goals, and the fleeting moments where he believed he had found a friend. Now, it all felt like a cruel illusion, a facade masking the monster within. Sabir¡¯s chest tightened as the realization of betrayal hit him like a hammer. Cassius had exploited his trust, using it as a weapon to inflict the deepest wound.


    He looked down at Mrs. Norris¡¯s lifeless body, his heart aching with a profound sense of loss. She had been more than a neighbor¡ªshe had been a beacon of kindness and stability in his chaotic life. The grief was almost unbearable, threatening to crush him under its weight. The image of her gentle smile, now replaced by the brutal reality of her murder, tore at his soul. Tears streamed down his face as he knelt beside her, whispering a silent apology for not being there to protect her.


    A surge of rage coursed through him, mingling with the sorrow. How could Cassius do this? How could someone who seemed to have his best interests at heart completely betray him in such a heinous manner? Sabir''s fists tightened until his knuckles turned white, the desire for revenge burning fiercely within him. He swore to himself that he would make Cassius pay for what he had done, for shattering the fragile sense of safety he had clung to.


    Max and Samantha, still reeling from the shock, moved closer to Sabir. ¡°We need to get out of here,¡± Max said, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°It¡¯s not safe.¡±


    Sabir nodded, standing up and wiping his tears away. His expression hardened with resolve. He wouldn¡¯t let Mrs. Norris¡¯s death be in vain. He would channel his grief and anger into a force of determination, using it to fuel his quest for justice. ¡°Cassius,¡± he muttered again, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for this. I swear it.¡±


    Max and Samantha, seeing the transformation in Sabir¡¯s demeanor, exchanged worried glances.


    With heavy hearts, they set to work, digging a grave for Mrs. Norris. The task was somber, each clump of dirt lifted by Max and Samantha¡¯s telekinesis a reminder of the brutality of their world. As they laid her to rest, Sabir made a silent vow to himself: he would find a way to get revenge, to somehow kill the Government''s Hound.


    They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their loss hanging heavily in the air. Sabir felt a mix of grief, anger, and determination swirling within him. He glanced at Max and Samantha, their faces stricken with shock from what they witnessed.


    As they turned to leave, Sabir cast one last look at the freshly dug grave. ¡°Goodbye, Mrs. Norris,¡± he whispered. ¡°I promise, I won¡¯t let this go unanswered.¡±

 Chapter 23 - A Not So Merry Band

    ¡°Ugh, Nutripulp is so gross,¡± Max complained, wrinkling his nose as he forced down another bite.


    Samantha rolled her eyes, swallowing her own portion. ¡°Stop whining, Max. This isn¡¯t a picnic,¡± she said, her tone matter-of-fact.


    Sabir sat a bit away from them, his movements slow and deliberate. He still carried an air of anger, his words few and far between. Samantha noticed his silence but chose not to bring it up, respecting his space.


    Sabir stood up and moved to a corner of the shack, pulling up a loose wooden tile. From beneath it, he retrieved a small, weathered pouch. He returned to Max and Samantha, his expression grim as he opened the pouch and let its contents spill onto the floor¡ªthirteen measly coins.


    ¡°Thirteen credits,¡± Samantha said, her voice tinged with concern. ¡°That¡¯s not a lot. Maybe enough to get by for a week.¡±


    Max frowned. ¡°How are you going to get back into Havana with that many credits?¡±


    Sabir stared at the coins, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. He wanted to see Cassius again, to confront him. But the image of that little girl named Mia, who looked so hauntingly similar to his sister, kept flashing through his mind. What should he do?


    As he gazed at the coins, an idea formed in his head. He could kill two birds with one stone by finding his niece. Cassius¡¯s goal had always been the Triads; if Sabir could beat him to it... But then the Triads, they were the ones who killed his sister. Sabir slapped his cheeks, snapping himself out of his dilemma.


    ¡°The girl comes first,¡± he muttered, the words slipping out before he could stop them.


    Samantha and Max exchanged confused and worried glances. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Samantha asked gently.


    Sabir took a deep breath, steadying himself. ¡°We¡¯re going to have to enter Havana illegally,¡± he announced, his voice firm. ¡°I¡¯m supposedly blacklisted, so we don¡¯t have any other choice.¡±


    Max looked alarmed. ¡°How do we even do that?¡±


    Samantha frowned. ¡°Are you sure this is the best idea?¡±


    Sabir¡¯s frustration bubbled to the surface. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have come. This is going to be dangerous. We¡¯re going to have to go to the Wyrm Raiders.¡±


    The mention of the Wyrm Raiders sent a chill through Samantha and Max. Sabir had just explained to them that The Wyrm Raiders were notorious, that they were the kings in The Limbo. Max opened his mouth to protest, but Samantha put a hand on his arm, shaking her head slightly.


    ¡°What do we need to do?¡± she asked, her voice steady.


    Sabir looked at her, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes. ¡°We need to find a way to get them to help us. Bandits have helped people enter Havana for years. They have the means to get us into Havana unnoticed.¡±


    Max swallowed hard. ¡°And how do we convince them to help us?¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t have a clear answer. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. But first, we need to gather whatever resources we can. We can¡¯t go to them empty-handed.¡±


    Samantha nodded, her resolve firm. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s do this.¡±


    They spent the next hour scouring the shack and its surroundings for anything of value. Every small item, every scrap of food, every hidden stash was collected and pooled together. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was all they had, as they put it all in Sabir''s backpack.


    When they were prepared to leave, Sabir took one last look around the shack. It had been his home for so long, a place filled with memories, both good and bad. He was leaving this place, to never return. The weight of the recent loss still hung heavily on him, but now was not the time for sentiment. With a deep breath, he bid a final farewell to Mrs. Norris¡¯s grave, the small mound of freshly turned earth marking her resting place. Max and Samantha followed suit, their expressions solemn.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Sabir said, his voice filled with determination. He led the way, stepping out of the shack and into the unforgiving heat of the Limbo.


    The journey to the Wyrm Raiders¡¯ base was arduous, the heat relentless as they trekked through the barren wasteland. The sun bore down on them, casting long, twisted shadows across the cracked earth. Sabir wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes narrowing as the towering, foreboding structure finally came into view. It loomed like a dark specter against the horizon, its jagged silhouette cutting through the stark landscape. The fortress itself was a grim monument to violence, its walls lined with rows of bleached skulls and bones¡ªa silent, chilling warning to any who dared approach.


    The wind howled, carrying with it a distant, ghostly whistle that seemed to echo off the jagged cliffs around them. Sabir¡¯s stomach churned. Something wasn¡¯t right.


    Max¡¯s eyes widened, darting around nervously as they neared the entrance. ¡°So¡­ do we just knock?¡± His question fell flat against the oppressive quiet, his voice swallowed by the emptiness that stretched all around them.


    Sabir scanned the area, his senses on high alert. ¡°Something''s off about this place,¡± he murmured, his voice low. ¡°There should be bandits everywhere, but it¡¯s like the place is¡­ abandoned.¡±


    The others remained silent, their unease palpable. The absence of the usual clamor of rowdy bandits, the stench of smoke, or even the occasional shout felt unnatural. It was too quiet¡ªunnervingly so for a place known for its lawlessness.


    Sabir hesitated at the heavy, rusted door, his knuckles pausing just inches from the cold metal. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. The silence pressed in on him, suffocating, as if the fortress itself was holding its breath. His heart thudded in his chest. Then, with a furrowed brow and a deep breath, he knocked, the sound sharp and loud in the oppressive stillness.


    The door groaned in protest as it slowly swung open, the sound reverberating like a dying gasp. Sabir tensed, half-expecting to be met by a dozen snarling raiders or worse¡ªnothing at all.


    Instead, a large figure emerged from the shadows, a man whose bright pink Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops were starkly out of place in the grim setting. His flushed face split into a wide grin, completely at odds with the deathly silence that had preceded him.


    ¡°Hey, what a surprise! Those kids are here!¡± he boomed, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. ¡°Hey, Yuen, we¡¯ve got guests! I¡¯m letting them in!¡±


    With a dramatic flourish, the man swung the door wide open, inviting them inside. Sabir, Max, and Samantha stepped through into an open area filled with an overwhelming number of tables and chairs. The space was cluttered with kegs and mugs, and the stench of alcohol and sweat permeated the air. The sight was both chaotic and disorienting: hundreds of Wyrm Raiders lay sprawled across the floor, passed out from what must have been an epic night of revelry. An archway staircase led to an upper level, where dim lights hinted at more activity.


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    The man, with a broad grin, introduced himself with exaggerated flair. ¡°Name¡¯s Miguel! Welcome to the party!¡±


    He handed each of them a mug filled with a frothy, greenish liquid. Max, Samantha, and Sabir exchanged confused glances before Max took a cautious sip. His face contorted in disgust as he spluttered and spat out the liquid. The fiery burn of the unknown content was enough to make him wince in pain.


    Miguel¡¯s laughter boomed across the room, resonating with a carefree, almost reckless abandon. ¡°Oh, I see you¡¯ve tried the cactus juice! Not everyone can handle it, huh?¡± He chuckled heartily, clearly amused by his reaction.


    Sabir, still trying to process the bizarre turn of events, surveyed the disheveled scene around him. The chaotic revelry and Miguel¡¯s carefree demeanor starkly contrasted with the menacing reputation of the Wyrm Raiders.


    ¡°Uh, listen, we¡¯re not here to party,¡± Sabir said, trying to regain control of the situation. ¡°We¡¯re here on business with the Wyrm Raiders.¡±


    Miguel¡¯s face twisted in confusion. ¡°Wyrm Raiders? Who are they?¡± He pondered deeply, before abruptly kicking a bandit passed out next to him. ¡°Oh, you mean these useless guys? What would you want with them? But don¡¯t worry about it. Let me handle this. I may not look it, but I¡¯m one of the strongest people I know.¡±


    Miguel¡¯s boastful speech was abruptly cut off by a short man with sharp eyes and a belt laden with knives. There were so many knives that Sabir lost count, but he guessed there were more than a dozen. The man, Yuen, strode down the stairs with purpose.


    ¡°Hey, Yuen, check these kids out,¡± Miguel said, his voice slurring with amusement as he leaned lazily against the doorframe, still in his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.


    Yuen¡¯s expression darkened immediately. Without a word, he launched a powerful dropkick, sending Miguel flying across the room. The impact sent him crashing into a pile of unconscious bandits, his body sprawling atop the others. Miguel lay there, out cold, alongside the revelers he had just disturbed.


    ¡°Great,¡± Yuen muttered, his voice filled with disdain. ¡°You brought random kids into the base.¡± He turned and shouted toward the staircase, ¡°Some kids are here! Should I kill them, or what?¡±


    Before anyone could respond, Max¡¯s voice cut through the tension, shaky but defiant. ¡°We just wanted some help from the Wyrm Raiders! We¡¯ll leave if you can¡¯t help us!¡±


    Yuen¡¯s eyes flicked to Max, his irritation palpable. His lip curled. ¡°Who the hell are the Wyrm Raiders?¡± He glanced at Miguel¡¯s crumpled form, shaking his head in disgust.


    Miguel stirred groggily, rubbing his head as he muttered, ¡°It¡¯s the group who originally owned this base. Well, they¡¯re still here, but the whole top floor is exclusively ours now.¡± His words were sluggish, half-conscious.


    Yuen¡¯s scowl deepened. He kicked one of the passed-out bandits with a sneer. ¡°Oh, you mean these idiots?¡± His voice dripped with contempt. ¡°What do you want with our little slaves?¡±


    Samantha, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. Her voice was firm despite the chaos. ¡°We need help getting through to Havana.¡±


    Yuen¡¯s attention shifted to her, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, he looked back at Miguel, anger simmering beneath his gaze. ¡°What did you tell them?¡± he demanded, his voice dangerously low.


    Miguel, still half on the floor, shook his head weakly. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t say anything,¡± he groaned.


    Yuen sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. His patience was clearly wearing thin. ¡°Hey, you guys!¡± he shouted up the stairs. ¡°Get down here! I¡¯m not sure what to do with these kids.¡±


    Moments later, three figures descended the staircase, their faces hidden by the shadows. As they stepped into the dim light, the air grew thicker with tension. The chaotic scene only escalated with their arrival.


    One of the figures, a small man with a brown complexion and short, messy hair, disappeared in a flash, reappearing in front of Sabir, Max, and Samantha. He crouched low, his movements quick and predatory. His sharp eyes narrowed suspiciously. ¡°You guys spies or something?¡± he asked, his voice a low growl. ¡°Who do you work for?¡±


    Another figure, an older man with sharp eyes and a sword strapped to his belt, walked calmly to Yuen¡¯s side. His gaze was cold, calculating. ¡°It¡¯s no coincidence that just when we¡¯re about to make our move to get back into Havana, some random kids show up,¡± he said, his voice gravelly. ¡°They¡¯re spies.¡±


    The crouching man glanced back over his shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t know. They look just like kids.¡±


    A woman wearing a purple, low-cut dress sauntered into view, her eyes gleaming with amusement. ¡°Too bad Anaya¡¯s not here,¡± she purred, a hint of a smile on her lips. ¡°She¡¯d figure out what to do with them.¡± Her gaze lingered on Max, and he flushed under her scrutiny.


    Yuen gave a nod. ¡°Her powers would come in handy.¡±


    Samantha took a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling voice. ¡°We aren¡¯t spies. We don¡¯t even know who you are. We just need to get to Havana.¡±


    Miguel, now sitting up, groaned, ¡°But you just left Havana.¡±


    The old man slapped Miguel upside the head. ¡°Great, you were tracked,¡± he spat.


    Yuen, clearly fed up with the back-and-forth, muttered, ¡°Enough. Let¡¯s deal with this before the boss wakes up and burns the place down.¡± His voice was tight with urgency.


    Miguel scrambled to his feet, nodding frantically. ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s kill them quickly,¡± he agreed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± Yuen said, his hands beginning to glow ominously. He took a step forward, but before he could act, the old man stopped him with a sharp gesture.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he said, his voice commanding. ¡°We need to know who they¡¯re working for.¡±


    Yuen gritted his teeth but complied. Instead of killing them outright, he flicked his wrist, sending three knives hovering into the air. In an instant, they shot forward, plunging into the knees of Sabir, Max, and Samantha. They screamed in pain as blood gushed from their wounds.


    Sabir, grimacing, forced out through clenched teeth, ¡°We¡¯re really just here by pure coincidence. I¡¯m from The Limbo. My friends live in the Commons. We thought the Wyrm Raiders could help us get back into Havana.¡±


    Yuen sneered, unconvinced. He raised more knives into the air, aiming them at their throats. ¡°Not buying it.¡±


    The old man stepped forward again. ¡°Stop,¡± he commanded, his voice icy.


    Yuen turned to him, frustrated. ¡°Why, Mendoza? You pitying these kids? They could be working for the nobles.¡±


    Mendoza¡¯s eyes flashed with authority. ¡°I¡¯ve tortured enough people to know when someone¡¯s telling the truth,¡± he said coldly, pointing at Max. ¡°That sniveling coward would¡¯ve cracked by now.¡±


    Max, despite the pain, mumbled, ¡°I¡¯m not that much of a coward¡­¡±


    Yuen, reluctantly, released them, the kids sliding down the wall, clutching their bleeding knees.


    Sabir and the rest writhed in pain. Max began to splutter out the words, ¡°You¡¯re the triads, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯re Rafael Mendoza,¡± he said whilst stuttering, looking at the old man. ¡°The most notorious enforcer in criminal history, you killed multiple members of the Seven Noble Families yourself.¡±


    Miguel looked at his friends and muttered, ¡°Well, shit. They figured out our identity. This is why the boss keeps telling you to retire.¡±


    The man now identified as Rafael Mendoza slapped Miguel on the head. ¡°You dunce the boss wants me to retire out of care for her uncle and his old age.¡±


    Miguel, rubbing his sore head, asked, ¡°So what do we do with them now? Can we still kill them if they¡¯re a problem?¡±


    Mendoza shrugged. ¡°Let the boss decide when she wakes up.¡±


    Sabir, panting and bleeding, his mind racing, pulled the knife from his knee. A horrifying thought struck him, his eyes locking onto Mendoza. These people¡­ they might have killed his sister.


    Mendoza noticed Sabir¡¯s intense stare and grinned. ¡°Heh. Look at those eyes, Yuen. Reminds me of a younger you¡ªsomeone with nothing left to lose.¡±


    Yuen scowled. ¡°I don¡¯t see the resemblance.¡±


    Miguel chimed in, glancing between them. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t see it either¡ª¡±


    Yuen¡¯s temper flared, and before Miguel could finish, Yuen kicked him again, sending him crashing into a table.


    Suddenly, the temperature in the room spiked. Yuen froze, his skin prickling with heat. From upstairs, a furious voice rang out, ¡°Damn it, you bastards woke me up! I¡¯m gonna burn you all to hell!¡±


    Mendoza''s concentration on Sabir broke as he looked towards Yuen and Miguel, their faces stricken with absolute terror. They were fucked. They woke up the boss.

 Chapter 24 - An Alliance Of Sorts

    A beautiful woman with long, flowing red hair leaped down from the stairs, her eyes blazing with fury. She wore pajamas adorned with flower patterns, a stark contrast to the deadly fire swirling around her arms.


    ¡°Damn it, you bastards woke me up! I¡¯m gonna burn you motherfuckers!¡± she screamed, her voice echoing through the room like a death knell.


    Her arms erupted in flames, and she began hurling fireballs indiscriminately. Some of the passed-out bandits jolted awake, their screams piercing the air as they were engulfed in flames. The room quickly descended into chaos.


    Yuen and Miguel ducked for cover behind overturned tables and broken furniture, desperately trying to avoid the fiery onslaught. The intense heat from the flames made the air nearly unbearable, and the once rowdy room now felt like an inferno.


    ¡°Relax, Cinder!¡± Mendoza shouted, his voice struggling to rise above the din. He stepped forward, trying to calm the enraged woman. ¡°It¡¯s just a misunderstanding!¡±


    Cinder¡¯s eyes narrowed, and she fired another volley of fireballs, scorching the floor around Mendoza. ¡°Misunderstanding? You idiots woke me up for this?¡± Her voice was a mix of anger and exasperation.


    Max, Samantha, and Sabir huddled together, trying to avoid the flying flames. The oppressive heat and the chaos around them made it difficult to think. Sabir¡¯s mind raced, trying to figure out how they could escape this madness.


    ¡°Cinder, please!¡± Mendoza pleaded, his tone softening. ¡°It was an accident. Besides, these kids ended up here, seeking our help.¡±


    Cinder¡¯s flames flickered for a moment as she considered Mendoza¡¯s words. Her fiery gaze shifted to the trio, who were staring at her with a mix of fear and desperation.


    ¡°What the hell do they want?¡± she asked, her voice still tinged with anger.


    Mendoza nodded. ¡°They want a way into Havana. This is a good test for you as a leader to test your insight, discern their intentions and decide what to do with them. Because you are the boss.¡± Mendoza said slowly enunciating the word boss for emphasis.


    Cinder¡¯s flames began to die down, the heat in the room lessening slightly. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ¡°Alright,¡± she said finally, puffing her chest in pride. ¡°This seems like only a job that a dependable leader would do, so I''ll decide what to do with those kids.¡±


    Mendoza let out a sigh of relief. ¡°Thank you, Cinder.¡±


    Cinder turned her gaze back to Sabir, Max, and Samantha. ¡°You kids bring your asses to my office.¡± She said while clicking her fingers moving back towards the stairs.


    Sabir, summoning his courage and ignoring the pain, stepped forward. ¡°Guys, get up.¡± Samantha and Max looked at each other in helplessness. They couldn''t walk with all the pain from the knife that was dislodged in their knee.


    Cinder looked at the trio, noticing their injuries. Her expression darkened as she turned to Yuen. ¡°Yuen, why did you use your knives on some kids?¡±


    Yuen shrugged, his tone blunt. ¡°I thought they were spies, boss.¡±


    Cinder rolled her eyes in exasperation. ¡°Ugh, all you¡¯re good for is killing. LINA, get down here!¡± she yelled.


    Lina, a young woman with a wiry build and short, spiky hair, descended the stairs quickly. Her round glasses glinted in the dim light. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± she asked, her voice sweet and cheerful.


    ¡°Heal these three kids for me, please,¡± Cinder instructed.


    ¡°Sure thing, Cinder.¡± Lina agreed with a smile as she approached the trio.


    Starting with Max, she knelt down and gently grasped the hilt of the knife lodged in his knee. With a swift, practiced motion, she pulled it out and tossed it to Yuen, who caught it effortlessly. Placing her hands over the wound, her eyes began to glow a soft, soothing blue. Max felt a warmth spread through his leg as the blood stopped flowing and the wound closed up, leaving only a faint scar.


    She moved to Samantha next, repeating the process. Samantha winced as the knife was removed, but Lina¡¯s glowing hands quickly eased the pain, sealing the wound with the same comforting light. Samantha let out a sigh of relief, nodding her thanks to Lina.


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    Finally, Lina approached Sabir. She noticed he had already pulled the knife out himself; he wasn''t bleeding. ¡°Jai, can you give me the first aid kit, please,¡± she called softly.


    In an instant, the small, brown-skinned man appeared, crouching beside her and handing over a first aid kit before vanishing again in a trail of smoke. Lina worked swiftly, her hands deftly bandaging Sabir¡¯s knee. He watched her closely, noting the precision of her movements.


    Once she finished, Lina stood and faced Cinder. ¡°They¡¯re all fine now,¡± she reported, before heading back upstairs.


    Cinder studied them for a moment, then nodded. ¡°Good job, Lina. You''re free to eat some of that cake I left in the fridge.¡± She turned to Yuen and Miguel, who were still cowering behind cover. ¡°And you two idiots, clean up this mess!¡±


    Yuen and Miguel scrambled to their feet, hastily nodding their compliance. The room began to settle back into an uneasy calm, the immediate threat of fire now gone.


    Cinder nodded in approval, then wagged her finger, signaling for the trio to follow her. They exchanged anxious glances before falling into step behind her, their injuries now healed but their nerves still on edge. Sabir, however, was lost in his thoughts, his mind churning with plans for revenge. If these people were guilty of killing his sister, he vowed to make them pay.


    ¡°Don''t reveal your intentions too soon, Sabir, bide your time and wait for the opportune moment,¡± Sabir told himself as if it were a mantra.


    As they followed Cinder deeper into the base, the tension between the three grew palpable. Each step they took seemed to echo with unspoken fears and unvoiced suspicions, the future uncertain but the present demanding their full attention.


    Sabir noticed the numerous rooms on the upper floor as they followed Cinder through the winding corridors. The flickering lights and the occasional sound of a bandit stirring added to the uneasy atmosphere. Eventually, Cinder led them into a modest office. The room was sparsely furnished, with a simple desk and a few chairs. The walls were bare, and the only decoration was a map of Havana pinned to the wall.


    "Sit down," Cinder instructed, taking a seat behind the desk. As they settled into the chairs, she introduced herself. "I¡¯m Cinder Blaze. If you don¡¯t know already, we¡¯re the Triads. We¡¯ve been¡­borrowing this hideout for a couple of months now."


    Max shifted in his chair, clearing his throat before speaking up. "I''m Max Crawford," he said, his voice steady. "And these are my friends, Sabir Quinn and Samantha Hart." He gestured to each of them in turn. "We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us, Cinder, and not burning us when you had the chance."


    Cinder nodded, her eyes flicking to Sabir and Samantha as she sized them up. "Nice to meet you all," she said with a smile.


    The trio exchanged nervous glances. Cinder seemed to sense their fear and tried to put them at ease. ¡°There are a lot of misconceptions about the Triads,¡± she said. ¡°Our main goal is the absolute dissolution of the Seven Noble Families. We¡¯re not just mindless criminals.¡±


    Max, still visibly tense, asked, ¡°Why have you been hiding out in the Limbo?¡±


    Cinder¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°Our hideout was breached because someone betrayed us.¡±


    ¡°Have you gotten revenge on the person who betrayed you?¡± Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Sabir¡¯s ears perked up at the question, the memory of his sister¡¯s death resurfacing.


    Cinder shook her head. ¡°We don¡¯t know where the mole is hiding. But once I get my hands on him, I¡¯ll burn him to a crisp.¡±


    Samantha, sensing the escalating tension, quickly interjected, ¡°We just want a way through to Havana. We can leave and find another way.¡±


    Cinder looked at them thoughtfully. ¡°Don¡¯t bother. You guys seem weak, but I¡¯m sure we can take you with us through Havana.¡± Her gaze lingered on Sabir, who was lost in his thoughts, his expression one of barely contained anger. ¡°If you were stronger, I might have offered you a job,¡± she mused.


    Trying to lighten the mood, Cinder added, ¡°You know, you¡¯re not that much younger than me. I¡¯m only 20.¡±


    Max and Samantha exchanged a glance before Max replied, ¡°We¡¯re 18.¡± He nudged Sabir, who remained silent, lost in his thoughts.


    Samantha quickly added, ¡°He¡¯s almost 18, just a bit younger.¡± She hoped to prevent Cinder from thinking Sabir was being rude.


    The four of them finally agreed to enter Havana together. As they stood to leave, the tension in the room lifted slightly, replaced by a shared determination. Sabir, however, was still conflicted, his thoughts a whirlwind of revenge and uncertainty. He exchanged a look with Max and Samantha, who gave him reassuring nods. They would face whatever came next together.


    Cinder leaned back in her chair and sighed. "So, we¡¯re all set to move out. We¡¯ll leave at dawn. You three better be ready, you¡¯re gonna see some fireworks.¡±


    Max nodded. "We will be. Thank you for helping us."


    Samantha glanced at Sabir, who was still deep in thought. "Yeah, we really appreciate it. It''s not like we have many options left."


    Cinder''s eyes flicked to Sabir, noting his silence. "You okay there, Sabir¨Cwas it? You''ve been awfully quiet."


    Sabir snapped out of his reverie and met her gaze. "Yeah, just... processing everything.¡±


    Cinder stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "Alright, let''s get some rest. Tomorrow¡¯s going to be a long day."


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 Chapter 25 - Sabirs Resolve

    The flickering light cast eerie shadows on the walls as we walked through the winding corridors of the Wyrm Raiders¡¯ base. My thoughts were in turmoil, the images of my sister¡¯s lifeless body and the innocent face of Mia haunting me. Each step echoed my internal conflict, the memories of loss mingling with a burning desire for vengeance.


    My mind wandered back to our desperate situation. Thirteen credits. It was all we had managed to scrounge together, a pittance that wouldn''t get us far. I had kept my silence as Samantha and Max discussed our options, but my thoughts had never strayed far from Cassius and the Triads. Finding Mia was my priority, but now, standing in the lion''s den, the plan seemed far more dangerous and complex than I''d anticipated.


    As we reached Cinder¡¯s office, I could feel the weight of her scrutiny. She was different from the rest, her fiery temperament matched by a surprising depth of insight. I was barely paying attention to the conversation between her and my friends, my focus on the bandage Lina had applied to my knee. The pain was faint, yet it was a constant reminder of the price of our mission.


    ¡°Sabir, was it? You okay, you seem dazed?¡± Cinder¡¯s voice cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.


    ¡°Yeah, just¡­ thinking,¡± I replied, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away. I could see the skepticism in her eyes, but she didn¡¯t push further.


    Samantha and Max were trying their best to keep the conversation light, but I could see the fear in their eyes. We were out of our depth here, and they knew it. The Triads were dangerous, but they were also our best shot at getting into Havana. My jaw tightened as I thought about the risk we were taking.


    Cinder leaned back, her demeanor shifting from leader to something more approachable. ¡°You kids better get some rest. Tomorrow¡¯s going to be a long day.¡±


    She glanced at the door and called out, ¡°Nia, come in here.¡±


    A slender woman with a graceful demeanor entered. She had long, jet-black hair and striking almond-shaped eyes, and I recognized her as the one who had seen us on the ground floor earlier.


    ¡°Nia, lead them to the empty room,¡± Cinder instructed.


    Nia nodded. ¡°The empty room has a single bunk bed,¡± she said softly, looking at us with a mix of curiosity and concern.


    Cinder waved a hand dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s fine. One of them can sleep on the floor.¡±


    Nia led us through the corridors, which seemed even more oppressive as we walked. Max and Samantha exchanged worried glances, their concern for me evident.


    As we reached the room, Nia hesitated at the door. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for everything. My friends¡­ they¡¯re good people, really. We¡¯re all just trying to survive.¡±


    The trio exchanged doubtful looks. Max crossed his arms, skepticism clear in his voice. ¡°Good people? You were going to kill us.¡±


    Nia laughed, a bitter edge to her voice. ¡°We¡¯re living in tough times. No one knows who to trust anymore.¡± She paused, her eyes softening. ¡°Just get some rest. Tomorrow¡¯s another day.¡±


    She left, closing the door gently behind her. The room was small and dimly lit, with a single bunk bed in the corner. I sighed and dropped my bag onto the floor. ¡°I¡¯ll take the floor.¡±


    Samantha sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes still on me. ¡°Sabir, what¡¯s going on in your head?¡±


    I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ thinking about Mia. And Cassius. If the Triads killed my sister, then¡­¡±


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    Max interrupted, his voice firm. ¡°Then we need to be careful. We can¡¯t take them on, not now. We need to play along, get into Havana, and then figure out our next move.¡±


    He was right. Revenge would have to wait. For now, our priority was survival and finding Mia. I nodded, forcing a smile. ¡°You¡¯re right. Let¡¯s get some rest.¡±


    The two of them settled down in their makeshift beds, while I squirmed uncomfortably on the floor. The silence of the night amplifying my thoughts. I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing with plans and contingencies. I couldn¡¯t let my anger cloud my judgment. Cassius was out there, and Mia needed us. I had to stay focused.


    As I drifted off to sleep, the small brown man from before suddenly appeared by my feet. He grinned broadly, looking down at us. ¡°Oh, hi guys! I heard you¡¯re gonna be coming with us into Havana. Isn¡¯t it exciting?¡±


    Max and Samantha both sat up quickly, startled. The man continued, unfazed by their reactions. ¡°I¡¯m Jai Singh, by the way.¡±


    Samantha was about to introduce herself and the others when Jai cut her off. ¡°Oh, I already know who you are.¡± He pointed at each of us in turn. ¡°You¡¯re Sabir, that¡¯s Samantha, and he¡¯s Max. You¡¯re all eighteen, right? That makes you two years older than me.¡±


    It was shocking to hear that this midget was younger than us, with his wispy beard and crooked posture. All this time I thought he was a man but he was really just a kid.


    Jai continued, "I hope you don''t hold a grudge against Miguel and Yuen earlier. Miguel... well, there''s not much going on upstairs, at least that''s what old man Mendoza says. And Yuen, he just wants to fight all the time. He''s been fighting all his life, or at least that''s what he tells me.


    Jai shook his head, realizing he was getting off track again. ¡°Look what I''m trying to say is, is that you guys got lucky. If you even think about revenge you''ll die, before you even know it"


    The word "revenge" hung in the air like a blade. Samantha''s eyes widened, and she instinctively touched the scar where the knife had stabbed her. Max''s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. I felt a surge of anger mixed with fear, but forced myself to stay calm. The Triads were dangerous, and Jai¡¯s warning wasn''t to be taken lightly.


    Max frowned, his sarcasm oozing. "Are all you friends lethal and dangerous?"


    Jai shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "I might not know everything about them, but The Triads are like family to me and they all treat me well."


    Samantha leaned forward, her interest piqued despite herself. "What kind of abilities does everyone have?"


    Jai''s expression turned serious for a moment as he scanned Samantha¡¯s face, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you want to know? What are you, a spy?"


    Samantha''s face paled, the memory of the knife flashing in her mind. She stammered, "N-nevermind, I''m not interested."


    Jai''s mischievous grin returned. "Relax, I was just messing with you. Besides, you''ve already seen some of our abilities. Yuen¡¯s precise telekinesis, Miguel¡¯s super strength. Lina¡¯s got healing abilities, and the boss... well, she¡¯s got some seriously scary pyrokinesis. Old man Mendoza, I don''t know exactly what his power is, but he''s very good with a sword. As for the others, well, they wouldn¡¯t like me sharing their powers.¡±


    Max''s eyes widened. "That''s quite a lineup."


    Max and Samantha exchanged glances, both processing the information. Before they could ask more, Jai¡¯s eyes twinkled with excitement. "Now, let me show you what I can do.¡±


    He vanished and reappeared in front of Max, who jumped back in surprise. ¡°How do you do that?¡± Max asked, his voice trembling slightly.


    Jai smiled mischievously. ¡°My esper abilities let me teleport myself and others, as long as we¡¯re touching.¡±


    Without warning, Jai disappeared again, reappearing beside Samantha. He placed his hand on her shoulder and then teleported them both into the air. Jai blinked back onto the floor, leaving Samantha to fall straight down onto me.


    I caught her awkwardly, and for a brief moment, our faces were inches apart. There was a strange mix of tension and something softer in her eyes. Before I could react, Jai appeared again, his face next to ours, grinning mischievously.


    I fought back the urge to punch him, knowing it wouldn¡¯t end well. Samantha scrambled to her feet and smacked Jai on the shoulder. ¡°Stop it!¡± she snapped, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.


    Jai just laughed and vanished again. Samantha shook her head, muttering under her breath as she got back into bed. The room fell silent once more, but the brief chaos had dispelled some of the tension, and we finally began to relax.


    As I settled back onto the floor, I kept my resolve sharp. The time for payback would come, and when it did, I''d be ready. With my conscience fading, the tightness of my fist never left.

 Chapter 26 - Not So Much Of A Plan

    A loud banging on the door shattered the silence of the room, jerking everyone awake. Sabir rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The door creaked open, and Miguel¡¯s imposing figure filled the frame, his muscular silhouette casting a long shadow.


    ¡°Rise and shine,¡± he shouted loudly, his deep voice reverberating through the room. ¡°We are getting ready to leave. Get down quickly.¡±


    Samantha and Max scrambled to their feet, their faces reflecting the same mix of dread and determination. Sabir pushed himself up from the floor, his body stiff from the uncomfortable night''s sleep. Miguel didn¡¯t wait for them to fully wake up; he turned and marched down the corridor, expecting them to follow.


    The base was already abuzz with activity, but it was a disorganized, uneasy bustle. Members of the Wyrm Raiders stumbled about, their movements sluggish and unsteady. Many of them had bleary eyes and unkempt hair, evidence of a long night spent drinking heavily with Miguel. Their faces, flushed and worn, betrayed a mix of exhaustion and unease.


    The air was thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls of the base were holding their breath. Whispers and murmurs floated through the hallways, and the Raiders exchanged nervous glances whenever Miguel¡¯s name was mentioned. It was clear they held a deep-seated fear of him, their previously boisterous bravado replaced by a hesitant wariness. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of impending dread, and Sabir couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that today was not just another day¡ªit was a turning point, fraught with uncertainty and danger.


    As they descended the stairs, Max couldn''t contain his curiosity any longer. ¡°Why are the Triads here in the Wyrm Raiders'' base and why are they so scared of you?¡± he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.


    Miguel glanced back at them, a sinister smile spreading across his face. ¡°They had the biggest building we could use, so we killed all their leaders and took control of it,¡± he said, his tone matter-of-fact. ¡°We let the grunts live in exchange for doing the house chores.¡± He laughed maniacally, the sound echoing off the walls and sending a chill down Sabir¡¯s spine.


    They reached the ground floor, where Cinder stood at a table, surrounded by maps and blueprints. Her fiery hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, her eyes sharp and alert. She looked up as they entered, giving them a curt nod.


    ¡°Good, you¡¯re here,¡± she said briskly. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time. Gather around, and let¡¯s go over the plan.¡±


    Sabir couldn''t help but notice that, besides Miguel who was wearing another Hawaiian shirt, the rest of the Triads were dressed in black suits. Cinder herself wore a long coat, giving her a commanding presence. Nia, on the other hand, had her shirt''s top buttons undone, revealing her cleavage, and she wore a skirt. Max blushed when she looked at him, while Sabir couldn''t help but question their choice of attire.


    ¡°Why are you all dressed like this?¡± Sabir asked, unable to hide his curiosity.


    Cinder¡¯s eyes met his, and she replied, ¡°We need to be in uniform when we announce that the Triads are going to be returning to Havana.¡±


    Sabir nodded, still feeling uneasy. His attention was drawn to three individuals he hadn''t seen before.


    Cinder noticed his gaze and introduced them.


    ¡°This is Kofi Mensah,¡± she said, gesturing to a well-dressed, imposing figure with salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and sharp features. His attire was impeccably tailored, reflecting a high status within the Triads.


    ¡°Omar Al-Farsi,¡± she continued, pointing to a medium-built man with a stealthy, almost ghost-like presence. He had dark, brooding eyes and a shaved head, his attire dark and functional.


    ¡°And this is Anaya Patel, Jai¡¯s younger sister,¡± she said, her tone softening as she introduced the nine-year-old girl. Anaya had sleek black hair tied back and piercing green eyes just like Jai¡¯s. Unlike the others, she was not wearing a suit but a cute little frilly dress.


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    As they took in the new faces, Anaya suddenly stepped forward, her small frame seeming to grow larger with an intense, otherworldly energy. Her piercing green eyes locked onto Sabir, and she raised a trembling finger to point directly at him.


    ¡°Stay away from him!¡± Anaya''s voice rang out, unnaturally loud for her age, echoing through the room with an eerie resonance. ¡°He will lead the world into a nightmare. Cities will burn, and the skies will turn to ash. Blood will stain the streets, and no one will be safe. A terrible future awaits us all with him leading the way.¡±


    As she spoke, her eyes began to glow with an unsettling, ethereal light, casting a ghostly hue over her delicate features. The room seemed to darken around her, the shadows deepening as if drawn to her prophetic vision. Sabir felt a chill run down his spine, his heart pounding in his chest.


    The glow in Anaya''s eyes intensified, filling the room with a strange, pulsating light. Her voice grew even more haunting, layered with a tone that seemed to reverberate from another realm. ¡°You will betray those closest to you, Sabir. You will unleash a darkness that none can control. Destruction and despair will follow in your wake, and the world will never recover.¡±


    Suddenly, the light in Anaya¡¯s eyes flickered and died, leaving the room in an oppressive silence. She gasped, her small body shaking with the effort of the vision, before she turned and fled, hiding behind Cinder¡¯s protective form.


    The room remained still, the air thick with the weight of her words. Everyone turned to look at Sabir, their faces etched with a mix of confusion, fear, and suspicion. The foreboding prophecy hung heavy in the air, impossible to ignore.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Sabir asked, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a trembling edge.


    Jai stepped forward, his face pale and eyes wide with worry. ¡°Anaya¡¯s powers are... unique,¡± he began cautiously. ¡°She can always discern truths and emotions about people, but she¡¯s only seen the future, or some sort of vision, once before. And it was never anything like this.¡±


    The group remained silent, absorbing the gravity of what had just transpired. Sabir could feel their eyes on him, judging, questioning. The ominous future Anaya had foretold loomed over them all, casting a shadow that no one could easily dismiss.


    The weight of Anaya¡¯s words hung heavy in the air. Sabir could see the doubt and fear in the eyes of his friends and the Triads alike, since when were the words of a little girl so valued? For now, though, there was no time to dwell on it.


    As Sabir observed the scene, Jai approached Anaya, who had retreated behind Cinder. The young girl leaned against her, her small frame huddled between Cinder''s long muscular legs, her earlier aura of eerie certainty replaced by a palpable sadness. Her piercing green eyes stared blankly ahead, a look of deep unease etched on her face.


    Jai knelt beside her, his expression a mix of concern and gentle resolve. ¡°Hey, Anaya,¡± he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    Anaya looked up, her eyes still glowing faintly with the remnants of her earlier vision. ¡°I don¡¯t like this place,¡± she said, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t like what I see.¡±


    Jai¡¯s brow furrowed with worry. ¡°I know it¡¯s scary. But remember, it¡¯s just a vision. We''ll be leaving soon now, don''t worry.¡±


    Cinder, sensing the tension, clapped her hands to regain everyone''s attention. ¡°Jai¡¯s right, we''ve been out of Havana too long,¡± she said firmly. ¡°We need to regroup and focus.¡± She addressed the Triads, her voice strong and confident. ¡°You all know the plan.¡± The Triads nodded, their excitement palpable.


    Then, Cinder turned to Sabir, Samantha, and Max. Her expression shifted to something more serious. ¡°I lied to you slightly,¡± she admitted. ¡°We aren¡¯t going to help you get through to Havana.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Max exclaimed, his face contorting in disbelief. ¡°But you said¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know what I said,¡± Cinder interrupted sharply. ¡°But you see it''s a matter of being precise.¡± Cinder said with a wide grin


    Every member of the Triads, except for Anaya, wore sinister smiles. Anaya, however, continued to watch Sabir from behind Cinder, her eyes filled with an unsettling mix of fear and curiosity.


    ¡°From today, anyone will enter Havana,¡± Cinder continued, her voice carrying a dark promise. She pointed to the threshold marked on the map, then drew a cross right through it. ¡°Because we¡¯re going to destroy the threshold.¡±


    The room fell into a stunned silence, the gravity of Cinder¡¯s words sinking in. Sabir, Samantha, and Max exchanged worried glances, their minds racing with the implications of what they¡¯d just heard.


    Cinder¡¯s gaze hardened, her resolve clear. ¡°Get ready. We move out in fifteen minutes. Just stand back and watch, don''t get in the fucking way.¡±


    As the group dispersed, unphased by the plan. The trio huddled together, their earlier confusion giving way to a shared sense of panic. ¡°These guys are psychos!¡±

 Chapter 27 - The Triads Return

    The group of ten moved stealthily towards the threshold, a towering structure that marked the boundary between The Limbo and Havana. The threshold was an imposing gate, fortified with layers of steel and concrete. High barriers flanked it on either side, and atop these barriers were hundreds of guards, their silhouettes stark against the dim early morning light.


    From a distance, Max, Samantha, and Sabir watched intently. The sheer number of guards was daunting, but they had no choice but to trust the Triads¡¯ plan.


    Cinder stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the threshold. ¡°Anaya, we need an analysis,¡± she said calmly.


    Anaya¡¯s eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light. ¡°I sense almost 500 guards on duty right now,¡± she said, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. ¡°But about 700 more will be on their way soon. And wouldn¡¯t some guilds be called to help?¡±


    Rafael Mendoza chuckled, patting Anaya on the head. ¡°They won¡¯t come because there¡¯s nothing in it for them,¡± he said confidently. ¡°Not until they realize it¡¯s the Triads, but by then, it will be already too late.¡±


    Miguel, his muscles rippling with barely contained energy, cracked his knuckles. ¡°Can I fight now?¡± he asked eagerly.


    Cinder nodded. ¡°Go ahead, but let¡¯s be strategic. Omar, you take the first move. We don¡¯t want too much attention too fast.¡±


    Omar vanished, his body blending seamlessly into the shadows until he was nothing more than a faint ripple in the air. Miguel grumbled under his breath, ¡°I hate it when he goes invisible.¡±


    Omar moved with the stealth of a predator, his footsteps silent as he approached the walls. His breath steady, he began his ascent, scaling the rough stone with practiced ease. Reaching the top, he paused for a moment, taking in the scene before him. The guards, oblivious to the danger lurking in their midst, continued their patrols.


    With a quick, deadly grace, Omar struck. His blade cut through the first guard¡¯s throat after finding its mark. The man crumpled silently to the ground, his lifeblood spilling onto the cold stone. Omar moved on, his invisibility cloaking him like a shroud.


    One guard turned just in time to see a shadowy figure before Omar¡¯s knife found his throat, silencing him forever. Omar¡¯s movements were precise and efficient, each kill executed with deadly accuracy. He continued his deadly dance, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.


    From his vantage point below, Miguel watched with a mix of irritation and admiration. Omar¡¯s stealth was impressive, but Miguel preferred the brute force approach. He began stretching, eager for his turn.


    Omar dispatched the last guard on the wall, his blade slicing through the air with a deadly whisper. The guard¡¯s eyes widened in shock before he collapsed, joining his fallen comrades. Omar reappeared moments later, standing surrounded by the chaos with a satisfied expression. He gave Miguel a thumbs up, signaling that the path was clear.


    Miguel¡¯s eyes lit up with excitement. ¡°Finally,¡± he muttered, preparing to unleash his own brand of chaos.


    Just as Miguel was about to charge the guards on the ground, Yuen stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°Let¡¯s make it interesting,¡± he said with a smirk. ¡°Whoever kills the most guards wins.¡±


    Miguel¡¯s eyes lit up with competitive fire. ¡°You¡¯re on.¡±


    With a roar, Miguel launched himself at the nearest group of guards, his powerful legs propelling him forward like a human battering ram. His first punch connected with a guard¡¯s jaw, sending him flying backward, crashing into two others. The impact was bone-crunching, and the sound of breaking bones was like a symphony to Miguel¡¯s ears. He pivoted on his heel, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent another guard sprawling.


    Meanwhile, Yuen remained a few paces behind, his dark eyes narrowing in focus. He extended his hands, and his arsenal of knives floated into the air, glinting menacingly in the light. With a mere thought, he sent them hurtling towards the guards. Each dagger found its mark with unerring precision, striking throats, hearts, and other vital points. The guards barely had time to react before they were cut down, their bodies collapsing in lifeless heaps.


    Miguel continued his rampage, his fists a blur of motion. He grabbed a guard by the collar, lifting him off his feet, and slammed him into the ground with such force that the concrete cracked beneath him. He turned, catching another guard¡¯s attempted strike with his bare hand. With a savage grin, Miguel twisted the man¡¯s arm until it snapped, then tossed him aside like a rag doll.


    Yuen, not to be outdone, used his telekinesis to create a whirlwind of blades. The knives swirled around him in a deadly dance, cutting down any guard who dared to approach. He glided with a smooth elegance, dodging attacks with ease while directing his knives to slice through armor and flesh. One guard tried to flank him, but Yuen sent a knife spiraling into his chest without even looking.


    The ground was soon littered with bodies, blood pooling around the fallen. Miguel and Yuen moved through the carnage like twin reapers, each kill adding to their tally. Miguel¡¯s brute strength and sheer ferocity contrasted with Yuen¡¯s lethal elegance, but both were equally deadly.


    A group of guards attempted to mount a coordinated defense, forming a tight phalanx to repel the attackers. Miguel barreled into them headfirst, his massive frame breaking their formation. He grabbed two guards by their heads and smashed them together, the sickening crunch echoing across the battlefield. Another soldier pounced on him with a spear, but Miguel caught the weapon mid-thrust and yanked it from the man¡¯s grasp, snapping it over his knee.


    Yuen capitalized on the chaos, his knives darting in and out like vipers. He flicked his fingers, and a dozen blades shot forward, impaling the remaining guards in the phalanx. They dropped their weapons, clutching at their wounds as they fell.


    The final guard standing made a desperate charge at Yuen, brandishing a sword. Yuen merely smirked, raising a single hand. The guard¡¯s sword arm was yanked back by an invisible force, and Yuen¡¯s knives converged on him from all sides. The guard let out a choked gasp as the blades pierced his body, then collapsed to the ground.


    The guards were defeated, their bodies strewn across the ground. Miguel and Yuen had proven their deadly prowess, each displaying their unique talents in a brutal contest.


    Miguel and Yuen stood amidst the carnage, their chests heaving with exertion. They exchanged a glance, each gauging the other¡¯s kill count. Blood and sweat dripped from Miguel¡¯s fists, while Yuen¡¯s knives floated back to his side, their edges gleaming with fresh blood.


    ¡°I think I got more,¡± Miguel said with a cocky grin, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek.


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    Yuen raised an eyebrow, his expression smug. ¡°You wish. I¡¯m pretty sure I won this round.¡±


    Before their playful banter could escalate, the scream of more guards cut through the air, commanding their attention. The battle was just beginning.


    As the two just began their deadly rampage, Cinder turned to Jai and Nia. ¡°Time for your part.¡±


    Nia touched Jai¡¯s shoulder, and they teleported away. Moments later, Jai reappeared, his expression triumphant. ¡°Nia¡¯s inside.¡±


    Cinder nodded approvingly. ¡°Good job. Anaya, any more imminent dangers?¡±


    Anaya shook her head. ¡°Everything should be fine for now.¡±


    On the battlefield, Miguel and Yuen were neck and neck, each tallying their kills with grim efficiency. As the number of guards dwindled, Yuen suggested with a wicked grin, ¡°If I kill you, I¡¯ll have one more kill.¡±


    Miguel¡¯s eyes narrowed, and they were about to clash when Kofi stepped between them, a camera dangling by his neck. ¡°People are watching,¡± he said calmly. ¡°We¡¯re not setting a good impression, especially in front of young Anaya.¡±


    The two warriors glanced over at Anaya¡¯s innocent, wide-eyed face and begrudgingly nodded. Kofi then tiptoed around the bloody scene, taking photos. ¡°Smile for the front page,¡± he said, snapping pictures of Miguel flexing his muscles and Yuen wiping blood off his blades.


    Inside the walls, the off-duty guards were rousing, preparing to fight. They scrambled to put on their gear, their faces a mix of determination and fear. Amidst the chaos, one guard reached for the phone to call for backup, his hand shaking with urgency. Just as he was about to dial, another guard stepped up and knocked him out with a swift, precise blow to the head.


    The attacker leaned over the unconscious guard, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°It¡¯s too soon to call for backup,¡± he whispered, his voice low and seductive. The rest of the guards looked on, confused and wary.


    As the guard turned around, his features began to shimmer and change. What had appeared to be a burly, uniformed man slowly transformed, revealing the slender, feminine form of Nia. Her disguise had been flawless, allowing her to blend in seamlessly with the other guards.


    Nia straightened up, adjusting her uniform with a casual grace. ¡°We handle this ourselves,¡± she continued, her voice now unmistakably her own. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, realizing they had been outsmarted. Nia¡¯s infiltration was complete, and the advantage was firmly in the Triads¡¯ hands.


    As the rest of the guards poured out, a tide of desperate resolve and flashing weapons, Yuen and Miguel moved with deadly synchronization. Yuen, his eyes focused and intense, unleashed his telekinetic power, sending his twenty knives whirling through the air. Each blade found its mark, piercing throats and hearts with unerring accuracy. He moved with a fluid grace, his knives swirling around him as if forming a deadly halo.


    Miguel, meanwhile, was a force of raw power. He charged into the fray, his fists smashing through armor and bone alike. With every punch, a guard fell, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. His strikes were brutally efficient, each one delivering maximum impact with minimal effort. Blood spattered his Hawaiian shirt, but he barely noticed, his focus entirely on the fight.


    A guard lunged at Yuen from behind, but a knife shot out, embedding itself in the man¡¯s forehead before he could get close. Another guard aimed a rifle at Miguel, but Yuen¡¯s telekinesis yanked the weapon from his hands and sent it flying into the night. Miguel¡¯s fist connected with the guard¡¯s jaw a second later, sending him sprawling.


    The ground was littered with the bodies of fallen guards, and still, Yuen and Miguel fought on. Yuen¡¯s knives spun through the air, each one a streak of silver death. Miguel¡¯s fists were a blur, each punch landing with a bone-crushing impact. The guards, despite their numbers, were no match for the combined might of the two Triads.


    Finally, the last guard fell, his body crumpling to the ground with a final, defeated groan. Miguel and Yuen stood surrounded by the wreckage they created, their breaths heavy but their eyes filled with the excitement of the fight.


    As the dust settled, Rafael Mendoza stepped forward. His presence commanded immediate attention, and the air seemed to still around him. He drew his sword with a fluid motion, the blade gleaming in the dim light. Mendoza approached the threshold gate with a calm, purposeful stride.


    With a single powerful stroke, he sliced through the gate. The metal groaned and split, the impact of the blow resonating like a thunderclap. The gate fell in two, crashing to the ground with a resounding finality. The path to Havana lay open, the threshold destroyed completely.


    Mendoza sheathed his sword with a satisfied nod, as he walked through. Miguel, Yuen, Omar and Kofi followed closely behind. The Triads had breached the threshold, and nothing stood between them and Havana now.


    Jai then teleported Anaya and Cinder to the top of the wall in a blink, the world blurring around them before coming into sharp focus again. ¡°Time to get to safety, little sis,¡± he said, his voice steady and reassuring as he gave her a comforting smile. With a gentle touch on her shoulder, they vanished once more, leaving Cinder alone atop the wall.


    From her vantage point, Cinder could see the chaos and destruction wrought by her comrades below. She took a deep breath, feeling the heat of her power surging within her. With a dramatic flourish, she conjured a massive fireball in her hands, the flames swirling and crackling with fierce intensity. She hurled it into the sky, where it ascended like a comet before exploding in a dazzling display of fire and light. The fiery explosion lit up the night, casting an eerie glow over The Limbo and drawing eyes from miles around.


    As the echoes of the explosion faded, Cinder wasn¡¯t done. She turned her gaze to the uppermost part of the wall, her eyes narrowing with determination. Raising her hands, she unleashed a torrent of fire, setting the entire length of the wall ablaze. The flames roared to life, spreading quickly along the structure and creating a wall of fire that illuminated the night. The inferno¡¯s heat was intense, radiating outward and casting a hellish glow on the surrounding area.


    With a final glance at the destruction she had wrought, Cinder prepared to leap into Havana. Her eyes scanned the scene below one last time, ensuring everything was in place. The city lay open before her, vulnerable and unaware of the chaos about to descend upon it. She smiled grimly, then jumped from the wall, her body twisting gracefully as she descended into the heart of the city.


    Behind her, the wall continued to burn, flames licking hungrily at the sky and casting a beacon for all to see. The Triads had made their mark, and The Threshold to Havana was destroyed.


    Inside the wall, Nia¡¯s voice echoed through the corridors, filled with desperation and urgency. ¡°The Triads have come! They¡¯ve killed everyone! Calling anyone, please help!¡± Her voice crackled over the intercom, a distress call meant to bring them more notoriety. The dead of bodies of guards lay by her feet forgotten.


    As the flames spread rapidly through the interior, casting eerie shadows and bathing the walls in a hellish glow, Jai appeared in a flash beside Nia. ¡°Time to go,¡± he said, his voice calm despite the inferno raging around them.


    With a swift, practiced motion, Jai touched Nia¡¯s arm, and they vanished from the burning building. They reappeared a safe distance away, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat they had just escaped. Nia glanced back at the wall, now fully engulfed in flames, her expression a mix of relief and grim determination.


    The fire¡¯s light illuminated the night sky, drawing the attention of everyone in The Limbo. People began to gather, their eyes widening in shock as they realized the threshold had been destroyed. The once-impenetrable barrier lay in ruins, its defenses shattered.


    A murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd, quickly turning into a surge of movement. Residents of The Limbo, sensing their opportunity, began to rush forward. They pushed through the broken gate, their steps fueled by desperation and hope as they poured into Havana, seeking refuge and a new beginning.


    Max, Samantha, and Sabir watched the chaos unfold from their vantage point, the flames reflecting in their wide eyes. The destruction of the threshold had turned the night into a scene of pandemonium, with people from The Limbo surging forward in a desperate bid for freedom.


    Max glanced at his friends, urgency in his voice. ¡°We should go. This is our chance.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s gaze was fixed on the breach in the wall, her expression determined. She nodded firmly. ¡°We can¡¯t miss this opportunity.¡±


    Sabir inhaled deeply, sensing the gravity of the situation. His resolve hardened as he looked back at the life they were leaving behind. ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± he agreed, his voice steady despite the turmoil around them.


    With a shared nod of understanding, they moved as one, joining the throng of people flooding through the shattered gate. The roar of the fire and the cries of those around them filled the air, but their focus remained on the path ahead. They navigated through the chaos, dodging debris and pushing past others in their haste.


    This was the beginning of The Triads return and ascension, becoming the greatest fear in the hearts of the nobles, yet now they were a spark of hope for the unheard and the trodden.

 Chapter 28 - Unforeseen Encounters

    Cassius moved swiftly through the bustling Commons, his mind laser-focused on a single mission: finding Sabir. The authorities swiftly cleaned up the aftermath of the chaos in Sector 3 within a day, but Cassius still deeply stung from the reprimand he received from his superiors for laying hands on a noble. His superiors stripped him of his access to government facilities and deprived him of their resources, bringing his search for the Triads and Cynthia Quinn¡¯s lover to a frustrating and grinding halt. The only productive option left to him now was to track down Sabir.


    He recalled Maize¡¯s parting words with unsettling clarity. She had ¡°played¡± with Sabir and then unceremoniously dropped him off at The Commons. Cassius had clung to the hope that Sabir would be lying low, overwhelmed and unsure of his next move. Yet, after hours of relentless searching, Sabir was nowhere to be found. His frustration intensified as every moment slipped away, the bustling crowd around him blurring into a sea of meaningless faces as he scoured every corner and shadow of The Commons.


    Cassius weaved through the clumps of people, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny, his senses heightened. He noted the varied expressions of the passersby¡ªsome weary, others hurried, but none familiar. The market stalls, with their colorful displays and haggling vendors, seemed an unlikely place for Sabir to hide, yet Cassius scrutinized them. He checked the alleys, the dimly lit corners, and the crowded plazas, each turn of his head fueled by a blend of hope and desperation.


    The weight of his recent failures pressed heavily on his shoulders. He had been so close to breaking through, to finding the information he needed to take down the Triads and uncover the truth behind Cynthia Quinn¡¯s lover. But now, with the government¡¯s resources out of reach, he felt like he was floundering in the dark. The thought of Sabir, the only tangible lead he had left, slipping through his fingers was almost unbearable.


    Just as the frustration threatened to boil over, a distant, piercing scream cut through the din of the Commons. Cassius¡¯s head snapped toward the sound, his heart pounding. Smoke billowed from the direction of downtown, where the great wall that spanned Havana was now visibly ablaze. His eyes widened in disbelief. The walls of Havana, steadfast and impenetrable, had never been breached or damaged, not even by the monstrous threats lurking outside.


    Driven by a surge of adrenaline, Cassius sprinted toward the chaos, his thoughts of Sabir momentarily eclipsed by the urgency at hand. He navigated the panicked crowd with practiced ease, his movements fluid and purposeful. Using his shadows as hooks, he swung himself to a higher vantage point, landing on a rooftop that provided a clear view of the unfolding disaster.


    From his elevated position, Cassius surveyed the scene below. Amidst the wave of people flooding through the breached threshold, he spotted them: a young woman with fiery hair and an old man, both attempting to blend into the chaotic crowd. His breath caught in his throat. Blaze, the new leader of the Triads, and Mendoza. The very people he had sworn to kill.


    Without hesitation, Cassius leaped from the building, his shadow tendrils lashing out toward his targets. Blaze and Mendoza moved with practiced agility, dodging his initial assault. His tendrils struck random bystanders instead, sending bodies flying and adding to the chaos.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he cursed, retracting his shadows and refocusing on his real targets. The people¡¯s panicked screams only fueled his determination.


    The battle intensified rapidly. Blaze¡¯s flames erupted around her, creating a scorching barrier. Cassius dodged and weaved, his shadows forming a protective shield against the searing heat. He countered her fiery blasts with sharp, precise strikes, using his shadows like spears to pierce through the inferno.


    Blaze twirled and manipulated the flames with deadly grace, each movement fluid and calculated. Cassius had to stay light on his feet, narrowly evading jets of fire that threatened to engulf him. His mind raced, calculating her patterns, looking for an opening.


    Meanwhile, Mendoza was a storm of fury. His blade cut through the air with terrifying speed and precision. Cassius blocked and parried, but every clash sent jolts of pain through his arms. Mendoza pressed forward relentlessly, forcing Cassius to give ground. The old man¡¯s eyes were cold, his face hiding a display of ruthless determination.


    Cassius knew he had to break the rhythm. He feigned a retreat, luring Mendoza into a trap. As Mendoza advanced, Cassius lashed out with a shadow tendril, catching Mendoza off guard and landing a solid hit that sent him crashing into a nearby wall. Mendoza slumped to the ground, momentarily winded and out of the fight.


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    Seizing the opportunity, Cassius turned his full attention to Blaze. He moved with swift, calculated steps, closing the distance between them. Blaze hurled a torrent of flames in his direction, but Cassius was ready. He dodged to the side, his shadows slicing through the fiery wave, and lunged forward.


    Blaze¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as Cassius¡¯s shadow tendrils wrapped around her, the inky blackness extinguishing her flames in an instant. She struggled against the cold, constricting shadows, but Cassius only tightened his grip, his eyes burning with grim determination.


    The shadows crept up her body, their touch icy and unyielding, suffocating her fire with each passing second. Blaze¡¯s fiery hair whipped around her face, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps as she tried to summon her flames once more. But the shadows were relentless, absorbing her energy and leaving her powerless.


    Cassius loomed over her, his expression a mask of steely resolve. He had come too far, sacrificed too much to let her escape now. The final blow was within his grasp, and he wouldn¡¯t let anything stand in his way.


    ¡°It¡¯s over, Blaze,¡± he said, his voice low and menacing. The tendrils tightened further, pinning her arms to her sides and immobilizing her completely. ¡°This ends now.¡±


    Blaze¡¯s eyes flashed with defiance, even as fear flickered in their depths. She fought against the shadows, but they held fast, unyielding as steel. Cassius could see the desperation in her eyes, and he realized that she was truly trapped.


    With a grimace, Cassius summoned all his strength, focusing on the tendril aimed directly at her heart. It pulsed with dark energy, the tip sharp and deadly as it hovered inches from her chest. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, the frantic thrum of her life force resonating through his shadows.


    ¡°This is for all the lives you¡¯ve ruined,¡± Cassius whispered, his voice cold and devoid of mercy. He steeled himself, ready to plunge the tendril into her heart and end her reign of terror once and for all.


    But just as the tendril shot forward, a flash of speed caught Cassius¡¯s eye. Out of nowhere, a figure lunged between them, shoving Blaze out of the way. The tendril missed its mark, embedding itself in the ground with a resounding thud.


    Cassius stumbled back, shock and confusion freezing him in place. He looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief as he saw who had intervened.


    ¡°Sabir?¡± he gasped, seeing the familiar face of the young man now standing protectively in front of Blaze. The disbelief and confusion twisted in his chest, making it hard to breathe.


    Sabir¡¯s face twisted in anger. Cassius¡¯s mind raced, struggling to understand why Sabir would intervene, especially to protect the leader of the Triads. The moment of hesitation was all it took for the battle to take a new, unexpected turn.


    Sabir¡¯s eyes blazed with an intensity Cassius had never seen before. Fury and heartbreak mingled in his gaze, and his voice trembled with barely contained rage. ¡°Why did you kill Mrs. Norris?¡± he shouted, the words cutting through the chaotic noise around them.


    Cassius blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in Sabir¡¯s voice. Memories of the old woman¡¯s dying words and her pleading eyes flooded his mind. He had promised her to look after Sabir, to protect him. ¡°Sabir, listen to me,¡± he began, trying to reach out, but Sabir¡¯s voice, filled with anguish, cut him off.


    Cassius took a deep breath, burdened by the weight of the situation. ¡°Sabir, I can explain,¡± he uttered, his voice softening as he took a step forward. ¡°The old lady... she asked me to look after you. She knew¡ª¡±


    ¡°She knew nothing!¡± Sabir spat, glaring up at Cassius with a mixture of fury and sorrow. ¡°You killed her. You killed an innocent woman!¡± Each word he uttered carried a painful reminder of loss, piercing Cassius¡¯s heart like a dagger.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know her name!¡± Sabir screamed, the pain in his voice piercing through Cassius like a knife. Without warning, Sabir charged at him, his movements wild and fueled by blind rage rather than any actual skill.


    Cassius nodded, the reality of the situation settling in. He knew there would be no reasoning with Sabir now, not while the wounds were still so fresh. But he couldn¡¯t let Sabir fall into the hands of the Triads, either.


    Cassius barely had time to brace himself before a blur of movement intercepted Sabir. A flying kick struck Sabir square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Cassius¡¯s heart lurched as he watched Sabir hit the ground hard, a mixture of shock and relief washing over him.


    Elektra landed gracefully between them, her eyes scanning the scene with a cold, calculating gaze. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you for two days,¡± she said to Sabir, her voice icy and lacking in emotion. The sight of her sent a shiver down Cassius¡¯s spine.


    Sabir groaned, struggling to sit up, his face a mask of pain and confusion. ¡°Elektra?¡± he mumbled, wiping blood from his lip. The fiery anger that had consumed him moments before was now replaced with a look of confusion and annoyance.


    Cassius exhaled, trying to make sense of the situation. The fight had taken an unexpected turn, and he needed to regain control. Blaze was getting back on her feet, Mendoza was recovering, and now Elektra was here, too.


    ¡°Stay out of this,¡± Cassius warned Elektra, his shadow tendrils rising again.


    Elektra glanced at him, her expression unreadable. ¡°I¡¯m not here for you.¡± Her focus was solely on Sabir.

 Chapter 29 - Drowning

    Elektra¡¯s eyes locked onto Sabir as he staggered backward, still dazed from the earlier confrontation. Without any delay, she pounced forward, her electrified hand ready to grab him. But before she could reach him, a shadowy tendril lashed out, forcing her to leap back.


    Cassius stood a few feet away, his expression darkening. ¡°Not this time, Elektra,¡± he growled, his voice brimming with irritation. The surrounding shadows pulsed with his growing annoyance.


    Elektra shot him a withering glare. ¡°Always getting in my way,¡± she snapped, her voice laced with frustration.


    Cassius didn¡¯t waste time on words. His shadows erupted from the ground, black tendrils twisting and writhing like serpents hunting their prey. They darted toward Elektra with terrifying speed, seeking to ensnare her in their inky grasp.


    Elektra moved with a dancer¡¯s grace, her body a haze. She sidestepped the first tendril, feeling the cold rush of air as it narrowly missed her. From her left came the second one, yet she twisted her body, causing it to pass harmlessly over her shoulder. With each step, tiny sparks of electricity flared and left trails of light in her wake, cracking the ground beneath her with the force of her movements. The air buzzed with energy, thick with the scent of ozone as her power charged the atmosphere.


    Cassius pressed his advantage, sending more shadows after her, each one striking with greater speed and force. They lashed out like whips, their edges sharp enough to cut through steel, but Elektra was faster. She ducked under one, then launched herself into a backflip, narrowly avoiding another that carved a deep gouge into the concrete where she had just stood.


    In midair, she spun, her leg arcing out in a devastating kick. The electricity crackled around her foot, forming a lethal charge. Cassius had hardly any time to respond, raising a shadow just in time to absorb the impact. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the shadow, dispersing it into a mist of darkness. He staggered back, the power behind her strike catching him off guard.


    But Elektra didn¡¯t let up. She landed lightly on her feet, immediately launching into a sequence of swift kicks, each one crackling with electricity. The strikes came at Cassius from every angle¡ªhigh, low, to the sides¡ªforcing him to retreat, his shadows working overtime to block the relentless assault. Every impact sent jolts of electricity down his defenses, the dark tendrils quivering under the strain.


    Cassius fought to regain control, directing his shadows to coil around Elektra and constrict her movements. He sent them snaking across the ground, trying to trip her up, while others shot out from above, seeking to crush her. But Elektra was still too quick, her body a blur as she flipped, spun, and kicked her way through the onslaught. Each time her foot made contact with a shadow, a burst of light illuminated the dark street, the sound of crackling energy filling the air.


    Elektra saw an opening and moved in for the kill. She lunged forward, her leg whipping around in a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at Cassius¡¯s head. But Cassius expected the move, his shadows forming a solid wall in front of him. Her kick struck the barrier with a thunderous crack, sending a spray of dark energy flying in all directions. The impact pushed Cassius back, his feet skidding across the ground, but he held firm, his eyes narrowing with determination.


    With a roar, he unleashed a torrent of shadows, the tendrils thickening and multiplying, turning the surrounding area into a churning mass of darkness. Elektra¡¯s eyes widened as she realized she was being surrounded. But instead of retreating, she surged forward, her body a whirlwind as she attacked with renewed vigor. She spun like a tornado; her kicks moving so fast they were almost invisible, each one accompanied by a burst of electricity that lit up the dreary morning clouds.


    The battle became a deadly dance, each of them pushing the other to the limit. Cassius¡¯s shadows slashed through the air, their movements wild and unpredictable, while Elektra countered with precision strikes, her kicks slicing through the darkness with lethal intent. Their fierce struggle scorched and tore the surrounding ground.


    But for all of Cassius¡¯s power, Elektra¡¯s speed and agility were overwhelming. She pressed her advantage; her kicks coming faster, each one sending a shockwave through the shadows. Cassius could feel his control slipping, the shadows wavering under her relentless assault.


    Then, with a surge of speed, Elektra closed the distance between them, her leg arcing in a devastating kick aimed at Cassius¡¯s midsection. He barely had time to react, his shadows rising to block, but the force of her kick shattered the barrier, sending him flying backward. Cassius hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him, shadows dissipating around him like smoke.


    Elektra stood over him, her chest heaving from the exertion, eyes blazing with electric energy. Cassius struggled to push himself up, his body aching from the beating he had taken. Temporarily, it seemed Elektra had the upper hand.


    But Cassius wasn¡¯t done yet. With a grimace, he forced his shadows to reassemble, pulling himself back to his feet. ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. ¡°But this fight isn¡¯t over.¡±


    Elektra smirked, readying herself for the next round, electricity crackling around her in anticipation. ¡°Bring it on,¡± she challenged, her eyes narrowing with determination.


    The fight was far from over, and both combatants knew they were only just getting started.


    Meanwhile, Mendoza and Cinder, who had been momentarily stunned by Cassius¡¯s earlier attack, regrouped a short distance away. Mendoza clutched his side where Cassius had struck him, wincing slightly, but his focus was on the chaotic scene unfolding before them. ¡°What the hell is going on here?¡± he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.


    Cinder, still catching her breath, looked around, her eyes scanning the battlefield. ¡°This wasn¡¯t part of the plan,¡± she hissed, her frustration clear.


    Just then, Jai appeared in front of them, his face twisted with confusion. ¡°How did the Hound find us?¡± he asked, glancing at Cassius and Elektra battling nearby.


    ¡°Mother luck just fucked us,¡± Cinder replied, her voice edged with disbelief. ¡°Something went wrong. We need to get out of here now.¡±


    Without wasting another second, Jai reached out, touching both Cinder and Mendoza. With a quick tap, he activated his teleportation ability. ¡°Hold on,¡± he muttered, and in an instant, they vanished from sight.


    Cassius saw the teleportation, his eyes narrowing in frustration. ¡°No!¡± he shouted, trying to lash out with his shadows, but he was too slow. They were gone.


    His momentary distraction proved costly. Elektra, seizing the opportunity, struck him hard with an electrified kick to the side. Cassius grunted in pain, stumbling backward as the shock coursed through him.


    Before Elektra could press her advantage, a frantic shout cut through the air. ¡°Sabir!¡± Samantha and Max were running toward their friend, their faces pale with fear and determination.


    ¡°You can¡¯t just run off like that!¡± Samantha yelled as she reached Sabir, grabbing his arm to drag him away.


    Max, panting heavily, added, ¡°We¡¯re supposed to stick together, remember?¡±


    Elektra noticed Sabir slipping away and disengaged from her fight with Cassius. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere,¡± she said, her tone menacing as she charged toward them.


    Samantha, realizing the danger, stepped in front of Sabir to block Elektra¡¯s path. But Elektra was merciless. With a swift kick crackling with electricity, she struck Samantha squarely in the chest, sending a surge of energy through her body. Samantha cried out in pain before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.


    Max¡¯s eyes widened in horror as he saw Samantha fall. Gritting his teeth, he summoned all the courage he could muster and rushed at Elektra. ¡°Stay away from us!¡± he shouted, but his bravery was no match for Elektra¡¯s skill. She effortlessly dodged his wild swing and delivered a sharp electric kick to his gut, knocking the wind out of him and sending him crumpling beside Samantha.


    Sabir, filled with rage at seeing his friends hurt, charged at Elektra, his movements driven more by anger than skill. ¡°Leave them alone!¡± he shouted, throwing a wild punch.


    Sabir lunged at Elektra, but she was too fast, effortlessly sidestepping his wild attack. Before he could react, her leg snapped out quickly, her boot connecting with his ribs with a crackle of electricity. The force of the kick sent him stumbling back, pain exploding through his side as the electricity jolted through his body, making his muscles spasm uncontrollably. But even as the searing pain radiated through his chest, Sabir gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.


    In his mind, there was only one thought: ¡°I can¡¯t stop. I won¡¯t let them take me. Not again. Not after everything.¡± The memories of his time with his friends, the hardships he went through to get back to them, the nights spent in fear, flashed through his mind, fueling his determination. He could almost hear Mrs. Norris¡¯s voice, soft and kind, reminding him to be strong, to protect those he cared about. But the reality of the situation drowned her voice out, by the raw terror that gripped his heart as Elektra closed in on him again.


    She delivered another electrified kick, to his stomach. The impact was like being hit by a freight train; the electricity surging through him, causing his vision to blur. He doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, but even as he tumbled to the ground, something inside him refused to give up. ¡°I can¡¯t let it end like this. I have to keep fighting.¡± The thought pounded in his head like a drum, even as his body screamed for him to stop.


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    Elektra¡¯s eyes were cold, calculating, as she watched him struggle to rise again. To her, this was just another task to be completed, another obstacle to eliminate. She delivered another brutal kick, this time to his chest, sending him crashing to the ground. His vision dimmed around the edges while the electricity surged through his veins, searing his nerves, causing his muscles to spasm uncontrollably.


    But even then, Sabir forced his body to move. ¡°Get up. Get up.¡± The words echoed in his mind, louder than the pain, louder than the fear. ¡°I won¡¯t let them win. Not again.¡± He struggled to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him, his body barely able to respond to his commands.


    Elektra didn¡¯t give him a moment to recover. She delivered a series of rapid, electrified kicks, each one landing with precision, each one pushing Sabir closer to the edge of unconsciousness. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and Sabir could feel his skin blistering where her electricity touched him. Despite that, he got up. ¡°I have to protect them. I have to keep fighting.¡±


    Cassius, watching the scene unfold, felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He knew he should intervene, should stop Elektra, but fear gripped his heart. This entire he was fighting half heartedly against Elektra. The fear of disobeying orders, the fear of what his superiors might do if he interfered, paralyzed him. Once already warned, he knew crossing the line again could have dire consequences. But as he watched Sabir rise again, his heart twisted with guilt and helplessness.


    ¡°Stop, Elektra!¡± Cassius¡¯s voice rang out, filled with desperation. ¡°You¡¯re going to kill him!¡± But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Elektra¡¯s focus was entirely on Sabir, her strikes growing more brutal with each passing second.


    Sabir¡¯s mind was a haze of pain and determination. Every nerve in his body was on fire, every breath felt like a battle in itself. ¡°I have to keep going.¡± But his body was failing him, the repeated electric shocks sapping his strength, leaving him vulnerable. But as Elektra¡¯s foot connected with his side again, sending another jolt of electricity through him, he felt his legs give out, his vision narrowing to a dark tunnel.


    But even as he fell, even as his consciousness slipped away, Sabir¡¯s thoughts were on those he cared about. ¡°I can¡¯t stop. Not yet.¡± He hit the ground hard, his body convulsing from the electric shocks, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. But he still tried to get up, his arms shaking as he pushed against the ground, his willpower the only thing keeping him conscious.


    Elektra looked down at him, her eyes narrowing as she prepared to deliver the final blow. But in that moment, something in Sabir¡¯s mind snapped. The world around him seemed to slow, his pain fading into the background as a deep, primal force surged within him. His vision blurred, and everything became distant, like he was watching from somewhere far away.


    Cassius¡¯s voice was a distant echo in his ears as he screamed for Elektra to stop. But Sabir didn¡¯t hear him. All he could feel was the overwhelming need to protect, to fight, to survive. ¡°I won¡¯t let them win.¡±


    Elektra ignored Cassius, her focus solely on Sabir. With one final, devastating kick, she sent him sprawling to the ground. Sabir lay there, his body twitching from the electricity coursing through him, his mind on the brink of awareness.


    As Sabir¡¯s consciousness slipped further into the abyss, the world around him dissolved into a void of blackness. The searing pain, the acrid smell of burnt flesh, the chaos of the fight¡ªit all faded away, replaced by an eerie, almost tranquil silence. He experienced a weightless feeling, as if his body had been cast adrift in a vast, endless ocean, but there was no water, no waves, only the sensation of floating in an infinite expanse of nothingness.


    The obscurity was calming, enveloping him like a comforting cloak. His mind, which had been a chaotic whirlwind of fear, anger, and confusion, stilled, the noise and turmoil ebbing away as if pulled by an unseen tide. He was free here, unburdened by the weight of his struggles, the relentless assault on his body, and the heavy chains of his past. The pain that had consumed him just moments ago was now a distant memory, dulled by the calm that enveloped him.


    In the depths of this nothingness, voices echoed. They were faint at first, like whispers carried on a far-off breeze, barely discernible. But slowly, they grew clearer, their tones soothing and hypnotic, wrapping around his consciousness like a lullaby. The words were indistinct, their meaning lost in the haze, but the message was clear: ¡°Let go. Sink deeper. Let everything slip away.¡±


    The voices seemed to come from all around him, yet from nowhere at all. They were both familiar and alien, their gentle murmurs tugging at the edges of his awareness. They urged him to surrender, to give in to the darkness that cradled him. The promise they offered was alluring¡ªan escape from the endless suffering, the relentless pain. Here, in this void, there was no need to fight, no need to endure. He could simply drift, weightless and serene, forever untroubled by the harsh reality of the world he had left behind.


    Sabir felt himself beginning to sink, his consciousness dipping lower into the abyss. The more he let go, the more peaceful it became. The deeper he sank, the more distant his pain and fear seemed. It was as if he was being gently pulled into the depths of a warm, inviting sea, where he could finally rest, where nothing could hurt him anymore. The darkness was soothing, whispering promises of eternal peace, and Sabir wanted nothing more than to lose himself in it completely.


    His thoughts slowed, the last remnants of his awareness slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. The voices became his only anchor, guiding him down, down into the endless black. His body, once a source of agony, now felt distant and unimportant, a mere shadow on the edge of his consciousness. The only thing that was important was the darkness, the sweet, comforting darkness that offered him release.


    ¡°Just let go¡­¡± the voices crooned, their tones soft and inviting. ¡°Sink deeper¡­ Let yourself drift away¡­¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind floated in that tranquil void, free from the burdens that had weighed him down for so long. He could no longer remember why he had fought, why he had struggled to hold on. None of it seemed to matter anymore. All that mattered was the darkness, the blissful, all-encompassing darkness that promised an end to everything.


    And so, Sabir allowed himself to sink further, his last thoughts dissolving into the void, his soul surrendering to the peaceful embrace of oblivion.


    ¡°Cassius, look what I¡¯m about to do!¡± Elektra shouted. He turned to see her standing over Sabir, her hand crackling with energy as she got ready to strike one last time. The final blow.


    ¡°No!¡± Cassius screamed, his voice filled with panic. He rushed forward, trying to stop her, but before he could reach them, something extraordinary happened.


    Sabir¡¯s body spasmed forcefully, and his eyes snapped open. But they were no longer the familiar gold¡ªthey were glowing white, devoid of any pupil or iris. Cassius froze in his tracks, staring at Sabir in utter disbelief.


    ¡°What the¡ª¡± Elektra began, but before she could finish, Sabir moved with a speed that defied reason. In a split second, he was in front of Cassius, his fist connecting with Cassius¡¯s solar plexus in a powerful blow.


    Cassius doubled over, the air knocked out of him as pain exploded in his chest. He stumbled back, struggling to breathe, his mind reeling from the sudden attack.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes widened in surprise as she noticed the sudden shift in Sabir¡¯s demeanor. His once dull gaze now burned with an intense, otherworldly glow. Before she could fully process the change, Sabir moved, swiftly, with a remarkable precision that was nearly supernatural.


    He ducked under her first kick, his body fluid and quick, as if he had become one with the surrounding shadows. Elektra pivoted, aiming a second kick, shrouded in electricity, at his midsection, but Sabir was already gone, sidestepping her attack with ease. He retaliated with a sudden, brutal flurry of punches, each one more precise than the last. His fists moved like lightning, targeting weak points with a deadly accuracy that sent shockwaves of pain through Elektra¡¯s body.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡°What the hell...?¡± Elektra thought, her heart racing as she had to defend herself. She blocked his strikes, feeling the power behind each blow.  Her heart raced as she was forced into the defensive against Sabir, who had transformed into a far more dangerous person than she had expected.


    Despite the ferocity of his attacks, Elektra couldn¡¯t resist feeling a surge of excitement. Finally, a new challenge worthy of her skills. She gritted her teeth, her mind sharpening as she matched his speed, her body becoming a haze of movement as she deflected his punches. But even as she held her ground, she could sense that this wasn¡¯t the same Sabir she had encountered before. There was something darker, more primal, at work within him.


    Sabir¡¯s movements were relentless, each strike flowing seamlessly into the next. He spun around her, landing a blow to her ribs, then another to her side. Elektra staggered back, a grimace twisting her features as she absorbed the impact. The force behind his punches was incredible, far beyond what she would have expected from someone like him. She barely blocked a follow-up punch aimed at her jaw, her arm tingling from the sheer power of the hit.


    But Sabir didn¡¯t stop. He pressed his advantage, his fists moving with a precision that was almost surgical. Elektra was on the defensive, forced to rely on her speed and agility to stay ahead of his onslaught. He weaved in and out, his strikes faster than she could expect. Each time she thought she had a read on him, he shifted direction, coming at her from a new angle, his white eyes glowing with an eerie, unearthly light.


    For a moment, it appeared Sabir might overpower her. But just as quickly as it had started, the tide turned. Sabir¡¯s movements grew sluggish, his strikes losing their initial ferocity. The glow in his eyes flickered, dimming as if a fire within him was being snuffed out. His breathing grew labored, his once-fluid attacks becoming clumsy, driven more by desperation than control.


    Elektra noticed the change instantly. ¡°He¡¯s losing steam,¡± she realized, her predatory instincts kicking in. She didn¡¯t hesitate. As Sabir faltered, she seized the opportunity, shifting her weight and launching herself at him. Her leg shot out in a powerful, electrified kick, her foot crashing into his chest with brutal force.


    Sabir¡¯s body jerked violently as the electricity coursed through him. The impact sent him flying backward, his back slamming into the ground with a heavy thud. The energy that had filled him moments before vanished, leaving him sprawled out, the fight completely drained from him.


    Elektra landed gracefully, her chest heaving as she looked down at Sabir¡¯s prone form. His eyes, once glowing white, were now dull, his body unmoving. The excitement in Elektra¡¯s eyes faded, replaced by pure disappointment. She had won¡ªbut the strange power that had briefly surged through Sabir lingered in her mind.


    Before she could follow up, a group of hunters in different uniforms appeared, drawn by the commotion, representing their guilds using colour. At their head was Noah, his expression dark and determined, as his long blue overcoat fluttered in the wind. ¡°Elektra, stand down,¡± he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.


    Elektra paused, her eyes shifting from Sabir¡¯s unconscious form to the hunters now surrounding them. She glanced back at Sabir one last time, seeing him collapsed on the ground, his body limp and unresponsive.


    ¡°It was just getting interesting,¡± she muttered under her breath, stepping away from the fight.


    Noah¡¯s gaze followed hers, lingering on Sabir before he turned back to Elektra. ¡°You¡¯re going to have hell to pay when we get home,¡± he said, his tone angry and harsh at first. He looked over at the unconscious Sabir with a sinister smile. ¡°But a good job, nonetheless.¡±


    Elektra sighed, her electric aura fading as she reluctantly stepped back. ¡°Yeah, whatever,¡± she replied, her tone dismissive. But as she turned away, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a strange sense of anticipation, wondering what had just awakened inside the boy named Sabir.

 Chapter 30 - Bruised But Bailed

    Sabir let out a groan. Moments of awareness slipped in and out like a dimming light as he hovered near consciousness. Every part of him throbbed with discomfort. It hit him hard, like an awful hangover, pulling him from the comforting shadows of oblivion into the harshness of what was around him. The chilling, moist air stung his senses as he gasped for breath. Each inhale brought a sharp pang of pain.


    His chest felt as if it were being compressed, reminiscent of an ineffective acupuncture treatment. The faint illumination scarcely lit the area surrounding him, yet he sensed that blood had congealed and hardened upon his previously unblemished skin.


    As dread enveloped him, Sabir came to the grim realization that he couldn¡¯t move. It dawned on him that his shackled arms and legs were bound by an unyielding force. The cold links of the chain dug into his skin, their oppressive weight anchoring him to the ground.


    A surge of anxiety ignited within him, yet he stifled it, inhaling a trembling breath. He quickly blinked, attempting to dispel the fog that blurred his sight, urging his environment to sharpen. The faint illumination streaming through the narrow, barred window overhead unveiled a confined, stifling area¡ªa prison cell.


    The damp stone surfaces glistened, while the ground he stood on was solid and unyielding, every fissure and gap laden with decades of filth.


    With clarity returning to his mind, Sabir scanned the confines of the cell, hoping for something recognizable or reassuring. Instead, he met nothing but darkness and stillness, broken only by the sporadic sound of dripping water echoing faintly. His heart raced, a frantic beat fueled by terror and uncertainty.


    He attempted to move once more, probing the boundaries of his bindings, but the shackles remained unyielding. Every struggle ignited a wave of agony throughout his injured form, the coarse links digging into the welts and scrapes that adorned him. He understood that intense fire had scorched his skin, creating charred spots where no healthy flesh remained¡ªconsequences of the tormenting force he had faced prior to losing consciousness.


    With every motion, the scorched skin fissured, unleashing new pangs of agony within him, while the scent of singed flesh hung lightly in the air.


    Sabir let out a sharp breath, teeth clenched to stifle any noise. Every muscle in his body protested, amplifying the pounding ache in his skull. He felt as if he had been through a battle, a collage of wounds rendering him nearly incapacitated.


    Sabir¡¯s thoughts whirled in confusion, attempting to understand how he found himself in this situation. The last memory that stood out was the turmoil of the fight, how he had leaped to shield Cinder from Cassius. He recalled the dazzling burst of power and the sharp agony as he absorbed the blow intended for Cinder.


    However, following that moment, it all became indistinct¡ªa fragmented collection of sights and feelings that wouldn¡¯t merge into a clear recollection.


    He sensed the sharp pain of lacerations on his arms, the tenderness of his flesh where the restraints scraped against fresh injuries. Discolored patches spread over his body, each marking a testament to the brutality he had suffered. Yet what filled him with dread was the singed skin. The burns were beyond the surface; they penetrated deeply, with some areas swollen, while others fissured and oozing as the skin tore apart.


    His whole being resembled a war zone, the remnants of a conflict he struggled to remember.


    Sabir felt a tightening in his chest as he attempted to move once more, his body shaking with the effort. He was aware that saving his strength was crucial, but the intense urge to comprehend his situation, to regain a sense of mastery, compelled him to endure the agony. The faint sound of chains echoed with each shift, a persistent signal of his imprisonment.


    The harder he attempted to shift, the louder his body reacted with distress. He felt as if someone had beaten him nearly to death. In truth, he might have been. Each part of him pulsed with discomfort, a cacophony of contusions, cuts, and scorches that rendered it nearly unfeasible to concentrate on anything aside from the torment surging within him.


    He struggled to keep his composure, even as anxiety clawed at the corners of his thoughts. What was the purpose of his continued existence? There must be a justification for why he was still here, yet despite all his pondering, no reason surfaced in his mind.


    Did he misjudge the hunters? Not at all. If they chose to, they could end his life in an instant. Erasing all evidence of his existence. Yet, here he was, still breathing.


    As the haze that had tightly wrapped around his thoughts gradually dissipated, Sabir grew increasingly conscious of his environment. The stillness was suffocating, a silence that penetrated his mind and magnified even the faintest noises.


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    It was so silent that Sabir found himself picturing sounds.


    His breath came in ragged gasps, bouncing off the cold stone surfaces, blending with the far-off sound of dripping water that felt as though it ridiculed his situation.


    He scanned the cell again, concentrating as best as he could. The walls were stark, except for some deep scratches in the stone, remnants of earlier captives desperately trying to escape. The stones themselves seemed to have soaked up the anguish of numerous beings who had once been confined here, filling the room with a thick atmosphere of hopelessness.


    Sabir shut his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. He required clarity, a way to recall the events and their significance. Yet, the suffering muddled his mind, with every pulse bringing a new surge of torment throughout his form.


    The pain from the bruises radiated through him, the icy air made his cuts sting sharply, and the burns pulsed intensely, highlighting just how outmatched he was compared to the Espers.


    As Sabir reopened his eyes, he sought to latch onto something¡ªanything¡ªthat might restore his identity. Instead, his eyes met with an all-consuming void. Bound and shackled like a beast, bewildered about the fate of his companions and puzzled by the condition of his battered body.


    He started to listen to the clinking of metal links nearby.


    ¡°Max? Sam?¡± he rasped, his voice rough and weak. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Every part of his body bore some kind of injury.


    ¡°Sabir, you¡¯re awake!¡± Samantha¡¯s voice, tinged with relief, reached his ears. Huddled in a corner of the cell with Max, both of them appearing relatively unscathed compared to him. Max nodded, his face set in a grim expression as he sat beside her.


    ¡°What happened? How did I end up like this?¡± Sabir¡¯s eyes darted over the mottled bruises that covered his arms, his mind struggling to piece together the fragmented memories. The last thing he could recall was stopping Cassius from killing Cinder. Beyond that, it was all a blur, a painful void.


    ¡°You... you saved Cinder,¡± Max said quietly, his voice laden with a mixture of admiration and frustration. ¡°Elektra Voltaire appeared out of nowhere and went for you. After that, we don¡¯t know what happened. They didn¡¯t even bother healing you, just threw you in here with us like we¡¯re animals.¡±


    Sabir frowned.


    He still couldn¡¯t understand why he did it.


    The reality of what he had done stabbed at his conscience. He should have let them kill each other, two enemies at each other¡¯s throats, eliminating themselves from his life. Something had driven him to intervene. There were still unanswered questions, a web of deceit and secrets that he desperately needed to understand. ¡°I couldn¡¯t just let them die, not yet. There were too many questions left unanswered.¡±


    The Triads had answers. He needed to find them.


    Max clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. ¡°This... this is why I wanted to become a detective. To stop corruption like this from happening. But it¡¯s all over now we¡¯re criminals¡± His voice trembled, the weight of their situation crashing down on him. ¡°We didn¡¯t do anything wrong, Sabir! They had no right to do this to us!¡± His eyes welled up with tears, his resolve breaking as the reality of their predicament sank in.


    Samantha¡¯s shoulders began to shake, silent tears streaming down her face. The hopelessness in the air was palpable, each of them grappling with the fear that they might not make it out alive. ¡°Sabir... I don¡¯t want to die,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her sobs.


    A pang of guilt struck Sabir, his heart heavy with regret. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. ¡°This is my fault. If I hadn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Max cut him off, his voice harsh, but not without compassion. ¡°Yeah, it is your fault,¡± he admitted, his gaze locking onto Sabir¡¯s. ¡°But I can¡¯t hate you for it. You did what you thought was right. That¡¯s why we¡¯re here. That¡¯s why we¡¯re all in this mess.¡±


    Samantha looked up, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. ¡°What are we going to do? How do we get out of here?¡±


    Sabir forced a small, reassuring smile, though it felt hollow. ¡°We¡¯ll find a way out. I promise. Just... don¡¯t lose hope.¡±


    As if on cue, the door to their cell creaked open, revealing a tall figure in the dim light. Noah, flanked by several of his men in their distinctive blue long blazers with white trimmings, stepped inside. His cold, calculating gaze swept over the three of them before settling on Sabir. ¡°They¡¯ve decided to move you, Sabir,¡± Noah announced, his voice devoid of any emotion. ¡°You¡¯re being transferred to Sector 5 with the Voltaire family.¡±


    A shiver ran down Sabir¡¯s spine. The Voltaire family were plotting something, but what? He didn¡¯t have the full picture yet, but the pieces were slowly building in his mind. He needed more time, more information.


    Sabir took a deep breath, steadying himself. ¡°I¡¯ll go willingly,¡± he said, his voice firm. ¡°But on one condition. You let Samantha and Max go. Clear their records, make sure they walk free without any charges hanging over their heads.¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes narrowed, considering the proposition. He glanced at the guards, then back at Sabir. ¡°And what assurance do I have that you won¡¯t cause trouble?¡±


    Sabir met his gaze with steely determination. ¡°I¡¯ll do and say whatever you want. Just let them go.¡±


    A heavy stillness filled the air until Noah gave a slight nod. ¡°Very well.¡± He signaled to the guards, who moved in to release Sabir from his restraints. Once the chains clattered to the ground, Sabir¡¯s knees gave way, the agony nearly overwhelming. Two guards grabbed him forcefully, pulling him toward the exit.


    Max and Samantha surged forward, their voices frantic. ¡°Sabir! No!¡± they cried in unison, reaching out as if to pull him back.


    Sabir glanced over his shoulder, his heart clenching at the sight of their tear-streaked faces. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± he said, his voice soft but resolute. ¡°Forget about me and live your lives.¡±


    As Noah guided them from the cell, the door slammed shut behind, cutting off his companions¡¯ desperate calls. Sabir braced himself for what lay ahead in Sector 5. The truths he longed for felt just within reach. Yet, would he survive long enough to act on them?

 Chapter 31 - War Looms

    The expansive chamber stood with a sense of foreboding majesty, its lofty stone walls engulfed in shadows that appeared to reach infinitely toward the heights of the arched ceiling. A subtle light, ghostly cast a frigid, otherworldly radiance across the space. This muted brightness originated from archaic sconces, their flickering flames wavering as though reluctant to disturb the heavy atmosphere that saturated the room.


    In the center of the chamber, seven stands rose majestically, each fashioned from a distinct material reflective of its lineage¡ªshimmering marble, lustrous onyx, ancient cedar, among others, each resonating with its own distinct presence. These stands were positioned in an immaculate circle, representing the alleged parity of the seven esteemed families, yet the heaviness of their unspoken stares hinted at a lack of true unity.


    Above each podium, a richly woven banner suspended, showcasing the distinctive emblem of the family it symbolized. These banners stood as a reminder of the long-standing traditions and immense influence held by each house. The colors and designs of these authoritative symbols lightly swayed in a mysterious current of air that flowed through the chamber, though its source remained unknown to all.


    The Emblem of Intersecting Blades, The Gleaming Sun with Beams Spreading Wide, and The Twister Whirling with Vapors¡ªeach symbol stood as a bold declaration of the distinct powers and territories held by the clans.


    The air was oppressive, laden with silence and lingering conflicts. A palpable energy emanated from the seven individuals, a force that had influenced historical events for generations. Their faces, partially illuminated by the muted light, exhibited a stern determination, concealed under veils of strategic thinking.


    An overwhelming hush enveloped the space between them, a gripping quiet that resonated throughout the corridor with greater force than any dialogue ever could.


    This meeting was far from typical. The seriousness of their congregation was evident, with a silent consensus that the matters at hand might change the destiny of Havana. Each person, enveloped in their own sense of authority, prepared themselves¡ªbe it to challenge a long-standing adversary, safeguard their heritage, or grasp a chance concealed within the rising tumult.


    Lucius Ferrum, leader of the Ferrum lineage, moved on his platform, the clattering of metal reverberating across the chamber. His sculpted, powerful build was clad in dark, armor-inspired attire, the material enriched with shiny metallic threads that sparkled in the dim illumination. His steel-gray hair cut closely, and his cold gray gaze swept over the audience, displaying a blend of irritation and distrust.


    The banner behind him, featuring a shield and crossed swords, fluttered as though reflecting his unease.


    ¡°What¡¯s the purpose of this gathering?¡± Lucius¡¯s voice resonated, breaking the hush around them. His inflection was assertive, suggesting he had more important matters than mingling with the other leaders of the family.


    A gentle but resolute tone responded to him. ¡°I called this meeting.¡±


    Everyone focused on Astraea Luxor, the most youthful of the group. She exuded a celestial charm, her luminous blonde hair sparkling as if it were woven from gold. Her golden-hued eyes radiated a captivating brilliance, while her pale complexion seemed to glow gently, creating a soft halo around her. Draped in elegant golden garments, Astraea¡¯s presence was further amplified, lending her an almost godlike quality.


    Astraea avoided these meeting, as best she could. She hated the feeling of being dismissed for her age. However, the imperativeness of the meeting was absolute. Otherwise, it may bring danger to her people. They were all she had left. Astraea would do anything to protect them.


    In the shadows of the hall, a banner displaying a luminous sun with rays reaching out stood out sharply, its brilliance nearly overwhelming against the surrounding gloom.


    Lucius squinted at Astraea. ¡°What¡¯s the pressing matter that has gathered us all here?¡±


    Astraea took her time before responding. Rather than speaking, she activated a switch on her podium¡¯s side. The circle¡¯s center illuminated, casting a holographic projection. The sight that emerged cast a palpable tension over the entire room.


    The screen sprang into action, illuminating the shadowy corridor with a haunting image. What unfolded was a chilling spectacle¡ªa savage onslaught on The Threshold carried out by the notorious triads, infamous for their viciousness. The atmosphere was heavy with the pungent odor of smoke and blood, intermingled with the wails of the doomed.


    Government guards, who had once valiantly protected the perimeters of Havana, fell with merciless precision, their corpses discarded carelessly like shattered dolls. The earth below was drenched in crimson, the inert figures scattered across the war-zone as though they were merely abandoned waste.


    Absolute chaos embroiled The Threshold, which had previously represented resilience and protection, was now consumed by flames. The breaching of those walls had never happened. Until they arrived.


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    The blaze surged relentlessly, consuming the stone and mortar as if they were trivial twigs. The scorching heat warped the atmosphere, transforming the bastion into a blazing spectacle, its once-mighty form dissolving into soot.


    The quivering fires created monstrous silhouettes over the devastation, the moving glow exposing the real terror of the tableau in bursts¡ªbloodied arms, disfigured corpses, and the empty, lifeless gaze of the slain.


    Amidst the turmoil, two individuals were noteworthy. The first was a large man, his muscular physique adorned in a bright Hawaiian shirt that looked ridiculously incongruous among the destruction. He held a position of assertive bravado, his chest expanded as he posed like a victor in an artwork, his expression beaming with a broad, victorious smile.


    A twisted satisfaction sparkled in his gaze, enjoying the chaos he had unleashed, as if the turmoil surrounding him was merely a show put on for his entertainment.


    Next to him, there was a man of shorter stature, his manner cool and unsettlingly indifferent. His expression was unreadable, as if the chaos surrounding him held as little significance as the shift in seasons. He maintained a laid-back stance, with his hands tucked away, observing the devastation with an emotionless stare.


    Amid the turmoil, he stood as the calm center, shielded from the surrounding pandemonium. No hint of happiness or despair crossed his face¡ªonly a detached, analytical gaze, as if he watched the carnage unfold from a distance, entirely removed from the brutality.


    The display, even without sound, vividly illustrated the chaos and violence that had engulfed The Threshold, serving as a harsh warning and testament to The Triads¡¯ dominance and the fresh danger they represented to the already delicate harmony of Havana.


    With an icy tone, Astraea stated, ¡°The assault on The Threshold is common knowledge. However, what may surprise you is that the whole incident was documented and uploaded to the Cybernet. Those clips and photos have been distributed to all prominent newspapers in Havana.¡±


    Selene Tempest hesitated briefly before she replied, her voice indifferent. ¡°And? What difference does it make?¡±


    Selene stood gracefully, her height accentuated by a willowy figure and cascading white locks that danced as though forever influenced by the wind. Her grayish eyes, reminiscent of a turbulent ocean, changed hue, mirroring the ever-changing skies she ruled over. A collection of loose garments in varying blues and whites draped around her, appearing to sway with an invisible breeze. The banner looming behind her depicted a spiraling tornado amidst clouds, representing the Tempest family¡¯s dominion over nature¡¯s forces.


    A different voice, smooth yet laced with contempt, interrupted Selene¡¯s rejection. ¡°It¡¯s apparent that your wisdom is overestimated, Selene.¡± The speaker was Isabella Gaian, the eldest and arguably the most esteemed of the family leaders.


    Even in her later years, Isabella exuded a majestic and grounded charm. Her cascading chestnut locks, wavy and long, framed her visage beautifully, while the deep green of her eyes mirrored the verdant woods surrounding her kingdom. With a sun-kissed complexion, she donned flowing robes in shades of green, embellished with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, representing her bond with the natural world.


    In the background, the banner showcased an oak tree accompanied by swirling vines, symbolizing the resilience and togetherness of the Gaian family.


    Isabella pressed on, maintaining her composure. ¡°These visuals present the triads as champions to the public. They aim to win over the masses, and from my perspective, they seem to be achieving that.¡±


    Astraea affirmed with a nod. Lady Gaian is correct. ¡°At last, the triads are starting to receive support.¡±


    Next to speak was Noctis Umbral, a personality shrouded in darkness. His tone was hushed, nearly inaudible, but it held an authority that drew focus. ¡°The triads have sought our demise ever since we turned against them. However, when they last possessed genuine power, their leader met his end.¡± His deep-set eyes darted to the man facing him, an unspoken understanding exchanging between them.


    The figure under scrutiny was Magnus Boreas, a man whose aura matched the frigid gusts he wielded. Standing tall with a robust build, he had a halo of frosty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that appeared to shimmer in the low light. His complexion was ghostly pale, clad in garments designed for cold, adorned with blue highlights. His demeanor was aloof, bordering on apathetic, as he delivered his words.


    ¡°The triads are simply a group of kids and old folks at this point," Magnus remarked with disdain. "My family and I wiped out their strength.¡±


    Astraea let out a frustrated breath, her tolerance clearly diminishing. ¡°It¡¯s not about that, Magnus. The real concern is that, in the wake of events, many individuals from outside The Threshold are now pouring into Havana, overwhelming The Commons.¡±


    The atmosphere grew charged as Astraea pressed on, her tone laced with worry. ¡°The Hunters ensured that many of these individuals met their end, yet in their fervor, innocent bystanders became collateral damage. Both Noah and Elektra Voltaire witnessed it, and now the seven noble families are shouldering the consequences.¡±


    When the name Voltaire was spoken, attention shifted to the individual positioned at the farthest podium. Alaric Voltaire, patriarch of the Voltaire lineage, was an older gentleman of tall and slender build, possessing striking blue eyes that appeared to crackle with energy. His hair, a mix of gray and vibrant cyan, was neatly combed back, contributing to his sharp and somewhat formidable look.


    His complexion boasted a subtle bronze hue, complemented by an impeccably fitted suit that radiated confidence and command. The banner behind him featured a bird accompanied by two lightning bolts, representing the strength and agility of the Voltaire lineage.


    Isabella Gaian gave a grin, her eyes glimmering with understanding. ¡°You look a bit restless, Alaric.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s face revealed barely concealed irritation as he surveyed his colleagues. ¡°I acknowledge that my foolish offspring acted improperly,¡± he said, lowering his head slightly in a gesture of contrition. ¡°I fully accept the blame.¡±


    Astraea acknowledged his gesture with a nod. Although I don¡¯t have any children myself, I can appreciate the hardships involved. Yet, we must confront the truth that this outcome was unavoidable.


    Astraea scanned the space with her striking golden eyes, her expression intense. ¡°War looms ahead. The triads have savoured victory, and now they enjoy the backing of the masses. We need to brace ourselves for what lies ahead. War is ahead of us¡±

 Chapter 32 - A Painful Drive

    The limousine glided through the darkened streets of Sector 5, the soft purr of its engine barely disturbing the heavy silence that hung in the air. The city outside was a blur of shadows and fleeting lights, a disorienting contrast to the suffocating stillness within the vehicle. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken animosity and barely restrained tension.


    Leaning heavily against a wall in the cabin, Sabir Quinn was a portrait of suffering, marked by various bruises and cuts that revealed the brutality he had endured. Every shift of his body triggered a surge of torment in his limbs, yet he remained stoic, unwilling to provide his captors the pleasure of witnessing his discomfort.


    The soft, ivory-hued leather chairs, designed for ultimate comfort, taunted him with their plushness¡ªa harsh contrast to the grim nature of his predicament. The lavish environment in the car, adorned with gleaming wooden details and soothing lighting, resembled a luxurious prison, a reminder that wealth held no value when entangled in confinement.


    Facing him, Noah and Elektra Voltaire maintained a composed demeanor that concealed the tension surrounding them. Noah, the older sibling, exuded an understated threat. His intense blue gaze, keen and assessing, swept over Sabir with a hunter¡¯s fascination. He appeared at ease¡ªone leg nonchalantly draped over the other, his fingers drumming an unvoiced beat against the armrest. Every movement was controlled, deliberate, as though he were a predator toying with his prey, relishing the thrill of his impending victory.


    Elektra however couldn''t maintain her calm. Her lithe figure radiated rage, her stance tense with suppressed frustration. The vibrant cyan of her cropped hair, that she wore to show her rebelliousness, glinted with a menacing vitality, mirroring the electric flashes that flickered at her fingertips. Her gaze, two piercing spheres of electric blue, was fixed on Sabir, brimming with an unsettling blend of disgust and warped intrigue.


    She bent closer, her mouth twisting into a grimace as she observed his stained garments and the red marks spreading across the spotless fabric.


    ¡°Do you have any idea how much these seats cost?¡± Elektra spat, her voice slicing through the silence like a razor¡¯s edge. Her disdain was palpable, each word laced with venom that made the air crackle with tension. Her gaze flicked between Sabir¡¯s injuries and the stained leather, the vivid contrast of blood on white aggravating her already volatile temper. ¡°And you¡¯re bleeding all over them!¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes were drawn to the dark crimson splatters tarnishing the snow-white leather, an alarming juxtaposition that could have been striking if not for the horrifying truth behind it. The formerly immaculate fabric was now sullied by the thick, clinging blood that had found its way onto his garments and flesh, the tangible evidence of his suffering. The angry, raw scars on his wrists and ankles revealed the damage inflicted by chains that had painfully gripped his skin, creating a distressing array of bruises and welts that told tales of unyielding confinement. With every heartbeat, a dull throb of pain was sent through his body, a relentless reminder of his ordeal.


    But Sabir would not give Elektra the satisfaction of seeing him break. He drew in a slow, steadying breath, the metallic taste of blood still lingering on his tongue. Forcing his trembling fingers to still and his muscles to relax, he lifted his head and met Elektra¡¯s glare with a gaze that was unwavering, unyielding. His dark eyes, though dimmed by exhaustion, burned with a defiant fire¡ªa silent challenge that dared her to do her worst.


    For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension in the limousine became almost unbearable. Elektra¡¯s electric-blue eyes narrowed, the cold fury within them barely concealed by her outward composure. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze sweeping over Sabir¡¯s battered form with an appraising look. Despite the remnants of dried blood that clung to his skin, something about his injuries caught her attention. Where she expected to see open wounds and severe bruising from their recent fight, there were only faint marks¡ªminor cuts and fading bruises that shouldn¡¯t have healed so quickly.


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    Her brows knitted together in confusion as her eyes traced the lines of his body, noting the rapid healing that had taken place. The vicious cuts she had inflicted with her electric lash were now nothing more than thin, pale scars, barely visible against his skin. The deep bruises she had left on his ribs and arms had faded to a dull yellow, the swelling almost gone. It was as if his body had already begun to mend itself, knitting together torn flesh and repairing damage faster than any normal person could.


    Elektra¡¯s lips curled in a mixture of frustration and intrigue, her mind racing to make sense of what she was seeing. She had fought Sabir herself, felt the impact of her blows, and knew the damage she had caused. And yet, here he was, sitting across from her, his injuries nearly healed. This wasn¡¯t just natural resilience¡ªsomething more was at play, something hidden within him.


    She tilted her head, her gaze sharpening as she studied him more closely. ¡°Interesting,¡± she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. Her voice had softened, now laced with curiosity, though the dangerous edge remained.


    Sabir held her gaze, his expression unreadable. He knew better than to rise to her bait, to reveal any more than he had to. His silence only seemed to fuel her curiosity, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to pierce through his defenses, to unravel the secrets he guarded so fiercely.


    Elektra leaned back in her seat, a small, cruel smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she considered the implications of what she had just discovered. ¡°Perhaps there¡¯s more use for you yet,¡± she mused, her tone speculative, almost playful. The venom in her voice had been replaced by something far more insidious¡ªan interest in what she could exploit.


    But before she could continue, Noah¡¯s voice cut through her thoughts, calm and composed, yet carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of warning. ¡°Enough, Elektra,¡± he said, his eyes flicking to her in a silent command. ¡°We have more pressing matters to attend to.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s smile faded slightly, though the intrigue remained in her eyes as she glanced back at Sabir. She leaned back in her seat, but her mind continued to churn with possibilities, each more twisted than the last. Whatever secrets Sabir was hiding, she intended to uncover them all¡ªand she would savor every moment of it.


    ¡°Calm down, Elektra,¡± Noah said, his voice steady, though tinged with a hint of exasperation. ¡°He¡¯s in no condition to care about the upholstery. And we have more urgent matters to address.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s gaze flickered to her brother, her lips pursed in frustration. ¡°Why do we even need to bring him back with us? We could have left him to rot in a cell.¡±


    Noah leaned back in his seat, as he looked at Sabir with a cold, apathetic look. ¡°Because,¡± he began, his tone measured, ¡°it¡¯s best to avoid prying eyes and ears. What we do with him needs to stay within the family, for now.¡±


    Elektra huffed, crossing her arms as she cast another disdainful glance at Sabir. ¡°And what are we supposed to do with him once we find that bastard? We can¡¯t just keep him around.¡±


    A cold smile crept across Noah¡¯s face, his eyes narrowing with a cruel intent. ¡°Once we¡¯ve found and dealt with him, I¡¯ll kill Sabir myself. It¡¯ll be the end of their bloodline¡ªthose rats thought they could rise above their station. We¡¯ll remind everyone where they belong.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s expression shifted as an idea sparked in her mind. Her gaze turned calculating, a gleam of interest igniting in her eyes as she looked Sabir up and down, as if considering him for the first time. ¡°Actually¡­ once you¡¯re done with him, what if we kept him around? As a slave. I want to see what kind of esper powers he¡¯s hiding. He might be useful.¡±


    Noah considered this for a moment, his cold smile unwavering. ¡°That could work, but on one condition: you¡¯ll need to double your training sessions with Warren.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s expression darkened at the mention of Warren. She clenched her fists, electricity crackling faintly around her fingertips as her irritation flared. ¡°So it was Warren who snitched about me going missing?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Noah replied calmly. ¡°He was worried about you. And for good reason.¡±


    ¡°That half-breed is going to pay,¡± Elektra snarled, her voice venomous. She stared at the electricity dancing across her palm, her expression murderous. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t watch himself, he¡¯ll end up like the bastard we¡¯re hunting.¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes flicked to Sabir, who remained silent, his face impassive despite the pain and tension thick in the air. Noah leaned forward slightly, his voice a low, menacing murmur. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Sabir. Soon enough, you¡¯ll meet the same fate. But until then¡­ try to enjoy what¡¯s left of your miserable life.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s silence was his only response, his eyes betraying no emotion. But deep within, a cold resolve began to take shape. He would endure whatever was coming. And if the opportunity arose, he would make them regret every moment of their cruelty. The limousine continued its smooth glide through the streets, heading deeper into the heart of Sector 5, toward the Voltaire estate where Sabir¡¯s fate awaited.

 Chapter 33 - Debts And Debates

    In the softly illuminated space, the air vibrated with the constant hum of antiquated devices, a noise that blended effortlessly into the ambiance like the rhythmic thumping of a pulse. The area was small, its iron-paneled sides adorned with corroded racks, bowing beneath the burden of neglected tools. Cables sprawled across the ground in an untidy mess, connecting to a cluster of screens piled precariously in a disordered fashion.


    The glowing monitors flickered, battling constant interference, emitting a weak light that did little to brighten the messy space. A few displays struggled to maintain focus, displaying the chaotic flow of updates from the infamous platform, Espergram.


    Across every display, the title The Triads stood out prominently, impossible to overlook and commanding focus. Hashtags erupted uncontrollably, interlacing dramatic headlines that flickered across the screens, with each update outdoing its predecessor in exaggeration. The seductive pull of brutality and dominance was tangible, enhancing the legend linked to The Triads.


    A single incident propelled them into public attention¡ªtheir savagery at The Threshold elevating them from ordinary wrongdoers to something far more fearsome: legends.


    At the center of the room stood Kofi Mensah, his presence commanding amidst the clutter. The harsh, fluorescent light overhead cast a stark, almost clinical glow on his skin, a sharp contrast to the dim ambiance that enveloped the space. His pink polo shirt, crisp and freshly pressed, clashed with the grime of the room, the tailored lines of his trousers emphasizing his meticulous nature. But it was his expression that told the authentic story¡ªhis brow furrowed in deep concentration, his eyes sharp as they flicked from one screen to the next, trying to piece together the chaos surrounding him. Each post, each video, was a puzzle he was determined to solve, his mind racing to form a coherent picture from the disorder.


    Beside him, Lina Zhang lounged casually in her chair, her relaxed posture a stark contrast to Kofi¡¯s tense focus. Dressed in a simple t-shirt and well-worn jeans, she exuded an effortless ease, as if the gravity of their situation barely registered with her. Her long fingers absentmindedly twirled a strand of her dark hair, the motion repetitive, almost meditative. Yet, her gaze was far from distracted¡ªevery few seconds, her eyes flicked toward Kofi, observing him with a keen awareness, as if waiting for a signal, an unspoken command. Despite her casual demeanor, there was a sharpness to her, a readiness that lay just beneath the surface.


    On the far side of the room, Cinder Blaze sat cross-legged on the floor, her presence less imposing but no less significant. Her floral-patterned pajamas, soft and innocent in their design, contrasted with the fierce intensity of her gaze. The vibrant red of her hair, wild and untamed, framed her face like a halo of fire, casting shadows that seemed to flicker with the same energy that burned within her. Cinder¡¯s sharp eyes were locked onto the screens, absorbing every detail with a silent, steely focus. Her usual fiery spirit was muted, replaced by an eerie stillness that hinted at the storm brewing inside her.


    The monitors continued their relentless display, feeding a stream of images and text into the room like a lifeline to the outside world. Espergram, with its blend of fandom and fear-mongering, had become the perfect platform for amplifying The Triads¡¯ exploits. The Threshold, the site of their most recent and brutal display of power, had ascended to near-mythical status overnight. Clips of the event looped endlessly on the screens, showing the devastation in all its raw, visceral reality¡ªbuildings reduced to rubble, streets bathed in the eerie glow of neon lights mixed with blood, and people cowering in fear or fleeing in terror. The stark contrast between the invincible and the vulnerable played out on repeat, a visual testament to the ruthless might of The Triads.


    The atmosphere in the room was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the images pressing down on the three figures who watched in silence. The world outside was descending into chaos, and here, in this small, dimly lit room, they were witnessing it all unfold in real-time, their minds already racing ahead, trying to figure out their next move.


    The silence was abruptly shattered as the door flew open with a force that sent a gust of stale air swirling through the space. Miguel burst in, his entrance as loud and brash as the man himself. He swaggered into the room with the exaggerated confidence of someone who believed the world revolved around him, each step a performance designed to draw eyes and attention. His grin stretched from ear to ear, brimming with self-satisfaction, as if he had just won the lottery and was here to claim his prize.


    Miguel was decked out in his usual flamboyant style, a garish Hawaiian shirt clinging to his broad frame, its vivid colors and gaudy floral patterns clashing spectacularly with the grim, utilitarian d¨¦cor of the room. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of a gold chain nestled against his chest, catching the light with every movement. His crisp white trousers stood in stark contrast to the dark, dusty floor beneath his feet, worn with the kind of casual arrogance that suggested they were more suited to a beachside bar.


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    Perched atop his nose were oversized sunglasses, the lenses so dark they completely obscured his eyes, adding to the air of mystery and bravado he always seemed to cultivate. Even indoors, in the low light of the room, Miguel refused to remove them, as if to remind everyone that he lived in a world far brighter and more glamorous than their own. The flickering monitors reflected off the surface of his sunglasses, making his entrance even more theatrical.


    ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, it¡¯s official¡ªI¡¯m a celebrity!¡± Miguel¡¯s voice boomed, rich, filling every corner of the small room. He spread his arms wide, the gesture grand and exaggerated, as if he were a conquering hero returning home to the cheers of an adoring crowd. The fabric of his shirt fluttered with the movement, the bright colors blurring together into a kaleidoscope of tropical hues.


    He paused in the doorway, waiting for the adulation he was certain awaited him, his grin widening as he soaked in what he imagined were the impressed stares of his audience. There was a smugness to his posture, the tilt of his chin, the way he rocked back on his heels as if the weight of his newfound fame had elevated him above the rest. To Miguel, the world outside that door might as well have been chanting his name, and he carried that delusion into the room with all the confidence of someone who truly believed it.


    Lina barely glanced up, her expression deadpan. ¡°Is that what they¡¯re calling clowns these days?¡±


    Unfazed, Miguel ignored her and continued his self-congratulatory rant. ¡°I mean, did you see the comments? ¡®Miguel, the next big thing!¡¯ ¡®Miguel, the hero we need!¡¯ They¡¯re practically begging for autographs!¡±


    Lina rolled her eyes, but her attention drifted to Cinder. The silence from the fiery young woman was unsettling. ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet, Blaze,¡± Lina observed, a hint of concern in her voice. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    Cinder¡¯s eyes remained glued to the screens, the chaos reflected in her gaze. ¡°I keep thinking about the kid who saved me,¡± she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Kofi, who had been scrolling through the latest news reports, paused and turned to face her. ¡°Sabir Quinn,¡± he said, his voice low and measured. ¡°The man who saved you at The Threshold. He was captured by Hunter¡­ Noah Voltaire¡¯s crew.¡± With a few swift keystrokes, he changed one monitor to display a database search screen. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to find him in the system.¡±


    The monitor flickered, loading data from the vast network of government files and classified databases. Kofi¡¯s fingers flew across the keyboard, but after a moment, he frowned. ¡°Nothing,¡± he muttered, frustration creeping into his tone. ¡°There¡¯s no record of him.¡±


    Miguel, who had been leaning against the wall, watching the scene with a bored expression, suddenly perked up. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because he¡¯s from Limbo,¡± he suggested, smirking as if he¡¯d just solved the world¡¯s greatest mystery.


    Kofi glanced at him, realizing he made a mistake. ¡°That could be,¡± he admitted, trying to inflate Miguel¡¯s colossal ego. ¡°But then what about his friends? The nosy kid and the girl¡­ What were their names?¡±


    Miguel snapped his fingers, trying to recall. ¡°The nosy kid was called¡­ Max Crawfish? Or something like that.¡±


    Lina groaned, shaking her head. ¡°Crawford, you idiot. Max Crawford. And the girl¡¯s name was Samantha Hart.¡±


    Kofi nodded, typing the names into the database. Within seconds, a grainy image appeared on the screen¡ªa young boy with a shaven head and a wide, innocent smile. He couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen in the photo.


    ¡°Max Crawford and Samantha Hart,¡± Kofi read aloud, his voice tinged with sadness. ¡°They were both arrested and placed in a cell with an unnamed prisoner in The Commons. They¡¯re being transferred to The Storm Bay Institute.¡±


    The room fell into a heavy silence. The Storm Bay Institute, belonging to The Tempest family, one of the noble families, was a brutal labor camp where prisoners were worked to the bone, often until they died in the mines.


    Cinder¡¯s jaw clenched, her fists tightening in her lap. ¡°They¡¯re sending them to The Tempests,¡± she spat, disgust thick in her voice. ¡°They¡¯ll be slaved in those mines until they die.¡±


    Miguel, ever the opportunist, grinned excitedly. ¡°So¡­ are we gonna do a jailbreak next? This could be fun. Maybe we wait for them to be sent to Storm Bay. Make it more fun!¡±


    But Kofi shook his head, his expression somber. ¡°There¡¯s no point. Those kids are adults now. They were responsible for their situation. We¡¯d be wasting time and resources on something that doesn¡¯t help our goals.¡±


    Cinder¡¯s eyes flashed with defiance, her voice low but fierce. ¡°A Blaze always pays back their debts.¡±


    Kofi looked at her, surprised by the intensity in her words, but before he could respond, Miguel was already pulling out his phone. ¡°That settles it then!¡± he exclaimed, punching in a number with exaggerated enthusiasm. ¡°Yuen, buddy! Guess what? We¡¯re doing a jailbreak!¡±


    As Miguel¡¯s voice echoed through the room, Cinder and Lina exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew what this meant¡ªanother mission, more blood on their hands. But for Cinder, it was personal. She owed Sabir Quinn her life, and she had to pay him back. It was one of the first lessons her father ever taught her. Pay back what you owe. Pay it in double.

 Chapter 34 - The Iron Chair

    The room was a desolate chamber of cold, unyielding stone, the air thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and the lingering scent of burning flesh. Sabir Quinn¡¯s scream echoed through the space, a raw, tortured sound that ricocheted off the walls and faded into the oppressive silence. Strapped to an iron chair at the center of the room, his wrists and ankles bound by steel cuffs that dug into his skin, cutting off circulation and leaving his hands numb. The sick bastards bolted the chair to the ground, and despite his thrashing, there was no escape from the agony being inflicted upon him.


    Arcs of electricity danced across his body, sending searing pain through every nerve. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his body contorting in pain as the electricity surged through him, leaving him breathless and screaming. The voltage was at the perfect level to inflict excruciating pain without causing unconsciousness, precisely the right balance to break a person without ending their life.


    Standing before him, as still as a statue, was Elektra Voltaire. In the dimly lit room, her tall and slender figure stood, clad in a black, form-fitting suit that absorbed the light. Her hands crackled with electric energy, each spark illuminating her face in brief, sharp flashes. Her expression was one of cold detachment, the icy blue of her eyes reflecting the electricity she controlled with such ease. This was just a routine task for her: extracting another secret by inflicting horrendous pain.


    Elektra held her gaze at Sabir, watching every convulsion, every twitch, with an almost clinical interest. Her posture was relaxed, one hand on her hip, the other outstretched as she manipulated the current with the precision of a surgeon. When she finally paused, allowing Sabir a moment to breathe, it was less an act of mercy and a more calculated move, a way to prolong the torture.


    ¡°You promised you¡¯d cooperate, Sabir,¡± a voice said from the shadows, smooth and cold, like a blade sliding between ribs. Noah Voltaire stepped forward, his features sharp and angular, illuminated by the flickering light of the single bulb that hung from the ceiling. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes, a mirror of his sister¡¯s, gleamed with a dangerous intensity. He wore a tailored suit that spoke of wealth and power, its dark fabric immaculate, untouched by the grime of the room. He exuded an air of control, a man accustomed to getting what he wanted¡ªby any means necessary.


    Sabir could barely focus on Noah¡¯s words, his mind clouded with pain and exhaustion. But he understood enough. They wanted something from him¡ªsomething he had sworn never to give them. And yet, here he was, bound and broken, with little left to protect his secrets.


    Noah circled the chair like a predator stalking wounded prey, his eyes never leaving Sabir. ¡°Yet, here we are,¡± he continued, his voice edged with impatience. ¡°And you¡¯ve given us nothing worthwhile.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s head lolled forward, his chin resting on his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. His skin was slick with sweat, and his body felt like it was on fire from the inside out. He tried to lift his head, to meet Noah¡¯s gaze with some semblance of defiance, but his neck muscles refused to obey. Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of his heart, willing himself to stay conscious.


    The realization had dawned on him hours ago¡ªperhaps even before the torture began. The moment he had arrived at the Voltaire Estate, a sprawling fortress of wealth and power nestled in the heart of Havana, he knew he was in trouble. Only when they started questioning about Mia, his niece, did he fully comprehend the extent of the peril. They weren¡¯t interested in him at all; he was merely a means to an end, a tool to find the one person he had sworn to protect.


    ¡°Noah,¡± Elektra said, her voice cool and precise, ¡°he¡¯s stalling.¡± She moved closer, her heels clicking on the stone floor, the sound echoing in the silent chamber. She reached out, placing a hand on Sabir¡¯s shoulder, her touch cold and devoid of compassion. ¡°Where is the child known as Mia Quinn?¡±


    Sabir¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as he considered his options. Every instinct screamed at him to protect Mia, to keep her hidden from these monsters at all costs. But the pain was overwhelming, clouding his thoughts, and he knew he couldn¡¯t endure much more.


    Before he could respond, a sudden surge of electricity ripped through his body, and Sabir¡¯s scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that consumed him entirely, leaving no room for coherent thought. Elektra increased the voltage, her expression never wavering, as if she were conducting an experiment rather than torturing a man.


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    ¡°Where is the bastard?¡± Elektra demanded, her voice cutting through the haze of pain. The electricity continued to flow, unrelenting, as Sabir convulsed in the chair, his muscles locking up, his vision going white.


    ¡°B-Bastard?¡± Sabir stammered, the word slurred as he forced it past his lips. The question slipped out before he could stop himself, confusion cutting through the agony. Why did they keep calling the little girl that? The word was not suitable and made no sense. Mia was a child, more than likely innocent and sweet, with no understanding of the evils searching for her. ¡°Why¡­ Do you keep calling her¡­ a bastard?¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes flashed with something Sabir couldn¡¯t quite decipher, a mix of anger and something else¡ªsomething personal. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ¡°You¡¯re smart. You can figure it out, but when you do, it¡¯ll be your last breath.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information through the fog of pain. What did they know about Mia? How were they related to her? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered, as he struggled to maintain his grip on reality.


    But the pain was too much, the torture too intense. His resolve was crumbling, the lines between truth and lies blurring as he fought to stay conscious. He needed to say something, anything, to make it stop¡ªto buy himself more time, even if it was only a few minutes.


    ¡°She¡­ she was at a hospital in Tetra City,¡± Sabir gasped, every word a monumental effort. His vision blurred, and he could barely see Elektra¡¯s face as he spoke. ¡°But¡­ but I don¡¯t know where she is now¡­¡±


    It was a half truth, one Sabir prayed would be enough to end this excruciating torture. The full truth was still being hidden, safely tucked away in his pocket¡ªan address scrawled on a piece of paper, the last known location of Mia Quinn. He had to protect her, no matter the cost, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they saw through his deception.


    Noah stepped closer, his presence looming over Sabir like a dark specter. He tilted his head slightly, studying Sabir with a predator¡¯s patience, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any sign of deceit. ¡°You¡¯re still hiding something,¡± Noah said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. ¡°You¡¯ve been holding out on us.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s pulse quickened, his fear spiking as Noah¡¯s words sank in. He knew his lie wouldn¡¯t hold forever, but he had hoped it would buy him more time¡ªenough time to figure out a way to escape or, at the very least, die before revealing Mia¡¯s true location. But the way Noah was looking at him, with that cold, calculating stare, Sabir knew his time was running out.


    Noah¡¯s hand moved toward the control panel that managed the electricity, his fingers brushing against the dials that would unleash another wave of unbearable pain. Sabir braced himself, his body tensing in anticipation of the next assault, his mind scrambling for a way out. But before Noah could act, the door to the room creaked open, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife.


    A young maid entered the room, her face pale and her hands trembling as she clutched a small, folded piece of paper to her chest. She kept her eyes downcast, her entire body radiating fear as she approached Elektra, clearly terrified to interrupt.


    ¡°L-lady Elektra,¡± the maid stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced nervously at Noah, then back to Elektra, clearly caught between fear of the siblings and fear of whoever had sent her. ¡°The Patriarch is calling for you and Sir Noah. He¡­ He says it¡¯s urgent.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes narrowed in irritation, and she turned to the maid, her expression full of cold disdain. ¡°What does he want now?¡± she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Releasing Sabir¡¯s shoulder, she stepped back, causing the electricity in the air to fade and giving him a momentary reprieve. ¡°This better be important.¡±


    The maid didn¡¯t respond, only dipped her head in a nervous bow, clearly eager to escape the room and the volatile siblings within it. Elektra ignored her, already turning toward Noah, her expression hardening as she considered the interruption.


    Noah frowned, clearly unhappy with the timing, but he finally stepped back from the control panel, his hand dropping to his side. He cast one last,lingering look at Sabir, a silent promise of more pain to come. ¡°This isn¡¯t over, Quinn,¡± he said, his voice low and filled with dark intent. ¡°We¡¯ll be back.¡±


    Elektra nodded curtly at the maid, dismissing her with a flick of her wrist before heading toward the door. Noah followed, though not before giving Sabir a final, lingering glance, as if memorizing every detail of his tortured state for future reference.


    The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, and Sabir was alone with only the silence of the torture chamber to keep him company. His body sagged against the restraints, every muscle trembling with exhaustion and pain. He was free, if only temporarily, but the reprieve did little to soothe the dread gnawing at his insides.


    He was running out of time. They would be back, and when they returned, there would be no more lies, no more stalling. Sabir knew he couldn¡¯t endure another round of torture and still keep Mia¡¯s secret. He needed to act¡ªand fast¡ªif he had any hope of saving her from the Voltaires¡¯ clutches.


    But as the darkness closed in around him, his thoughts grew sluggish, and the weight of his injuries pressed down on him, making it difficult to breathe. Sabir¡¯s last conscious thought before slipping into unconsciousness was a single, desperate prayer: that Mia would stay hidden, for the sake of his sister.


    ¡°Mia¡­¡±

 Chapter 35 - The Storm Inside

    The grand hall of the Voltaire Estate, with its towering columns and gilded arches, was a place where power was absolute, where the very walls whispered secrets of ancient bloodlines and ruthless ambitions. But tonight, Alaric Voltaire¡¯s furious shouts filled the room with a reverberating roar.


    ¡°What the hell were you two doing in The Commons? With a voice like thunder, Alaric bellowed, shaking the entire estate. He clenched his fists at his sides. His knuckles were white with unyielding rage. His imposing figure loomed over his children, Noah and Elektra, who stood at attention before him. Their expressions contained a restrained fear. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯ve done? You¡¯ve tied us and the rest of the nobles to the whole Threshold incident? Being seen there, in that filthy cesspool, has reduced our face among the other families. We are Voltaires. Do you understand what that means? We cannot afford such blunders!¡±


    Noah was the first to respond, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of submission. ¡°Father, I apologize. It was Elektra¡¯s idea, not mine. She was the one who insisted on pursuing the lead.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes flashed with annoyance at her brother¡¯s attempt to shift the blame. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. ¡°I was finding a clue to where the bastard was,¡± she snapped, her voice sharp and defensive. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t gone there, we wouldn¡¯t have known about Sabir Quinn¡¯s connection to the child.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s rage didn¡¯t abate, but his eyes narrowed as he considered his daughter¡¯s words. Outside, the storm that had been brewing for hours reached a fever pitch. Rain pounded against the windows with relentless force, while jagged bolts of lightning split the sky, illuminating the dark clouds that churned ominously overhead. The tempest was a manifestation of Alaric¡¯s anger, his emotions so potent that they twisted the very elements to his will.


    Noah and Elektra exchanged a glance, both fully aware of the power their father wielded, not just over them, but over nature itself. The lightning crackled with a ferocity that mirrored the tension in the room, and the thunder that followed was like the wrathful heartbeat of the patriarch himself.


    But then, as if commanding the storm with nothing more than his will, Alaric took a deep breath and released it slowly, his broad chest rising and falling as he regained control over his emotions. The rain tapered off, the sheets of water lessening until they were a mere drizzle. The flashes of lightning faded, leaving the room in a deep, unnatural silence that was almost more unnerving than the storm itself.


    ¡°Did you at least make any progress on killing the bastard?¡± Alaric asked, his voice calmer now, though it still carried the weight of his authority. He moved away from the center of the hall, pacing slowly as he awaited their response, his hands clasped behind his back.


    Elektra seized the opportunity to present their findings, hoping to redeem herself in her father¡¯s eyes. ¡°We found Sabir Quinn, Father,¡± she said, her tone more measured now. ¡°He told us that the child was last seen in a hospital in Tetra City. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s a lead.¡±


    Alaric stopped his pacing and turned to face her, his gaze piercing. ¡°Sabir Quinn? He holds the same last name as that damn whore.¡±


    Before Elektra could respond, Noah stepped in, his voice smooth and confident. ¡°Sabir Quinn is Cynthia Quinn¡¯s brother,¡± he explained. It seems her brother has information on the child. Infuriatingly, he''s trying to protect a child he doesn¡¯t even know.¡±


    Alaric grunted, the sound low and filled with disdain. ¡°The Quinns,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. ¡°That wretched bloodline has been a thorn in our side for too long. It¡¯s time we put an end to them once and for all. After you¡¯ve squeezed every bit of information out of Sabir, kill him. I¡¯m sick and tired of that family messing with our affairs. Once those two are gone, this complete fiasco will be over.¡±


    Noah nodded obediently, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ¡°We¡¯ll find the child and kill her soon, Father,¡± he promised, his voice dripping with assurance. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure our family¡¯s reputation remains untarnished. The other nobles won¡¯t hear a whisper of this. Our face among them will be preserved.¡±


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    Alaric¡¯s expression softened slightly at Noah¡¯s words, but the cold, calculating glint in his eyes remained. ¡°Good,¡± he said, his tone one of finality. ¡°But be aware, the Gaian Matriarch already knows some of what¡¯s going on. She¡¯s chosen not to say anything¡ªyet. But don¡¯t let her silence fool you. She¡¯s watching us closely, waiting for a misstep.¡±


    The mention of the Gaian Matriarch sent a chill down Elektra¡¯s spine. The Gaians were powerful and enigmatic, their influence stretching far beyond just Sector 3. If the Matriarch was aware of their movements, it could complicate things more than she cared to admit. But Elektra kept her concerns to herself, instead nodding in acknowledgment of her father¡¯s warning.


    ¡°Understood, Father,¡± Noah replied, his voice steady. He cast a quick glance at Elektra, who gave a curt nod of agreement.


    Satisfied, Alaric turned his back to them, his gaze drawn to the large windows that overlooked the estate¡¯s sprawling grounds. The rain had stopped entirely now, leaving the world outside still and quiet. But the storm clouds remained, heavy and oppressive, like the weight of the expectations he placed on his children.


    ¡°Before you go,¡± Alaric said, his voice softer now but no less commanding, ¡°what¡¯s going on with Vincent? I haven¡¯t heard anything from him in days.¡±


    Noah sighed, his expression tightening with frustration. ¡°Vincent is drowning in alcohol in that club he owns,¡± he replied, the distaste evident in his tone. ¡°He still hasn¡¯t gotten over everything, I suppose.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s shoulders sagged slightly, the first sign of weariness he¡¯d shown all night. He sighed deeply, shaking his head as if in disappointment. ¡°The boy needs to learn the hard way that we¡¯re not like these regular people,¡± he said, his voice tinged with a bitterness that made it clear Ethan was a source of constant frustration. ¡°We don¡¯t scurry like rats with no greater purpose. We¡¯re Voltaires. And he needs to start acting like it.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the window as he spoke, his reflection staring back at him from the glass¡ªa powerful man burdened by the weight of legacy and the constant struggle to maintain it. Noah and Elektra remained quiet, aware that it was not the right time to disturb their father as he pondered deeply, else they may bear more repercussions.


    Finally, Alaric waved a dismissive hand at them. ¡°Go. Do what needs to be done. And don¡¯t come back until it¡¯s finished.¡±


    Noah and Elektra bowed slightly, a gesture of respect that was more perfunctory than heartfelt. Without another word, they turned and left the grand hall, the heavy doors closing behind them with a resounding thud.


    As they walked down the dimly lit corridor, the tension between them was palpable. Elektra could still feel the lingering sting of their father¡¯s anger, and it took all her self-control not to lash out at Noah for throwing her under the bus. But she knew better than to start a fight now. They had more pressing matters to attend to¡ªnamely, finding Mia Quinn and finishing what they had started.


    ¡°We need to move quickly,¡± Noah said, his voice low as they walked. ¡°The longer that child is out there, the greater the risk of someone else finding her first. And we can¡¯t afford another mistake.¡±


    Elektra, her mind racing with the implications, asked, ¡°What¡¯s the plan? We know she was last seen at a hospital in Tetra City. I can start checking the nearby areas.¡±


    Noah shook his head, already considering the most efficient course of action. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the hospitals. I have men stationed all over Tetra City. We¡¯ll search every hospital, every clinic, and every damn medical facility until we find her.¡±


    ¡°And what about me?¡± Elektra¡¯s voice was sharp with impatience, not liking the idea of being sidelined.


    Noah¡¯s eyes narrowed as he turned to his sister. ¡°You¡¯ll just get in the way. I don¡¯t need you making things more complicated with your impulsiveness. Go back to your training with Warren. He¡¯s been doing nothing but crying all day.¡±


    Elektra scowled, her annoyance clear. But before she could argue, Noah paused, his expression shifting as a thought crossed his mind. He remembered Sabir Quinn, tied up and bleeding, the defiance still burning in his eyes despite the torture they had inflicted. There was something about the way Elektra had looked at Sabir, a flicker of interest that Noah hadn¡¯t missed.


    ¡°On second thought,¡± Noah said, a smirk playing on his lips, ¡°why don¡¯t you have some fun with Sabir Quinn? You seemed to take quite an interest in him. Do what you want with him¡ªjust make sure he¡¯s broken by the time you¡¯re done. He¡¯s lost his value, even if he¡¯s hiding something¡±


    Elektra¡¯s expression transformed from irritation to excitement, a wicked grin spreading across her face. The idea of being given free rein over Sabir thrilled her, and her mind immediately filled with possibilities. Cruel, twisted possibilities that made her heart race.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m gonna break him,¡± Elektra purred, her eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. ¡°I have a few ideas that he¡¯ll find¡­ unforgettable.¡±


    Noah gave a brief nod, making sure his sister would be occupied and not a hindrance. ¡°Good. Just don¡¯t overdo it. You might scare the servants.¡±


    Together, they stepped out into the cool night air, the remnants of the storm hanged heavily above them. As Noah prepared to lead his men into Tetra City, Elektra¡¯s thoughts lingered on Sabir, her grin widening as she imagined the ¡°fun¡± she was about to have. For the Voltaires, it was only a matter of time before they wrapped this ordeal up, and Elektra was going to enjoy every moment.

 Chapter 36 - A Test Of Weakness

    Elektra¡¯s boots echoed sharply against the marble floors as she stormed through the dark, opulent halls of the Voltaire estate. Each step she took reverberated with the intensity of her rage, a rage that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface of her composed exterior. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her knuckles whitening as she forced herself to keep moving, her mind locked onto a single thought: punishment. The servants she passed quickly averted their gazes, their eyes darting to the ground as they hurried out of her way. They had seen Elektra in this state before and knew better than to risk incurring her wrath.


    The estate was a labyrinth of luxury and power, its walls adorned with priceless art and ancient relics that whispered of the Voltaire family¡¯s long and storied history. But beneath the grandeur, there was a darkness that few dared to acknowledge¡ªa darkness that Elektra embraced fully. As she approached the bedroom where her brother lived, her anger flared even hotter. Warren. The mere thought of his name made her blood boil.


    She reached his door, a large, ornate piece of wood that stood in stark contrast to the plainness of the room behind it. Without hesitation, she kicked it open; the door slamming against the wall with a loud crack. The impact was so forceful that the door handle embedded itself into the plaster, leaving a gaping hole. Darkness enveloped the room like a blanket; the curtains in the room were drawn to block out the light, and the sudden intrusion startled the boy inside.


    Warren, a tall, pale figure with dark bags under his eyes and long brown hair that fell in slight curls around his face, jumped up in fright. He wore baggy jeans and a loose t-shirt., his disheveled appearance making him look even more out of place within the estate¡¯s grandeur. His instinctual reaction was to seek cover, and he quickly scrambled behind his bed, his eyes wide with fear.


    ¡°Get out here, you snitch!¡± Elektra snarled, her voice dripping with venom as she advanced into the room. ¡°You think you can get away with spying on me? You deserve to be punished.¡±


    Warren peeked out from behind the bed, trembling. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline making his hands shake uncontrollably. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry, Elektra! I didn¡¯t mean to-I was just worried when I saw you leaving in a hurry¡­ I thought-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need a weakling like you worrying about me!¡± Elektra cut him off, her eyes flashing with anger. Her voice was like ice, cold and unforgiving, each word cutting into Warren like a blade. She reached down, grabbing him by the hair, and yanked him to his feet with a strength that belied her slender frame. Warren winced in pain, his hands instinctively reaching up to lessen the strain on his scalp, but Elektra¡¯s grip was unrelenting. Her nails dug into his scalp, sending jolts of pain shooting through his skull.


    She dragged him out of the room and down the corridor, ignoring his whimpers and pleas for her to let go. Warren stumbled behind her, his legs struggling to keep up with her fast pace. The estate was silent, the only sounds being the echo of their footsteps and Warren¡¯s pained protests. The coldness of the marble floor seeped through his thin socks, adding another layer of discomfort to his already miserable state.


    ¡°Where¡­ where are we going?¡± Warren stammered, his voice wavering as they descended a spiral staircase leading into the depths of the estate. His heart sank as they moved further away from the living quarters, the familiar warmth of the upper levels being replaced by the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the estate¡¯s lower floors.


    Elektra didn¡¯t bother to look at him. ¡°To the torture room.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened in horror. ¡°W-what? The torture room? Why are we going there? Please, Elektra, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to upset you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Elektra snapped, her voice cold and commanding. ¡°And it¡¯s not a torture room. It¡¯s the place where we remind rats, their place in the food chain.¡±


    As they continued their descent, the air grew colder, the light from the flickering sconces casting long, ominous shadows on the stone walls. The further down they went, the more the estate felt like a dungeon, a place where the Voltaires could conduct their dark business away from the prying eyes of the world above. Warren¡¯s fear grew with each step, his mind racing with the possibilities of what awaited him. He had always known that his sister was cruel, but this was something else entirely.


    They reached a heavy, reinforced door at the end of the staircase. Elektra pushed it open with a creak, dragging Warren inside. The room was dark, with the smell of blood and burnt flesh hanging thick in the air. The overpowering smell was so strong that Warren choked and fought to stay balanced. Lining the walls, cruel, archaic instruments designed for one purpose.


    Pain.


    The sight of them made Warren¡¯s stomach churn with dread. Warren¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as his eyes landed on the centerpiece of the room: an iron chair bolted to the floor. In it sat a man, his body a canvas of brutality. He had charred and blistered skin, bruises and cuts marring his flesh in a gruesome display. His clothes were ragged and scorched, barely clinging to his body, and blood dripped from multiple wounds, pooling beneath the chair. His eyes were closed, but as Elektra and Warren entered, they flickered open, revealing golden irises that glowed with a predatory intensity. The unyielding gaze of those piercing eyes seemed to strip Warren of his soul.


    The sight made Warren freeze in his tracks, fear rooting him to the spot. He couldn¡¯t understand why he was so terrified of this man who looked half-dead, but something about those eyes unsettled him to his core. They weren¡¯t the eyes of a man defeated; they were the eyes of a predator, one that was biding its time.


    Elektra shoved Warren forward, breaking his trance. He stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself at the last moment. She approached the man in the chair and gestured to him with a smirk. ¡°Warren, meet Sabir. You two are alike, you know. Both pathetic.¡±


    Warren¡¯s gaze flickered between Elektra and Sabir, confusion and fear battling for dominance in his mind. ¡°W-what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°At least Sabir here lasted longer in a fight with me than you ever could,¡± Elektra continued, circling Warren like a predator assessing its prey. Her movements were fluid, predatory, as she eyed her brother with a mixture of contempt and amusement. ¡°You can¡¯t even generate a spark, and yet a fucking dud like him is stronger than you. Pathetic.¡±


    She punctuated the word with a swift punch to Warren¡¯s stomach, sending him sprawling to the ground with a gasp of pain. Warren curled up, clutching his stomach, tears of humiliation and fear welling up in his eyes. The blow had knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air on the cold stone floor. He glanced up at Sabir, expecting some reaction, but the man in the chair remained impassive, his golden eyes fixed on him with an unnerving calmness. It was as if Sabir saw through him, reading his fear and helplessness like an open book.


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    Elektra crouched down beside Warren, grabbing him by the head and forcing him to look up at her. Her grip was ironclad, her fingers digging into his scalp with painful precision. ¡°You¡¯re going to prove to me, to this entire family, that you¡¯re not as worthless as everyone thinks you are. You¡¯re the laughingstock of the nobles at the academy. Do you know that? They all think you¡¯re a joke.¡±


    Warren¡¯s lip quivered as he tried to speak, but the words died in his throat. He knew what they said about him¡ªhe had heard the whispers, the snickers behind his back. The other nobles, with their perfect abilities and flawless control, looked down on him, the Voltaire who couldn¡¯t even manage the simplest of powers. But hearing it from Elektra, his own sister, made the sting so much worse. Her words were like poison, seeping into his mind and corroding any last remnants of confidence he had.


    Elektra rose to her feet, her expression twisted with disdain. She moved towards the iron chair where she had Sabir restrained, and with a flick of her wrist, she hit a lever on the side of the chair. A rack slid out from the base, revealing an array of instruments¡ªknives, scalpels, thumbscrews, all gleaming wickedly in the darkness. Meticulously arranged, each instrument polished to a gleam, and sharpened to perfection. They were instruments of pain, each designed to inflict a unique suffering.


    Warren¡¯s breath hitched in his throat as he realized what she was planning. His eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight of the cruel tools, each one more terrifying than the last. ¡°E-Elektra, please¡­ don¡¯t make me do this¡­¡±


    But Elektra¡¯s cold eyes met his, and a cruel smile spread across her face. She smirked as she observed Warren¡¯s growing fear, the sadistic pleasure she derived from his terror evident in her gaze. The flickering lights of the dimly lit torture room cast ominous shadows over her face, emphasizing the sharpness of her features, the malice in her eyes.


    ¡°Do this, Warren,¡± Elektra hissed, leaning down so that her face was mere inches from his. ¡°Or I will. And trust me, you don¡¯t want that.¡±


    Warren¡¯s entire body shook with fear. His mind raced, desperately searching for a way out, but there was no escape from this nightmare. He was trapped, and Elektra knew it. She reveled in his fear, feeding off it, her smirk widening as she saw the resignation in his eyes.


    Sabir, still strapped to the iron chair, watched the scene unfold with a grim detachment. Sabir¡¯s mind stayed sharp despite his body being battered and broken. He understood all too well what was happening. The Voltaire siblings were monsters, born of power and privilege, their cruelty nurtured by the corrupt world they had grown up in. And now, Warren, the weakest link in the Voltaire chain, was being pushed to prove himself.


    A disgusting hazing.


    Elektra¡¯s fingers twitched as she reached out, selecting a slender scalpel from the rack. She held it up; the blade catching the light and glinting wickedly. The instrument was delicate, a tool that could flay skin from bone with the lightest of touches. She turned it over in her hand, almost as if admiring its craftsmanship, before pressing it into Warren¡¯s trembling hand.


    ¡°Take it,¡± she commanded, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°Prove to me you¡¯re not worthless.¡±


    Warren¡¯s hand shook violently as he gripped the scalpel, the cool metal feeling like ice against his clammy skin. His gaze flickered to Sabir, who stared back at him with those haunting golden eyes. There was no pity in Sabir¡¯s gaze, no sympathy¡ªonly a cold, calculated awareness of the situation. Warren felt his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat as he tried to force himself to move.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± Warren whispered, his voice barely audible. ¡°I can¡¯t do this, Elektra¡­¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening as she leaned closer to him. Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper. ¡°Then you¡¯re even more pathetic than I thought. And you¡¯ll never be anything more than the family¡¯s shame.¡±


    The words stung, cutting through Warren like the sharpest blade. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let Elektra see how deeply her words affected him. He didn¡¯t want to be this¡ªhe didn¡¯t want to be the failure, the weak link, the disappointment. But the fear, the overwhelming fear, was paralyzing.


    Elektra¡¯s patience snapped. With a growl of frustration, she yanked Warren up by his hair again, dragging him to his feet with brutal force. ¡°Fine,¡± she spat, her voice filled with contempt. ¡°If you¡¯re too much of a coward to do it, then I will.¡±


    She shoved Warren aside, making him stumble and nearly fall. He caught himself on the edge of the table, his hand brushing against the cold, unforgiving metal of the torture instruments. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as he watched Elektra stalk towards Sabir, the scalpel gleaming in her hand.


    ¡°Elektra, please!¡± Warren cried out, his voice cracking with desperation. ¡°Don¡¯t do this! You don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±


    Just as Elektra was about to bring the scalpel down onto Sabir, Warren lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab the back of her shirt. His fingers clenched the fabric tightly, tugging her back with all the strength he could muster.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Warren shouted, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll do it!¡±


    Elektra froze, her body rigid as she slowly turned to look at him. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but she didn¡¯t pull away from his grip. Instead, she stared at him, the scalpel still poised in her hand, as if trying to decide whether to punish him for his audacity or let him follow through with his offer.


    Warren¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. His hand shook violently as he held onto her shirt, his knuckles white from the strain. He could feel the fear coursing through him, threatening to paralyze him, but he couldn¡¯t back down now. Not when Sabir¡¯s life was on the line.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper, but there was a steely edge to it now. ¡°Just¡­ just let me do it.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s gaze softened, but only slightly. She released a slow, calculating breath before releasing the tension in her body, stepping back from Sabir. She regarded Warren with a twisted smirk, the kind of expression that made it clear she was enjoying this power play far more than she should.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, her tone cold and detached as she thrust the scalpel into Warren¡¯s trembling hand. ¡°But make sure you do it right, Warren. Prove that you¡¯re not as worthless as everyone says.¡±


    Warren¡¯s hand closed around the scalpel, the cool metal biting into his palm as he took it from her. He stared at the blade, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the weight of what he was about to do settled over him like a suffocating blanket. The room seemed to close in around him; the walls pressing in as the instruments on the table gleamed in the dim light.


    He turned his gaze to Sabir, who was watching him with those same unblinking golden eyes. There was no fear in Sabir¡¯s expression, no pleading, no begging for mercy. Just a calm acceptance, as if he knew what was about to happen and had already made his peace with it. The weight of Sabir¡¯s gaze bore down on Warren, making his stomach churn with nausea.


    Warren took a step closer to Sabir, the scalpel held out in front of him like a shield. His hands trembled uncontrollably, the blade shaking in his grasp as he struggled to steady himself. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, to drop the scalpel and run, but he knew that wasn¡¯t an option. Elektra was watching her gaze like a hawk¡¯s, ready to strike if he faltered.


    His breath hitched as he raised the scalpel, the blade hovering just above Sabir¡¯s bruised and battered skin. Sabir didn¡¯t flinch, didn¡¯t even blink. He simply stared back at Warren, his golden eyes steady, as if daring him to follow through.


    Warren¡¯s vision blurred with tears as he tried to force himself to move. His entire body was shaking now, every muscle tense with fear and revulsion. His grip on the scalpel tightened, his knuckles turning white as he tried to will himself to act.


    But all he could do was stand there, staring at Sabir, the scalpel quivering in his trembling hands.


    And in that moment, Warren realized that no matter how much he wanted to prove himself, no matter how much he wanted to escape Elektra¡¯s cruelty, he couldn¡¯t do it. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to hurt someone who was already so broken, someone who had suffered enough.


    He couldn¡¯t become the monster that Elektra wanted him to be. Warren standing there, the scalpel in his trembling hand, as he stared into Sabir¡¯s eyes, the weight of his sister¡¯s expectations pressing down on him like a crushing tide. What was he to do?

 Chapter 37 - Sickening

    Warren¡¯s hand shook as he held the scalpel, the cold metal foreign and menacing in his trembling grip. The dim light of the room cast long shadows on the stone walls, the air thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and fear. Sabir sat strapped in the iron chair before him, his body a canvas of brutality. Sabir¡¯s skin bore charred patches, bruises, and cuts, and he struggled to breathe with shallow, ragged gasps. The sight of him, broken but still conscious, made Warren¡¯s stomach churn.


    He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. This wasn¡¯t supposed to be his life. But now, here he was, standing on the precipice of something he could never undo. The scalpel in his hand felt impossibly heavy, as though it were an anchor tethering him to a fate he couldn¡¯t escape.


    ¡°Are you still hesitating?¡± Elektra¡¯s voice cut through the oppressive silence, sharp and filled with disdain. She stood a few paces behind him, arms crossed, her eyes gleaming with a twisted sort of amusement. The corners of her lips curled into a smirk, her expression betraying the pleasure she took in his torment.


    Warren¡¯s eyes darted to her, his breath catching in his throat. ¡°I¡­ I just don¡¯t know what to do,¡± he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. The admission tasted bitter on his tongue, the words hanging in the air like a confession of weakness. He could feel the heat of Elektra¡¯s gaze burning into him, her patience wearing thin.


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t,¡± Elektra sneered, taking a step closer. ¡°You¡¯ve never known what to do. You¡¯ve always been a weakling, haven¡¯t you, Warren? Pathetic.¡±


    The insult cut deep, but Warren said nothing. What could he say? She was right, after all. He was weak. He was pathetic. That was why he was here, wasn¡¯t it? Because he had no strength of his own, no will to resist. He was just a puppet, a pawn in Elektra¡¯s cruel games.


    ¡°Listen carefully,¡± Elektra instructed, her voice a low, dangerous purr. ¡°You¡¯re going to make an incision. Right here.¡± She moved to stand beside him, pointing to a spot just below Sabir¡¯s collarbone. ¡°Press the blade down until you feel resistance, and then drag it slowly. Do you understand?¡±


    Warren nodded, though he didn¡¯t truly understand at all. How could he? This wasn¡¯t something he could understand. It wasn¡¯t something he wanted to understand. But he had no choice. He had to do it. If he didn¡¯t¡­ if he didn¡¯t¡­


    ¡°Do it,¡± Elektra commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument.


    Warren swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of the decision he was about to make. With a deep, shuddering breath, he raised the scalpel and whispered, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Sabir was the recipient of those words, yet they sounded hollow, meaningless. An apology couldn¡¯t erase what he was about to do. It couldn¡¯t make the horror of this moment any less real.


    He pressed the scalpel to Sabir¡¯s skin, the cold metal biting into the man¡¯s flesh. Sabir flinched, a low groan escaping his cracked lips. Warren hesitated, his hand trembling so violently he feared he might drop the blade.


    ¡°Press harder,¡± Elektra urged, her voice sickeningly sweet. ¡°You have to break the skin, Warren. Otherwise, it¡¯s useless.¡±


    With a grimace, Warren did as he was told, applying more pressure until the scalpel pierced Sabir¡¯s flesh. Blood welled up around the blade, bright and red, stark against the pale skin. Warren¡¯s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. He couldn¡¯t afford to falter now.


    ¡°Good,¡± Elektra cooed, a wicked smile spreading across her face. ¡°Now, drag the blade down. Slowly, so you don¡¯t miss anything.¡±


    Warren¡¯s stomach twisted, nausea rising like a tide. He wanted to stop, to throw the scalpel down and run as far away as he could. But Elektra¡¯s presence loomed over him, a dark cloud of malevolence that he couldn¡¯t escape. He couldn¡¯t run. Not from her.


    Gritting his teeth, Warren dragged the scalpel downward, slicing through muscle and sinew. The resistance made his hands shake even more, the blade jerking awkwardly as it cut through flesh. Blood flowed freely now, staining his hands, the warm, sticky liquid seeping into his skin. The metallic scent of it filled his nostrils, overwhelming his senses, making him gag.


    Sabir¡¯s groans turned to screams, raw and animalistic, the sound tearing through the room. It was a sound that would haunt Warren for the rest of his life, a sound that would echo in his nightmares. Unable to, he longed to cover his ears and block out the horrific noise. But he had to keep going. He had to finish what he started.


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Elektra said, her voice thick with sick enjoyment. ¡°You¡¯re doing so well, little Warren. Keep going.¡±


    Each word was a dagger in his heart, driving him deeper into despair. He hated her. He hated her so much in that moment that it consumed him, a fiery rage that threatened to burn him alive. But he couldn¡¯t act on it. He couldn¡¯t even voice it. He was trapped, a prisoner to his own weakness.


    ¡°Now twist the blade,¡± Elektra instructed, her tone growing more eager. ¡°Make sure the wound won¡¯t close easily.¡±


    Warren¡¯s hand faltered, his breath hitching in his throat. He couldn¡¯t do that. It was too much. It was too cruel. But Elektra¡¯s eyes were on him, watching, waiting for him to obey.


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    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡± he choked out, his voice barely audible.


    ¡°Yes, you can,¡± Elektra snapped, her patience fraying. ¡°Do it, Warren. Prove to me you¡¯re not completely useless.¡±


    Tears spilled down Warren¡¯s cheeks, mixing with the sweat that dripped from his brow. Warren felt trapped. He had no choice. He had to do it. There was no way out¡­


    With a sob, Warren twisted the scalpel, the blade tearing through flesh and muscle with a sickening sound. Sabir¡¯s scream was deafening, a sound of pure agony that reverberated through Warren¡¯s bones, shaking him to his very core. He felt his strength leave him, his legs growing weak, his vision tunneling as the world around him darkened.


    He couldn¡¯t do this. He wasn¡¯t strong enough. He wasn¡¯t like Elektra. He wasn¡¯t like the rest of his family. He was weak. He was broken.


    ¡°Stop,¡± he begged, his voice trembling with fear and desperation. ¡°Please, stop¡­¡±


    But Elektra wasn¡¯t listening, absorbed in Sabir¡¯s suffering, in the power she held over him¡ªand over Warren. Her eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure, her lips curling into a smile that sent shivers down Warren¡¯s spine.


    ¡°Now make another incision,¡± she commanded, her voice low and cruel. ¡°Lower this time. Let¡¯s see how much he can take.¡±


    Warren¡¯s vision blurred again, his hands trembling violently as he tried to obey. But he couldn¡¯t. His body refused to move, paralyzed by the horror of what he had already done. He couldn¡¯t do it again. He couldn¡¯t¡­


    ¡°Do it!¡± Elektra hissed, her patience finally snapping. She reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing it downward, pressing the scalpel against Sabir¡¯s skin once more.


    Warren¡¯s breath hitched as he felt the blade pierce the flesh again, the warm blood seeping over his hand, the smell of it choking him. Sabir¡¯s screams had turned to whimpers, his body convulsing with the effort of holding on, of staying conscious.


    ¡°Please¡­¡± Warren whispered, his voice breaking. ¡°Please, no more¡­¡±


    Elektra¡¯s grip tightened on his hand, her nails digging into his skin. ¡°Finish it,¡± she ordered, her voice like ice.


    Warren couldn¡¯t breathe. He couldn¡¯t think. All he could do was follow her command, the scalpel dragging through flesh once more, each movement sending waves of nausea crashing over him. He could feel his strength waning, his vision darkening around the edges. As the darkness contorted his vision, Warren was going to pass out.


    But suddenly, it was all over. Elektra released his hand, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. ¡°That wasn¡¯t so hard, was it? Wasn¡¯t that fun¡± She ran her fingers across Warren¡¯s face slowly, as she squeezed his cheek between her thumb and index finger.


    Warren didn¡¯t respond. He couldn¡¯t. His entire body was trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The scalpel slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor with a hollow sound. He could feel his stomach churning, the nausea rising, and before he could stop it, he doubled over and vomited onto the cold stone floor.


    Elektra quickly withdrew her hand and wiped it against her top. She watched him with a look of disgust; her smile fading into a frown of disappointment. ¡°Pathetic,¡± she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. ¡°I thought you might actually be of some use, but it seems I was wrong.¡±


    Warren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body shaking from the trauma. The bile still burned at the back of his throat, his vision swimming with the aftereffects of what he¡¯d just done. His ears were ringing, the sound of Sabir¡¯s tortured screams echoing in his mind like a cruel refrain.


    Elektra sneered down at him, her earlier amusement replaced with icy disdain. ¡°You really are worthless, Warren. I thought maybe, just maybe, you¡¯d show some promise, but it seems you¡¯re as weak as ever. You sully the Voltaire name.¡±


    She stepped away from him, her gaze sweeping over the room, taking in the sight of Sabir slumped in the iron chair, his head lolling to one side. He was barely conscious, his breathing shallow, and his body twitching with the aftermath of the torture. The sight seemed to bring her no joy now, only a deep-seated frustration.


    Elektra sighed, her expression twisting into one of annoyance. ¡°It looks like I¡¯ve broken both of my toys.¡± She cast a disdainful glance at Warren, still hunched over, trying to steady his breath. Her puppet¡¯s string had broken. ¡°You¡¯re useless, and he¡¯s not even fun to play with anymore. What a waste.¡±


    She turned on her heel, heading toward the door, her movements sharp and agitated. As she reached for the handle, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder at Warren. ¡°Clean this mess up,¡± she ordered, her tone cold and detached. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see a single drop of blood left when I return.¡±


    Warren barely nodded, too exhausted and broken to argue or protest. His mind was a whirlwind of guilt, fear, and shame, each emotion tearing at him from the inside out. He had never felt so empty, so utterly devoid of hope.


    With a final, dismissive glance, Elektra opened the door and left the room, the sound of the heavy wooden door slamming shut echoing in the silence. Warren flinched at the noise, his nerves shot, his body trembling uncontrollably.


    He didn¡¯t know how long he stayed there, crouched on the cold stone floor, the reality of what he¡¯d done pressing down on him like a suffocating weight. Time seemed to lose all meaning, the minutes bleeding into one another as he struggled to regain some semblance of control.


    Eventually, Warren forced himself to his feet, his legs wobbling beneath him. Swaying slightly, his vision still blurred, but he knew he couldn¡¯t stay there forever. He had to clean up the mess. He had to make everything look spotless before Elektra returned.


    He glanced at Sabir, who was barely clinging to consciousness, his head slumped to one side. Guilt surged through Warren again, a powerful wave that nearly knocked him off his feet. He had done this. He had caused this man unspeakable pain, and for what? To prove himself to his sister? To show her he wasn¡¯t the weakling she believed him to be?


    But he was weak. He had proven that by following her orders, by giving in to her demands. Warren had let her control him, let her push him into doing something he could never take back. It was an undeniable fact.


    He was weak. It was eating away at him. Weakness.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Warren whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. It was a hollow apology, he knew that. An apology wouldn¡¯t erase what he had done. It wouldn¡¯t heal Sabir¡¯s wounds or take away the pain he had caused. But it was all he had left to offer.


    He moved mechanically, picking up the bloodied scalpel from where it had fallen, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped it again. The sight of the blood on the blade made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to push through it, to focus on the task at hand.


    Warren gathered the torture instruments, wiping them clean with a rag he found on a nearby table. The metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils, but he ignored it, pushing down the rising nausea. He couldn¡¯t afford to be sick again. He had to finish this.


    Once the tools were cleaned, he turned his attention to the floor, where blood had pooled beneath the chair, soaking into the cracks between the stones. He dropped to his knees, scrubbing at the floor with the rag, trying to erase any trace of what had happened here. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, the blood seemed to cling to the stone, a stubborn reminder of the horror that had unfolded.

 Chapter 38 - Just Try

    The pain was a constant. It was like a storm brewing within my veins, a tempest of agony that refused to stray. I had been through a lot in my life, seen things that would shatter most men, but nothing had prepared me for the electricity coursing through my body. At first, it felt as if a thousand needles were piercing my skin, each one delivering a jolt of unadulterated pain, but it began to evolve, becoming a rampaging beast that charged right through me, trying its hardest to escape my vessel.


    Numbness.


    It crept in slowly, spreading from the tips of my fingers and toes, up through my limbs, and into my chest. The numbness was a betrayal, a false reprieve that made the pain seem distant, almost bearable. But I knew better. The numbness was just a precursor, a herald of the real suffering to come.


    I could barely keep my eyes open as I hung there, shackled to that cold iron chair, my head lolling forward like a puppet with its strings cut. My muscles twitched involuntarily, remnants of the electricity that had ravaged my body. I felt my skin being stretched too tight, too hot, as if someone had stretched it over a furnace. Every breath was a struggle, every heartbeat a reminder that I was still alive¡ªstill trapped in this waking nightmare.


    And then, just as the fog in my mind cleared, the door creaked open.


    Through the haze, I saw her, a figure draped in the shadows, her presence as sharp and menacing as a blade. Elektra Voltaire. Her name alone was enough to send a fresh wave of dread crashing through me. She was everything I hated about this world, everything that was wrong with Havana and its cursed walls. A predator in human skin, taking pleasure in the torment of others.


    But today, she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Behind her, a frail boy shuffled into the room, his steps hesitant, as if he was walking to his own execution. He couldn¡¯t have been more than a year or two younger than me, but there was something almost childlike in his demeanor, a vulnerability that made me pity him the moment I saw him. His hair was a mess of brown curls, his clothes hanging off him like he was drowning in fabric. And his eyes¡ªGod, his eyes¡ªwere wide and frightened, darting around the room like a cornered animal.


    My heart ached as I watched Elektra drag him forward by the hair, her grip tight and merciless. She didn¡¯t care about the fear in his eyes, the way his body trembled under her touch. She only cared about power, about proving that she was the one in control. From my point of view, it was all just an act, an act of melodrama, a tirade of an unloved child. An incessant need for approval made me her punching bag.


    I¡¯d seen it a hundred times before. The strong pressuring the weak, trying to push them into the same pit of darkness they¡¯d already fallen into. But it never ended well. The weak either broke under the weight of the darkness, or they became just as monstrous as their tormentors. An even greater monster. And that¡¯s what Elektra wanted, wasn¡¯t it? To mold this boy into something as twisted and cruel as she was.


    She was trying to prove something, but what? That she could break us both? That she could make him into her perfect little puppet? I didn¡¯t know, and I didn¡¯t care. All I knew was that she was a bitch, a cold, heartless bitch, and that whatever she was planning, it would only end in more pain.


    ¡°You¡¯re still hesitating,¡± Elektra said, her voice sharp as a whip.


    The boy, Warren, she¡¯d called him, stared down at the scalpel in his hand like it was some foreign object, something he didn¡¯t understand. His fingers trembled, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle, but he didn¡¯t move. He just stood there, frozen, caught between fear and revulsion.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± Warren stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The boy was so lost in this room of chaos, yet Elektra seemed unfettered by it. All it took was a greater push and more torment for Warren to be at the bitch¡¯s mercy, reluctantly listening to her every command like a dog.


    ¡°Listen carefully,¡± Elektra instructed, her voice a low, dangerous purr. ¡°You¡¯re going to make an incision. Right here.¡± She moved to stand beside him, pointing to a spot just below my collarbone. ¡°Press the blade down until you feel resistance, and then drag it slowly. Do you understand?¡±


    I clenched my teeth, bracing myself for what was to come. But nothing could have prepared me for the pain that followed.


    Warren took a deep breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he whispered a soft, ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± And then the scalpel bit into my flesh. I was not sure who he was apologizing to. Was it to himself or me?


    It was like fire, like someone had shoved a hot poker straight into my chest. My body jerked in the chair, a scream ripping from my throat before I could stop it. The pain was overwhelming, a tidal wave that crashed over me, drowning out everything else. I wanted to black out, to escape into the darkness, but Elektra wouldn¡¯t let me. She was there, her voice a constant presence, instructing Warren on where to cut, how deep to go, how to maximize the pain without letting me die.


    And Warren- poor, wretched Warren, followed her orders, his movements jerky and hesitant, but precise enough to do actual damage. With every slice, every cut, my screams filled the room, echoing off the walls like a chorus of the damned. It was unbearable, the agony coursing through me like lava, burning away any semblance of sanity I had left.


    I tried to curse, but my voice was hoarse from screaming. I wanted to hurt Elektra, to make her feel even a fraction of the pain she was inflicting on me. But she just smiled, a twisted grin that made my blood run cold.


    I could see a sadistic gleam from her smile as she watched from behind as her brother continued to bring that piece of cutlery further down my body. Warren¡¯s hand trembled as he made another cut, this one shallow, but no less painful. The boy was a mess, his face pale and slick with sweat, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He was clearly struggling, his mind fighting against what his body was doing, but Elektra¡¯s presence was too overwhelming. She exerted a pressure of absoluteness, a whirlwind of cruelty and malice, and Warren found himself caught in the eye of the storm.


    I could see it in his eyes¡ªthe way they darted between me and Elektra, the guilt and fear warring within him. He didn¡¯t want to be here, didn¡¯t want to be doing this. But he had no choice. He was as much a victim as I was, caught in Elektra¡¯s web with no hope of escape.


    And then, finally, it became too much for him.


    Warren dropped the scalpel, stumbled back from the chair, and twisted his face in horror as if he had been burnt. He looked at his hands, covered in my blood, and then at me¡ªreally looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes were wide, haunted, and filled with a deep, gut-wrenching guilt.


    ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to,¡± he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of my ragged breathing. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    He turned away, doubling over as he vomited onto the cold stone floor. The sound was harsh, retching, and it filled the room with the sour stench of bile. I could only watch, my body too broken to move, as he collapsed to his knees, his entire frame shaking with the force of his sobs.


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    Elektra, clearly entertained enough, turned on her heel, disgust and boredom etched into every line of her face. The thrill of tormenting us had worn off, leaving only irritation behind. Without another word, she stalked toward the door, her boots clicking sharply against the stone.


    ¡°Clean this up,¡± she ordered, her voice cold and detached. ¡°I don¡¯t want to see a single drop of blood left when I return.¡±


    And then she was gone, the heavy door slamming shut behind her, leaving me alone with Warren and the aftermath of our shared suffering.


    For a long moment, neither of us moved. The sound of Warren¡¯s ragged breathing filled the room, along with the soft drip of blood pooling on the floor. I couldn¡¯t speak, too exhausted to do anything but breathe and stare up at the ceiling, my vision swimming in and out of focus.


    But then, slowly, I turned my head, my gaze falling on Warren as he sat slumped against the wall, his face buried in his hands. He appeared as a wreck-a broken, terrified shell of a boy who had been pushed too far, too fast.


    ¡°Kid,¡± I rasped, my voice raw and barely above a whisper. It hurt to speak, every word scraping against my throat like sandpaper. But I pushed through it, needing to reach out to him, to connect with the only other person in this hellhole who might understand even a fraction of what I was going through.


    ¡°Kid,¡± my voice hoarse but steady this time, ¡°it¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    Warren didn¡¯t respond at first. He stayed curled up on the floor, his body trembling, his breathing uneven. I could see the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs wracking his thin frame. It was like looking into a mirror from years ago, seeing my reflection in the raw vulnerability that he tried so hard to hide.


    ¡°Warren,¡± I said, my tone softer now, more tender. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    He finally lifted his head, his tear-streaked face a picture of despair. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks flushed with shame. Despite his tall stature, he looked like a child caught in the middle of a nightmare, unsure of how to wake up.


    ¡°I¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to,¡± he whispered again, his voice cracking. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt you, I swear.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I replied, forcing a small, painful smile. ¡°I know you didn¡¯t.¡±


    He shook his head, his expression twisted with self-loathing. ¡°But I did. I hurt you. I followed her orders, and I¡ª¡± His voice broke, and he buried his face in his hands again. ¡°I¡¯m a monster.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said firmly, summoning whatever strength I had left to keep my voice steady. ¡°You¡¯re not a monster, Warren. You¡¯re just a guy who got caught up in someone else¡¯s sick game¡±


    He looked at me through his fingers, doubt and guilt etched into every line of his face. His hands trembled as he spoke. ¡°But I- I did what she said. I hurt you. How can you say I¡¯m not a monster after that?¡±


    I took a deep breath, fighting through the pain that flared with every inhalation. ¡°Because I¡¯ve seen real monsters. I¡¯ve been on the receiving end of their cruelty more times than I can count. And trust me, you¡¯re not one of them. You¡¯re scared and you¡¯re trying to survive. That doesn¡¯t make you a monster. It just makes you human.¡±


    Warren blinked at me, his expression wavering between disbelief and hope. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wanted to believe me, but couldn¡¯t quite let go of the guilt that was eating him alive.


    Finally, he admitted, ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do,¡± his voice so small that it almost lost itself the room¡¯s oppressive silence. ¡°I¡¯m not like her. I¡¯m not like any of my family.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be,¡± I said, wincing as another wave of pain washed over me. ¡°You have a choice, Warren. We all do. You don¡¯t have to let her turn you into something you¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°But what if I¡¯m too weak to fight her?¡± His voice trembled with fear, the same fear that had been gripping him since he entered the room. ¡°What if I can¡¯t stand up to her?¡±


    I wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of physical comfort, but I was too weak, the iron chairs restraints too strong. ¡°It¡¯s not about strength,¡± I told him. ¡°You have to fight back, you might get hurt, you might die. But you¡¯ll at least be able to say you tried¡±


    Warren stared at me, his eyes wide and filled with a desperate kind of hope. For a moment, I thought he might break down again, that the weight of everything was too much for him. But then, slowly, he nodded, a small, shaky movement that spoke of a decision made, a line drawn in the sand.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± he whispered, his voice still trembling but with a hint of resolve. ¡°I¡¯ll try not to be like her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all you can do,¡± I said, offering him what little encouragement I could. ¡°Just try.¡±


    For a long moment, the room was silent. The only sound was the soft dripping of blood and the ragged breaths we both took. Warren stayed where he was, slumped against the wall, his eyes locked on the floor. But I could see the wheels turning in his head, the thoughts and emotions warring within him as he processed everything that had happened.


    Finally, he seemed to have come to some kind of decision. He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as he stood. He looked at me, his face pale and drawn, but there was a new determination in his eyes, a steely resolve that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    He looked back at me, his eyes lit with a dim fire. ¡°Your name was Sabir, right?¡±


    ¡°Sabir Quinn.¡± I replied softly.


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened upon hearing my full name, as if he had unraveled a mystery long buried in darkness. His expression shifted from fear to something deeper- an unsettling blend of recognition and disbelief. It was as though the pieces of a puzzle had suddenly clicked into place, revealing a picture he hadn¡¯t expected to see. He stared at me with an intensity that made the air between us feel thick, charged with unspoken questions and the weight of new realizations. I could see the gears turning in his mind, the slow but inevitable understanding of who I was and, perhaps, why his family was so obsessed with Mia.


    His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and then, as if coming to a decision, he offered a small, tentative smile, the first I¡¯d seen from him without a trace of fear. ¡°My name is Warren Voltaire,¡± he said, the name carrying a weight that tied him to the very bloodline that had caused me so much suffering.


    The brief connection between us broke as quickly as it had formed. Warren¡¯s smile faded, replaced by a look of resigned determination. ¡°I need to clean this up,¡± he continued, his voice steady but tinged with a hollow emptiness, as though he was trying to detach himself from the horror of what had just happened. ¡°Elektra¡­she¡¯ll be back soon, and I can¡¯t give her another reason to punish me.¡±


    I nodded, understanding the unspoken fear in his words. Elektra wasn¡¯t someone you crossed lightly. She was the kind of person who took pleasure in reminding others of their place, in breaking them down until there was nothing left. Warren had already been through enough for one night, and I didn¡¯t want to see him suffer any more than he already had.


    ¡°Do what you need to do,¡± I said, my voice rough and barely audible.


    He didn¡¯t respond, just gave me a quick, almost imperceptible nod before he turned away, moving toward the blood-stained floor. I watched as he began to scrub, his movements mechanical, detached, as if he was trying to scrub away not just the blood, but the memories of what he¡¯d just done.


    I wanted to say more, to offer some kind of comfort, but I was too exhausted. The pain, the numbness, the sheer weight of everything that had happened, it was all too much. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges, and I knew I was close to passing out.


    As I lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder what would happen to Warren. Would he survive this? Would he be able to hold on to that flicker of humanity, that small spark of hope I¡¯d seen in his eyes? Or would Elektra crush him, molding him into her puppet?


    I didn¡¯t know. But I hoped and prayed that he would find a way to rise above the darkness, to break free from the chains she¡¯d wrapped around his soul. Because if he could, then maybe-just maybe, there was hope for the rest of us.


    But as I finally succumbed to the darkness, one thought lingered in my mind, a final, desperate wish for the boy who had been thrust into a nightmare not of his making to survive. And with that, I slipped into unconsciousness, the pain and the fear finally giving way to the merciful oblivion of sleep.

 Chapter 39 - Move on

    The coldness of the prison bit into Max and Samantha¡¯s backs as they sat forlorn against the wall. The air was thick with the stench of despair and echoes of the distant cries of other prisoners. It seemed Max and Sam weren¡¯t the only ones caught and imprisoned. Samantha sat on the edge of the cot, her mind full of worry for herself and her friends. The thought of her disappointed father weighed heavily on her, yet Sabir¡¯s mangled body with his brave face was heavier.


    Beside her, Max paced in circles within the small cell. With every step, Samantha could hear his angry mutters and the rage that simmered beneath his skin. ¡°Damn them,¡± his fist clenching and unclenching, his knuckles turning white but quickly returning to its regular shade each time. ¡°Damn every one of those bastards!¡±


    Max¡¯s fury began when Sabir left. The futility of their situation was overwhelming and all Max could do was lash out at his invisible captors. Samantha could not even let out a single word of solace. Her own mind was a whirlwind that threatened to consume her. Since they were thrown into this forsaken place, she had barely slept a wink, and Sabir¡¯s twisted face, filled with pain and pleading for help, haunted her every time she closed her eyes. But there was nothing she could do. Nothing any of them could do. The Voltaires had sunk their claws into Sabir and their own futures were bleak.


    Amid Max¡¯s continuous ranting, a loud creak echoed through the corridor as the heavy iron door at the end of the hall swung open. Samantha and Max both turned their heads towards the footsteps that became louder and louder with each moment. Their bodies became tense as a figure came to view. Could Noah have returned and not fulfilled Sabir¡¯s request?


    To Max and Samantha¡¯s shock, it was not Noah nor any person affiliated with the Voltaires, but a man they had encountered before. Cassius. Even through the shadows that shrouded The Hound¡¯s face, Max could see he had changed since they last saw him. He seemed older, wearier, as if the weight of the world had finally taken its toll. His eyes, once sharp and filled with a silent confidence, now carried a dull sadness, a resignation that made Samantha¡¯s heart ache.


    ¡°Sabir¡¯s not here, huh? So that stuck up prick was telling the truth. He took Sabir with him to Sector 5.¡± Cassius said softly, as he took a deep breath. He ran through his long black hair, but eventually began pinching at the roots. ¡°At least in exchange you guys are free of any crime.¡± Cassius slowly nodded to himself in bitter resignation.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Max¡¯s voice was low, dangerous. He took a step forward, fists still clenched. ¡°Come to gloat? Or maybe to lie to our faces again?¡±


    Cassius flinched at the accusation. His eyes dropped to the cold floor, but he held his ground. ¡°I owe you guys an apology,¡± he said, his gaze meeting with Max¡¯s enraged countenance. ¡°I never wanted things to turn out this way. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Max¡¯s voice rose, fury seeping into every word. ¡°You think an apology will make this right? You think saying ¡®sorry¡¯ will bring Sabir back?¡± Max charged the iron bars that were keeping him locked up, as his hands gripped the bars tightly, he brought his face closer between the gaps, so he could see the face of a murderer more closely. He wanted to see the lack of guilt. He wanted to see him smirk and laugh. He wanted him to be the villain Max needed to feel sane.


    Samantha finally lifted her head, her eyes locking on Cassius. ¡°You let them take him,¡± she said, her voice cold. ¡°You killed the one person he cared about.¡± Max nodded in agreement, although neither Sam nor Max knew Mrs Norris, it didn¡¯t matter, she meant so much to their friend, that killing that old lady was akin to killing someone they were close to.


    Cassius sighed heavily, the weight of his failure clear in his slumped shoulders. ¡°I know I did,¡± he admitted. ¡°I made too many mistakes. I was scared- scared that the truth would hurt Sabir. So I hid it. I know now that it was wrong of me. But there¡¯s something you need to know, but understand this: I¡¯m not saying this to seek forgiveness. I just wish to tell the truth.¡±


    Max narrowed his eyes, suspicion etched across his features. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s more to that old lady¡¯s death than you realize,¡± Cassius began, his voice heavy with the burden of the truth. ¡°Yes, I killed her, but it wasn¡¯t murder. It was mercy.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s heart skipped a beat. ¡°Mercy? How could someone consider killing an innocent woman as mercy?¡±


    Cassius met her gaze, his eyes filled with sorrow. ¡°She was dying. She had contracted Lurmia.¡±


    An icy chill ran down Samantha¡¯s spine. She had heard of Lurmia, a horrifying disease caused by tiny, worm-like parasites that devoured their victims from the inside out, leaving nothing behind but their empty clothes. It was a slow, agonizing death, one that no one deserved.


    ¡°The old lady begged me to end her suffering,¡± Cassius continued, his voice firm but solemn. ¡°She knew she had little time left, and she didn¡¯t want Sabir to see her like that. She asked me to put her out of her misery.¡±


    Samantha felt a lump forming in her throat, her anger wavering as she absorbed the weight of his words. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell him?¡± she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Cassius shook his head, his expression one of deep regret. ¡°I thought I was protecting him,¡± he said. ¡°I thought if I kept the truth from him, he could move on without the weight of that knowledge. But I was wrong. I underestimated the consequences of my actions.¡±


    Max let out a bitter laugh, his hands balling into fists once more. ¡°So, you¡¯re saying you were trying to protect him? By lying to him? By keeping him in the dark while the Voltaires closed in?¡±


    Cassius nodded slowly, the guilt clear in his eyes. ¡°I thought I could shield him from the truth, that I could keep him safe by keeping him ignorant. But in the end, all I did was make things worse.¡±


    Samantha clenched her fists, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. ¡°You think your regret makes a difference now? Sabir is in their hands, and you¡¯re here, telling us to move on like it¡¯s that simple?¡±


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    Cassius¡¯ face twisted with pain. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do,¡± he said, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°The Voltaires have him, and their territory is impenetrable. They¡¯ll do what they want with him, and there¡¯s no power in this world that can stop them.¡±


    Max took a step forward, his voice rising with fury. ¡°So, you¡¯re giving up? After everything you¡¯ve done, after all the lies and secrets, you¡¯re just going to leave him to die?¡±


    Cassius clenched his fist. His whole body trembled as he spoke. ¡°If I could trade places with him, I would. But I can¡¯t. All I can do now is make sure you two survive. The Voltaires don¡¯t care about you, they only wanted Sabir. For reasons that still elude me. You¡¯ll be released soon. I suggest you take the opportunity and think about the future, before it¡¯s too late. You guys are going to receive your diplomas soon, work and earn a good living. Forget about everything that happened. It¡¯s what Sabir would have wanted.¡±


    Seeing the broken man in front of her, Samantha¡¯s rage waned. It felt like they were directing their anger at the wrong person. But her determination was still a blazing inferno. ¡°I can¡¯t just abandon him,¡± she said, her voice shaking with emotion. ¡°Sabir wouldn¡¯t give up on us.¡±


    Cassius took a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. ¡°I know it¡¯s difficult to accept, but sometimes, survival means knowing when to let go. Sabir¡­ he¡¯s as good as dead. The best thing you can do now is to keep yourselves alive. Honor his memory by living.¡±


    Max¡¯s face twisted in disgust. ¡°You think that¡¯s what he would want? For us to just forget about him? To move on like he never existed?¡± Tears welled in Max¡¯s eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t know him like we do. He¡¯ll survive. He wouldn¡¯t let some damn nobles kill him.¡±


    Cassius shook his head, his expression pained. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Max. I¡¯m not asking you to forget him. But you have to be realistic. The Voltaires are too powerful. If you go after them, you¡¯ll be throwing your lives away for nothing.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s chest tightened as she fought back tears. She wanted to scream, to curse Cassius for his cowardice. But deep down, a small part of her knew he was right. The Voltaires were untouchable, their power unmatched. What could she and Max possibly do against them?


    Cassius took a step back, his voice softening as he spoke his last words. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, his eyes filled with regret. ¡°I wish things could have been different.¡±


    He turned and walked away, leaving Samantha and Max alone in the cell. The door clanged shut behind him; the sound echoing through the empty corridor like the closing of a tomb.


    As the echo of the clanging door faded into the oppressive silence of the cell, Samantha felt a profound emptiness settle in the pit of her stomach. The weight of Cassius¡¯s words bore down on her, pulling her into a dark abyss where hope struggled to survive. For a long moment, she stood motionless, her body numb, her mind racing through a thousand impossible scenarios that all ended the same way, Sabir, lost to them forever.


    Max¡¯s breathing was heavy beside her, each breath labored as if he were struggling to keep a grip on reality. The fire that had burned so brightly in his eyes mere moments ago was now flickering, threatening to go out entirely. He looked at Samantha, his gaze softening as he saw the defeat written across her face.


    ¡°Sam,¡± he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his own sorrow and the words he was about to say.


    Samantha turned to face him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She didn¡¯t have the strength to speak, to voice the thoughts swirling in her head. She had no words for the crushing despair that was slowly consuming her, wrapping around her heart like a snake.


    Max took a tentative step closer, reaching out his hand to gently touch her arm. ¡°We tried,¡± he said, his voice trembling. ¡°We did everything we could¡­ but maybe¡­ maybe it¡¯s time to let go.¡±


    The words struck her like a blow, and she recoiled as if he had physically hit her. ¡°Let go?¡± she echoed, her voice filled with disbelief. ¡°How can we do that to him? Sabir is out there, suffering, and we¡¯re supposed to just¡­ move on?¡±


    Max¡¯s face contorted with pain, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. ¡°What else can we do, Sam?¡± His voice was thick with regret. ¡°We¡¯re trapped in here, and even if we weren¡¯t, the Voltaires¡­ they¡¯re beyond our reach. We¡¯re powerless against them.¡±


    Samantha¡¯s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she fought the urge to scream. She wanted to fight, to rage against the injustice of it all. But as she looked into Max¡¯s eyes, she saw the same hopelessness reflected at her, and it drained the last of her defiance. The reality of their situation was undeniable. They were just two ordinary people caught in a storm far bigger than themselves, and no amount of determination could change that.


    She sank down onto the cold, hard bench, burying her face in her hands. ¡°It¡¯s not fair,¡± she whispered, her voice muffled by her palms. ¡°It¡¯s not fair that we¡¯re forced to give up on him. He¡¯s just a kid, Max. He doesn¡¯t deserve this.¡±


    Max knelt down in front of her, his hand resting gently on her knee. ¡°I know, Sam. I know it¡¯s not fair. We did everything we could to help him. We can¡¯t blame ourselves.¡±


    Samantha lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen from holding back tears. ¡°So what do we do now?¡± she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Do we just go back home, like nothing ever happened?¡±


    Max¡¯s expression softened, and he swallowed hard, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. ¡°We take it one day at a time,¡± he said, his voice steady. ¡°We keep going, to live our lives as best we can. Sabir¡­ he wouldn¡¯t want us to waste away, trapped in grief. He¡¯d want us to survive, to remember him¡­ but also to keep living.¡±


    His words, though comforting, felt hollow to Samantha. But as she gazed into his eyes, she knew he was right. Sabir wouldn¡¯t want them to destroy themselves over his loss. He¡¯d want them to fight for whatever scraps of happiness they could find, even if it meant letting go of the hope that had kept them going for so long.


    Max took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. ¡°We¡¯ll get through this, Sam. Together. We¡¯ll find a way.¡±


    Tears welled up in Samantha¡¯s eyes, and she didn¡¯t fight them this time. She let them fall, each drop a silent acknowledgment of their shared pain, their shared loss. Max wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace as the tears continued to flow. They clung to each other in the dim light of the cell, their sobs echoing off the walls, a sorrowful melody of powerlessness and resignation.


    As the minutes passed, the intensity of their grief ebbed away, leaving behind a hollow ache in its place. They pulled apart slightly, their eyes meeting in a moment of silent understanding. It wasn¡¯t over. Not yet. A single embrace could not erase the pain, it would linger, becoming a scar of what they had lost. A constant reminder. But they would live with it.


    They had to.


    Samantha wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, her movements slow and deliberate. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said, her voice still trembling. ¡°We have to keep going. We owe it to Sabir¡­ and to ourselves.¡±


    Max nodded, his own tears drying on his cheeks. ¡°We¡¯ll get through this,¡± he repeated, more for himself than for her. ¡°We have to.¡±


    They sat together closely, their bodies intertwined. The decision they had made was a dark cloud. Uncertainty and darkness were all they could envision for their future, yet amidst their shared warmth, they felt a fragile acceptance growing within. Hope was all they could cling on to now. Together, they would find happiness.


    The cell door once again creaked open, and a guard stepped in, looking impatient, which caused Max and Sam to jump away from each other in a panic. ¡°Time to go,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°You¡¯re being released.¡±

 Chapter 40 - Seed

    Samantha and Max exchanged a brief, tired glance before they rose to their feet, their movements heavy with exhaustion.


    ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s time,¡± whispered Max.


    Their limbs felt stuck to the stone floor, each step requiring great effort. They had been through hell, and it showed in the slump of their shoulders, the weariness etched into the lines of their faces. Countless battles had left their bodies scarred, but it was the unseen wounds that burdened them the most.


    The guard¡¯s words, ¡°released,¡± echoed in Samantha¡¯s mind as they left the cell. Darkness consumed their reality, making the word¡¯s bittersweet taste stand out in her mind. Freedom, yes, but at what cost? The world outside the prison walls was no less dangerous, no less daunting. In fact, it was a world that had only grown more perilous during their captivity. However, together they had resolved to confront it side by side.


    The guard followed closely behind them, his presence a constant reminder that their freedom was still conditional, still shadowed by the harsh reality they were leaving behind. The cold, calculated look in his eyes revealed he was not simply escorting them to safety, but was there to ensure that they did not step out of line. His boots clapped against the stone floor in a steady rhythm, a sound that echoed through the narrow corridor, underscoring the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog. Each step seemed to amplify the sense of dread that had settled in Samantha¡¯s chest, a gnawing fear that the worst was yet to come.


    As they walked down the long corridor, their footsteps heavy against the stone, Samantha inhaled deeply, attempting to steady the storm of emotions churning inside her. The scent of damp stone and something metallic filled the air, perhaps blood or the lingering remnants of fear embedded in the prison walls. Sabir¡¯s face filled her mind- his hopeful smile, his determined eyes and she exhaled slowly, attempting to stay in the moment. The memory of Sabir was a blessing and a curse; it gave her strength but also tore at her heart with a grief so profound it threatened to consume her. They couldn¡¯t escape the guard¡¯s overbearing shadow, which weighed on them relentlessly.


    Max reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. His touch was warm, helping ground her in that moment. ¡°We¡¯ll find a way,¡± he murmured, more a promise than a statement. His voice, though soft, carried an undertone of resolve that reassured Samantha. ¡°We¡¯ll keep going.¡±


    Samantha nodded, her heart heavy but resolute. There was no room for doubt, no space for hesitation. They had no other choice. The guard¡¯s proximity reminded them of the thin line between their current freedom and the captivity they had just escaped, a line they would need to tread carefully. They were free, but not free. The chains that had bound them were gone, but new ones, invisible yet just as restrictive, had taken their place.


    Moving forward, they were closely followed by the guard. The darkness of the cell was behind them, but the weight of their past and their losses remained heavy. Every step reminded them how vulnerable they were. Their so-called freedom felt fragile, ready to collapse at any moment.


    Samantha and Max continued down the corridor, the dim light casting long shadows on the stone walls. Amidst the oppressive atmosphere, the flickering torches that lined the corridor seemed to sputter and hiss, as if they were also struggling. The weight of their situation pressed heavily on them, and even though they were technically free, it didn¡¯t feel like a victory. Samantha¡¯s mind raced with thoughts of Sabir, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawed at her resolve. She felt as though she were teetering on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move away from falling into a void with no way back.


    As they approached the end of the corridor, the light from the outside world grew brighter, almost blinding after the darkness of their cell. The light was harsh, unrelenting, forcing them to squint as they approached. It was as if the outside world itself was a glaring reminder of the harsh reality they were about to face. But just as they were about to step into the light, a figure appeared out of nowhere, blocking their path.


    Samantha gasped in surprise as Jai suddenly materialized in front of them. His sudden presence shocked them both. He wore a sharply tailored suit, which stood out against the drab surroundings of the prison.


    Jai¡¯s facial hair had grown longer since they had last met. Fuzzy hair lined his cheeks that glistened with sweat from the summer heat. His eyes flicked between them with a cold, calculating look.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get moving,¡± Jai said, his voice calm but authoritative, as he grabbed them both by the arms, his grip firm. His touch was careless, a mechanical motion that unconcealed his thieving nature.


    Before they could react, the guard, who had been trailing behind them, stepped forward. ¡°Relax,¡± the guard said, but this time the voice was softer, distinctly feminine. It was Nia. She dropped her disguise, her appearance morphing from an ugly guard, as she shifted back to her usual self, a beautiful woman with a curvaceous figure. The transformation was surreal, as if they had stepped from one reality into another. Watching her hair grow and turn into a colorful violet was the least shocking, but the uncanny transformation from a burly male build to that of a woman was unsettling.


    Samantha and Max exchanged a glance, their confusion only deepening. What was happening? Why were the Triads here? Jai didn¡¯t offer any explanations as he led them out of the prison, the harsh light of the outside world blinding them momentarily. The brightness seared their eyes, forcing them to look away, and they became disoriented in the blinding whiteness for a moment. Once their eyes adjusted, they realized they weren¡¯t at the prison entrance, but in a nearby alleyway. The transition was jarring, the sudden shift from the sterile environment of the prison to the grimy, chaotic world outside.


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    Above, the narrow walls allowed only a sliver of the sky to be seen. The alley was a world unto itself, a place forgotten by time, where the light of day barely reached. The air was thick with the smell of damp concrete and rotting garbage, a stench that clung to their clothes and invaded their senses. It was a far cry from the pristine corridors of the prison, a reminder that the world outside was not a place of safety, but a battleground where survival was anything but guaranteed.


    Sitting casually on a stack of wooden crates, seemingly unfazed by their sudden appearance, was Cinder. She looked up as they approached, her fiery red hair catching the dim light from above. The vibrant color of her hair was a stark contrast to the drab surroundings, a flame in the darkness that refused to be extinguished. She raised an eyebrow as she noticed them, her gaze sharp and assessing. ¡°Where¡¯s the other guy?¡± she asked, her voice tinged with mild annoyance. There was a hint of impatience in her tone, as though she were waiting for an explanation that she was certain would be unsatisfactory.


    Nia, now fully back in her usual form, shook her head. ¡°They were the only ones in the cell,¡± she replied, her tone matter-of-fact. There was no hint of concern or surprise in her voice, only a cool detachment that suggested she had seen this kind of thing far too many times before.


    Max, still reeling from the suddenness of everything, found his voice. ¡°We didn¡¯t need your help. We were gonna leave regardless. And the other guy, Sabir. He¡¯s dead,¡± he said flatly, his words heavy with despair. The weight of those words hung in the air between them, a grim declaration of the finality of their situation.


    Cinder¡¯s expression darkened. She swung her legs off the crate and stood up, her eyes narrowing. There was a tension in the way she moved, a barely restrained fury that simmered just beneath the surface. ¡°Dead? What happened?¡± she demanded, her voice sharper now, cutting through the silence like a knife.


    Samantha swallowed hard, the words catching in her throat. The reality of what had happened was still too fresh, too raw to fully process. ¡°The Voltaires took him,¡± she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°We don¡¯t know why.¡± The name ¡°Voltaires¡± felt like a curse on her tongue, a name that carried with it a weight of fear and loathing that was impossible to ignore.


    Cinder¡¯s fists clenched, and small flames flickered around her fingers. The flames were a physical manifestation of the rage that burned within her, a rage that posed a danger of engulfing her completely.


    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s the fucking nobles,¡± she spat, her voice laced with venom. The mention of the Voltaires seemed to ignite something in her, a deep-seated anger that was barely contained. The flames danced along her fingertips, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the alley. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but the fire in her eyes didn¡¯t dim. If anything, it burned brighter, fueled by the injustice that had been done.


    ¡°He¡¯s as good as dead, then,¡± Cinder said, her voice cold. The certainty of her words hit Max and Samantha like a punch to the gut. They felt the last bit of hope drain from them, leaving only a hollow emptiness in its place. The finality of her statement was like a death sentence, sealing Sabir¡¯s fate in a way that was impossible to ignore.


    The alley fell silent, the reality of their situation settling in like a heavy fog. Samantha could see the same despair mirrored in Max¡¯s eyes, a reflection of the hopelessness they both felt. They were powerless against the Voltaires, a family so entrenched in power that challenging them was akin to signing their own death warrant. The realization was like a lead weight in her stomach, dragging her down into a pit of despair that seemed impossible to climb out of.


    Cinder looked at them both, her gaze softening slightly as she saw the defeat written all over their faces. There was a moment of hesitation, a brief flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes. She let out a sigh, recognizing the hopelessness that clung to them like a shroud. ¡°Look, there¡¯s nothing more we can do here. My debt can¡¯t be cleared,¡± she said, turning to Jai and Nia. Her voice carried a sense of resignation, but an undercurrent of frustration showed that she was far from satisfied with the outcome. ¡°We¡¯re leaving.¡±


    Jai nodded and stepped back, ready to follow Cinder¡¯s lead, while Nia remained silent, her expression unreadable. The two of them moved with the ease of people who were used to following orders, who had long since stopped questioning the morality of their actions. For them, this was just another job, another day in a world that had long ago lost its sense of right and wrong.


    Amid leaving the alley, Cinder paused. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small card. The card was plain, unassuming, but there was a weight to it that suggested it was anything but ordinary. Without looking back, she tossed it to Max. He caught it instinctively, looking down at the card in his hand. It was simple, with only a number printed on it. There were no markings, no name, just a single string of digits that seemed to hold the promise of something dangerous.


    ¡°If you want to get back at the nobles,¡± Cinder said, her voice carrying a hint of something dangerous, ¡°give me a call. You can get paid while doing it.¡± There was a challenge in her words, a dare that was impossible to ignore. The offer was tempting, seductive even, but it came with the unspoken understanding that it would lead them down a path from which there would be no return.


    With that, she turned and walked away; her figure disappearing into the shadows of the alley. Jai and Nia followed closely behind, their footsteps echoing off the walls as they vanished. The alley felt even colder now; the wind biting at their skin as they stood there in stunned silence.


    Max looked at the card, turning it over in his hand. It was the only thing they had left, a slim thread of potential revenge. But was it enough? Could they really take on the Voltaires? The question floated in the space between them, heavy and unanswered. The card was both a lifeline and a curse, a promise of retribution that could easily destroy them if they weren¡¯t careful.


    Samantha finally broke the silence, her voice quiet but determined. ¡°What do we do now?The question, loaded with uncertainty, reflected the countless possibilities that stretched out before them, each one more perilous than the last.


    Max sighed, his grip tightening on the card. The paper crumpled slightly under the pressure of his fingers, a physical manifestation of the tension that had taken hold of him. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a vice. The future was a vast, uncharted territory, filled with dangers they couldn¡¯t even imagine. ¡°But whatever we do, we can¡¯t let them get away with this.¡±


    Samantha nodded, her resolve hardening. She knew they were stepping into something dangerous, something that could very well destroy them. But she also knew that doing nothing wasn¡¯t an option. The pain of losing Sabir, the injustice of it all, was too much to bear. They couldn¡¯t just walk away.


    Together, they turned and left the alley, the card a seed of vengeance tucked away in Max¡¯s pocket, waiting for the right time to take root and grow. As they walked into the night, the shadows seemed to close in around them, but they were no longer afraid.

 Chapter 41 - A Wager

    The morning sun penetrated across the training ground, christening the spacious area in golden light. The bustling of Sector 5 had simmered in the late afternoon, which left only a distant hum that was smothered by the thick stone walls that surrounded the Voltaire¡¯s estate. Within the training ground, Warren stood face to face with his sister, their bodies both tense and in fighting position. Singed marks and cracks in the shape of fists and feet branded the ground they stood on. A battlefield that Warren endured for his entire life.


    As early as Warren could remember, sparring was a daily occurrence with his sister, each and every time he would be knocked down, hurt and tormented. Warren had never enjoyed these sessions whenever they took place. For him, they were less about honing his skills and more about enduring his sister¡¯s cruelty. Survival was his only dream.


    Although Warren and Elektra were the same age at 17, Elektra had been born only a few months earlier. Those few months were just another card to flaunt her strength over him. However, when it came to sparring, the gulf in strength between the two siblings was not simply about age or experience. No. Warren knew as soon as he hit the floor against Elektra at the age of three.


    She was simply stronger. She was better.


    Elektra would use her deadly fighting grace, only fueled by her deep-seated contempt for Warren, to leave him bloodied and bruised. No one cared what happened to him. Why would they? In the Voltaire family, the only thing that matters is strength. For Warren that meant being his sister¡¯s punching bag.


    But today, something was different. Warren¡¯s purpose today was more than just survival; He took a deep breath as he steadied himself against Elektra¡¯s overwhelming presence. He knew he was taller than Elektra, yet she seemed colossal in his view. Amid his fear, the words of the captor down in the cellar, the boy named Sabir, rang in Warren¡¯s mind. ¡°Just try.¡±


    When was the last time Warren had ever stood up to his sister? Warren knew deep down he had never even said a word back to Elektra. He just rolled over like a puppy and let her stomp on him. It felt as if it was only natural. He was the prey, and she was the predator. Today, he was going to change. A life was on the line. Warren needed to save him.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes gleamed with a cold, predatory light as she watched her brother, who trembled at her mere presence. It was a satisfactory response, considering her greatness, reveling in her brother¡¯s fear. She analyzed him checking for any slight twitch of Warren¡¯s muscles, calculating any weakness he may have. The fight hadn¡¯t even begun, and yet she was confident of her victory.


    ¡°Ready, half-breed?¡± she taunted, the words dripping with disdain.


    Warren didn¡¯t rise to the bait. Instead, he focused on his breathing, his heartbeat pounded against his chest like a storm. He knew better than to waste energy on her insults. Over the years, he¡¯d learned even reacting to her provocations only made things worse. But today, Warren was determined to get his first win, a determination that he never had his entire life.


    Mistaking his silence for fear, Elektra smirked as she decided she¡¯d make the first move today. Closing the distance between them, her body moved with incredible speed. Before Warren could even blink, she was already on top of him, delivering a rapid succession of precise strikes with her fists. Although he managed to block the initial attacks, her speed and strength proved too much for him to handle.


    Elektra struck a knee at Warren¡¯s stomach, forcing the air from his lungs, and before he could even recover, she grabbed him by the waist and lifted him off the ground. Warren scrambled to try to get free, but he could not release Elektra¡¯s tight grip on him.


    Warren experienced a moment of time slowing down as d¨¦j¨¤ vu hit him. He had been in this position many times before, but it didn¡¯t make the impact any less painful. Elektra flawlessly executed a suplex, sending Warren crashing onto the hard ground with bone-jarring force. Pain exploded through his body as he landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. He gasped for breath, his vision swimming.


    Elektra straightened and played a cruel smile on her lips as she looked down at her brother, who sprawled on the ground at her feet. ¡°The half-breed is trying hard today,¡± she remarked with mock admiration. ¡°It¡¯s almost cute.¡±


    Warren¡¯s entire body ached, but he forced himself to sit up, propping himself on his elbows. He breathed raggedly, his chest rising and plummeting. Despite the pain, he managed a weak smile. ¡°Let¡¯s make this spar interesting sis, let¡¯s add a wager,¡± he said, as his voice trembled.


    Elektra raised an eyebrow, intrigued. This was new. Warren, out of fear, would never speak. His fear of getting hurt meant that she would only communicate with him through fists. Yet here he was today, asking for a wager. ¡°A wager?¡± she repeated, her tone laced with curiosity. ¡°And what exactly do you want, little brother?¡±


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    Warren forced himself to push aside his fear. He had been thinking about this moment for days, ever since he had spoken to Sabir. He had replayed the exact words he needed to say, over and over to himself like it was a mantra. ¡°I want ownership of Sabir,¡± he said, his voice gaining strength. ¡°I know Noah placed you responsible for him. So let me have him.¡±


    The smile on Elektra¡¯s face faded, replaced by a look of mild annoyance. ¡°Sabir?¡± she echoed, her tone dismissive. ¡°I was ordered to kill him. He¡¯s not going to stick around, and honestly, he¡¯s only drawing breath for my entertainment.¡±


    Why did her brother have to bring up that annoyance? She still hadn¡¯t gotten over her bitter win against him in The Commons. Yes, she had won, but during that time, they traded blows. For the first time in her life, Elektra had felt fear from someone so inferior. She hated it to no end. There was no satisfaction in her victory, and her only consolation was that the boy was her prisoner.


    Warren¡¯s gaze hardened. He had expected as much, but hearing her say it out loud still sent a chill down his spine. Warren knew that if Elektra followed through on her orders, Sabir wouldn¡¯t survive.  He looked up at his sister, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. ¡°Cynthia Quinn,¡± he said, the name slipping from his lips like a weapon.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes widened in shock. The reaction he had been hoping for. Her usually cold and composed demeanor cracked, just for a moment. ¡°Why did you say that name?¡± she demanded, her voice edged with a rare hint of vulnerability.


    Warren didn¡¯t flinch. This was his chance, perhaps his only one, to get the answers he¡¯d been seeking for years. ¡°Where did she go all those years ago?¡± he asked, his voice steady. ¡°And why isn¡¯t Vincent around anymore?¡±


    Elektra¡¯s shock quickly turned to anger. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as if to dismiss his questions. ¡°You really think a useless half-breed like you gets to find out what happens in the real family?¡± she sneered. The moment of weakness was gone, replaced by the familiar contempt. ¡°Get back up so I can beat you down again.¡±


    Warren could see his words had rattled that Elektra. The curiosity of what had truly conspired was temporarily on hold, as Elektra charged towards him once again. Once again, they collided, ensueing a battle between seamless elegance and brute force. Warren fought with everything he had, his mind racing as he tried to expect her moves. Yet Elektra¡¯s strikes became more intense and rapid, but Warren forced himself to stay firm.


    Elektra¡¯s frustration grew as the fight dragged on. She was used to Warren folding quickly, used to him being nothing more than a punching bag. Yet, today, he exhibited a distinct shift in behavior. His strength, fueled by his unexplained resolve, caught her off guard. While exchanging blows, she taunted him with sharp and cutting words.


    ¡°You have a tall build, a strong body,¡± she said, her voice dripping with disdain. ¡°But you have no will, no ferocity. You¡¯re a disappointment, Warren.¡± Her words were like daggers, each one meant to wound, to break his spirit. ¡°You get your feebleness from your mother,¡± she added, her tone cruel.


    A seething anger bubbled within Warren at the mention of his mother. The heat and intensity surpassed anything he had felt before. His vision blurred with rage, and he felt something ignite within him, something raw and primal. His body crackled with energy, tiny sparks dancing across his skin. It was a power he had never controlled, a power that had always eluded him.


    But now, in his fury, it came to him naturally. He moved with a speed that took Elektra by surprise, closing the distance between them in an instant. His fist connected with her jaw with a force that sent her flying backward, crashing into the ground with a thud. The shock of the impact reverberated through the courtyard, the sound echoing off the stone walls.


    Elektra lay on the ground for a moment, stunned by the force of the blow. When she finally sat up, her eyes were wide with disbelief. She touched her jaw, feeling the heat from where his fist had connected, and then looked at Warren, who stood a few feet away, his body still sparking with energy.


    For a moment, there was silence between them, the only sound the crackling of the electricity that surrounded Warren. Elektra¡¯s surprise slowly morphed into something else¡ªa mixture of anger and grudging respect. She got to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate as she dusted herself off.


    ¡°Even with the dirty blood inside of you,¡± she said, her voice steady but with an edge of anger, ¡°the Voltaire blood runs deep.¡± There was a flicker of pride in her voice, though it was buried beneath layers of disdain.


    Warren didn¡¯t respond, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him. He could feel the power coursing through his veins, a wild, untamed force that was both exhilarating and terrifying. His entire life since he awakened all he could muster were a few lousy sparks. Although the electricity that coursed through him was inferior to that of the rest of his family, he had made some progress.


    But now, standing there with the remnants of that power crackling around him, he felt something he had never felt before: a sense of belonging, a connection to the Voltaire bloodline that ran through his veins. He was more than just a half-breed, his Esper powers proved it. A sense of bitterness came over Warren as he came to this realization.


    Elektra narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed by her momentary lapse in control. ¡°Let¡¯s change the rules,¡± she said, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°Let¡¯s not hold anything back.¡± As she spoke, her own power manifested, electricity crackling along her arms, her body radiating with an aura of energy.


    Tension filled the air as their powers crackled and hummed in the space that separated them. Warren¡¯s chest throbbed with a pounding heart, yet he remained resolute. This was what he had been waiting for, a chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just the sum of his bloodlines.


    He clenched his fists and charged.

 Chapter 42 - Fight Back

    The training ground felt more like a war-zone with the tension and anticipation that permeated in the air. Warren was the first to move; like a storm breaking, Elektra reacted just a split second later, launching at each other with explosive force, sparks meeting sparks in a cacophony of energy.


    Warren, with his newfound confidence, made each of his steps and strikes more deliberate- more precise. The electricity that shrouded his body like an armor was alive, fueling his every action, sharpening his senses to the tenth degree. He was stronger, faster, but most importantly, for the first time in his life, he was on the offensive.


    To Warren¡¯s dismay, it seemed like this wasn¡¯t enough. Elektra, for the first time since they both awakened, stopped holding back. Compared to him, Elektra truly was the incarnation of lighting. Each one of her signature kicks maintained the speed and power of a wrecking ball. Yet even with her power, when they met in the melee range, she seemed to dance around him like a ballerina.


    Dodging Warren¡¯s confident charge, Elektra swung a spinning roundhouse, her leg cutting through the air like a knife. Warren barely dodged her by ducking below, his back bending just enough to feel a rush of wind as her kick whizzed past his hair. The moment he straightened back up, Elektra twisted into another kick aimed towards his ribs.


    Warren reacted this time at the right moment, allowing himself to catch her leg with both his hands in a tight grip. Elektra, however, expected it, and her eyes glowed ominously. With a flick of her wrist, she shot out a blast of electricity.


    The electricity surged through Warren¡¯s body, an agonizing wave of pain overwhelmed him, his muscles seized up violently against the assault. Every nerve in his body felt ablaze, the searing energy crackling through his veins like a wildfire. He clenched his jaw and his teeth ground together as he tried as he tried to quell the onslaught within his body. His vision blurred as the electricity maintained its siege on his body, every consecutive breath becoming harder and harder to get out.


    It wasn¡¯t time for him to give up.


    No. Not this time.


    With a guttural roar, Warren forced his body to move, channeling all his willpower in one action. He dug his fingers into Elektra¡¯s pants, as he gripped her legs, his muscles screaming in protest. In one fluid motion, he twisted her limb with all the strength he could muster, attempting to throw her off balance. In that moment Warren had thought his wild move worked, but before he could even blink, Elektra tilted her body, her stance faltering as Warren forced her into a spin.


    Feeling the shift in momentum, Elektra immediately capitalized on it, with aplomb she allowed Warren¡¯s throw to carry her into a somersaulting flip in the air, her body arced beautifully through the air, twisting in a display of perfect balance and control.Warren could only watch in awe, his eyes wide as she landed lightly on her feet, unharmed, her expression one of mild annoyance, as she blew on her nails.


    Elektra was simply a genius.


    With a tremble beneath them, the ground reacted to the sheer force of their clash, causing shockwaves to reverberate across the wooden flooring. The air was thick with an acrid scent caused by the release of their Esper abilities. The fight was far from over, as Warren¡¯s hands, now sparking with residual energy, twitched as he prepared for Elektra¡¯s next move. He was already expecting another of Elektra¡¯s relentless attacks, his mind racing to keep up with her blinding speed.


    As if on cue, Elektra rushed towards him. Her leg snapped out in a vicious kick aimed directly at his head. Just barely evading her attack by ducking, Warren saw the scorched trail across the floor, caused by her kick, the raw energy burning the very ground beneath them.


    Warren¡¯s instincts kicked in. His fist crackled with power as he countered Elektra¡¯s attack with a swift jab to her stomach, hoping to shift the balance in his favor. Elektra moved so quickly that she effortlessly deflected his punch with precision. The force of her block sent a jolt up Warren¡¯s arm, the impact reverberating through his bones.


    Elektra struck before he could recover, slamming her foot into his stomach with a brutal sidekick. The impact felt like a sledgehammer against his torso, knocking the wind from Warren¡¯s lungs. He staggered back, gasping sharply as the world spun around him. His vision swam, the edges darkening as the pain radiated from his core, threatening to pull him under.


    But Warren couldn¡¯t afford to stop, couldn¡¯t let the pain win. Stricken with desperation, he compelled his legs to move, pushing forward relentlessly. A need to prove himself, to show that he could stand against someone as powerful as Elektra, fueled every step, every strike,. His fists clenched, his knuckles white as he prepared to launch another attack.


    However, Elektra showed no mercy. She moved with a lethal grace, her speed and technique far beyond anything Warren could match. She delivered a series of rapid kicks, each one capable of knocking out her brother with seamless and effortless movements. The air crackled with electricity as her attacks rained down on him, forcing Warren to stay on the move, his mind working frantically to keep ahead of her.


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    Then came the moment that would seal his fate. In the heat of battle, Warren thought he had seen it, an opening, the tiniest of gaps in Elektra¡¯s defense, a weakness he could exploit. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, pouring every ounce of his remaining strength into a powerful right hook aimed directly at her jaw.


    But it was a trap. Elektra had left the opening intentionally, baiting him into a mistake. She sidestepped his attack with a fluid ease that left Warren off-balance and overextended. Before he could even register what had happened, she was behind him, moving in for the kill like a seasoned predator.


    Her leg lashed out in a sweeping kick, the blow catching Warren squarely in the back. The immense force propelled him forward, causing a shockwave of pain. His body crashed to the ground, skidding across the wooden floor, the rough surface scraping against his skin as he tumbled to a stop.


    Warren lay there, his breath ragged, his body battered and broken. The realization of his defeat settled over him like a heavy shroud, the cold stone wall he leaned against, a harsh reminder of the price he had paid for his miscalculation. The fight had been brutal, and in the end, it had left him shattered.


    Looming over him, Elektra watched as Warren¡¯s chest heaved with exertion. Warren saw that familiar face of disappointment and anger. That¡¯s what he thought at first. That¡¯s when he saw the intense gleam in her eyes and the slightest of smiles, a trickle of respect towards him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve improved,¡± she admitted grudgingly. ¡°But you¡¯re still not strong enough, Warren. You¡¯re still weak and pathetic.¡±


    Warren couldn¡¯t muster a response amid the overwhelming pain. His body screamed in protest, but he forced himself to speak, his voice barely more than a whisper. ¡°I want Sabir,¡± he said, each word a struggle. ¡°You said it yourself. He¡¯s not going to stick around.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes darkened at the mention of Sabir. She had forgotten about the wager and the name continued to cause her body to ache in memory of their fight in The Commons. She lowered herself to Warren, who was still sprawled on the ground. ¡°Sabir is a pawn,¡± she said coldly. ¡°Just like you, Warren. A tool to be used and discarded when he¡¯s no longer useful.¡±


    Warren clenched his fist in anger, yet he calmed himself to not show any reaction. It¡¯s what Elektra wanted. To beat him physically and emotionally. He won¡¯t let it happen, not this time. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right,¡± Warren said quietly, his voice strained. ¡°But I think he¡¯s better off with me.¡±


    Elektra let out a sigh. Why was her brother being so adamant? She couldn¡¯t help but have a tinge of regret in bringing Warren to that torture room. She shook her head, forgetting about such thoughts, instead choosing to smile, a cold amusement washing over her. ¡°So, the pet dog finally bites back,¡± a smile curled at the corner of her lips. She looked down at Warren, who lay battered and bruised at her feet, ¡°I suppose the mutt deserves some reward for showing a bit of spirit.¡±


    Without warning, Elektra planted her foot firmly on Warren¡¯s chest, causing him to be pinned to the ground. Warren let out a tight gasp from the unexpected pressure, stealing the little breath he had left. His ribs trembled from the initial force. Elektra leaned in. ¡°You want Sabir?¡± she said, her tone as sharp as a blade. ¡°Fine. You can have him. But don¡¯t think for a second that you¡¯ve won anything here. He¡¯s a part of my game just as much as you are.¡±


    Warren nodded weakly. He had achieved his goal, although not the way he had planned. It wasn¡¯t the victory that he envisioned, but he had fought hard and though thoroughly beaten, he had secured Sabir¡¯s life, albeit temporarily. It was all thanks to him that Warren could even stand up against his sister. The triumph was bittersweet. The fight had revealed once again his weakness. But it was something. A first step forward.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Warren croaked out, the words strange and bitter on his tongue as he showed gratitude towards the very person who tore him apart.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes narrowed, seeing that disgusting face of thankfulness from her brother. It made her want to throw up. She contemplated the option of either obliterating him entirely or leaving him to bear the burden of his defeat. ¡°Warren,¡± she began, her voice filled with an eerie seriousness,, ¡°don¡¯t think for a moment that this changes anything. You¡¯re still a half-breed, still beneath me in every way that matters. You¡¯re nothing but a dog who¡¯s learned a new trick.¡±


    Elektra increased the pressure on Warren¡¯s chest, while she hesitated, considering what she should say next. ¡°But¡­¡± her expression unreadable, ¡°you¡¯ve shown today that maybe, just maybe, there¡¯s more to you than I thought. It¡¯s a shame you¡¯re still a disappointment. Don¡¯t you dare waste what little potential you have, or I¡¯ll make sure you regret it.¡± A note of reluctant acknowledgement crept into her tone as she finished her speech.


    She lifted her foot off his chest, the action as dismissive as stepping over dirt. With her regal and commanding posture, Elektra turned away from Warren, leaving him to watch the ceiling. With her departure, he experienced a tumultuous rush of emotions - pain, anger, and a slight, begrudging admiration.


    Warren had lost, but ultimately he had gained a glimmer of Elektra¡¯s acknowledgment, something he desperately craved from his family. She had recognized his defiance, his refusal to back down, and that small victory was enough to stir something deep within him. Warren knew it wasn¡¯t over. That small bit of approval couldn¡¯t satisfy him.


    For the first time in his life, he felt ready. Ready to fight, to protect those he cared about, and to carve out his own place in a world that had always sought to crush him underfoot.


    As the sun disappeared behind the estate walls, Warren remained in the courtyard, his heart still pounding, but a newfound determination fueling him. The fight was far from over, but today marked a turning point. Today, despite losing and Elektra¡¯s harsh words, he showed he could fight back.


    Sabir was right. All he had to do was try.


    He was Warren Voltaire, and one day, he would rise above them all.

 Chapter 43 - The Weight Of Survival

    The torture room had remained cold and dim. Sabir laid on the iron chair, a sense of futility overcoming him, as the silence pressed in on him like smoke. It had been too long; he had lost track of time, perhaps days had passed. Maybe more. The walls were his only companions, in such a small tight room; the darkness was his only solace. Sabir¡¯s body ached, not from the endless torture he received, but from the emptiness that raged within his insides. His hunger had grown into a wild beast, clawing at his stomach, rendering him unable to even move a finger. His injuries had healed, but the pain of loneliness lingered.


    Dried blood ran down his face and body, his soiled clothes clung to his feeble limbs. The stench he gave off was once unbearable, but now he had grown numb to it, just as he had grown numb to the hope of escaping- the hope of finally being freed. The Voltaire family, amid all their power and cruelty, had left him to rot in this small room, lying forgotten as they took what they needed from him. His value had disappeared. In their eyes, he was just trash.


    Sabir¡¯s vision blurred as his thoughts took a grim turn. Was this how he was going to die? Starved, abandoned, and alone? The thought filled him with an anger that overpowered his initial fear. He had survived worse. He survived in The Limbo, a place where very few live long lives, but this felt different. This felt like the end.


    ¡°If I die here,¡± he thought bitterly, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the Voltaires pay. I¡¯ll haunt them, I¡¯ll haunt their entire sector. I¡¯ll drive them mad and kill them as a ghost. Yeah, they¡¯ll regret it all. I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡±


    Even as Sabir threw out those vengeful curses, he knew it was all hollow. Turning into a ghost? How childish. Even as an evil spirit, he would still be a pathetic, powerless kid. Sabir was barely holding onto consciousness, his body betraying him, crumbling like a jigsaw puzzle. The last bit of strength he had was fading, and with it, his will to fight.


    Suddenly, a foreign sound entered Sabir¡¯s ears, a sound which he dreaded when he was first locked in that damned chair, but now it was a sound of pure joy and mercy. The door had creaked open. Someone had come to end his miserable life. His executioner had arrived. Even knowing the outcome, Sabir¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Seeing another human for days, a sense of hope crept within him.


    Then, through the haze, he saw a figure step into the room. Tall, familiar. Warren. His mind struggled to grasp the reality of it. He was by himself this time, with no sign of Elektra, which didn¡¯t fill his mind with any ease. When he had told Warren to stand up for himself, he didn¡¯t think of the possibility that it may come back to bite him.


    To Sabir¡¯s shock, Warren didn¡¯t come alone, but with multiple maids. Each of their faces a mix of horror and pity, as the woman rushed over to Sabir. The locks and chains to his chair rattled and echoed through the small impersonal room. The maids acted in unison, tenderly placing their hands on Sabir, lifting his body gently and carefully, treating him as if he was made of glass. Sabir was unsure what was happening, but his weakness prevented him from taking any action, so he had no choice but to let the maids touch him, marking his first human contact in days.


    ¡°You¡¯re free,¡± Warren¡¯s voice broke through the fog of Sabir¡¯s thoughts, the words barely registering. Free? What did that even mean anymore?


    As they lifted him, Sabir¡¯s gaze met Warren¡¯s. He saw the concern in his eyes, the regret. Warren, who had once been his captor, now looked at him with something resembling compassion. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but feel this was all a trap. A trap to put down his defenses, so that they may entertain themselves some more.


    Sabir couldn¡¯t help but look towards the door, the only entrance and exit. The closed door he was forced to stare at for days, the door that was finally open. He was expecting Elektra to pop out from there any second and mock him. But she didn¡¯t appear.


    Warren put his hand on Sabir¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You can trust me. I know sorry isn¡¯t enough, but maybe this might be.¡±


    Upon those words, Sabir couldn¡¯t help but think it was a strange, almost surreal moment, and Sabir couldn¡¯t help the small, weary smile that tugged at his lips. But the effort was too much. The last of his strength drained away, and the world went dark as he passed out.


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    Warren¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he watched Sabir¡¯s body go limp in the maids¡¯ arms. Panic clawed at him, threatening to overwhelm the calm facade he struggled to maintain. He had come too late. Sabir was too far gone. The thought hit him like a blow, but he couldn¡¯t afford to lose his composure now.


    ¡°Take him to my room,¡± Warren ordered, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. ¡°And call the family physician. Now!¡±


    Hurrying away at Warren¡¯s orders, they moved carefully, fearing any sudden movement could shatter the fragile man they carried. Warren followed closely behind, his mind in chaos amid all the guilt he felt. He couldn¡¯t let Sabir die, not like this, not after everything he had done.


    As they carried Sabir down the long corridors of the estate, Warren prayed for the first time in years. He had never been a religious man, but in that moment, he would have done anything, bargained with any deity, to keep Sabir alive.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t let him die. He doesn¡¯t deserve this. I¡¯ve done terrible things, I know that, but don¡¯t take him because of me. Please.¡±


    The maids brought Sabir into Warren¡¯s chambers and carefully placed him on the bed. Warren could see how thin he was, how his skin clung to his bones, the bruises standing out starkly against his pale flesh. The sight provoked an intense, all-consuming shame within him. He had failed to protect Sabir, failed to even check on him until it was almost too late.


    The physician arrived moments later, his expression grim as he assessed Sabir¡¯s condition. Warren watched anxiously as the man worked, checking Sabir¡¯s pulse, his breathing, his eyes. The air in the room was thick with tension, each passing second feeling like an eternity.


    ¡°Is he¡­ is he going to make it?¡± Warren asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He hated how desperate he sounded, but he couldn¡¯t help it. Sabir¡¯s life hung in the balance, and all Warren could do was stand there, helpless.


    The physician didn¡¯t answer immediately. His brow knitted in concentration as he carried on with his examination. In the end, he glanced up at Warren, his expression impassive. ¡°He¡¯s severely malnourished, Master Warren, but his injuries aren¡¯t severe. He¡¯s exhausted, both physically and mentally. We¡¯ll need to get some fluids and nutrients into him, and he¡¯ll need rest. A lot of rest. It¡¯s hard to say for certain, but¡­ there¡¯s a chance he¡¯ll pull through. However, I must say as the physician of this esteemed family that this boy should be forgotten. He has no ties to our family. It¡¯s a disgrace to my medical profession to help someone like this.¡±


    A chance. Although not the exact answer Warren was looking for, it was still something. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat and ignoring the physicians lecturing. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Do whatever it takes. Just¡­ just make sure he survives.¡±


    The physician let out a sigh. He seemed like he wanted to retort but he bit his lip. And began instructing the maids to bring water and prepare a nutrient-rich broth. Warren stood by Sabir, watching as they worked to save the man he had been forced to torture.


    Despite the busy room, Warren couldn¡¯t forget the haunting look in Sabir¡¯s eyes and the fleeting smile before he passed out. Sabir had suffered so much, more than anyone should ever have to endure. And now, all Warren could do was hope that he had enough strength left to survive this last ordeal.


    The minutes dragged on, each one filled with a quiet desperation that gnawed at Warren¡¯s insides. He stood guard by the bedside, unwilling to leave him alone in the darkness that nearly consumed him. The physician and maids worked tirelessly, administering fluids and coaxing small sips of broth into Sabir¡¯s mouth. Warren watched every movement, every breath, his heart clenching with fear and hope in equal measure.


    As night settled, Sabir remained unconscious, his body too weak to respond. Warren refused to go to sleep in order to watch over him. His own injuries from the recent fight with Elektra were still aching, but he ignored it along with the exhaustion that was pulling at him. He couldn¡¯t rest. Not until he knew Sabir was alive.


    When the first rays of dawn shone through the curtains, the physician straightened and his expression softened slightly. ¡°He¡¯s stable for now,¡± he whispered. ¡°His condition is still critical, but he¡¯s holding on. The next few hours will be crucial.¡±


    Nodding, Warren experienced a flood of relief. There was still hope for Sabir, despite it not being over yet. And that was more than Warren had dared to hope for when he first walked into that dark, filthy room.


    He reached out and gently squeezed Sabir¡¯s hand, his voice barely audible as he whispered, ¡°You¡¯re free now, Sabir. You¡¯re free.¡±


    But even as Warren spoke those words, he knew it wasn¡¯t the complete truth. His family were still keen on killing Sabir. Warren was going to have to go through hell to stop it. He owed it to Sabir.


    Sabir endured a harrowing experience that will take time to recover from, both physically and emotionally. Warren couldn¡¯t undo the past, but he could make sure that Sabir never suffered like this again. He would stand by him, protect him, and do everything in his power to help him recover.


    Standing there, witnessing Sabir¡¯s gentle and steady inhales and exhales, Warren silently vowed to himself. He would fight for Sabir¡¯s freedom, for his life, just as fiercely as he had fought against Elektra. Sabir¡¯s story goes beyond being a casualty of the Voltaires¡¯ cruelty; he was a survivor who deserves a chance at life.


    And Warren would do whatever it took to give him that chance.

 Chapter 44 - A New Reality

    Sabir awoke startled, his body jerking upright as his eyes snapped open. Disorientated, Sabir struggled to recall what happened. The plushy softness that he laid on was a dramatic change to what he knew all his life. The usual cold, hard floors he had grown used to in The Limbo felt so far away from where he was now.


    Wait. Where is he right now?


    Panic surged through Sabir as he tried to make sense of his environment. Even as he swung his torso upwards, the soft mattress he lay in engulfed his hands. Thick, lavish blankets covered his body. The bed beneath was huge, yet it cradled his form, providing comfort. Comfort that was entirely alien to him.


    Sabir expected to be greeted by darkness, a damp stench that reeked of neglect, or at least the rattling weight of chains against his skinny frame. Instead, he found himself in a large, warm bedroom, with minimal decorations and neat. The only sign of color were the unique books that littered the desk in the corner.


    He could barely remember the last time he had slept in an actual bed, let alone one as luxurious as this. From the ornate furnishings to the delicate scent of lavender in the air, everything about the room screamed opulence, a stark contrast to the squalor he had endured for days.


    A voice interrupted Sabir¡¯s thoughts, soft but firm. ¡°Easy there,¡± Warren said, stepping into view. He moved closer to the bed, his hands raised in a gesture of reassurance. ¡°Don¡¯t push yourself too hard. You¡¯ve been through a lot.¡±


    Locking eyes with Warren with a narrowed gaze, Sabir¡¯s face flashed with confusion. Instinctively, Sabir wrapped the blankets tighter around himself, as if the fabric could shield him from the uncertainty that gnawed at his insides. ¡°Where am I?¡± he demanded, his voice hoarse. His throat felt dry, his words rasping out with an edge of desperation.


    ¡°You¡¯re safe,¡± Warren replied, his tone as gentle as he could manage. ¡°This is my bedroom. You¡¯ve been unconscious for a while, and I wanted to make sure you were comfortable when you woke up.¡±


    The words did little to soothe Sabir¡¯s racing thoughts. ¡°Safe?¡± he repeated, disbelief clear in his tone. ¡°In your bedroom?¡± His gaze narrowed, suspicion hardening his features. ¡°Why should I trust you? No offense, but even with those scared little eyes. You¡¯re one of the people who tortured me, who left me to rot in that chair. How do I know this isn¡¯t just another trick? I can tell you get used by those siblings of yours. This could be a new plan to make me vulnerable.¡±


    Warren flinched at the accusation, guilt written plainly on his face. He had known this moment would come, had dreaded it even, but hearing the raw anger and fear in Sabir¡¯s voice cut deeper than he had expected. He took a deep breath, steeling himself before he spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to trust me,¡± he said, his voice heavy with regret. ¡°Not after everything that¡¯s happened. But I¡¯m asking you to try. I got you out of there, Sabir. I¡¯m trying to make things right.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes bore into him, searching for any hint of deceit. ¡°And what if I don¡¯t want to be here?¡± he asked, his voice sharp. ¡°What if I want to leave, to go back home?¡±


    Warren hesitated before he spoke. ¡°You can¡¯t go back,¡± he finally said, laced with regret. ¡°My family has deemed your life forfeit. They want you dead, Sabir. If you leave this estate, there¡¯s no guarantee you¡¯ll survive. The only reason you¡¯re still alive is because¡­ because you¡¯ve become an afterthought to them. They have more important things to attend to.¡±


    Sabir should¡¯ve known. Ever since he lay forgotten in that iron chair, he knew no one cared about him. Sabir viewed the Voltaires as his greatest enemies, but to them, he was just a bug, a bug not worth killing. Yet this realization didn¡¯t stop his stomach from twisting at Warren¡¯s words, the reality of his situation settling over him like a leaden cloak. He had known that his chances of escape were slim, but to hear that his life was forfeit¡­ It was almost too much to bear.


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    His death was inevitable.


    It was belittling that they lacked the energy to even kill him. With a firm grip on the blankets, his knuckles turned white as he applied pressure. ¡°So what now?¡± he asked bitterly. ¡°Am I just supposed to sit here and wait for them to change their minds? To finally decide to kill me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Warren said quickly, shaking his head. ¡°I can keep you alive here. You¡¯re safest here in this estate. The only person who would ever think about you is Elektra. But she won¡¯t be bugging you anymore. As long as my father doesn¡¯t notice, you can stay here, live here and then, when the time is right, we get you out of here.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s jaw became tight as he contemplated what Warren had said. Everything seemed precarious. His life hung by a thread, dependent on the whims of a family that had already proven their capacity for cruelty. And now he had to put his trust in a Voltaire, who had taken part in his torment. Sabir could sense the kindness and empathy in his eyes. Eyes that people would¡¯ve used and taken advantage of in The Limbo. The very idea of trusting him was stupid. A decision a gullible child would make.


    But what choice did he have? Where could he go? Helplessness weighed heavily on Sabir, trapped, his fate inextricably tied to the very people who had brought him to this point. He had to have faith in this young kid, who was the most isolated among his family. Was Warren capable of helping him?


    It was better than nothing. Beggars can¡¯t be choosers, as Mrs Norris would say. ¡°What now then?¡± The fight seemed to drain out of him as he slumped back against the pillows. There was no escaping this, no simple way out. He was a prisoner, even in this gilded cage.


    Warren allowed himself a small, almost relieved smile. ¡°Now,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m going to put you to work.¡± He saw the way Sabir¡¯s eyes flickered with confusion, and quickly clarified. ¡°From today onward, you¡¯ll be my personal manservant. It¡¯s not much, I know, but it¡¯s a way to keep you close, keep you safe. You won¡¯t bring attention to you or me this way. And it¡¯ll give you something to do, something to focus on.¡±


    Sabir stared at him, his expression unreadable. Was this kid stupid? Sabir didn¡¯t know how to serve anyone, hell he can¡¯t even serve himself. He was a wild man from The Limbo. Max and Samantha would mock him for his lack of manners and etiquette. And Warren wanted him to be a manservant!


    He had gone from being a free man to a prisoner, and now¡­ a servant to a noble? It was a fate he had never imagined, never wanted, and yet, here he was. ¡°So that¡¯s it then,¡± Sabir muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. ¡°I¡¯m going to be a slave to a noble. How great.¡±


    Warren¡¯s smile faltered slightly at Sabir¡¯s tone, but he nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not ideal,¡± he admitted, ¡°but it¡¯s the best I can offer right now. And it¡¯s better than the alternative.¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t give an immediate response. He reclined, his head sinking into the pillows, while his eyes remained fixed on the elaborate ceiling above. The comfort of the bed, once so alien, now felt like a mocking reminder of his situation. This was his life, constantly on edge, living a life of servitude, forever anticipating the Voltaires¡¯ judgment day.


    But as much as he despised it, Sabir knew he couldn¡¯t afford to reject Warren¡¯s offer. His survival depended on it. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and let out a sigh, feeling the toll of everything, his captivity, his injuries, the emotional turmoil, catching up to him. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered, barely above a whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll be your manservant.¡±


    Warren watched him, relief and regret warring within him. He had known that Sabir would never truly forgive him. The past would always taint their relationship. But this was a start. A very fragile start.


    ¡°Great, then-¡± Warren excitedly was ready to get Sabir in a suit and that unruly hair needed to be cut, but just as he spoke, the sound of light snoring cut him off. He stood there for a moment longer, watching as Sabir¡¯s breathing slowed, his body relaxing into the bed as sleep took hold.


    Warren edged closer to the bed and pulled the blanket up slightly, covering Sabir¡¯s body completely. As Warren saw the small smile, while Sabir slept, it reminded him that Sabir¡¯s survival had become his responsibility. Warren let out a sigh as he quietly left the bedroom, closing the door slowly behind him.


    As he stood by the hallway, Warren couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of unease. While he had taken the initial step towards redemption, the guilt of what he had done remained a heavy weight on his mind. He knew that Sabir¡¯s presence in the estate was a ticking time bomb, one that could explode at any moment if they weren¡¯t careful.


    But for now, Sabir was safe. And that was all that mattered.


    Warren walked through the dimly lit corridor, his mind burdened with thoughts, plotting his next moves. Sabir¡¯s survival was more than just a way to ease his own guilt. It was a promise to himself that he wouldn¡¯t let the Voltaires¡¯ cruelty define him. He promised to himself he¡¯d keep Sabir safe, to give him a life worth living, even if it¡¯s behind the shadow of the Voltaire family.


    And maybe, just maybe, he would redeem himself.

 Chapter 45 - New Clothes, Old Plans

    When Sabir awoke, he sat on the edge of Warren¡¯s bed, staring blankly at his surroundings. He hadn¡¯t yet settled into this place of luxury. Everything felt so foreign to him. With no one monitoring him and the paranoia that he¡¯d be in danger if he left the room, Sabir looked towards the windows that lined the bedroom wall.


    The view was breathtaking.


    Cobblestone lined the roads that spiraled across the Sector. Each building had pulsated with opulence from their towering spires and ornate facades. Grand archways and balconies adorned with iron railings; the entire sight felt like a mirror to another world for Sabir.


    Sector 3 had its own charm with its trees and nature that made you feel small, but Sector 5 felt like the place Sabir had dreamed of all his life from even back when he was a child.


    The awe that Sabir had when he had first looked through those windows dissipated quickly; replaced with an unease that settled within his gut. Warren had saved him from the iron chair. That was an undeniable fact that Sabir came to terms with as he sat back down on the edge of the bed.


    But was this all real freedom? He doubted it.


    He knew one thing for certain though: he needed to play along, at least for now. But the moment he saw an opportunity to escape, he would take it, no questions asked.


    Amid Sabir¡¯s plotting, the door creaked open. Warren stepped in holding a neatly folded set of clothes.


    ¡°I brought you some clothes,¡± Warren said, his voice tinged with an awkwardness that matched the atmosphere in the room. He hesitated by the door, as if uncertain about approaching Sabir too closely.


    ¡°Clothes?¡± Sabir echoed, suspicion laced in his tone. ¡°Why do I need new clothes?¡± The sight of clean clothing made Sabir¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. He hadn¡¯t expected a wardrobe change. He didn¡¯t want to be treated as if he were a pet that they could decorate and dress as they pleased. Yet the idea of new clothes was an opportunity that Sabir knew didn¡¯t come around often for a man like him.


    Warren sighed, the sound carrying the weight of an explanation he wished he didn¡¯t have to give. ¡°Because the ones you¡¯re wearing are a mess. Look at them.¡±


    Sabir glanced down at himself, as if only now noticing his appearance. Sabir glanced down at himself and noticed his torn white t-shirt, with burnt edges that crumbled at the slightest touch. Holes dotted the fabric, revealing patches of bruised skin underneath. His cargo pants were in no better condition, stained and ripped from his time in captivity. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He looked every bit the prisoner he had been.


    Warren walked over and handed Sabir the clothes he had brought. As Sabir unfolded them, his eyes widened in disbelief. It was a suit. A crisp, black suit, complete with a white dress shirt and a black tie. He held the garments up, inspecting every fiber. Sabir internally screamed, there was no practicality in this. Too tight and far too expensive. What if he had to run from a monster, or someone was trying to grab on to him, so they could stab him to death? Sabir reckoned he was better off with his old clothes.


    ¡°A suit?¡± Sabir said incredulously, turning to Warren. ¡°I can¡¯t wear something else? I¡¯m not exactly in the mood to play dress-up. It¡¯s not practical at all. What if a monster came at me? These clothes would just make me more appetizing.¡±


    Warren tilted his head in confusion. ¡°Why the hell would you be fighting monsters?¡± Warren, realizing he was being nosy, shook his head. ¡°Anyway, you¡¯re a servant now, Sabir. You need to wear the right attire or you won¡¯t fit in. If you¡¯re going to stay alive here, you need to blend in as much as possible.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes narrowed, his skepticism rising. ¡°And why exactly does being a servant keep me alive? What¡¯s the point of all this?¡±


    Warren rubbed his temples, clearly growing weary of having to explain the same thing over and over. ¡°I¡¯ve already told you this,¡± he said, his voice strained. ¡°But fine, I¡¯ll say it again. My father wants you dead. As for Elektra and Noah, they don¡¯t care. They know exactly where you are, and they can kill you if they decide you¡¯re a problem. You, being a servant, allow¡¯s us to hide you in plain sight, makes it easier to protect you. You¡¯re less likely to draw attention.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s shoulders felt the weight of the words, the heavy implications settling. It felt as if the entire Voltaire family viewed him as nothing more than a speck, an insignificant nuisance that they could sweep away without a second thought. The realization stung, cutting deeper than any physical wound he had suffered. It hurt his ego to no end.


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    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± Sabir muttered under his breath, his voice thick with bitterness. ¡°I¡¯m just a nobody to your family. A nuisance that needs to be hidden away.¡±


    Warren said nothing, his silence serving as confirmation. He simply watched as Sabir slowly took off his tattered t-shirt, preparing to change into the suit. But as Sabir pulled the shirt over his head, Warren¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, and he stamped toward Sabir.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Warren blurted out, his hand instinctively reaching out to stop Sabir. ¡°Why the hell are you changing in front of me?¡±


    Sabir lowered the shirt and stared at Warren, incredulity written all over his face. ¡°Then why the hell did you hand me the clothes in the first place?¡± he snapped. ¡°And why are you looking if you¡¯re so uncomfortable?¡±


    The Limbo exposed Sabir to a range of nudity and degeneracy, so much so that it shattered his innocence. However, he remained unaware of this, which often baffled people like Max and Samantha because of his lack of shame.


    Warren¡¯s face flushed red with annoyance, and before Sabir could say anything else, Warren grabbed him by the arm and led him across the room. He guided Sabir toward a wardrobe, where a privacy screen stood neatly folded to one side. Warren swiftly pulled open the screen, providing a private area for Sabir to change.


    ¡°Change there,¡± Warren barked, his tone leaving no room for argument.


    Sabir rolled his eyes, but he stepped behind the screen, taking the suit with him. The privacy was welcome, even if he wasn¡¯t entirely sure why Warren had made such a fuss about it. Unbuttoning his cargo pants, his stomach emitted a loud growl, its noise bouncing off the stillness of the room.


    Warren sighed, the sound carrying a mix of frustration and concern. ¡°I¡¯ll get you some food,¡± he said, his voice softer now. ¡°But just hurry and change first.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s hands stilled for a moment as he processed Warren¡¯s words. He wasn¡¯t sure what to make of this sudden display of concern. This Voltaire kid was odd. One minute being angry and the next being all worried for him. But right now, he had more immediate concerns over considering if Warren was bi polar. The gnawing hunger in his stomach was one of them, and the uncomfortable feeling of wearing tattered, filthy clothes was another.


    With a resigned sigh, Sabir finished undressing and pulled on the suit. The fabric was cool and smooth against his skin, a stark contrast to the rough, torn clothes he had been wearing for days. As he buttoned the shirt and fastened the tie, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep sense of irony. Here he was, dressing up like some kind of high-class servant, all the while plotting his escape the moment the opportunity presented itself.


    After finally getting dressed, Sabir came out from behind the privacy screen, wearing a black tailcoat suit that stood out against his pale skin, emphasizing his lean frame. The jacket hugged his shoulders and tapered down his waist before slightly flaring at the hips, tailored to perfection. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted with the black satin lapels, while the neatly knotted bow tie added a touch of old-world elegance. Sabir¡¯s polished attire clashed with his untamed, cascading dark hair that fell past his shoulders, giving him a distinct and wild look.


    Warren was standing by the door, his expression unreadable as he took in Sabir¡¯s appearance. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was tense, as Warren examined every inch of Sabir¡¯s frame.


    Warren¡¯s eyes traveled from Sabir¡¯s suit to his hair, the length of it clearly catching his attention. Without a word, he walked over to his dresser and retrieved a small bottle. Although the label had faded, the glass of the bottle gleamed sleekly, and the liquid inside possessed a deep amber color. Warren squeezed a small amount into his palm, the scent of cedar and citrus filling the air. He approached Sabir, smoothly running his hands through his hair and styling it back with pomade.


    Taming and sweeping back Sabir¡¯s wild hair enhanced his sharp features. Warren took a step back, assessing his handiwork. Warren had transformed Sabir from a wild man to a respected servant of an esteemed house. ¡°You look good now,¡± he said, his tone more approving than before. ¡°Presentable.¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t respond immediately. He ran a hand through his newly slicked-back hair, trying to make sense of the situation he found himself in. He found himself stuck in a place where his life was forfeit, surrounded by people who could end him without a second thought. The only person he might rely on was the very one who had tormented him, who was now offering protection for servitude. And here he was, getting a makeover.


    ¡°Is this really it, Warren?¡± Sabir finally asked, his voice low. ¡°Is this really my life now? Wearing a suit, pretending to be a servant, just to survive?¡±


    Warren¡¯s expression softened, a hint of pity in his eyes. ¡°I know it¡¯s not what you want,¡± he mumbled. ¡°But it¡¯s the best way to keep you alive. The best way to make sure you don¡¯t become another casualty in this¡­ mess.¡±


    Sabir stared into Warren¡¯s eyes, searching for any trace of deceit. But all he saw was a young man who seemed just as trapped by his circumstances as Sabir was. Warren wasn¡¯t his enemy, not really. He was just another pawn in the game, trying to navigate a world that cared little for either of them.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Sabir muttered. ¡°I¡¯ll play along. For now.¡±


    Warren nodded, accepting the small victory for what it was. ¡°I¡¯ll go get you something to eat,¡± he said, opening the door to leave. ¡°Just¡­ try to get used to the idea, okay? This is the only way.¡±


    As Warren left the room, closing the door behind him, Sabir sat back down on the bed. He still felt the soft fabric of the suit against his skin, a reminder of his supposed new life that he had no choice but to embrace. But deep down, Sabir knew he couldn¡¯t let himself become complacent. He might wear a servant¡¯s uniform, but he wasn¡¯t truly one of them. He was still Sabir Quinn, and he still had his pride and will to survive.

 Chapter 46 - Whispers Of The Past

    Sabir¡¯s new life as a servant started off hecticly, but eventually he settled into a routine, the first few days disorientated him, with all the endless hallways and unfamiliar faces that littered the Voltaire estate. On top of it all he had to stay vigilant, making sure he wasn¡¯t seen by any of Warren¡¯s immediate family members. After a couple of stressful days, he became used to it all.


    Warren was kind enough to give him a small room, tucked away in a quiet corner of the servants'' quarters, which became a sanctuary for him. The single bed with its thin, worn blanket was far from luxurious from Warren¡¯s bed, but it was comfortable enough. Much comfier than what he was used to. A small wooden dresser and a mirror hung on the wall completed the sparse furnishings. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was his own, a private space where he could breathe.


    But most importantly, a place he could plot. Plot his escape.


    He had gained the respect of the other maids and butler¡¯s who he essentially lived with. There were so many servants that worked at the estate, Sabir would often wonder why they needed so many, considering their family was rather small. At first Sabir was treated with curiosity, having not been informed of a new servant''s arrival, let alone a personal manservant for Warren Voltaire. Surprisingly, even the servants, who had been with the Voltaires for years, didn¡¯t question his ¡°employment¡±.


    Sabir¡¯s inability to do chores in the beginning however earnt him suspicious glances but upon seeing his hardworking nature and his eagerness to be accepted by them, the servants all eventually began to respect him.


    Sabir¡¯s duties as a manservant were straightforward. His primary responsibility was to maintain Warren¡¯s quarters, a task that had proven to be less demanding than he had anticipated. Warren rarely left his room, and when he did, it was only for brief moments. The young Voltaire insisted on dressing himself, much to Sabir¡¯s quiet relief, leaving the manservant with little more to do than dust the shelves, sweep the floor, and ensure that everything was in its proper place.


    The pattern was the same every day. Sabir would rise early, fetching breakfast from the family chef, a quiet, wiry man who cooked with vigorous passion, citing that it was his duty to create strong and healthy nobles. Ignoring the chefs'' never-ending lectures about his craft, Sabir would bring the tray up to Warren¡¯s room, knocking softly before entering to find the young man already awake and dressed, often sitting by the window with a book in hand. Their exchanges were brief, a few words of thanks from Warren and a nod from Sabir before he retreated to continue his duties, yet Sabir found it always odd, how whenever he opened the door Warren would scramble to cover himself with a blanket, even though he was dressed. Sabir just took it as one of his quirks.


    But that routine soon fell apart. It was like any other day for Sabir, he brought Warren¡¯s food and as he left after handing the tray to him. A voice trailed after him.


    ¡°So where are you from?¡±


    The question that broke all the tension between them was replaced with embarrassment. Sabir didn¡¯t ever really like talking about himself. He made it his mission to keep people from finding out about his life, out of fear of not being accepted by his peers living in Havana. However, with the situation he was in, perhaps he¡¯d feel better telling someone about his shitty life. So that¡¯s what he did, he answered his question. He told Warren where he was from.


    To Sabir¡¯s shock he wasn¡¯t disgusted or scared, in fact it seemed to increase Warren¡¯s interest in Sabir. So much so every single day after that point, Warren would ask more questions. Questions about Sabir¡¯s past, about the life he had lived before finding himself in the Voltaire estate. Sabir quickly saw that Warren''s insatiable curiosity wasn''t just idle chit-chat or a poor effort at being kind. Warren was genuinely interested, almost fascinated by the stories Sabir would reluctantly share.


    ¡°What was it like?¡± Warren had asked one morning as Sabir set down his breakfast. ¡°Living in The Limbo?¡±


    Sabir hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Life in The Limbo was difficult to describe to someone like Warren, someone who had only known the sheltered existence of the estate. ¡°It was¡­ different,¡± Sabir replied carefully. ¡°Every day I had to fight to survive, y''know. The Limbo was dangerous, but it was also alive in a way. I don''t know how to explain it.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes lit up with interest, as he closed the book he was reading and placed it on his lap. ¡°Alive how? Was it exciting?¡±


    Sabir had to suppress a bitter smile. ¡°Exciting? Hell no. It was unpredictable. You never knew what was going to happen next. One minute you¡¯d be bargaining for food, the next you¡¯d be running for your life. It was like hell.¡±


    ¡°And that didn¡¯t scare you?¡± Warren¡¯s voice was soft, almost reverent.


    ¡°Of course it did,¡± Sabir admitted, feeling a strange vulnerability in the admission. ¡°But you get used to it. You learn how to navigate it, how to find safety in the middle of the storm. It¡¯s not a life I¡¯d wish on anyone, but it was my life.


    Warren listened intently, his expression a mixture of awe and Sabir dared to say envy. It was clear that the world Sabir came from was as foreign to Warren as the Voltaire estate was to Sabir. But whereas Sabir had been thrust into the suffocating order and luxury of the estate, Warren seemed to long for the wild unpredictability of Limbo.


    It was odd.


    To Sabir it seemed like the both of them were the same. They were both in search of freedom, the ability to do what you pleased, when you wanted. Sabir began to realize he was the most free when he was outside the walls of Havana.


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    Over the weeks, these conversations became a regular part of their interactions. Warren would ask about the different people Sabir had known, the places he had seen, the dangers he had faced. He seemed particularly interested in the details of survival, the ways Sabir had learned to fend for himself and navigate the treacherous landscape of Limbo.


    ¡°It sounds terrifying,¡± Warren had said one afternoon as Sabir narrated his fight against bandits that wanted to steal his home. ¡°But also¡­ exhilarating.¡±


    Sabir looked at him, studying the way Warren¡¯s eyes gleamed with fear and excitement. ¡°It was both,¡± Sabir replied carefully. ¡°But it¡¯s not the kind of thrill you seek out. It¡¯s the kind of thrill you were forced into and then had to claw your way out.¡±


    Warren nodded, but there was a lingering look in his eyes, a yearning for something more than the confined world he knew. Sabir recognized it, it was the same look he had seen in people who had been trapped too long in one place, people who dreamed of escape even if they didn¡¯t know where they would go.


    A look he also once had.


    These discussions brought them closer together despite the peculiarity of their situation, forging an unanticipated bond between master and servant. Sabir found himself revealing more than he had planned because of Warren''s genuine curiosity and the way he appeared to cling on to everything he said. Warren''s questions were relentless but never intrusive.


    And yet, as the days passed and the routine of serving Warren became almost second nature, Sabir couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that these questions were more than just idle curiosity. Warren¡¯s fascination with Limbo was intense, almost desperate, as if he were trying to grasp something beyond his reach, something that Sabir knew all too well but had spent his life trying to escape.


    But that feeling of peace was broken one day when Sabir gave Warren his lunch.


    As usual Sabir knocked on his door. Entering with his tray of food, Sabir saw Warren once again sitting by the window, as he often did, with a thick book resting on his lap. As Sabir walked over and placed the tray on the little table by the window, Warren glanced down at him.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Warren said, his voice soft. But instead of reaching for the food, he hesitated, his eyes lingering on Sabir. There was something different in his gaze today, a tension that made the hair on the back of Sabir¡¯s neck stand up. ¡°I think it¡¯s time I asked. Something that¡¯s been gnawing at my mind ever since I met you.¡±


    Sabir paused, a frown creasing his brow. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    Warren took a breath, as if steeling himself. ¡°Cynthia Quinn-


    The name hit Sabir like a physical blow, freezing him in place. His hand clenched at his side, the blood roaring in his ears. He stared at Warren, his mind racing, trying to process how this man, this Voltaire, knew that name.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Sabir¡¯s voice was low, dangerously controlled.


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but he didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°Cynthia Quinn,¡± he repeated, his voice steady. ¡°How is she related to you?¡±


    In a flash, Sabir moved, his hand shooting out to grab Warren by the collar, yanking him forward. The book tumbled from Warren¡¯s lap, forgotten as their faces were now inches apart. Sabir¡¯s grip tightened, fury boiling just beneath the surface.


    ¡°How do you know that name?¡± Sabir hissed, his voice laced with a venom that surprised even him.


    Warren¡¯s calm facade cracked, panic flickering in his eyes. But he forced himself to remain composed, his voice trembling only slightly. ¡°I gave you time,¡± he said, his tone pleading but firm. ¡°I gave you time to settle before I asked.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s grip tightened further, his knuckles white. Warren winced but didn¡¯t pull away, his gaze never leaving Sabir¡¯s.


    ¡°I knew a Cynthia Quinn,¡± Warren continued, his voice softer now, almost reverent. ¡°She was one of the only people who was kind to me.¡±


    Sabir''s vision narrowed as his heart thumped in his chest. He wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but something in Warren¡¯s tone gave him pause. His words were genuine and honest, which caused Sabir''s rage to falter.


    ¡°Cynthia Quinn is my sister,¡± Sabir said, his voice breaking slightly.


    Warren nodded slowly, his eyes filling with an emotion Sabir couldn¡¯t quite place. ¡°She¡¯s dead, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    Sabir released him, the strength draining from his body as he staggered back. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he said, his voice hollow. He turned away, struggling to regain his composure. Cynthia. The name had been a wound that never fully healed, and hearing it now, from Warren of all people, reopened it in a way that made him feel like he was bleeding out all over again.


    Silence hung between them. Sabir forced himself to think, to piece together the fragments of information that had been thrown at him.


    ¡°The Voltaires,¡± Sabir said, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation. ¡°They were involved in her life, weren¡¯t they?¡±


    Warren hesitated, his gaze distant as if he was trying to recall a memory long buried. ¡°Yes,¡± he said finally. ¡°She was brought into our estate by my brother.¡±


    ¡°Noah?¡± Sabir¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°How did Noah know my sister?¡±


    Warren shook his head slowly. ¡°No, not Noah, my other brother Vincent. I don¡¯t know much about the situation. I was just a kid at the time, and no one ever talked to me. I was always left in the dark, kept out of things.¡± There was a bitterness to his tone, a resentment that hinted at old wounds. ¡°All I knew was that Cynthia was brought into the family by Vincent. He was¡­ different back then.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced, trying to connect the dots, but the picture remained frustratingly incomplete. ¡°I need to talk to Vincent,¡± he said, his voice firm with resolve.


    Warren¡¯s expression turned grim. ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is,¡± he admitted. ¡°He hasn¡¯t shown up at the estate in weeks. But I¡¯ll figure out a way for you to meet him.¡±


    Sabir stared at him, searching Warren¡¯s eyes for any sign of deceit, but all he saw was a man who was as lost in this mess as he was. Slowly, he nodded, the anger in his chest cooling to a simmering determination.


    ¡°Good,¡± Sabir said, his voice steady. ¡°Because I need answers.¡±


    Warren met his gaze, his expression solemn. ¡°We both do.¡±


    As Sabir left Warren¡¯s room that day, his mind was in turmoil. The monotonous routine that had lulled him into a false sense of security was gone, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose, and a deep, gnawing fear of what the truth might reveal. But no matter the cost, he needed to find out what happened to his sister. He needed the truth.

 Chapter 47 - You鈥檙e Late

    The morning sun penetrated through the flimsy curtain of Sabir¡¯s room. Gently stirring himself awake, he stared at the once unfamiliar ceiling, as his face glowed from the soft light; he became slightly disoriented. However, the rhythm of his daily routine settled.


    Ignoring the grogginess, he rose from his bed, quickly washing and dressing before heading to the kitchen to fetch Warren¡¯s breakfast. As he picked up the tray, ignoring the chef¡¯s incessant chattering, his mind trailed to the current date. He was supposed to be graduating today.


    The graduation ceremony of all his classmates, he knew back at The Commons, would all be in Tetra City right now. He wondered if Samantha and Max were there, standing with their funny robes and proud smiles on their faces as they received their diplomas. Sabir smiled at the thought, yet there was a bitter pang in his chest. He wished he were there with his two friends.


    Sabir knew that the life he once envisioned was now just a dream of the past. He was here right now, a servant to The Voltaires, and he doubted that would change soon. He just hoped that Max and Sam had moved on, that they would find some semblance of happiness despite everything that had happened. It filled him with a sense of relief, imagining them living ordinary lives, free from the chaos that had consumed his own.


    With a sigh, Sabir balanced the tray with practiced ease, as he made his way through the quiet corridors of the Voltaire estate. Only the faintest noises of faraway servants going about their morning tasks resonated in the eerily quiet passageways. As Sabir approached the door, he noticed the unusual stillness. Normally, he would hear Warren shuffling around by the time he reached his door, either flinging a blanket over himself as if he were a nun or immersing himself in a book, occasionally gazing out the window in his usual pensive manner.


    After a brief pause, Sabir gently knocked on the door. No response. He knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. Furrowing his brow, Sabir pushed the door open and peered inside. He hoped Warren didn¡¯t mind. He could just make out Warren¡¯s figure hidden behind his blanket, still stretched on the bed, sleeping loudly, though the room was dark and the heavy curtains blocked out much of the sunshine.


    The sight caught Sabir off guard. He couldn¡¯t recall a single instance in the past weeks where Warren had slept in, let alone missed breakfast. Anxiety prickled at the back of his mind. He never enjoyed being out of routine. Sabir placed the tray on Warren¡¯s desk and walked cautiously over to the bed.


    ¡°Warren,¡± Sabir called out softly, hoping to wake him gently. When there was no response, he leaned closer, his voice a little firmer. ¡°Warren, wake up.¡±


    With a start, Warren jolted awake, blinking rapidly as he struggled to orient himself. For a moment, his gaze darted around the room, before settling on Sabir. ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s uh 9 o¡¯clock, I¡¯m pretty sure, well, a little over that.¡±


    Warren jumped out of bed and swore under his breath as a realization hit him like a cold splash of water. ¡°Shit, I¡¯m late,¡± his voice thick with sleep as he stumbled out of bed. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, eyes wide with panic. ¡°I¡¯m late for training.¡±


    Sabir stepped back, giving Warren space as he frantically searched for his clothes. ¡°Training?¡± Sabir echoed, confusion lacing his tone. ¡°Since when do you-¡±


    ¡°Just leave the tray here,¡± Warren cut him off, his words rushed. He pulled on a shirt over his pyjamas, his movements hurried and uncoordinated. ¡°I¡¯ll eat after.¡±


    Sabir opened his mouth to question further, but before he could say anything, Warren had already bolted out the door, leaving Sabir standing alone in the disarrayed room. A deep frown creased Sabir¡¯s brow as he pursued Warren into the hallway.


    ¡°Warren, wait!¡± Sabir called after him, his voice sharp with concern. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    But Warren didn¡¯t respond. Something else, something urgent that seemed to consume his every thought, occupied his mind. He ran with desperation, his usually composed demeanor replaced with a frantic energy. Sabir chased after him, without thinking, his own anxiety rocketing, as he followed behind.


    Sabir was still far from catching up with Warren. They climbed stairs and ran through the hallways. At the end of one hall, Sabir saw Warren leave through a door after turning a corner. Confused at what was going on, Sabir pushed the door open and found himself in a large, rectangular room with high ceilings. Tatami mats marked with singed marks covered the floor, and cracks in the walls were noticeable, with the scent of straw and wood mixing with the smell of ash.


    Warren was panting heavily, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath beside the door. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Why are you running like that?¡± Sabir asked, as he moved towards Warren and put his hand on his shoulder. ¡°You okay, man?¡±


    Warren turned sharply at the sound of Sabir¡¯s voice and the feel of his touch, a mixture of frustration and surprise flashing across his face. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be here,¡± he muttered, pushing Sabir¡¯s hand off his shoulder and standing upright. Before he could say more, another voice cut through the air.


    ¡°Well, well, Warren, you¡¯re late.¡±


    Sabir looked towards the voice in the room''s corner and saw the one person he dreaded.


    Elektra.


    She moved towards the center of the room, her lips tugged at the corners, carrying a hint of amusement as she stepped into view. Facing Warren and Sabir, she stood with a casual grace, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before her. ¡°First time that¡¯s ever happened. You being late.¡±


    Elektra wore a white uniform that clung to her lean muscular build. The white contrasted with her cyan hair cut short into a bob. The uniform jacket crossed tightly at her chest, secured by a snug black belt. Her rolled sleeves revealed porcelain skin that any model would envy. The pants were loosely fitted, every article of clothing designed for combat.


    Elektra examined Warren¡¯s clothing, his pajamas and the creased shirt he threw on, were a clear sign that he just woke up. Let alone the curly hair that was left unbrushed. ¡°There¡¯s no time for you to get into your gi. We¡¯ll just fight as you are right now.¡±


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    Sabir¡¯s presence didn¡¯t go unnoticed either. Elektra¡¯s gaze locked onto his, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face. She circled around him, causing Sabir to stiffen, his eyes following her movement. Preparing for the worst, he clenched his fists.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve found out why you were late,¡± she peered at Sabir with her fingers on her chin, her voice dripping with mockery. ¡°Say, how does freedom feel, Sabir? I can¡¯t imagine it¡¯s quite what you expected. To be honest, I miss seeing you squirm in that chair. It was so much fun.¡±


    Sabir clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to stay calm under her scrutiny. He knew better than to rise to her bait. Elektra finally stopped circling, her attention shifting back to Warren, who was standing tensely a few paces away.


    ¡°You turned him into your personal servant,¡± Elektra remarked, a wicked grin tugging at her lips as she eyed Sabir¡¯s suit and his slicked back hair. ¡°How fitting.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Elektra,¡± Warren snapped, his usual politeness in his tone replaced by irritation. ¡°Let¡¯s just get this over with.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s smile grew as she strolled over towards Warren. Without warning, she delivered a swift punch to his stomach, causing him to double over in pain. ¡°What did I tell you about talking back to me like that?¡± she hissed.


    Seeing his friend hurt, Sabir¡¯s first instinct to intervene, to move and stop her from hurting him any further, but before he could take a step forward, Warren put an arm out, he shot Sabir with a warning look, as he got back up, his expression tight with pain.


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Warren gasped. ¡°Go back to your room, Sabir. This doesn¡¯t concern you.¡±


    Sabir hesitated, torn between the desire to keep Warren safe and the understanding that intervening would probably make matters worse. He took another look at Warren as he moved towards Elektra, grunting with effort. Something inside him shifted. Warren¡¯s resolve was clear, but so was the pain he was in. Sabir knew Elektra¡¯s cruelty firsthand. He understood the vicious words she¡¯d shriek. Sabir knew he couldn¡¯t leave Warren. Leaving him was akin to leaving himself.


    Instead, Sabir took a few steps back but didn¡¯t exit the room. By the wall, he stood with his arms crossed, his expression rigid. If Warren was going to face Elektra, Sabir would not abandon him.


    Elektra¡¯s eyes flicked to Sabir, her expression darkening with irritation. ¡°Didn¡¯t you hear him?¡± she spat. ¡°This doesn¡¯t concern you. Leave!¡±


    ¡°It concerns me if you¡¯re going to beat him to a pulp,¡± Sabir replied, his voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving. I must ensure the safety of my master. I am his servant. It¡¯s only fitting, after all.¡± Sabir smiled as he used her words against her.


    Warren shot Sabir a displeased look while still hunched over slightly, but chose not to argue. Maybe he felt a sense of relief that Sabir stayed by his side.


    Elektra let out a short, humorless laugh. ¡°You¡¯ve got guts, I¡¯ll give you that,¡± she said, her eyes narrowing. ¡°But this is between me and Warren. Stay if you like, but don¡¯t think for a second that you¡¯re safe.¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of you,¡± he mumbled, his heart pounded in his chest.


    Elektra smirked once again, as she stepped towards Warren, her posture relaxed. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you remember what I¡¯ve taught you.¡± She began hopping on the spot, using her tiptoes. Switching from one foot to another, she put her fists up in a loose battle stance.


    Warren straightened his back as he took a fighting stance of his own. He put his fists up, his forearms parallel to each other, creating a tight rectangle that protected his upper body. He glanced briefly at Sabir, a silent acknowledgment passing between them, before he shifted his focus entirely to Elektra.


    Sabir watched as Warren and Elektra squared off, his heartbeat racing, anticipating the first flurry of blows. Silence screamed within the training ground. It made Sabir¡¯s skin prickle with unease. But he stayed rooted to the spot, ready to step in if things went too far.


    To Sabir¡¯s surprise, Warren moved first, a powerful strike aimed at Elektra¡¯s head. Elektra, still hopping, stepped back. Before her feet touched the ground, she deflected his blow with her palm. She then pivoted her foot, generating enormous force, and countered with a swift kick to his shoulder. The force of it made Warren stagger back, but he quickly regained his footing, his expression hardening as he launched another attack.


    Warren threw as many punches as he could muster, each laced with intense ferocity, yet Elektra met him blow for blow, easily dispatching his attack with a calmness that aggravated Warren, with his more frantic approach. Elektra had the upper hand, her years of experience and ruthless training evident in every strike. But Warren didn¡¯t back down, even as the sparring match became more intense, their strikes harder and faster.


    Warren impressed Sabir with his skill, yet he knew Elektra still had more to show. As if she was listening. In the flurry of combat, Elektra sent out a swift, brutal kick, sending Warren crashing to the mat. He groaned and gripped his side as he fought to stand, but Elektra was already on him, pinning him down with one knee and pressing a forearm to his throat.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Sabir said sharply, stepping forward. ¡°You¡¯ve made your point.¡±


    Elektra glanced up at him, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. ¡°He¡¯s stronger than he looks,¡± she said, almost as if she were giving Warren a backhanded compliment. ¡°But strength isn¡¯t enough, Sabir. He still has a lot to learn.¡±


    Elektra released her forearm against Warren¡¯s throat. She pushed her hands against the floor and forced herself up in the air, landing with a graceful flip. She then dusted off her hands as if the whole thing had been nothing more than a casual exercise.


    Warren lay on the mat, wheezing, his face twisted in pain and frustration. Elektra looked down at Warren coldly. ¡°That was for coming late.¡± Then her eyes flicked to Sabir, who was already moving to help Warren to his feet.


    Sabir pulled Warren up from the ground, giving him support using his shoulder. As Sabir steadied him, Warren winced but accepted the help, feeling his pride bruised along with his body.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be staying here,¡± Warren muttered into his ear.


    ¡°I have to,¡± Sabir replied firmly, his gaze never leaving Elektra. ¡°I¡¯m not going to let her tear you apart. She¡¯s crazy.¡±


    A dangerous glint shone in Elektra¡¯s eyes as her lips curled into a smirk. ¡°Crazy, am I?¡± she asked, her tone deceptively sweet. She took a step closer to Sabir. ¡°If you¡¯re so eager to protect him, maybe you should take his place.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened, and he protested, but Elektra silenced him with a sharp look. ¡°No more excuses, Warren. If Sabir thinks he can do better, let¡¯s see it.¡±


    Sabir looked towards Warren. ¡°Can you stand on your own?¡± Upon Warren¡¯s weak nod, Sabir released Warren from his shoulder. Elektra watched as Sabir moved towards her, till they were only several feet away from each other. Sabir¡¯s jaw tightened as he met Elektra¡¯s eyes. ¡°If that¡¯s what it takes,¡± he said, his voice steady, ¡°then so be it.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Good,¡± she purred, taking a step back to give him space. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can handle what Warren couldn¡¯t.¡±


    Sabir glanced at Warren, who looked at him with wide eyes, his fingers running through his hair aggressively. Sabir gave him a small nod. A signal to tell him everything was going to be okay, even if he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what he was getting himself into.


    As Elektra moved into position, the room seemed to close in around them, the high ceilings and tatami mats fading into the background as the focus shifted entirely to the two figures facing off. Sabir knew this was more than just a sparring match. This was a test. What did Elektra want to prove? He did not know.


    Elektra raised an eyebrow, her expression almost playful as she beckoned him forward. ¡°Show me what you¡¯ve got, Sabir,¡± she said, her voice dripping with anticipation.


    Sabir took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He knew he couldn¡¯t afford to hesitate, not with Elektra. He stepped forward, his heart beating with anticipation, as he took a fighting stance. Sabir had no intention of losing.

 Chapter 48 - What Goes On In That Mind

    Sabir and Elektra circled each other, anticipating the slightest twitch of muscle; the tension was thick. The high ceiling pressed down on Sabir, while the walls inched closer with every step he took towards her. His vision tunneled. The only thing on his mind was survival. There was no escape. He had to meet Elektra head on.


    Sabir¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. He cursed his luck, trust his nosiness to get himself killed. There was no point in regretting following Warren. He was here now; he needed to protect him. They were friends now. This was a test of will.


    HIs will to survive.


    Elektra smiled with a predatory grin. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve had systematic training. Training neither you nor even my halfling brother have received. What makes you think you can beat me?¡±


    She was right. Sabir didn¡¯t have a chance. The wounds he gained fighting her in The Commons ached every time he saw her. Outmatched and outgunned. How could a dud beat a noble?


    It didn¡¯t matter.


    There was no point in responding. Sabir¡¯s focus became razor sharp. As he stood on his tiptoes, his fists clenched. He took a deep breath, sharpening his senses as the world slowed around him.


    Elektra¡¯s expression darkened as she continued, recalling a memory that irritated her to no end. ¡°I remember the last time we fought,¡± she said, shivering slightly. ¡°In The Commons. You almost had me. Your eyes were rolled back as if you were some kind of zombie.¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t quite understand what she was talking about. That time in The Commons, everything was a haze. Everything came back to him as flashes, broken images of different people. The only thing that was undeniable was that he lost control of his body. Something took over. Something primal and dangerous. Sabir had remembered some of it while in that limousine, with Elektra and Noah. But what did it matter now? That strength had long gone. He was still powerless.


    Elektra narrowed her eyes, her lips curling into a dangerous smile. ¡°But this time,¡± she whispered, her voice dripping with menace, ¡°I won¡¯t be holding back.¡±


    ¡°Quit talking and fight me already.¡±


    Before she could make her move, Warren stepped forward, his voice slicing through the tension. ¡°Elektra, stop!¡± he commanded, his tone urgent. Elektra didn¡¯t even, staring at Sabir with a wintry smile that didn¡¯t falter. There was only a flicker of annoyance in her eyes at the interruption.


    ¡°Shut up Warren. If you want to stop me, you¡¯re gonna have to use force. But we all know how that¡¯s gonna go.¡± Ignoring Warren¡¯s plea, Elektra¡¯s body surged with power. She channeled electricity down to her legs, the energy crackling and sparking along her skin. The temperature rose as her power manifested. Her eyes emitted a strange, unearthly glow that flickered in rhythm with her heartbeat. Sabir¡¯s stomach twisted in horror, but he made himself stand his ground because he knew there was no going back.


    With a sudden explosion of speed, Elektra shot forward, her movements too fast for the eye to follow. Sabir¡¯s instincts screamed at him to move, and he barely threw himself to the side as she closed in. Her leg whipped out, the force of her kick slicing through the air where his head had been just moments before. The impact of her missed strike sent a gust of wind across his face, the residual static charge prickling his skin.


    Elektra didn¡¯t relent. She spun, her foot a deadly blur as it arced towards his ribs. As the electric hum of her kick passed over him, Sabir ducked. Sabir cursed inwardly. Her kicks contained such ferocity, each one posing a potential knockout blow. He had to twist and dodge. His body moved on pure instinct, every fiber of his being focused on survival.


    Sabir was losing hope, as Elektra¡¯s onslaught of kicks continued. The missed kicks filled the air with lingering energy, static sticking to his clothes and making the hair on his arms stand up. Sabir could feel the heat of her power, the danger in every movement she made. Sabir felt as though he was in the heart of a thunderstorm, with Elektra being the lightning hammering again and again.


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    ¡°Not bad,¡± Elektra taunted, her voice cutting through the chaos of their battle. Sabir found himself annoyed by Elektra¡¯s lack of urgency, along with her taunting as they fought, but he couldn¡¯t do anything about it.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the reactions and instincts of a hunter, but it¡¯s a shame, really¡­because you¡¯re just a dud. Maybe once I kill you, you might be reborn,¡± Elektra cackled.


    Sabir had no time to even consider what she said. He was fighting for his life, his body moving on autopilot as he struggled to avoid her relentless attacks. She calculated her strikes to push him to his limits, to test how far he could be pushed before breaking.


    But Sabir could feel himself wearing down.His muscles were screaming with each movement, and his breaths were coming in ragged gasps. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes as he fought to keep up with her. Elektra appeared unfazed, maintaining her sharp and precise movements. She was playing with him, toying with him.


    Her kick slid by his defenses in a single second. Sabir attempted to turn aside, but her foot struck him squarely on the chest. The force of the strike, which was like a sledgehammer, lifted him off his feet and sent crashing to the ground. Pain erupted in his ribs, and the force of the strike sucked the breath out of his lungs, causing his vision to darken.


    His bones shook as he landed forcefully on the ground. Sabir struggled to breathe, his chest rising and plunging as he fought for air. He felt pain throughout his whole body from the agony in his ribs, and everything spun around him. Elektra was on him before he could even consider clutching his sides. She pushed him to the ground, her face inches from his, her knees pounding into his arms, locking him from escaping.


    ¡°Where is it?¡± she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, her breath hot against his skin. Her eyes bored into his, the glow still pulsing with the remnants of her power. ¡°Where¡¯s that strength you had in The Commons?¡±


    Confusion and pain swirled within Sabir as he looked up at her. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what it was. I don¡¯t know how I did it.¡± Elektra narrowed her eyes, checking for any sliver of deceit. All she could see was a scared little man, who mirrored her level of confusion. Frustrated, Elektra tightened her grip on his lapel.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a challenge like this,¡± she muttered. With a sigh, Elektra released him; Sabir lurched back to the ground. Without even glancing back at, she turned to leave. The sparks of electricity that danced across her body ebbed away. The room was quiet. Too quiet, as if the silence was mocking Sabir¡¯s defeat.


    Sabir was lying there, his body shaking from the fight. With every successive breath he took, a fresh wave of pain struck him like a tide. She had completely outperformed and outmatched him in every trade. He lamented his inability to even get a single punch in. Worse of all, a gnawing sense of failure ate him whole. He was nothing more than a punching bag. That was the reality.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Immediately Warren had rushed to his side, his face etched with concern.


    Sabir pushed his torso upright and tilted his head back to see the high ceiling that he once thought was going to fall on top of him. ¡°Yeah¡­ I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he muttered unconvincingly.


    Warren looked towards the door that Elektra left through, he let out a sigh. He didn¡¯t know if they were lucky or not. Sabir could¡¯ve died. They should count their blessings, yet Warren couldn¡¯t help but feel bitter. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Sabir. I just don¡¯t understand- what goes through that girl¡¯s head?¡±


    ¡°One minute, she¡¯s trying to kill me; the next, she¡¯s¡­ what? Interrogating me, giving me a lesson. You have a crazy ass sister.¡±


    Warren helped him to his feet, bearing most of Sabir¡¯s weight as they slowly made their way toward the door. Sabir leaned heavily on his friend, his legs trembling beneath him. He gritted his teeth as he forced his legs to move. He did his best to stifle his scream. That came out more like a grunt.


    Sabir¡¯s mind raced with questions as they left the training room. What had happened to him in The Commons? Where had that strength come from, and why had it abandoned him when he needed it most? And why was Elektra so fixated on it?


    It made no sense. Elektra had beaten him. Why was she still so interested in it all? Sabir hoped that after this fight, that she¡¯ll drop it and that it would be more comforting knowing she was trying to kill him, at least then he would know where they stood. Whatever was going on, Sabir knew one thing for certain: he was in way over his head.


    As they reached the hallway leading back to his room, Sabir glanced at Warren. A question surfaced in his mind that he needed to let out. ¡°Why do you put up with her? You let her walk all over you.¡±


    Warren didn¡¯t answer right away. His brow furrowed in thought, his expression troubled as if he, too, was grappling with the same questions that plagued Sabir¡¯s mind. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. ¡°Because,¡± he said quietly, ¡°I promised my mother.¡±

 Chapter 49 - Born a Mistake

    I shouldn¡¯t have been born. Even as a child, I understood I was a mistake, the darkest secret of the Voltaire family that threatened to tarnish their esteemed reputation among the rest of the nobles. Hidden deep within the servants¡¯ quarters was where I drew my first breath. Even now I can remember the thick scent of cleaning product and the hushed voices of the maids. Among them, I was born secretly in a makeshift bed, with no doctor or midwife in sight; entering this world, I became a brutal reminder of a night my father wished to forget.


    My mother never spoke about my father, nor about how Alaric Voltaire had taken her, how the patriarch of the Voltaire family, the great noble, had forced himself on a lowly maid. A young woman with no power to resist.


    My mother was once beautiful. I heard that plenty from the other maids; even after she was gone. Yet it seemed that beauty was nothing more than a curse, attracting the worst attention. If not for her beauty, she wouldn¡¯t have suffered. To everyone else, it was a gift, but for my mother, it became a glass showcase, admiring her value; but only skin-deep.


    As soon as I could understand and speak, I knew I wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. Maids would take turns monitoring me in a small room, never letting me out, having to keep me a secret from the rest of the world. Whenever my mother would return from whatever hell she was forced into, she would come back to me with the warmest and happiest smile on earth. As I grew up, I thought my mother should¡¯ve hated me, a constant reminder of the abuse. Yet, she loved me with a depth and purity that I didn¡¯t deserve.


    All my childhood memories started and ended with her smile, soft and warm. With her gentle hands, she would cradle me and sing lullabies that never failed to lull me to sleep. She was the kindest person I ever knew; her love unconditional, unwavering, even when I sensed the pain behind her eyes. She probably didn¡¯t want a child, especially not the child of a man who had stolen her dignity. But if she ever resented me for that, she never let it show. To her, I was simply her son, and that was enough.


    Before she would leave to do work, early in the morning, she would whisper to me while I still fought to stay awake, to go with her, to stay by my mother¡¯s side. She¡¯d push me back into bed softly, telling me to wait for her in her room and to never show myself outside. I didn¡¯t have any blinding curiosity. My mother¡¯s words were gospel. So I listened.


    I tried to be invisible, becoming a ghost within the walls of the estate. She held me as close as she could. I was a burden, it would¡¯ve been easier to abandon me. I didn¡¯t want to let her down. She shielded me from the harsh realities of the world, creating a bubble of love around me I could never quite understand.


    However, the inevitable happened. They discovered me. I remember little of that time, just fragments, really. The shock on the faces of the servants, as they realized they were betrayed by one of their own. One maid had told my father of my existence. The feeling of betrayal that my mother felt that day overwhelmed her. And then, just as quickly as the whispers about my existence started, they moved us. They took my mother and me from the servant quarters, out of the shadows and into the light.


    My father seemed to take responsibility for his actions, and we were given a suite in the main house with rooms that were too large and too grand for us. The family had acknowledged my existence, rather begrudgingly, out of duty rather than love or care. I was, after all, a Voltaire, even if I was born of violence and silence.


    Since then, I have had more interactions with the rest of my family. Alaric Voltaire didn¡¯t care for me. I could see it in the way he barely acknowledged my presence. But he did what he thought was right by the family¡¯s twisted code of honor. Acknowledging me meant placing me within the confines of the Voltaire household, even if my presence there was a constant reminder of his sins.


    My mother seemed to take the change with humility, but deep down, I knew she despised the family. The Voltaires had taken everything from her, the few things she had, yet she never showed her hatred in front of me. It was as if she carried the weight of her anger alone, protecting me from it, shielding me from the bitterness that surely festered within her.


    Even when she spoke of the other children, my half-siblings, the legitimate heirs of the Voltaire name, she did so with a softness that baffled me. ¡°They may never accept you,¡± she would tell me, her voice tender as she stroked my hair. ¡°But always be kind, Warren. Be kind because that¡¯s what I expect from you, my son.¡±


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    Who knew being kind came with a priceless cost?


    I never understood why she expected me to be kind towards those who were bound to hate me, scorning my very existence. But my mother¡¯s word was law to me. So I tried. I tried to be the child she wanted me to be, even as I faced the cold indifference of my siblings.


    Elektra was the worst. She was the same age as me, yet already hardened by the world in ways I couldn¡¯t comprehend. She looked at me with disdain. How could a child her age already know such hate? She considered me inferior, someone to mock and use for entertainment. Every word she uttered was sharp and cruel. I spent many days crying.


    Noah wasn¡¯t much better. His indifference was colder, somehow more painful. He didn¡¯t acknowledge me unless he had to, and when he did, it was with a detached hatred that made me feel like I was less than nothing. He ignored me, as if pretending I didn¡¯t exist would make it so.


    But there was Vincent. Sweet, kind Vincent. He was the one who saw me, who treated me as something more than just a mistake. Vincent was slightly younger than Noah, and in him, I found a friend. He would smile at me, gift me toys, and speak to me as if I were his equal. Those moments with Vincent were the brightest parts of my childhood, small pockets of warmth in an otherwise unwelcoming world.


    Yet Vincent¡¯s kindness was not enough to cover the cold reality of my existence. I was an outsider in my own family. As I grew up, that became more apparent.


    When I hit the age of seven, I began training alongside Elektra, the art of fighting and using weapons. When my mother heard I had gained the opportunity, she was ecstatic. The prospect of her son becoming a hunter filled her with hope. It was around that time that my mother started speaking to me in hushed tones about my half-brother, Noah. She would sit me down in the evenings, her voice gentle yet firm.


    ¡°Noah will be the next patriarch of this family, Warren,¡± she would say, her eyes searching mine as if she wanted to impress the importance of her words on my young mind. ¡°He¡¯s the one who will lead the Voltaires when your father is gone. You must understand that, my son.¡± I would nod, not fully understanding but knowing that it was important to her that I listened.


    ¡°But what does that mean for me?¡± I asked once, my voice small and uncertain.


    ¡°It means that you have a role to play,¡± she said, her hand resting on my shoulder. ¡°You are his brother, whether or not he acknowledges you. You must help him, support him, in any way you can. That is how you will find your place in this family, Warren. You will follow behind him, and you¡¯ll earn everyone¡¯s respect.¡±


    ¡°But Noah doesn¡¯t like me. He doesn¡¯t even look at me.¡±


    My mother¡¯s expression softened, her hand moving to cup my cheek. ¡°I know, my love. But that doesn¡¯t change what you must do. Be kind to him, even when he isn¡¯t kind to you. Help him, even if he doesn¡¯t see it. One day, he may recognize your worth. And even if he doesn¡¯t, you will have done what¡¯s right.¡±


    Those words shaped something deep inside me. I didn¡¯t fully understand it at the time, but they planted a seed, a desire to prove myself, to find recognition, even from a brother who seemed to hate me. I wanted Noah to see me, to acknowledge me, not just as the bastard son of a maid, but as someone worthy of standing by his side.


    The more effort I put in, the hard work in order to be noticed, the more Noah pushed me away, lashing out at me in anger. He would scowl at me when I offered my hand, turn his back when I tried to speak to him. Each rejection was like a thorn in my heart, but I held onto my mother¡¯s words, the promise I had made to her.


    I tried to help in small ways, in ways that Noah wouldn¡¯t even notice. I would tidy up after him, make sure his things were in order, and listen in on the lessons he received from our tutors so I could anticipate his needs. It was pathetic. Maybe the way I clung to the hope that one day he would acknowledge me. But it was all I had.


    When I was ten, my world shattered. My mother, my anchor, my everything, fell ill. It started as a cough, nothing more than a nuisance, but it quickly became something much worse. The disease took her slowly, cruelly, robbing her of her strength, her vitality, until she was nothing but a shadow of the woman she had been.


    I stayed by her side through it all, clinging to her hand, watching as the light faded from her eyes. I was so small, so powerless, and all I could do was watch as the only person who had ever truly loved me slipped away. She tried to smile for me, even at the end, her fingers brushing through my hair as she whispered words of comfort that I was too young to fully understand.


    ¡°Be kind, Warren. Don¡¯t let them change you. Promise me¡­ you won¡¯t become¡­ like them.¡± I promised. I promised her with tears streaming down my face, my heart breaking as I clung to her, knowing that I was about to lose the only person who had ever truly been mine.


    And then she was gone. The world felt colder, emptier, and I was left alone in a family that didn¡¯t want me. But I held onto that promise, the last thing she had ever asked of me. I wouldn¡¯t become like them. No matter how much they pushed me away, no matter how much they scorned me, I would be kind. I would be good.


    I would be the son she had raised me to be.

 Chapter 50 - Validation

    Hobbling through the decorated corridors of the Voltaire estate, Sabir and Warren leaned on each other, both their steps uneven. The constant stinging of their injuries replaced the adrenaline that coursed through their veins during their spars with Elektra.


    With every step that Sabir took, a sharp jolt of pain struck him like needles. Exhaustion made his feet feel like lead, yet he gritted his teeth and pushed on; causing beads of sweat to run down his brow. Sabir looked to his side to see Warren. He was not faring any better; his breathing was ragged, and his normally steady hands trembled slightly as he gripped Sabir¡¯s shoulder.


    As they turned towards the corridor that led to Warren¡¯s room, a man wearing a suit, similar to what Sabir was wearing but clearly of superior quality, blocked off the pair. The man had fashioned a tie for himself with red and black stripes that blended together.


    The man peered at them with a titled gaze. Loose strands of his thinning hair hovered over his inquisitive gaze. ¡°Master Warren, it¡¯s good to see you.¡±


    Sabir could hear Warren curse under his breath upon coming face to face with the elderly gentleman. ¡°Hello Frederick, how are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Oh the usual, the Voltaire family doesn¡¯t run by itself, as you should know,¡± the old man responded. He looked again at Warren¡¯s condition and grinned with a smile that made Sabir shiver. ¡°I see Elektra, and you are continuing training. Good, it excites me knowing the family¡¯s future is in excellent hands.¡± The man shifted his gaze towards Sabir, his smile disappearing entirely, as he ran his hand through his gray beard, occasionally scraping his deep wrinkles on his face. ¡°And who is this Master Warren? I don¡¯t remember hiring this boy.¡±


    Sweat trickled down Warren¡¯s face as he smiled weakly. ¡°Oh, I hired him myself. He¡¯s my uh¡­personal manservant. Don¡¯t worry though, I¡¯ve trained him myself. You need not worry, Frederick.¡± Warren¡¯s nervousness transmitted itself onto Sabir, who didn¡¯t understand what was going on.


    The old man, known as Frederick, puffed his chest and raised his chin. ¡°Master Warren, I am the head butler of the Voltaire family. All staff should be hired by me and only me. I have heard rumors of a new manservant, but to think it was true. I really don¡¯t like losing control.¡±


    Sabir could feel his intense stare as he analyzed him from head to toe. ¡°Young man, what is your name?¡±


    ¡°Sabir¡­Sabir Quinn.¡±


    Upon Sabir enunciating the last syllable of his name, Frederick¡¯s rather pale skin morphed to a scarlet, the air around Sabir became thick, he struggled to breathe as the old man seemed to have turned larger, almost demonic. If Sabir had the energy to scream, he would do so, but fear rooted his legs to the ground, and without Warren¡¯s support, he would have already collapsed.


    ¡°He¡¯s gonna kill me.¡± That was the only thought that ran through Sabir¡¯s mind. Confusion and fear conquered his mind.


    ¡°-Ahem, well, I must be going now.¡± Frederick coughed, readjusting his collar and tie, his words cutting away any tension. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the physician arrives shortly, Master Warren.¡± The old man turned to leave in a hurry, but his gaze never left Sabir for a moment.


    Before Sabir could question Warren about that man, Warren pushed him into the room with a shaky hand. Sparse furnishings filled the room, such as a single bed pushed against the wall, a small desk cluttered with papers, and a wardrobe that appeared untouched for weeks. Whilst the room was ornate and expensive, it didn¡¯t match the opulence of the Voltaire family, but he didn¡¯t comment on it. Warren guided Sabir to the bed, where they both collapsed, the springs creaking under their combined weight.


    Sabir¡¯s fear dissipated as quickly as it came, and his only thought was to regain his breath and relax on the cushioned bed.


    ¡°Frederick, the head butler.¡± Warren uttered amid his heavy breaths.


    ¡°Should I be worried?¡± Sabir questioned, as he remembered the murderous atmosphere that the head butler released towards him.


    Warren rolled to his sides. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We should be fine. Although I don¡¯t know him very well, he seems like the type of person to keep to himself. He just creeps me out is all. In his prime, he used to be a hunter, one of the best of the best, working for Zeus.¡±


    A sense of relief washed over Sabir. If Warren wasn¡¯t too worried, more than likely he¡¯d be fine. Perhaps that killing intent he felt was merely an illusion by his fatigued mind. Yet his instincts had rarely ever failed him. It¡¯s what kept him alive for so long. Sabir pushed away such thoughts. He was fine; he was safe. There was no reason to read into such a small interaction.


    A silence hung between them as they reflected on today¡¯s events. ¡°Sorry about¡­all of that, by the way,¡± Warren muttered, breaking the quiet reflection that had settled between them. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to meet Sabir¡¯s eyes, guilt clear in the way he slouched forward, his shoulders hunched.


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    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I doubt an old butler would do anything.¡±


    ¡°-No, not that¡­ my sister.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Sabir shook his head, forcing a tired smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I¡¯ve got my own issues with Elektra.¡± He winced as he adjusted his position, trying to find a spot that didn¡¯t make his ribs scream in protest.


    Warren looked at him, his eyes filled with guilt. ¡°You¡¯ll never be able to beat her, you know,¡± he whispered, his voice laced with bitterness. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re a dud.¡± There was an edge of self-loathing as he talked, his mentality of defeat projected onto Sabir.


    Since he was granted that pass to enter Havana, Sabir had been used to those words of scorn. A dud was useless. A dud had no value. A dud was a dud. Hearing it from Warren was just another reminder that he was a weakling. He was pathetic, and he knew it deep down. However, wouldn¡¯t it be better to try defying the odds you were given instead of just settling and rolling over? Sabir had always lived with that mentality, Cynthia instilled it in him.


    Amidst Sabir¡¯s contemplation, Warren¡¯s expression twisted into a painful wince, and he stared at his hands as if they held all the answers he couldn¡¯t grasp. ¡°And I¡¯m not much better. I¡¯ll never be able to beat her, either.¡±


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Sabir said, his voice firm despite the pain that lanced through his chest with every breath. Warren looked up at him, surprised by the forcefulness in his tone. ¡°You¡¯re plenty strong, Warren. Just standing up to that bitch takes guts, more than most people have.¡±


    The self-hatred that Warren felt waned. His eyes softened as Sabir¡¯s words sank in. Approval, something Warren had rarely felt in his life, glimmered in Sabir¡¯s face. He¡¯d been living in the shadows of expectations for so long that he didn¡¯t even know what it felt like to be recognized for his own efforts, no matter how small.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Warren murmured. For once, he didn¡¯t feel the crushing weight of failure pressing down on him. He didn¡¯t feel like he was drowning in the expectations of others.


    Sabir leaned back against the bed¡¯s headboard, trying to ignore the pain in his ribs. ¡°I¡¯m sure your Esper abilities will get stronger if you put your mind to it. You¡¯ve got potential, Warren. I mean, c¡¯mon, you got that crazy noble bloodline. Not like me, man. I¡¯m from the dirt.¡±


    Warren let out a bitter laugh, but there was a trace of hope in it. ¡°Maybe, but I¡¯ve got the worst ability in the entire academy. Everyone looks down on me. Especially Elektra.¡±


    Sabir shrugged, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his chest. ¡°Let people talk. You¡¯ve got it in you to make people eat those words. What happened in that training room¡­ it proved you¡¯re not as weak as they think. You stood up and faced someone you knew you¡¯d lose against. I wonder if they¡¯d do the same.¡±


    Warren stared at Sabir, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all he found was honesty. Sabir wasn¡¯t just saying these things to make him feel better; he believed them. And for the first time in a long while, Warren felt a spark of determination that had been missing for years.


    He didn¡¯t want to let Sabir down. The faith Sabir had shown in him was a rare thing, and Warren clung to it like a lifeline. He felt a renewed sense of energy, a drive to prove that he wasn¡¯t the weakling everyone thought he was. He wanted to become stronger, not just for himself, but for Sabir, for his mother¡¯s memory, and for the promise he¡¯d made to her.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let you down, Sabir. I¡¯m going to get stronger. I¡¯ll make sure of it and then I¡¯ll get you out of this place.¡±


    Sabir smiled at his friend¡¯s new determination. ¡°Damn right. You better get me out of here, you promised, after all. Now you¡¯ve got the drive, that¡¯s more important than any Esper power.¡±


    Warren nodded, but his mind wandered away. Reminded by his mother¡¯s tender voice in his mind, he recalled the valuable lessons she had instilled in him. She constantly encouraged him to back Noah, to assist him, as he was the future patriarch. She molded Warren¡¯s ambitions, fostering a feeling of obligation towards his half-brother, even though Noah had reciprocated none of his affection.


    He dedicated his childhood to gaining Noah¡¯s acceptance and showing his worthiness to be considered a Voltaire, regardless of his origins. The aspiration of standing behind him someday. Noah¡¯s indifference always scarred him, even though he tried his best. The icy, dismissive hatred caused more pain than Elektra¡¯s scorn or anyone else¡¯s ridicule.


    Warren understood he could be strong without seeking approval from Noah, even as Sabir¡¯s words lingered in his thoughts. He didn¡¯t need to follow in anyone¡¯s footsteps to prove his worth. If he were to create his own way, perhaps he would at last achieve the approval he had been seeking, not only from Noah but also from within.


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you proud, Sabir.¡±


    Warren clenched his bruised fists, ¡°And I¡¯ll make her proud too.¡± He said under his breath.


    Sabir nodded, satisfied with the resolve he saw in Warren. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Y¡¯know, in a situation like this, I think my buddy Max would probably say some stupid words of advice like¡­¡±


    Sabir cleared his throat and brought his voice to a higher pitch. ¡°You, as an aristocrat, have a duty to serve the people. Strength must come with action. If you don¡¯t look after the regular man, society will perish!!!¡± Ignoring the pain in his body, Sabir grabbed Warren and shook him vigorously.


    Warren laughed heartily, a genuine smile reaching his eyes, as his body shook. ¡°No way someone talks like that. HAHA. Is your friend an idiot?¡±


    Warren composed himself, as Sabir let go of his shoulders that he was holding. ¡°But I promise I will use my strength for good. And Sabir¡­thank you. For believing in me.¡±


    ¡°Anytime,¡± Sabir replied, his voice tired. ¡°We¡¯ve got to look out for each other, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Warren agreed, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his Esper powers. It was a feeling he hadn¡¯t experienced in a long time, if ever. It was the feeling of being accepted, of being valued for who he was, not just for what he could do.


    Eventually the physician arrived, annoyed he had to come so far. Once all patched up, the day wore on and the two of them sat in companionable silence, each lost in their thoughts. They found solace in each other¡¯s presence, in the bond they had forged through shared hardship, as the pain of their injuries faded into the background.


    For the first time since childhood, Warren didn¡¯t feel alone.

 Chapter 51 - Freedom

    The sun barely peeked over the sky in the early morning. The summer warmth graced the Voltaire estate, reflecting golden light off the cobblestone building. In the estate''s corner, this warmth did not reach. The dark and cold walls of the servant¡¯s quarters had blocked it. There, Sabir abruptly woke up from his sound sleep. Something that had never happened before.


    Sabir felt someone nudging him, pulling the blanket off his body. Sabir rubbed the sleep from his eyes, struggling to wake up. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± He mumbled while letting out a big yawn.


    He had only just stirred when Warren, already dressed and looking far too awake, nudged him gently. ¡°Get up,¡± Warren said, his voice low but firm. ¡°We¡¯ve got training.¡±


    Sabir groaned, rolling onto his side to escape the intruding light from the small window. ¡°Training?¡± he mumbled, still half-asleep. ¡°Again?¡±


    Warren nodded grimly. ¡°Elektra doesn¡¯t wait for anyone.¡±


    Sabir knew Warren was right, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier. Elektra had been relentless in the three days since they first fought. Every morning, she demanded they join her in the training room before dawn. Each day was the same brutal routine, and Sabir was feeling the strain.


    Leaving the servants¡¯ quarters, Sabir noticed the shocked expressions on the maids¡¯ faces as they walked by. Their eyes widened at the sight of Warren, clearly surprised to see a Voltaire in this part of the estate. Even though Sabir could detect their curiosity, they said nothing and simply bowed their heads respectfully as the boys moved along.


    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe she makes you do this every day,¡± Sabir said as they approached the training room. ¡°And before breakfast too.¡±


    It turned out, every single time Sabir was asleep, Warren had been sparring Elektra. That was why Warren was always awake before Sabir. Every time Warren would scramble to put a blanket over himself, he was trying to hide the bruises from the fighting. Sabir was shocked to see Warren¡¯s body covered in a network of black markings from bruises.


    Warren didn¡¯t want Sabir to worry.


    Sabir saw the way Warren winced slightly as he moved. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe she makes you do this every day,¡± Sabir tutted.


    Warren shrugged. ¡°She says it builds discipline,¡± though there was a hint of resignation in his tone.


    ¡°Well, at least we have breakfast to look forward to,¡± Sabir consoled as they walked. ¡°You know, after we finish getting our asses handed to us.¡±


    Warren shook his head. ¡°Yeah, breakfast is gonna be great, but we¡¯ll be fine.¡± His words were reassuring, but Sabir couldn¡¯t ignore the strain in his friend¡¯s voice.


    Warren looked over to Sabir, his eyes narrowed as he analyzed him. ¡°You know, you''re probably the one who gets hurt the most, but your body¡­it seems completely fine. Even those injuries you had when you were in the torture- y¡¯know, the room where we first met. Those injuries are all gone.¡±


    This time it was Sabir¡¯s turn to shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess I heal faster than most.¡±


    Warren wanted to argue with him and call him an idiot, if he thought sustaining such injuries and healing from them overnight was normal, but he was too tired and he needed to reserve energy for sparring, ¡°Sure, whatever you say man,¡± he replied weakly.


    They quickly arrived at the training room, a large space with tall ceilings and simple decor. Waiting with her arms crossed and an impatient expression, Elektra was already there when they arrived. Sabir felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of her. He still couldn¡¯t get a read on her. Her intentions were as unreadable as ever, and her demeanor was as cold as ice.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Elektra said, her voice cutting through the silence. ¡°You¡¯re on time. Now let¡¯s get started.¡±


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    There was no miracle today either, no matter how much Sabir prayed. Elektra didn¡¯t hold back, treating him like a punching bag.  Showing no mercy, she used her lethal kicks, aiming at his weak points with a sadistic satisfaction. Sabir had grown accustomed to the pain, knowing that his body would heal quickly. But Warren was making every effort to fight back. Because of his lack of instinct, he was an easy target for Elektra¡¯s attacks, causing him to withstand her assaults.


    ¡°Focus, Warren,¡± Elektra snapped, as she landed a harsh blow that sent him sprawling to the floor. ¡°You¡¯ll never improve if you can¡¯t even keep your footing.¡±


    Sabir winced at the sight of Warren struggling to get back on his feet, but there was little he could do. Elektra¡¯s attention quickly shifted back to him, and he dodged another series of blows, his mind racing to anticipate her next move. There was something unsettling about the way she fought, as if she were trying to provoke him, to force him to tap into some hidden reserve of strength that he simply didn¡¯t have.


    Even though Sabir was in physical agony, his mind persistently wandered back to the same troublesome ideas. The need to escape the estate. The problem wasn¡¯t leaving the grounds. He could manage that easily enough. Yet, as soon as he left the premises, Sabir would find himself stranded in Sector 5, with no clear path forward, no established plan, and no allies to rely on. Taking that risk wasn¡¯t something he could do casually.


    He reassured himself that there was no pressure to hurry. Not yet. He still needed to meet Vincent. An unsettling suspicion had been developing within him about Vincent, something that had been growing steadily since he crossed paths with Elektra. Sabir had suspected that Vincent might be Cynthia¡¯s lover. If that were true, it would mean that the Hounds¡¯ theory about the Triads killing Cynthia wasn¡¯t far-fetched after all. The idea sent a chill down his spine.


    His fists clenched at the mere thought of Cynthia, a surge of resentment coursing through him, his jaw tightening in frustration. Saving Cinder Blaze, the potential mastermind behind his sister¡¯s death, had been a mistake. He could see that now. But what could he do? The Triads had been his only lead, and now he was stuck in a web cast by the Voltaire family, trapped to their mercy.


    Elektra halted his deep thoughts by striking his ribs with her fist, causing him to stumble backward in pain. Before he could catch his breath, she was already back on him, her onslaught showing no mercy. There were no words, only a silent display of ruthless and methodical brutality.


    Sabir gritted his teeth and fought back, his movements becoming more desperate as he tried to keep up with her. The frustration of not being able to read her intentions gnawed at him. Why was she doing this? Was she testing him, or was this just her way of asserting dominance? Whatever the reason, Sabir didn¡¯t want to see her have the satisfaction of seeing him break, so he threw wild haymakers anywhere he could. Unfortunately, she dispatched him once again and sent him back to his room, needing bandages.


    The next few days passed in much the same way. Elektra would train Sabir and Warren rigorously, leaving them battered and bruised after early morning sessions, and then they would quietly tend to their wounds for the rest of the day. With each passing day, Sabir¡¯s mind would only trail with thoughts of revenge and melancholy.


    Escaping. Cynthia. Cassius. All of it weighed heavily on him. It was almost unbearable. Sabir simply felt lost.


    Four more days passed till Warren had spoken abruptly, breaking the silence as they walked once again to the training hall. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, meeting Sabir¡¯s gaze as he put his hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°We¡¯re going out tomorrow,¡± Warren said.


    Sabir raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden announcement. ¡°Out? Where to?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re going to see my brother Vincent.¡±


    A creeping sense of dread tainted Sabir¡¯s anticipation. This was what he¡¯d been waiting for, a chance to meet the man who might hold the answers he so desperately needed. But there was also a sense of foreboding, a feeling that this may shatter everything he thought to be true.


    ¡°What for?¡±


    Warren didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± he said simply, before turning and continuing down the hallway.


    Sabir watched him go, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Whatever Vincent had to say, it was bound to change everything. But whether it would bring him closer to the truth or plunge him deeper into the darkness that surrounded the Voltaire family, he couldn¡¯t say.


    Trailing Warren to their room, Sabir¡¯s mind echoed with a melancholic symphony of lost hopes and shattered dreams. He needed to be ready for whatever was coming next, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was heading into a trap of some kind.


    Although he couldn¡¯t get any sleep, the next morning arrived quickly. Sabir awoke to the now-familiar sight of Warren already dressed and ready to go. There was a tension in the air, a sense of purpose that he had missed. Sabir quickly got dressed, his curiosity gnawing at him from the inside.


    They slipped out of the estate in silence, the early morning light stretching long shadows across the cold stone walls. This was the moment he had been waiting for, a brief, fragile taste of freedom. A sudden gust of wind whipped through the air, causing his suit to billow. The sensation was electric, a jolt of euphoria. Freedom.

 Chapter 52 - A Noble to a Rat, A Rat to a Noble

    As Sabir and Warren went through, the Voltaire estate¡¯s iron gates creaked open, with gray clouds covering the sky late into the afternoon. Sabir looked behind him to see the estate sprawled before them. When he had arrived at Sector 5 he had passed out from his injuries, he sustained in The Commons. The grandeur that seemed to stretch infinitely over the horizon, Sabir tried to see the end of the building to no success. He drank the sheer scale of the architecture. The imposing fa?ade of the tall buildings and the elaborate network of cobblestone roads winding through the well-kept gardens made everything seem so foreign.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Sabir muttered, his amazement slipping out almost involuntarily.


    Warren glanced at him, a knowing smile playing on his lips. ¡°You didn¡¯t think our land was this big, did you?¡±


    Sabir shook his head, still captivated by the breathtaking view. ¡°No way! I mean c¡¯mon, The Limbo was big, but this¡­ this is huge.¡±


    This one estate eclipsed the limits of what a family could and should own. Multiple buildings dotted the landscape, each distinct in its style. Covered bridges and elaborate walkways connected, some towered, their architecture a mix of contemporary and gothic, while others were more subdued and tucked away among trees that were more than likely imported from Sector 3, forming a maze.


    Warren chuckled softly at Sabir¡¯s awe-struck expression. ¡°This entire area is probably four times the size of The Limbo,¡± he said, his tone casual, as if such magnificence were a common thing. ¡°And it¡¯s all for the Voltaire family. Hell, we own the entire sector.¡±


    Sabir shook his head. ¡°Why would you need all of this? It¡¯s just excessive.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± Warren gestured broadly at their surroundings, ¡°This is all for the main family, at least. The collateral families live here too, but they¡¯re separated from the main house and grounds. They¡¯ve got their own spaces, their own lives.¡±


    Sabir frowned, his mind whirring as he tried to grasp the scale of what Warren was saying. ¡°Just how big is your family?¡±


    Warren paused, considering how to explain. ¡°Over the years, the noble heads have married several women, some for power, some for alliances. And if you go further back in our history, there were countless consorts, all to strengthen our numbers and influence. It¡¯s how the nobility operates.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes widened slightly as the enormity of it all sank in. ¡°Hundreds of consorts¡­? So, some people who live here are barely related to you?¡±


    Warren nodded. ¡°Exactly. Many share my surname, but the connection is often several generations back. We¡¯re all descended from the same ancestors, but the ties have become¡­ diluted over time.¡±


    As they continued walking, the imposing walls of the estate seemed to enclose them, guiding them toward the massive gates at the far end. It was here that they found Elektra waiting, leaning casually against a sleek black car with tinted windows. Her eyes flickered with impatience, her foot tapped rhythmically against the cobblestone ground.


    Dressed in a white sports skirt and a black waistcoat, Elektra stood tall with her chin jutted upwards, physically looking down at Warren and Sabir. Her long black boots gleamed in the fading light, and Sabir couldn¡¯t mistake the intensity in her eyes.


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    ¡°Warren, you finally decided to show up,¡± her voice tinged with mild irritation. ¡°Your Lucky this isn¡¯t sparring, or I¡¯d have left you bruised and battered by now.¡±


    Warren offered a small, apologetic smile. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Elektra. Got caught up explaining some things to Sabir.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s eyes flicked to Sabir, and her expression shifted to one of disdain. ¡°And what¡¯s this? My pathetic brother needs his own bodyguard now?¡± She crossed her arms over her chest, her tone mocking. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be here, but I suppose I¡¯ll let it slide¡­ for now. You¡¯re on limited time, Sabir.¡±


    Sabir met her gaze steadily, unfazed by her cutting words. Her lips twitched slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face as she realized her attempt to provoke him had failed.


    Her expression hardened as she took a step closer to Sabir. ¡°But don¡¯t think for a second that I won¡¯t turn you to ash if you try anything stupid, like running away,¡± she hissed, her voice low and threatening. To emphasize her point, she raised one arm, and a crackling arc of electricity danced across her skin, a vivid warning of what she was capable of.


    Sabir didn¡¯t flinch. He simply stared back at her, his expression impassive. After a tense moment, Elektra huffed in frustration, clearly displeased by his lack of reaction. She dropped her arm; the electricity dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get going,¡± Warren interjected quickly, sensing the growing tension. ¡°We¡¯ve got some distance to cover.¡±


    Elektra nodded, though the irritation in her eyes hadn¡¯t completely faded. ¡°You¡¯re right. We need to get Vincent back home. He¡¯s more likely to listen to you anyway,¡± she said, casting Warren a sidelong glance.


    Warren¡¯s expression softened slightly at the mention of their older brother. ¡°Vincent¡¯s always been a bit stubborn. But he knows what¡¯s best for the family.¡±


    Elektra scoffed, rolling her eyes. ¡°I still can¡¯t understand why he prefers that half-breed over his own sister. It¡¯s ridiculous.¡±


    Warren chose not to respond, instead moving toward the car. Sabir followed, his mind buzzing with questions about Vincent, the mysterious sibling he had yet to meet. He noted in his mind that Vincent and Elektra didn¡¯t get along, whilst he was friendly with Warren. If that was anything to go by, Vincent had the potential to be a nice guy. Although Sabir knew not to get his hopes up.


    Vincent was still a Voltaire, after all.


    Elektra told the driver waiting inside the car to unlock the door. With the sound of a soft click, Elektra used it as a signal to open the passenger door, motioning Warren and Sabir to enter with a scowl. To his annoyance, Warren pushed Sabir in first, as he scrambled inside to find a seat. He felt the plush leather seats against his rough hands and the tinted windows that hid him from the rest of the world.


    Once everyone settled in, and Warren forced Sabir tp wear his seatbelt. The engine hummed to life, moving towards where Vincent resided. Sabir glanced out the window, catching a last glimpse of the estate as they pulled away. That estate encapsulated the Voltaire family. Their history and bloodline were all just a facade to flaunt their wealth and power.


    Yet Sabir knew he had only scratched the surface of the Voltaire lineage. He realized how much deeper the rabbit hole went. That there was an entire world of shadows and deceit that lied within the life of a noble. It was a dangerous world, something he would¡¯ve never thought had he never left the Limbo. Everyone had their struggles. Sabir understood that now.


    Sabir couldn¡¯t help but wonder the life of a noble versus that of a slum rat like himself. Which life contained more virtue? Was he morally superior to that of a noble, having known struggle, superior to Warren?


    Sabir turned to see Warren as he leaned back in his seat, a pensive expression on his face, while Elektra sat opposite him, her arms crossed and a scowl etched into her features. What made these people in charge? Was power the only determiner?


    Sabir remained unsure. He wasn¡¯t even sure what he was trying to understand. Pushing such deep thoughts out of his mind, he refocused on the road ahead. He needed to meet the man known as Vincent Voltaire, from there he¡¯ll finally know the truth.


    Hopefully.

 Chapter 53 - Oasis

    Sabir leaned back in his seat. Peering at each house they went past with awe, as the car glided through the cobblestone roads. Sector 5 appeared like a scene from a fairy tale, with everything so pristine and elegant, that looking at the striking architecture looming over commuters, you would have never guessed the horrors behind Havana¡¯s walls.


    He couldn¡¯t help but stare, searing every single archway and bridge into his memory. The houses that they went past blended together brick and stone and elaborate wall padding, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship. These weren¡¯t houses. No.


    It was art.


    Large windows littered each building, allowing light to flood the interiors, while the gable and hipped roofs gave a regal appearance, of a crown on top of a house, fit for a person living in Sector 5. It was a place that seemed untouched by decay that Sabir was all too familiar with.


    ¡°Sector 5 huh,¡± he thought, ¡°This place is unreal. Got to give the Voltaires some credit. I guess they got some style.¡±


    As they moved further through the sector, the streets were set ablaze with activity. Cars lined the streets either parked by different stores or driving somewhere, each vehicle sleek and modern, that fit perfectly within the backdrop. They weaved through the narrow roads with ease, their engines humming softly. But it wasn¡¯t the cars that held Sabir¡¯s attention; it was the people.


    They didn¡¯t seem like humans, the way they strutted through the streets, their chins raised high and their posture so upright. Their clothing looked bizarre to Sabir. Although the quality was undeniable, they seemed far too elaborate, lacking any practicality. Long, flowing fabrics that would catch on the slightest edge, intricate designs that seemed to be more of a burden than a benefit.


    All of it, a desperate attempt to flaunt their riches.


    ¡°Ridiculous,¡± he muttered under his breath. Yet his voice was audible within the awkward confines of the car. Elektra, who sat away from him on the other side, peeked at him.


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Sabir quickly replied.


    Elektra simply smirked, her attention returning to the road ahead as the car slowed down. They were approaching a building that immediately stood out from the rest of Sector 5¡¯s polished perfection. It was a striking structure, its exterior painted in deep purples and blacks. The color scheme was almost aggressive in its boldness, like a bruise against the otherwise pristine landscape.


    As they came to a stop, Sabir noticed the name ¡°Oasis,¡± shining seductively in elegant, gold letters under the streetlights. The letters seemed to almost pulse with a life of their own, as if beckoning passersby to step closer. Deep, velvety purple lights that cast a soft, alluring glow framed the entrance, completely different to what Sabir could see, on the inside from the paneled windows of the door, where there were no lights and only a trial of darkness.


    ¡°Get out,¡± Elektra ordered, opening her door and stepping onto the street without waiting for a response.


    Sabir and Warren exchanged glances before following suit. Sabir¡¯s loafers clicked against the cobblestones as he stepped out, the sound echoing in the quiet afternoon. The driver remained in the car, as instructed.


    Sabir raised his head as he stared. The entire building exuded an aura of forbidden temptation, like a siren¡¯s call in the night. Completely different to the elegance of that found throughout Sector 5. It was as if the building, this Oasis, was mocking the ideals of decorum and restraint that were synonymous with the area. Its very presence an invitation to indulge in the vices hidden behind its doors. Once Warren opened the car door and let Sabir out, Sabir couldn¡¯t resist being drawn in, pure curiosity pulling him closer to the entrance.


    ¡°Woah, hold on Sabir,¡± Warren called out to him.


    ¡°Hold on, I¡¯m just checking.¡± Sabir replied. As he edged closer to the entrance, golden accents adorned the double door entrance, a deep, almost hypnotic shade of burgundy painted the door entrance, a color that seemed to pulse with an inner heat. The intricate carvings on the doors depicted scenes of debauchery, figures entwined in pleasure, faces twisted in ecstasy, their bodies blending into one another in a chaotic, yet somehow mesmerizing, tapestry of vice. It was impossible to look away.


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    As Sabir stood there by the door, peering in from the inside, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The Oasis was not just a building; it was a promise of the forbidden, a place where the rigid rules that the Voltaires set were defied. The colors, the lights, the very design of the structure seemed to seduce the senses, pulling at the edges of his restraint. It was a place where one could lose themselves entirely, body, mind, and soul.


    ¡°Warren, keep your dog in control,¡± Elektra hissed, as she adjusted her skirt.


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, bad Sabir. Anyway, what¡¯s this place?¡± Warren asked, pulling Sabir back towards the car.


    ¡°It¡¯s a club.¡±


    ¡°What kind of club?¡± Sabir asked, unable to hide his curiosity.


    Elektra and Warren both turned to look at him, and for a moment, Sabir felt a wave of unease wash over him. Elektra¡¯s lips curled into a smile, but it wasn¡¯t a kind one. It was the smile that made Sabir want to retreat, to disappear into the shadows.


    ¡°The kind of place an innocent lamb, like you, shouldn¡¯t be,¡± Elektra said, and then she burst into laughter, the sound ringing out through the afternoon air. Warren tried to stifle a laugh but failed, his shoulders shaking as he joined in.


    Sabir rolled his eyes in annoyance. ¡°So what is it like, a brothel or something, a place you pay for sex?¡±


    Elektra wiped a tear from her eye, her laughter subsiding into a smirk. ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you for speaking out of turn, Sabir. Clearly, you¡¯re... well, let¡¯s just say, not quite all there.¡±


    Sabir clenched his fists in anger, but took a deep breath, holding his tongue. He knew better than to argue with her, especially when her mood could change on a whim. Warren, sensing his irritation, rushed to make him feel better. ¡°You see, a club is a place to party, y¡¯know, get your dance on, have a good time. Brothels aren¡¯t exactly legal in Sector 5.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Sabir sighed as he put his hands in the pockets of his pants.


    ¡°Well, come on, let¡¯s head inside.¡± Warren said, as he pulled Sabir towards the entrance this time. But as they moved toward the door, Elektra suddenly stopped, as she looked at Sabir, staring at his slicked back hair, then towards his suit.


    ¡°On second thought,¡± she said, turning to Sabir, ¡°you stay outside.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Sabir¡¯s voice betrayed his surprise. ¡°But I¡¯m Warren¡¯s servant. I¡¯m supposed to stay with him.¡±


    Elektra raised an eyebrow, her gaze piercing through him. ¡°You¡¯re staying here, Sabir. You¡¯ll just be in the way.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t let this happen. The whole reason, he was still here, the reason he didn¡¯t run away as soon as he had the chance. He had to meet Vincent Voltaire. His mind scrambled for a response. Some way to convince her he needed to be there, but before he could say anything more, Warren stepped in.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Sabir,¡± Warren whispered, leaning in close. ¡°I¡¯ll find out everything you need to know. Just wait here.¡±


    Sabir wanted to argue, but upon seeing Warren¡¯s eyes bulge, he understood the message. Don¡¯t get him in any trouble. This was a closed case. Don¡¯t bother arguing. Reluctantly, he nodded, stepping back as Warren and Elektra moved toward the entrance. Sabir watched as Elektra approached the door, her posture radiating confidence.


    Warren looked back at Sabir and gave him a nod, one of gratitude and also determination. There was no issue of trust between the both of them.


    Elektra¡¯s hand shot out, and she pounded on the door with a force that made it rattle in its frame. When there was no immediate response, she screamed, ¡°I¡¯m entering, so you¡¯d better be ready!¡± Then, without warning, she kicked the door open with a force that made Sabir wince. The door dropped to the ground in defeat, completely broken.


    Warren facepalmed, shaking his head. ¡°Couldn¡¯t we have just knocked?¡±


    Elektra turned to him, her smirk returning. ¡°What¡¯s the fun in that, Warren? Don¡¯t be such a pussy.¡±


    ¡°-Oh and Sabir, stand by the door, make sure to not let anyone in. That¡¯s a good boy.¡± Elektra waved her hand at him as he saw them both disappear inside, leaving Sabir alone. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked around. The street was quiet now, the sounds of the bustling city distant, almost as if the world had given him a moment of solitude. He leaned against the wall of the club, staring at the broken down door and wondering what was happening inside.


    Several minutes had passed, there wasn¡¯t even a squeak coming from within the building. Sabir¡¯s anxiety grew with each passing second. The thought of the truth slipping away from him gnawed at him. He felt useless standing out here, like a discarded tool.


    Another fifteen minutes went by when a loud explosion rocked the street, the sound reverberating through the air like a thunderclap. Sabir¡¯s heart leapt into his throat as he stared at the building in shock. Smoke billowed from the windows, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.


    Without thinking, Sabir bolted toward the door. His mind raced, filled with fear for Warren¡¯s safety. Not aware of what was happening inside, he couldn¡¯t simply stand there and be idle. He had to know what had happened. He had to make sure Warren was safe.


    Sabir reached the door and pushed it open, the hinges creaking as the heavy wood gave way. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent burning his nostrils. He could barely see through the haze, but he pushed forward, driven by a singular thought: he had to find Warren.


    The sound of chaos filled the air, shouts, the clatter of debris, the crackle of flames. Sabir¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped into the unknown, unsure of what awaited him in the depths of Oasis.

 Chapter 54 - Unseen Threads

    The door slowly creaked open to Alaric¡¯s study. Slowly, an old man with a neatly trimmed goatee stepped through, his gray hair styled with a comb-over. He moved with a smooth confidence that belied his old age, his footsteps soft, so soft, his polished black shoes did not make a single sound against the hardwood floor beneath him. He wore a tailored suit, while similar to the suits worn by the manservants within the Voltaire estate, the quality was higher, pristine, with no signs of use. His distinct tie, stripped with a deep crimson and black, hung stiffly around his neck. It was a tie that Frederick took pride in; it acted as a symbol; it showed everyone his influence and power. Within the Voltaire family, as the head butler, he was the man who was closest to the patriarch, closer than even his own wife or children. He believed his clothes showed his unwavering devotion to the family.


    As Frederick Voltaire entered the room, he closed the door behind him. His eyes fell on the man sitting at the grand mahogany desk at the back of the room. A huge panel of glass lay behind him. Alaric Voltaire, the patriarch and undisputed ruler of Sector 5, sat with the poise of a king. His distant gaze dominated the room. Frederick always felt elation whenever he was the bearer of his gaze. His master had grown into one of the most powerful Esper¡¯s in Havana. Frederick held back his smile as his eyes flitted between Alaric and the bookshelves that lined the walls, filled with tomes on philosophy, history, and monster encyclopedias.


    ¡°Frederick, it¡¯s good to see you.¡± Alaric¡¯s voice was low, controlled, yet it carried the weight of command. ¡°What do you have to report?¡±


    Frederick edged closer to the desk before he bent his knees into a deep bow, enamored with respect. ¡°My lord, Elektra has left the estate to retrieve Master Vincent.¡±


    Alaric nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed as he processed the information. Vincent had become a liability far too often, and the time had come to bring him back forcefully and condition him to be a true noble. Elektra¡¯s eagerness to win his approval made her the best choice.


    Just as he was about to praise Frederick, and move on, he was cut off. ¡°However,¡± Frederick continued, his voice tinged with a hint of caution, ¡°she was seen leaving with Warren and his manservant.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s expression darkened instantly, his eyes flashing with anger. He slammed a fist onto the desk; the sound reverberating through the room like a thunderclap. ¡°Damn it! I told her to go alone and discreetly!¡± he spat, his voice rising with fury. ¡°Taking that useless boy will only draw attention. The collateral families will be watching their every move now!¡±


    Frederick remained unphased, his face a mask of professionalism as he waited for Alaric¡¯s rage to subside. After a moment, Alaric took a deep breath, his anger quelling. ¡°When did Warren ever have a personal servant? He does not deserve such sentiments. Frederick, I hope you¡¯re not babying the boy,¡± Alaric asked, his eyebrows raised.


    Frederick paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. ¡°This was an issue I wanted to discuss with you, my lord. The manservant wasn¡¯t hired by me. His name is Sabir Quinn, the brother of Cynthia Quinn. I had the chance to ask Master Noah about it. He had told me Elektra was supposed to kill him, but for whatever reason, ownership of the boy fell to Master Warren. The boy is now his manservant, and it seems he has garnered the respect of the other servants, from what I¡¯ve been told.¡±


    Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed even further, a deep scowl forming on his face. ¡°Sabir Quinn,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. ¡°That wretched last name keeps coming up, and yet, he¡¯s still alive. I specifically told both of my children to clean up any loose ends. And yet, here we are.¡±


    He leaned back in his chair; the leather creaking slightly as he did so. His mind was a tornado of thoughts and conspiracies, and now some kid, a gutter rat, threatened to consume everything he had built. He tilted his head to look at the ceiling decorated with ornate engravings. ¡°And Noah? You spoke to him. Has he found any success in his mission?¡±


    Frederick nodded, his posture remaining straight and formal, even with his knee digging into the floor as he kneeled. ¡°Noah and his men are combing through Tetra City. They¡¯ve nearly turned the city upside down in their search. They have leads, my lord, and I believe they will find the bastard soon.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Alaric allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Noah was relentless, the best hunter of his generation, and perhaps the potential to be the best of his bloodline. If anyone could flush out their target, it was him. The thought eased some of the tension that had been building within Alaric¡¯s mind, and he felt a measure of comfort returning.


    ¡°Good,¡± Alaric said, his voice steady once more. ¡°But I want you to stop monitoring Noah. He can handle this on his own. Instead, your focus should be on finding a clean way to eliminate Sabir Quinn. I don¡¯t want the family¡¯s hands dirtied by this. The last thing we need is for anyone to think we¡¯re soiling ourselves over some servant boy. Do what you need to do. Like last time.¡±


    Frederick bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the command. ¡°As you wish, my lord. I¡¯ll think of something. Sabir won¡¯t be a problem for much longer.¡± His lips curled into a slight smile, one that Alaric didn¡¯t miss.


    Alaric studied Frederick for a moment, his eyes sharp. Frederick had been with him for many years, a trusted advisor and executor of his will. There were few people in this world that he trusted completely, and Frederick was one of them. Although considerably weaker at his age, the old man had a talent for dealing with delicate situations in ways that left no trace, and Alaric needed that talent now more than ever.


    ¡°Frederick,¡± he said, his tone softer, ¡°you¡¯re the man I trust the most. Don¡¯t fail me.¡±


    Frederick met Alaric¡¯s gaze with a sinister smile. ¡°I won¡¯t, my lord. You have my word. I will kill Sabir Quinn, just as I killed his sister.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, although you must remember you didn¡¯t succeed completely, the bastard still lives.¡±


    Frederick got up to his feet and looked back at Alaric with a regretful look. ¡°That dirty child will be dead soon, anyway.¡±


    With that, Frederick turned and headed toward the door, his steps as controlled as when he had entered. He paused briefly before exiting, turning back to give Alaric one last respectful nod. Alaric watched as the door closed behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.


    Left alone, he closed his eyes. The only sound in the room was the faint ticking of a grandfather clock that stood beside the door that Frederick had just left through. Like a metronome marking time, its rhythmic beats echoed through the quiet. Each tick was deliberate , each second slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass. He put his thumb and finger between his nose bridge, calming his mind, he then steepled his fingers. Alaric had deliberately set every plan in motion, every move on the board, with a singular purpose: to secure and expand the Voltaire dynasty¡¯s dominance over Sector 5 and beyond.


    To the side of his study, a lit fireplace glowed, casting flickering shadows against the walls. The flicker of flames danced in Alaric¡¯s cold eyes, reflecting the fire of ambition that had driven him to the pinnacle of power. With a sigh, he got up from his desk and moved towards the enormous window that lay behind him.


    Beyond the estate¡¯s high, wrought-iron gates, Sector 5 stretched out like a glittering jewel in the darkness. The city was a labyrinth of cobblestone streets and grandiose buildings, each one a monument to the Voltaire family¡¯s control. The pale light of the moon bathed the city in a silvery sheen, casting long shadows that danced across the streets below.


    He saw the streets writhe with activity, even at this late hour. Sleek cars glided silently through the avenues, their headlights cutting through the night like blades. Pedestrians moved along the sidewalk, driven to whatever party had loudest music.


    All of this was his. The streets, the buildings, to even the people living there.


    Yet in his periphery he could still see the towering spires of the collateral families¡¯ estates looming like dark sentinels. His jaw tightened in anger. The mere thought of those inferior bloodlines, even thinking of taking his throne, filled him with a desire to burn the entire sector to the ground. If it wasn¡¯t his, no one should have it.


    This city, this world, belonged to him. It was his birthright, and he would let nothing, not even his own blood, stand in the way of his ambitions.


    Alaric placed his hands behind his back, his posture straight and commanding as he gazed out over his domain. His forefathers built this empire with their own hands, forging alliances and crushing enemies in equal measure. Each one of the patriarch¡¯s children was their legacy, the tools that would extend their influence and secure the future of the Voltaire family. But tools needed to be sharp, precise, and unwavering in their purpose. If they grew dull or became flawed, they were of no use.


    Elektra¡¯s constant seeking of attention was concerning, as was Noah¡¯s growing fondness for the thrill of battle. And then there was Warren, his greatest mistake. He couldn¡¯t afford any more. Not now, when the stakes were higher than ever. He looked down at the city, whilst playing out scenarios in his head, each one more ruthless than the next.


    He would do whatever it took to protect his legacy, to ensure that people would speak his name with fear and respect for generations to come. A legacy that would even overshadow The First Sovereign. The first Voltaire.


    And if that meant spilling more blood, so be it.

 Chapter 55 - Drunken Rage

    Warren didn¡¯t know how things turned out like this. As he and Elektra walked through the hallway, the neon lights in their purple and pinks swirled around them intimately, designed to entice and seduce, but for Warren this only gave him a sense of unease, his eyes flitting between the walls unsure of himself. The place had an eerie feel about it. He tried to reason with himself that it was just empty, but the distant hum of air conditioning and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards didn¡¯t help. Only a few lights illuminated the space, leaving the darkness to creep against the walls.


    It made sense after all. The late afternoon meant that no one would be in here. Oasis was more than likely a lively venue throbbing with music and lights, but now an empty husk, Warren felt his energy being drained with each footstep. He turned to see Elektra, also perturbed. He had never seen her like this. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes, making him think she was battling some internal demon.


    The day Elektra had recruited him to join her was odd, well, odd for her. He practically didn¡¯t have a choice with the way she had dragged him along, without telling him any real details.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna go get Vincent.¡±


    ¡°Okay?¡±


    And here they were, scared shitless of an empty club. He had followed her without question. He appreciated the feeling of being needed, but now, as they approached the heart of the club, doubt crept into his mind.


    They finally reached a large, open hall, completely devoid of any sound. The dance floor was a barren expanse, besides littering of plastic cups and packaging, the DJ booth in the corner dark and lifeless. Tables and chairs lay scattered haphazardly around the room, as if someone had abandoned them in a hurry. To the side, near the far wall, Warren noticed a bar that had seen better days. Scratches and booze stains marred the counter, and a few glasses sat upside down on the table¡¯s surface. Broken glass lay scattered around the table and floor.


    But it wasn¡¯t the state of the bar that caught his attention. It was the man slumped on a stool behind it, his head face first against the counter, a bottle of clear liquid clutched in his hand. His long mop-like hair covered his face as he seemed to be passed out. Warren instantly recognized him, even without seeing his face.


    VIncent.


    Vincent was nursing what Warren assumed to be vodka, though it was hard to tell for sure. The contents of the bottle were about halfway gone, and its label had been worn away. The sight of many empty bottles around him was hardly appealing, each one likely containing an excessive amount of alcohol. Warren¡¯s heart sank at the sight. How had this all happened?


    Vincent had always been a good man. Vincent drank minimally and was dedicated to becoming an expert hunter. Now all Warren could see was someone who lost their way, drowning in alcohol.


    Elektra was the first to speak. ¡°Vincent,¡± she called out bluntly. ¡°You¡¯re a mess.¡±


    Warren couldn¡¯t help but facepalm. He gave his sister an incredulous look. The lack of tact she showed made her seem so emotionally dense. Well, to be fair, she probably was. Maybe that¡¯s why she had brought him along. Elektra shrugged upon receiving Warren¡¯s stare, as if telling him. ¡°What? I¡¯m just saying it, how it is.¡±


    Before Warren could even speak and apologize for Elektra¡¯s behavior, Vincent raised his head, that was planted on the counter, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. When he finally looked at them, Warren could see that he was far more than just drunk, he was broken. His usually sharp blue eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles under them suggested he hadn¡¯t slept in days. His long, curly cyan hair hung limply around his face, disheveled. Warren realized that his thick beard, which he must have grown recently, was unkempt. He wore a wrinkled white shirt and slacks, his feet clad in scuffed loafers that looked like they hadn¡¯t left this place in days.


    ¡°What¡­ what are you doing here?¡± Vincent slurred, his voice rough and thick with alcohol. He swayed slightly on the stool, his grip on the bottle tightening as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.


    Elektra stepped forward, trying to feign some semblance of kindness. ¡°We came to take you home. You need to stop this, Vincent. The family needs you.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Vincent let out a bitter laugh, though it sounded more like a pained gasp. He turned his head away, staring down at the bottle in his hand as if it held the answers to all his problems. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go home. I don¡¯t want¡­ anything. I just want to die.¡±


    His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Warren felt like the floor had dropped out from under him. He exchanged a quick glance with Elektra, but she was already moving closer to Vincent, her expression hardening.


    ¡°Forget about that damn whore and the bastard,¡± Elektra snapped, her voice laced with anger. ¡°Just move on.¡±


    Warren frowned, her words stirring a question in his mind. He hesitated, then quietly asked, ¡°Who¡­ who are you talking about? Who¡¯s the bastard?¡± The word `bastard` wasn¡¯t exactly something that Warren welcomed, considering the connotation and his birth. That word branded him ever since he was born.


    Elektra shot him an annoyed look, her eyes narrowing dangerously. ¡°You don¡¯t need to know,¡± she hissed, barely above a whisper. Then she turned back to Vincent. ¡°Come on, Vincent. We need to leave. Get up.¡±


    Before Elektra ruined everything Warren needed to act, he took a tentative step forward, trying to find the right words to reach Vincent. He spoke softly as he could muster.


    ¡°Vincent¡­You¡¯ve been through a lot. I can see that. But drinking yourself to death isn¡¯t the answer. We¡¯re here for you. Let us help.¡± Warren prayed he was saying the right things, not knowing the full situation made it difficult to empathize with his older brother.


    As he spoke, he noticed the deep lines wrought with weariness on Vincent¡¯s face that seemed to weigh him down. His eye bags were heavy; the tears which had been silently rolling down his cheeks stopped when Warren touched his shoulder. But instead of calming him, which Warren had hoped would happen, the contact seemed to ignite something dark inside Vincent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡±


    Vincent shrugged off Warren¡¯s hand and shouted with rage so loud it startled his brother. He then twisted his body and pushed him away, the force sending Warren stumbling to the floor.


    Warren couldn¡¯t understand why he responded like that, as he tried to get back up. As he pushed himself up, with an exhale of annoyance, he wasn¡¯t sure how to respond to his brother¡¯s act of rage, but he needed to maintain a friendly demeanor. But just as he was going to stand fully upright and force a smile, Warren¡¯s eyes met with an intense blue glow. Vincent¡¯s eyes.


    He had activated his Esper powers.


    A shimmering wall of electricity enveloped around Vincent¡¯s fingertips, the air buzzing with its intense energy. He grunted and pushed his arms forward. The barrier pulsed in response, its edges flaring with lightning, as it edged closer towards Warren. There was no time to react, no time to even think. The rising electricity in the air caused Warren¡¯s arm hairs to prickle with unease.


    Just as Warren had thought, he was going to be turned to ash. Out of nowhere, Elektra was there, moving with incredible speed, her body enveloped in lightning. Just as the barrier fell, she pushed Warren aside, narrowly avoiding its impact. A shockwave pulsed through the room, the floor beneath them fracturing and burning from the intense heat. A pungent mixture of scorched wood and ozone hung thick in the air, that all three siblings had grown accustomed to.


    ¡°Vincent!¡± Elektra shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. ¡°You could¡¯ve killed him!¡±


    Vincent, his expression twisted with anger and pain. He glared at Warren, his chest heaving as he struggled to control the power surging through him. ¡°He deserved it. If she has to die, he should, too.¡± Vincent spat, his voice low and dangerous. He charged another barrier, the blue light in his eyes growing more intense.


    ¡°Vin, stop!¡± Elektra pleaded, stepping in front of Warren, her hands raised as if to shield him. ¡°This isn¡¯t you. Please, just stop.¡±


    Vincent sneered, the muscles in his jaw tightening. ¡°Step aside, Elektra,¡± he growled. ¡°Be a good little sister and step aside.¡±


    The air grew thick with tension, the crackling of electricity the only sound as the three of them stood frozen in a dangerous standoff. Warren¡¯s mind raced, trying to think of anything he could say or do to defuse the situation. But before he could, a voice shouting from the hallway broke the silence.


    ¡°What the hell is going on here?!¡±


    All three of them turned to see Sabir running into the room, his brow furrowed in worry. Sabir¡¯s eyes locked with Vincents. Sabir¡¯s arrival instantly drained the fight out of Vincent. The glow in his eyes faded, and the barrier of energy flickered and died. He stood there for a moment, trembling, before his legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor.


    ¡°Cynthia¡­,¡± Vincent whispered, his voice broken and barely audible. His shoulders shook with sobs, and he buried his face in his hands, the last remnants of his defiance crumbling away.


    Sabir approached cautiously, his eyes flicking between Warren, Elektra, and the sobbing figure on the floor. ¡°What¡­ what happened?¡± he asked, still trying to piece together the scene in front of him.


    Elektra sighed, her shoulders slumping as the adrenaline that had been fueling her finally faded and the electricity surrounding her along with it. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Warren would set him off,¡± she mumbled, her voice heavy with exhaustion. She looked down at Vincent, her expression softening. ¡°Vin, are you okay?¡±


    Warren stared at the broken man on the floor, feeling a mix of emotions he couldn¡¯t quite sort through. Fear, pity, anger, all of it swirled together in his mind. He didn¡¯t know what had driven Vincent to this point, but he knew one thing for sure: they couldn¡¯t leave him like this.


    He needed help.

 Vol 1 Finale: Chapter 56 - Cruel Reveal

    All it took for Vincent¡¯s rage to subside were those damn eyes. Golden. Piercing. They gleamed back at him like molten gold under the dim lighting of his club. The boy that appeared, wore a suit typically worn by a Voltaire servant, light beads of sweat ran down his face as he ran into the hall, stepping over the trash that lay over the dance floor, he ran towards the three siblings, his face scrunched with determination.


    Those eyes it made Vincent¡¯s legs tremble and shake. It was as if the dead had returned from the grave. The boy was the spitting image of Cynthia Quinn. His most intimate memories, memories that at one point he held so deep in his heart, he¡¯d betray his own family to keep alive, but had become nothing more than an ember long forgotten.


    Yet those eyes had reignited everything all over again.


    The memories of Cynthia, the woman he loved more than anything, the mother of his child. He looked again at the young man, his eyes shook deliriously. He looked like her. Like a clone. He had the same angular jawline, the same shaggy kind of hair. They even had the same nose. The grim reaper had taken the form of his lover as punishment.


    ¡°Who¡­ who are you?¡± Vincent¡¯s voice was ragged, his emotions barely in check as he pushed himself up from the floor. He stepped forward, his hands trembling as they reached out, gently cupping the boy¡¯s face as if touching a ghost. ¡°Who are you?¡± he repeated, desperation coating his words. Was he real, or was he an affliction of his mind?


    Creeped out by the man¡¯s actions, Sabir ignored him and ran over to Elektra and Warren. ¡°You guys okay? What the hell happened?¡± He got to Warren and made sure he was okay, holding his shoulders in comfort. Elektra simply watched from the corner of her eyes as she maintained her lock on Vincent.


    Vincent slowly hobbled over towards Sabir. Elektra stood by as he went past her. She could only swear under her breath. ¡°Damn it, this is what I was trying to avoid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, we told you to wait outside,¡± Warren lectured, as he brushed off the dust off his clothing from rolling on the ground.


    ¡°There was a huge explosion-¡± For the split second Warren was distracted from Sabir¡¯s arrival, he didn¡¯t notice Vincent edging closer towards them. Warren closed his eyes in fear, unsure of what his brother was going to do.


    However, it wasn¡¯t Warren he was walking towards. Vicent grabbed Sabir by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously. ¡°What is your name¡±? He screamed, his eyes bloodshot. He watched as the young man didn¡¯t respond and instead looked towards Elektra and Warren for help.


    ¡°Let go of me, man! The name¡¯s Sabir, dammit, Sabir Quinn.¡± He tried peeling off the unknown assailant¡¯s hands, but he held onto him with dear life, as if he was holding onto his own heart.


    Vincent¡¯s breath hitched as he stared at the boy before him, his mind struggling to reconcile the impossible. His eyes roamed over Sabir¡¯s face, desperately searching for answers that seemed just out of reach. The name ¡°Sabir Quinn¡± reverberated in his memory like a distant echo, a name he hadn¡¯t connected to in years.


    ¡°Sabir¡­¡± Vincent whispered, his voice cracking as tears blurred his vision. The name stirred a long-buried recollection. The desperate pleas Cynthia made for her little brother living on the outskirts of Havana, in exchange for helping him, he would possess her. Out of his deep love for her, he did everything in his power to fulfill her wishes.


    She had begged Vincent to use his influence to protect Sabir, to shield him from the dangers that loomed. So he had arranged for a limited-time pass to Havana and set up a place for him at The Beacon School in The Commons, a brief reprieve from the chaos that could kill him. It was a gesture made of love for Cynthia, a small effort to ease her fears.


    But Vincent knew deep down, it was all an act, everything done intended to make Cynthia feel like he was her savior, to own all her love and ensure she only had him. At the time, he probably hated the name Sabir. He understood his selfishness too late and now he had been punished.


    Now, staring into those familiar golden eyes, so strikingly similar to Cynthia¡¯s, Vincent felt a cold shiver of recognition. The last time he had seen those eyes, Cynthia had been filled with worry, the day his father had given the decision that his family had to die. He had told Cynthia the whole truth, hoping she would run away with him. However, feeling betrayed, Cynthia ran away with Mia.


    Those eyes that Sabir had differed from that tragic day, the aura surrounding her brother was unmistakable, a potent thirst for revenge, a young boy that wanted to point fingers at his oppressors. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel and twisted sense of humor, bringing the brother of the woman he had loved and betrayed back into his life at the most harrowing moment possible.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°It¡¯s fate,¡± Vincent whispered, tears streaming down his face, ¡°that you would be brought here to me.¡± His voice cracked as the reality of the situation bore down on him like a crushing weight. ¡°I imagined the Triads would come for me first, but no¡­¡± Vincent¡¯s voice grew hoarse with bitter irony, ¡°it¡¯s Cynthia¡¯s brother that will kill me.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes flashed with a mix of confusion and anger. ¡°Why would I kill you?¡± he demanded, taking a step back from Vincent¡¯s grip, the question heavy with suspicion.


    Vincent¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he attempted to compose himself, but the emotional storm within him made it nearly impossible. He stared at Sabir; the tears continuing to fall. ¡°Why¡­ why did you come here if you didn¡¯t know?¡± he asked, his voice trembling with pain.


    Sabir¡¯s expression hardened, his own anger simmering beneath the surface. ¡°What is it I¡¯m supposed to know?¡± His patience was wearing thin, the need for answers clawing at him.


    Before Vincent could respond, Elektra cut in, her voice sharp. ¡°Vincent, he¡¯s an outsider. He doesn¡¯t need to know anything.¡±


    Warren, who had been watching the exchange with growing unease, now spoke up as well. ¡°I want to know what you¡¯ve been hiding from us,¡± he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.


    Vincent¡¯s sorrow twisted into frustration. ¡°Shut up, both of you!¡± he snapped, his voice carrying an edge of desperation. ¡°This doesn¡¯t involve you.¡± He turned back to Sabir, his hands shaking as he grabbed the boy¡¯s shoulders once again, looking him straight in the eye.


    ¡°I killed her,¡± Vincent confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°I murdered Cynthia.¡±


    The words hung in the air like a death sentence; the room growing unbearably still as Sabir¡¯s golden eyes widened in shock. Confusion, disbelief, and rage flared across his face in rapid succession. ¡°You¡­ killed my sister?¡± His voice was cold, each word dripping with venomous disbelief.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Vincent¡¯s tears fell freely now, his body wracked with sobs as the weight of his confession settled in. ¡°Yes, I did. I had no choice,¡± he cried, his fists clenched against Sabir¡¯s shoulders.


    Sabir¡¯s shock morphed into a seething fury, his body shaking with rage. Without thinking, he lunged at Vincent, his hands closing around the older man¡¯s throat, squeezing with every ounce of strength he could muster. ¡°Why?!¡± Sabir¡¯s voice was raw with pain and fury. ¡°Why did you kill her?!¡±


    Before Vincent could choke out a response, Elektra acted with lightning speed. Her leg snapped out in a vicious kick, catching Sabir in the chest and sending him sprawling backward. He hit the ground hard; the wind knocked out of him.


    ¡°Stay down!¡± Elektra barked, her voice a cold warning as she placed herself between Sabir and Vincent.


    Sabir struggled to breathe, his chest heaving as he glared up at Vincent with murder in his eyes. ¡°Why did you kill my sister?¡± he demanded again, his voice rasping with barely contained rage.


    After being frozen in shock, Warren finally spoke. ¡°Wait¡­ you had a kid?¡± His mind raced as he started piecing together the fragments of the past, Cynthia arriving at their estate years ago, being treated with an unusual amount of respect and care, only to vanish just as mysteriously. ¡°Was Cynthia¡­?¡±


    Vincent, still crying, nodded weakly, his voice a broken whisper. ¡°We had a child. Mia. Once Mia was born, there was no stopping it. It was all going to end badly. The family¡­ They ordered me to kill Cynthia. To erase all evidence.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes blazed with newfound understanding and raw, unbridled hatred. ¡°Not only were you Cynthia¡¯s lover, but you¡¯re the kid¡¯s father,¡± he spat, the words dripping with contempt. The pieces of the puzzle were finally fitting together, but the picture they formed was one of unrelenting pain and betrayal. ¡°I¡¯m going to kill you,¡± Sabir swore, his voice low as he struggled to his feet, his muscles coiled with tension.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± Elektra¡¯s voice was ice cold as she planted her foot down, pinning Sabir to the floor with a ruthless finality. ¡°Stay down, kid. This isn¡¯t your fight.¡±


    But Sabir¡¯s rage was like a wildfire, consuming him from the inside out. ¡°It is my fight!¡± he shouted, struggling against Elektra¡¯s hold. ¡°He killed her! He killed my sister!¡±


    Warren, still reeling from the revelations, couldn¡¯t stay silent any longer. ¡°What happened to the kid?¡± he questioned, his voice shaking as he tried to wrap his mind around the horror unfolding before him.


    Vincent¡¯s sobs intensified as he clutched his head in his hands, his voice a ragged plea. ¡°Noah¡­ Noah¡¯s going to find her. And he¡¯ll kill her, just like they killed Cynthia.¡±


    The room descended into a suffocating silence. Vincent¡¯s confession pressed down on them like a tidal wave. Warren and Sabir wrestled with the shocking truth, each in their own turmoil. Warren¡¯s mind spun as he forced himself to remember fractured memories of Cynthia¡¯s mysterious disappearance with this horrific revelation. Sabir felt his initial shock giving way to a blistering rage that surged back with terrifying intensity.


    Elektra, however, stood apart from the chaos of emotions swirling next to her. She remained unphased, her expression cold and unmoved. She had always known the truth, had been complicit in it, even, and Vincent¡¯s words were simply a reminder of the grim reality she was helping to bring about. Her calm demeanor in the face of such turmoil was chilling. The truth was out, but for Elektra, it was simply a reminder of what it means to be a Voltaire.


    ¡°Mia¡­¡± Sabir whispered. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid¡­¡±


    Vincent¡¯s head jerked up, his tear-streaked face twisted with agony. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he murmured. ¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry.¡±


    But Sabir couldn¡¯t hear him. One singular thought, a burning desire that threatened to consume him whole, already filled his mind. He was going to kill Vincent. There was no grand heroism to his goal. No. He was simply going to murder the man that stole his family from him.


    As he lay pinned under Elektra¡¯s foot, his mind churned. It wasn¡¯t just Vincent, the entire Voltaire family was to blame.


    ¡°I¡¯ll burn it all to the ground.¡±


    But for now, all he could do was stare into the eyes of the man who had destroyed his world and wait. The Voltaires end was coming, and he would show no mercy when it arrived.

 Character Art - Volume 1 Celebration

    Sabir Quinn (tried making different art of him, he''s looking a little too strong haha)


    Cynthia Quinn


    Mia Quinn


    Noah Voltaire


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Elektra Voltaire


    Maize Gaian


    Miguel


    Yuen


    Old man Mendoza


    Cinder Blaze


    Warren Voltaire


    Cassius Ward


    Vincent Voltaire


    This is a little teaser for an important character that gets introduced soon in Volume 2. His name is Zabo!

 Volume 2 Begins: Chapter 57 - Run

    Run. Run. Run faster.


    Ell¡¯s legs moved as fast as she could muster, her heartbeat raced with fear, grimacing in pain; she tried to force her legs to go quicker. The narrow streets of Tetra City¡¯s back alleys blurred, her footsteps aligning with her breathing. She looked at the little girl, whose hand she gripped. Mia was faring no better; the little girl¡¯s tiny legs struggling to keep up. Their pursuers were gaining on them, not only decreasing the distance between them but also the young woman and child¡¯s hope of survival.


    Ell¡¯s fear was not for herself, but for the child she swore to protect. At the tender age of seven, she had to witness her mother¡¯s death, with no time to grieve or visit her grave one more time, she was being chased by men who were deplorable by nature, aroused by flaunting their strength, they seemed dead set on getting to Mia. Ell was just an ordinary citizen, tasked with protecting a child from professional hunters. But protect her she will, even if it costs her life. All for the sake of Cynthia and her memory.


    They rounded a corner, and Ell¡¯s eyes frantically searched for a place to hide. The alley ahead was narrow and dark, a sliver of shadow between two towering buildings. Without thinking, she grabbed Mia¡¯s hand and pulled her into the darkness. They pressed themselves against the rough brick wall, hidden from view, as Ell tried to calm her breathing. The footsteps of their pursuers thundered closer, and she prayed the shadows would be enough to keep them hidden.


    The footsteps slowly faded away, leaving the two girls alone. Ell¡¯s arms wrapped around Mia. She could feel her ragged breathing. She tightened her embrace. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Mia, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±


    Mia understood little of what was going on. Her mother had died and now some scary men were looking for her. She tilted her head so that she could look up at her aunt Ell¡¯s face, drowning in panic. She wore a pair of red cat eye glasses that slid off her face, due to all the running. Her usual pale complexion was now red and blotchy and her shirt a mess along with her torn boots. ¡°Ell,¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible, ¡°who are those scary people?¡±


    Ell gently ran her hands through Mia¡¯s hair, before responding softly, ¡°They¡¯re very bad people, Mia. They want to hurt you. But I won¡¯t let them. I promise I won¡¯t let them.¡± The words, more for her than the child, felt like an attempt to find courage within her own slumbering spirit.


    Mia buried her face in Ell¡¯s chest, her small hands clutching at Ell¡¯s shirt as if she could hold on to safety itself. Ell stroked the girl¡¯s hair, trying to soothe her, though she knew battled her own fear.


    Slowly regaining their breaths within the narrow alley, Ell¡¯s mind raced back to when all of this began. It felt like a lifetime ago, but in reality, it had only been a month at most. Mia had suddenly called her in tears, begging for help from her mother¡¯s phone. Ell had been at home when the call came. She had expected Cynthia to be on the line, ready to vent her frustrations about Vincent or something else, but when Mia was on the line, she instantly knew something was wrong. Mia cried as she told Ell that her mother wasn¡¯t waking up. Ell¡¯s blood had run cold as she listened to the little girl describe the scene at the hospital, Cynthia¡¯s lifeless body, the cold sterility of the room, and the strange men lurking in the hallways.


    Mia was clever for her age, clever enough to know that she couldn¡¯t trust anyone. She had taken her mother¡¯s phone in secret from within the car¡¯s dashboard without any of the hunters and government enforcers, who arrived at the scene, from noticing. Once safe in the hospital and when no one was looking, she dialed the number of her only other family member. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    The poor child could barely contain her whimpers as Ell tried to force her to give her a description of where she was and the name of the hospital. With Mia¡¯s shaky directions, she found the hospital quickly, one of the largest hospitals run by the Luxor family. Her heart had broken when she saw Mia, her small face pale with fear and her eyes wide with shock.


    Making sure no one was looking, Ell took Mia by the hand and escaped back to her home. Ell knew Cynthia would one day fly too close to the sun. Her relationship with Vincent was dangerous. She had always warned her about the dangers of associating herself with nobles.


    Upon her burial and looking at her grave with no tombstone, she made a silent vow that she would look after her child. Ell didn¡¯t know the specifics, but Cynthia¡¯s death being a murder was only a suspicion, yet only a couple of weeks later, hunters came looking for Mia. She knew her suspicions were the sad reality. Vincent was truly scum.


    The hunters weren¡¯t just hired thugs, their allegiance to the Voltaire family was on full display through their blue uniforms. They were a part of Zeus, a top 5 guild that was subsidized and essentially run by the Voltaires. Ell still shivered at their cruel smiles, and their eyes which viewed everyone else as inferior.


    Those thugs had knocked on doors, demanding information, and when they didn¡¯t get what they wanted, they killed without hesitation. The thugs would drag neighbors out of their homes, beat them, or even kill them if they dared to refuse. The streets, once familiar, were now stained with blood and echoed with screams.


    It hadn¡¯t taken long for the enforcers to find out about Mia. Ell had tried to stay hidden, to protect the girl as much as possible, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the enforcers found them. When the hunters came knocking on Ell¡¯s door, it was the beginning of a desperate scramble to get away, to run as fast and as far as they could.


    Although the men had lost their trail now, as they lay crouched in silence, Ell knew they weren¡¯t safe yet. The Voltaires wouldn¡¯t stop until they had Mia in their grasp. Ell knew they had to leave the city, or they¡¯d be captured sooner rather than later. She looked down at the little girl in her arms, her heart breaking at the sight of Mia¡¯s tear-streaked face. How did it come to this? How had an innocent child become the target of such ruthless pursuit?


    But there was no time for questions, no time to dwell on the injustice of it all. The only thing that mattered now was survival.


    Ell gently lifted Mia into her arms, the little girl clinging to her with a desperate trust. ¡°We need to keep moving. We can¡¯t stay here.¡±


    Mia nodded, pressing her face against Ell¡¯s shoulder and tightening her grip. Ell could feel the young girl¡¯s body shake. Taking a deep breath, she summoned enough resolve to keep her and Mia safe. Ell stepped out of the shadows and back into the maze of the city. The narrow alleyways twisted and turned, with any possible threat capable of jumping on them from the darkness.


    She had lived in Tetra City her whole life, knew its secrets and its dangers, and she would use that knowledge to keep Mia safe.


    As they ran through the city once again, Ell¡¯s mind returned to Cynthia. It wasn''t just Mia, that didn''t get the time to grieve. She also suffered from the same fate. For Mia, she lost her mother, but for Ell, she had lost her only sister. Cynthia was her light. She had helped her when she had given up on living as a human. When Ell had watched as Cynthia fell in love with Vincent, seeing the light in her eyes when she spoke of him, Ell had worried, deep down, that it would end in tragedy. But she had never imagined that it would cost Cynthia her life, or that it would put Mia in such grave danger.


    Ell¡¯s feet pounded against the pavement as she ran, her grip on Mia never loosening. She could feel the girl¡¯s tiny heart beating against her chest, a rhythmic reminder of the life she had vowed to protect. They had to keep moving, try to make it to the train station and get to another sector before it was too late.


    Ell adjusted Mia in her arms, feeling the girl¡¯s tired weight as she continued to run. The night was closing in around them, but Ell kept moving. She was the only family that little Mia had left. Her mother was dead. And the rest of her blood family, out to kill her. A woman and a child fighting the pursuit of one of the Seven Great Noble Families. All they could do was run.


    Run. Run. Run faster.

 Chapter 58 - His City

    Zabo Kiakor stood on the rooftop of a sleek, high-rise building, surveying the sprawling expanse of Tetra City below. The vast jungle of towering skyscrapers, modern in design, created with steel and glass, created an urban maze. A maze that he knew like the back of his hand. With the sun hanging low in the sky, the intricate network of streets and alleys bathed in a golden hue. Yet Zabo¡¯s wasn¡¯t up in such a high vantage point for the scenery.


    People were up to no good in his city. Dangerous people.


    The Voltaires were running amok in the name of their guild. Rumors of their presence had spread like wildfire, and Zabo made it his business to know everything that had happened in this city. A summer breeze blew against his bronze skin, as he perched himself at the very top of a gargoyle, shaped like a dragon, balancing on it using the tips of his toes. His hair, a crown of dreadlocks, shaved close on the sides and gathered into a topknot that cascaded across his forehead, billowed in the wind.


    Zabo readjusted his clothing, tattered cream colored robes, tied with brown rope, readying himself for his next move, he could see them, men in long, blue coats with white trimmings, moving in and out of houses, their presence an unwelcome intrusion. The sight made his blood boil. He knew who they were, of course, their uniform a clear sign, members of Zeus, one of the top five guilds in Havana, and known enforcers for the Voltaires. These weren¡¯t just random thugs; they were well-trained and dangerous.


    He had no personal vendetta against the nobles of Havana, the powerful Voltaires among them. But the stories of his people¡¯s suffering since the nobles¡¯ arrival had etched themselves into his soul. The oppression, the exploitation, generations of it had left a mark on him, a mark that wouldn¡¯t fade, no matter how much time passed. The nobles lived in their ivory towers, untouched by the struggles of those below. Zabo, however, lived in the reality of the backwaters of Tetra City, where every day was a struggle to survive.


    These men were clearly on an errand for the great Voltaire family, otherwise why ransack the city? Surely there was a dungeon or something else, more important. They were looking for something. What? Zabo wasn¡¯t sure yet. To his side lay his satchel, tied around his shoulder. From it, he pulled out his pair of binoculars. Adjusting the focus, he zeroed in on one of the men as he harassed an older woman. The man was holding a photograph, flashing it in the faces of the people he accosted.


    He focused the binoculars on the photograph, and his breath hitched. It was a picture of a little girl, her smile wide, her short hair a striking shade of cyan. Zabo¡¯s mind raced. A missing child? But why would Zeus be interested in something like that? It didn¡¯t add up. ¡°Looking for someone, eh?¡± Zabo muttered to himself, a smirk playing on his lips. ¡°This just got a whole lot more interesting.¡±


    Stuffing the binoculars into his bag, he took a deep breath. He stood on top of the gargoyle, extending to his fairly tall stature. He took a single step right towards the edge of the gargoyle and threw himself off, diving headfirst. As he plummeted down, he landed effortlessly on the roof of another smaller skyscraper, rolling, killing of any lethal momentum. Using his hands, he flipped back to his feet. Zabo wasn¡¯t just a resident of Tetra City; he was its ghost, moving through its streets and rooftops with an agility that few could match. His acrobatic skills were legendary among those who knew him. He was a shadow, a whisper on the wind. With a practiced ease, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, jumping across narrow gaps as if he were weightless. Zabo had done this his whole life. It was his way of getting his mind off of life.


    His path took him across the city, towards the heart of the commotion. As he moved, he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the girl from the photograph. It wasn¡¯t long before he spotted them, a woman clutching the hand of a little girl with cyan hair. Zabo slowed his pace, dropping into a crouch as he watched them from the shadows. ¡°Bingo,¡± he whispered to himself, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him.


    The woman looked scared, glancing over her shoulder as she hurried down the alley. The little girl, Mia, clung to her, looking around with wide, fearful eyes. Zabo decided it was time to make his move before Zeus turned the city upside down. With a swift leap, he descended from the rooftop, performing a graceful somersault that brought him to the ground directly in front of them.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The woman¡¯s eyes widened in terror as she instinctively pushed the little girl behind her. Zabo straightened up, his presence imposing, with his fairly tall build and wild hairstyle. He studied the woman and the child, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.


    ¡°Gross, motherly love,¡± he remarked with a hint of disdain, though there was no real malice in his tone. His eyes, the color of smoldering embers, turned back to the woman. ¡°What¡¯s a girl like you doing with such a high-profile target?¡± He nodded towards Mia, who peeked from behind her protector, her golden eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and fear.


    The woman, her voice trembling, demanded, ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Zabo gave a nonchalant shrug, his dreadlocks swaying slightly with the motion. ¡°I was just curious why Zeus has been deployed to look for a little girl.¡± He flashed a quick smile at Mia, who was now peering at him with a mix of awe and apprehension.


    As Zabo looked at the little girl¡¯s distinctive cyan hair, a sudden realization struck him. ¡°Wait a second,¡± he muttered, his brow furrowing. ¡°You¡¯re a Voltaire, aren¡¯t you?¡± The hair was a dead giveaway. Zabo¡¯s thoughts flashed back to Elektra Voltaire, whose similar features and hair had always been a stark reminder of the difference in lifestyle while they were living in the academy.


    A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered Elektra¡¯s ruthlessness. He mentally shook himself, telling himself it was the summer holidays, and he had nothing to fear from a child and that Elektra wasn¡¯t actually here. It was an awkward comfort, but it helped him stay focused.


    The woman, still holding Mia protectively, shot him a fearful glance. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    Zabo took a step closer, his movements fluid and precise. The woman edged back, losing her balance for a moment. Zabo seized the opportunity, lowering himself to Mia¡¯s eye level. He wanted to gauge the situation directly, to understand the child¡¯s perspective.


    ¡°Hey, kid,¡± Zabo said softly, his voice gentle. ¡°Do you know this woman? Have you been kidnapped?¡±


    Mia looked up at him, her golden eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. She clung to the woman¡¯s leg, peeking out from behind her, her body shook with fear, but her eyes maintained gaze on the mysterious young man. ¡°I¡¯m scared,¡± Mia said, her voice small. ¡°I want to go home with Auntie Ell.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s heart sank as he realized his initial judgment had been hasty. He had jumped to conclusions too quickly. The woman, Ell, was clearly Mia¡¯s guardian, not an abductor. He sighed in frustration, cursing himself under his breath. He hated making mistakes, especially ones that put innocent people at risk.


    Standing up, he extended a hand to Ell, a gesture of both apology and assistance. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said. ¡°The name¡¯s Zabo. It looks like I- uh, misjudged the situation.¡± He offered a friendly smile, trying to ease the tension. ¡°Let me help you get to safety.¡± Before he even thought about the situation, the words left his mouth. Getting involved with the pair would get him into trouble, but he couldn¡¯t just let them die.


    Ell hesitated for a moment but then took his hand, allowing Zabo to help her up. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, though her voice still held a trace of wariness. ¡°I¡¯m Ell. And this is Mia.¡± Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Ell decided to play along with this young man. If he happened to be dangerous, they''ll book it the first chance they get.


    Mia looked up at Zabo with a bright, trusting smile. ¡°I¡¯m Mia,¡± she said, her voice gaining a bit more confidence as she clung to Ell.


    Zabo patted Mia gently on the head, a gesture of reassurance. ¡°Well, Mia, let¡¯s get you out of here. It¡¯s not safe with those goons around.¡± For whatever reason the child was being chased, it was nothing good, but his master had told him to always help those in need. So that¡¯s what he would do.


    He glanced back in the direction from which he had come, noting that the Zeus operatives seemed to have moved on. He would need to be cautious, but right now, his priority was to ensure the safety of Mia and Ell.


    As they made their way through the winding streets of Tetra City, Zabo guided them with a protective air. His keen senses remained alert, scanning for any signs of danger. The cityscape, once a playground of acrobatics and adventure, now seemed fraught with new dangers that demanded vigilance.


    Ell, holding Mia¡¯s hand tightly, walked beside Zabo, her steps slightly hesitant but filled with hope. ¡°Where are we going?¡± she asked, her voice betraying a hint of exhaustion.


    ¡°To a safe place,¡± Zabo replied. ¡°I know a place where we can lay low for a while. It¡¯s secure and should keep you out of sight until things settle down.¡±


    As they continued, Zabo couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of lingering unease. The Voltaires¡¯ interest in Mia disturbed him and felt there was more going on than met the eye. He simply prayed he wouldn¡¯t get himself into deeper trouble. But knowing his luck, he always will.

 Chapter 59 - Rustblock

    As Zabo grew up, it didn¡¯t take long for him to understand the importance of a home. A refuge, a sanctuary where even people deemed as ¡°duds¡± within society, can sleep in comfort. Home was the only place he knew that was safe. In this harsh society, where it¡¯s kill or be killed, his people banded together with a collective resolve to help and support anyone in need, and right now the two girls that were trailing behind him needed just that. Help.


    Zabo glanced back to see Ell, a pale petite woman with light brown hair streaked with purple dye. Her glasses lay crooked against her nose bridge, from all the strenuous running. She was struggling to keep up with his running. He tried to slow down for the two of them, but there simply wasn¡¯t enough time. Mia still clung to Ell¡¯s back, which must have made everything that much harder for the woman.


    He would¡¯ve offered to take the kid and put her on his back instead, but he knew that it¡¯d seem suspicious considering the circumstances, so he simply kept running, trying to get to safety as soon as possible.


    Breaking the silence, Zabo asked a question instead, ¡°where were you planning to go, anyway?¡±


    Ell looked up at the young man, who looked like he could be in his late teens to twenties. ¡°We were going to get to the station¡­until you showed up.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡± Zabo tilted his head up, trying to recall what he saw on the rooftop. ¡°Yeah, count yourself lucky. They had some men at the station waiting for you there. If not for me, you¡¯d have been captured.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s gaze softened for a moment, his protective instincts sharpened by the sight of the two. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, though, you¡¯ll be fine now. You can trust me, I promise.¡± Rustblock, the area he grew up in, didn¡¯t have the best reputation among the citizens. The harsh surroundings may press in on them, but he trusted his people to pull through.


    So Zabo led Ell and Mia through the narrow, shadowed alleys of Tetra City with the confident grace of someone who had lived their entire life within the city¡¯s tangled web. His footsteps were light, barely making a sound as they wound deeper into the city. Ell¡¯s heart pounded as she clutched Mia¡¯s small hand, the little girl¡¯s steps growing more hesitant with each turn they took. The surrounding buildings became increasingly dilapidated, their once bright facades now faded, cracked, and scarred by years of neglect. It wasn¡¯t long before Ell realized where Zabo was leading them, straight into Rustblock, the most notorious district in Tetra City.


    Everyone knew about Rustblock, but no one wanted to talk about it. It was a district synonymous with crime, poverty, and despair. Over the generations, the government in charge of the capital of Tetra City had slowly waned its spending on the outskirts of the city, where the weaker people lived, draining the area of all its life and color. Over the years, the streets became lined with rust, abandoned vehicles scattered in the most random of places, and crumbling remains of houses and businesses were everywhere. Hence the name, Rustblock.


    Ell wasn¡¯t sure anymore if they could trust Zabo, yet he wore such an innocent face and seemed kind. But Rustblock, that guaranteed them death! Some gangsters would probably kidnap them and steal their organs, or at least that¡¯s what the rumors say. Ell had one secret weapon up her sleeve, ready if this was all a trap. She still had her weak telekinesis, weak in battle, yet could still be effective as a distraction.


    Ell¡¯s grip on Mia¡¯s hand tightened as they crossed into Rustblock. She could feel the weight of eyes on them, eyes that watched with a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and menace. The residents of this place had learned to be wary of outsiders, and Ell was all too aware of how out of place they must look. Mia huddled closer to her, her small fingers clutching Ell¡¯s shirt, the fear clear in her wide, innocent eyes.


    ¡°Is this where the bad people live?¡± Mia whispered, her eyes flitting between every crevice of decay she could find. For a little girl that had lived her entire life in the center of Tetra City, this was like entering a new world. She couldn¡¯t decide if she felt excited or scared.


    Ell forced a reassuring smile, though her own nerves were frayed. ¡°It¡¯s just another place in the city, Mia. Stay close to me, and we¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Zabo led them further into the heart of the Rustblock. The buildings became more and more broken down, but also larger, more oppressive, their windows barred. People lingered outside, leaning against dilapidated cars and listening to music that blared from crackling speakers. Their gazes tracked the trio¡¯s movement, some with mild interest, others with a hint of hostility. Most of them wore white vests fitted for the summer heat.


    ¡°It seems we killed the mood.¡± Ell whispered to Zabo.


    ¡°What? Nah, we love new people. Don¡¯t mind those guys, they¡¯re just wary is all,¡± Zabo reassured.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Finally, Zabo stopped in front of a small, grey house nestled between two large, decaying apartment buildings. The towering structures flanking it nearly concealed the house, making it appear unassuming. Wild grass and weeds choked the lawn, which could barely be called that, and thick metal grates barred the windows. It looked more like a fortress than a home.


    Zabo approached the door and knocked seven times in a distinct rhythm. The sound echoed in the quiet, heavy air of the alley, and Ell¡¯s heart raced as they waited. She did not know who they were about to meet or what kind of help Zabo was seeking, but she could only hope it would be enough to keep Mia safe.


    The door creaked open, revealing a man who filled the doorway with his presence. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, with bronze skin and a stern expression that made Ell instinctively pull Mia closer. He wore a kuffi hat tilted slightly to the side, a leather jacket over a black grandad shirt, and multiple thick chains that glinted against his chest. His eyes were sharp, assessing Zabo with an intensity that made the younger man straighten his posture.


    ¡°Master Mourning,¡± Zabo said, bowing down at ninety degrees, showing his respect. ¡°I¡¯m glad it¡¯s you who answered.¡±


    Master Mourning¡¯s gaze shifted past Zabo, settling on Ell and Mia with a look that was equal parts curiosity and calculation. His expression hardened as he recognized what had happened. His eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to Zabo. ¡°You brought the girl being chased by those low-level hunters from Zeus?¡± His voice was deep, laced with a dangerous edge.


    Before Zabo could answer, Mourning¡¯s fist lashed out, catching him in the stomach with a powerful punch that sent him flying backwards. Zabo hit the ground hard. The wind knocked out of him as he gasped for air. He didn¡¯t expect his master would swing at him like that. His body hit the floor with a thud, the sheer force caused him to continue rolling till he hit the walls of the building opposite. The house¡¯s facades crumbled, landing on his back.


    Mia screamed, clinging to Ell in terror as the scene unfolded before them. Ell watched in horror as Master Mourning calmly approached Zabo, who struggled to get back on his feet. The impact of the punch had drawn the attention of the neighborhood, and people gathered, watching the confrontation with subdued interest.


    Ell and Mia trembled while within the vicinity of the man. Both of them struggled to breathe. It was as if they were staring at a demon. Huge and bloodthirsty. Ell¡¯s body froze in fear, feeling overwhelmed simply by his presence.


    Pushing off the debris on his body, Zabo grunted. ¡°What was that for, Master? You used your aura on me.¡±


    Master Mourning crouched down beside Zabo, his presence towering even in that position. ¡°Do you know who¡¯s leading the search for that brat?¡± he asked, pointing a finger towards Mia, who was still huddled behind Ell.


    ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t know. Why does it matter?¡±


    Mourning grabbed Zabo¡¯s face with both hands, forcing him to look up into his eyes. ¡°Every detail matters boy, I thought I taught you that much. Of course you don¡¯t know. You know nothing,¡± he growled. ¡°I have eyes and ears all over this damn city, and you decide to do the one thing that could destroy our entire operation.¡±


    ¡°Our people have been waiting patiently, lying low, and you bring this mess here,¡± Mourning continued, his voice low, yet everyone could hear. ¡°Noah Voltaire is leading the search for that child, for reasons we don¡¯t yet know. If they come here looking for her, it will risk the lives of everyone in this block and the lives of all the other factions in the order. Do you understand the magnitude of your stupidity?¡±


    Zabo coughed, trying to catch his breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Master¡­ I thought I was helping.¡±


    Mourning released his grip on Zabo, standing up and looking down at him with an expression of both disappointment and resolve. ¡°You¡¯ve made your choice, boy. You brought them here, and now you¡¯re responsible for getting them to safety. But don¡¯t expect any help from us.¡±


    Zabo looked up, throwing his hands out in frustration, his face twisted in confusion and frustration. ¡°But we¡¯re going to be sitting ducks! Zeus will kill them without any help.¡±


    Mourning¡¯s expression hardened further, his voice cold. ¡°Figure it out, Zabo. And don¡¯t you dare die. My weary heart won¡¯t be able to handle losing another person.¡±


    He took a step back, his voice booming as he shouted, ¡°Now get out of here!¡±


    Zabo winced at the command, but didn¡¯t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing Ell¡¯s arm as he led her and Mia away from the small house. Ell followed, her mind racing, her heart pounding in her chest. Mia¡¯s tiny hand clutched tightly to hers as they hurried down the alley, away from the growing crowd and the menacing figure of Master Mourning.


    As they reached the edge of the block, Ell risked a glance back. She saw Mourning standing in front of his house, watching them go, his gaze unreadable. The group of people from the neighborhood, who stood by and watched, began moving towards him. Standing beside Zabo¡¯s so-called master, they watched them leave.


    ¡°Is it right to send him off like that?¡± one onlooker asked, their voice wavering. ¡°He could die.¡±


    Master Mourning¡¯s expression softened slightly, a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes. ¡°Out of all my apprentices, Zabo has the most talent, the most potential. He is fit to lead us one day. I just hope he doesn¡¯t stray from his path, like Mendoza or that crooked Zhin.¡±


    Another man spoke up. ¡°He¡¯s not like those guys. Zabo will become the last scion, I know it.¡±


    ¡°I hope so. We¡¯ve been waiting for far too long.¡± With that, Mourning turned and walked back into the house, leaving the gathering crowd to disperse and return to their lives. The door closed with a heavy thud, echoing through the alley as Zabo, Ell, and Mia vanished into the shadows of Rustblock. How were they to survive now?

 Chapter 60 - Enter Zabo Kiakor!

    The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on as Zabo led Ell and Mia through the winding alleys of Rustblock. Frustration boiled over Zabo. He hadn¡¯t expected to be abandoned by his master and the people of Rustblock so easily. He peered back at the two people that caused all of this to happen. No. Why was he blaming them? He was the one who got involved. Naturally, it was his responsibility to get them out of Zeus¡¯s clutches now. But he didn¡¯t have a clue on what to do.


    ¡°What the hell was that all about?¡± Ell finally shouted, breaking the silence and Zabo¡¯s deep thoughts. She stopped in her tracks, forcing Zabo to turn and face her. ¡°Why would he attack you like that? And why did he call you out like you were some sort of traitor?¡±


    Right, master did punch the shit out of me. Most regular folk, would think he hated me.


    Zabo¡¯s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath. ¡°Man, we don¡¯t have time for this. We¡¯re in big trouble now.¡± Facing in front of the pair, he realized he had to give an explanation. ¡°Rustblock is my home,¡± his voice steady, despite his inner turmoil. ¡°They would have naturally looked after the two of you. It¡¯s what we do, protect our own. But the circumstances couldn¡¯t allow it this time, I guess, as you saw.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like a bunch of people living in Rustblock could keep away hunters from the Zeus guild, along with the Voltaire family backing them.¡± Ell¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°You¡¯re all a bunch of losers living out in this gross part of town.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about Rustblock or its people!¡± A vein began popping out from Zabo¡¯s temple. How dare someone talk so badly about his area. If only she knew what really went on in Rustblock. He controlled himself before he could let slip any important secrets.


    Ell¡¯s eyes narrowed in suspicion, her grip on Mia tightening instinctively. ¡°And who was that man? The one who hit you? You called him your master, right? Is that how Rustblock people treat their own? You¡¯re all nothing but ruffians.¡±


    Zabo hesitated, glancing down at Mia before meeting Ell¡¯s gaze, before puffing his chest in pride. ¡°Lonzo Mourning, my master, is one of the strongest men in Havana. And I¡¯m his apprentice. He taught me how to fight and how to use aura. He taught me to be a man.¡±


    Amid his declaration, a silence fell over the three of them before laughter erupted once again. Ell cackled hysterically. ¡°HAHA. Strongest in Havana, some guy living in Rustblock, that¡¯s the funniest thing I¡¯ve heard. Aura? What¡¯s that, some sort of secret martial art?¡± Mia smiled weakly back at Zabo as Ell clutched her sides in laughter.


    Great, I¡¯m even receiving pity from a kid


    Ell wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. ¡°Man, you seriously are funny. I¡¯ll give you that. Anyway, we still appreciate your help. We should start-¡±


    Before she could finish her sentence, they turned a corner and froze in place. A group of men stood in front of them and blocked their path. At the front of the group, a man stood tall with an air of authority that made Ell¡¯s blood run cold. He commanded attention, and his piercing gaze focused directly on Mia. He wore the Zeus guild uniform. The man¡¯s long, flowing cyan hair and piercing blue eyes seemed perfectly tailored to the design, as if created just for him.


    Noah Voltaire had come out to play.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Zabo muttered under his breath. ¡°Such shit luck.¡±


    Ell¡¯s heart sank as she recognized the danger they were in. She clutched Mia to her chest, her mind racing. In her head, she silently apologized to Cynthia.


    I¡¯m sorry Cynthia, I couldn¡¯t do it, in the end.


    Noah stepped forward, his expression a mixture of boredom and irritation. ¡°So, this is where you¡¯ve been hiding,¡± he sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve finally found the bastard I¡¯ve been hunting down for months. And now the only thing standing between me and exterminating that pest is some stupid kid and a woman.¡±


    Zabo took a deep breath and positioned himself between Noah and the two girls. ¡°Ell, Mia,¡± he said calmly, without turning around. ¡°Step back. This will all be over quickly.¡±


    Noah sneered at the sight. ¡°I¡¯ll make you an offer,¡± he said, addressing Zabo with a casual wave of his hand. ¡°I can spare your life if you just step aside. And you,¡± he added, glancing at Ell, ¡°even you can live if you hand over the girl.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s eyes narrowed, and a stiff smile crossed his lips. ¡°Did Elektra learn her arrogance from you?¡±


    The mention of his sister¡¯s name showed a subtle change to his expression, an expression of minor intrigue. ¡°So, you know Elektra,¡± he said, his tone menacing. ¡°Interesting. I¡¯d love to hear more about it, while you¡¯re begging for death.¡±


    With a snap of his fingers, Noah signaled his men. ¡°Teach him a lesson. Make sure he can still talk when you¡¯re done.¡±


    As the five of Noah¡¯s men stepped forward, Zabo turned his head to look behind. ¡°Hey, Ell, let¡¯s see you laugh now.¡± He adjusted his stance, facing them, his stance loose.


    The first three guards raised their weapons, rifles that crackled with energy as they aimed directly at Zabo. The other two rolled their shoulders, their muscles bulging unnaturally as they prepared to unleash their superhuman strength.


    Mia shook with fear as she watched Zabo face the impossible. Why was he doing this? He could just run away. She heard Ell whisper under her breath. ¡°That idiot. What is he thinking?¡±


    ¡°You guys are going to regret this,¡± Zabo warned, his voice low and deadly. He straightened his posture and yelled. ¡°Before we begin, you should know. My name is Zabo Kiakor, the man destined to be the last scion and the inheritor of the great ancestor. You should be honored.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Noah rolled his eyes in response before nodding to his men, as a signal to begin their attack. One rifleman charged an attack, using his telekinesis as the catalyst. The first energy blast hurtled toward Zabo like a bolt of lightning. Time seemed to slow as Zabo¡¯s instincts kicked in. He threw himself to the side, the crackling energy searing the air where he had just been. The ground beneath his feet trembled as the blast exploded against the pavement, sending shards of debris flying. As he dodged, his body twisted mid-air with a fluid grace.


    Before the first blast had even finished dissipating, the second shot followed, tracking his movements with deadly precision. Zabo spun and flipped over it, his muscles coiled and taut, using the momentum to propel himself higher. The blast skimmed beneath him, scorching the tips of his dreadlocks as he soared overhead. He landed with cat-like agility, barely a breath¡¯s pause before launching himself forward in a low roll that kept him just ahead of the third shot. The energy blast streaked past him, its force carving a smoking trench into the ground.


    After his roll lost momentum, he sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the two melee fighters. The first man, a hulking brute with arms as thick as tree trunks, swung a fist the size of a boulder toward Zabo¡¯s head. The blow was a hammer strike meant to obliterate anything in its path, and the sheer force of it caused the air to crack like a whip. But Zabo was faster. He dropped into a slide, his body skimming the ground as the punch whooshed over his head, missing by mere inches.


    As he slid between the brute¡¯s legs, he twisted his body, snapping his leg towards the man¡¯s side. The bone-shattering kick sounded like a gunshot, yet the sound of ribs cracking was just as audible. The giant let out a grunt of pain as the force of the kick lifted him off his feet, sending him crashing into a wall with enough power to crack the dirty brickwork.


    The other bruiser noticed Zabo getting back up and saw this as an opportunity to attack. He lunged at him with a speed that belied his enormous size. His massive hands reached out to grab Zabo, intending to crush him with his bare hands. But Zabo was a step ahead. He pivoted on his heel, twisting his body to avoid the guard¡¯s grasp. As the man¡¯s fingers closed on empty air, Zabo countered with a swift, precise elbow strike to the guard¡¯s jaw.


    An agonizing noise followed, like a sledgehammer striking concrete. The man¡¯s head snapped back, his eyes shaking and his body staggered backwards. Not giving him the chance to recover, Zabo spun around and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of the guard¡¯s head. The man crumpled to the ground like a puppet without its marionette unconscious, even before he hit the hard pavement.


    The 3 riflemen watched as some no name kid effortlessly defeated their friends. Noticing his heavy breathing, they charged their weapons in unison. The air hummed with energy as their rifles began harnessing their telekinesis, readying for a relentless barrage.


    Zabo wasn¡¯t done yet, though. He darted forward, closing the distance between them in a blink. Instinctively, one hunter aimed at his head, but Zabo was already in his face, grabbing the barrel of the gun and forcing it upward as the energy shot fired. The blast went wide, tearing a hole through one of the abandoned buildings filled with rust.


    With a savage twist, Zabo ripped the weapon from the man¡¯s hands and used it as a club, smashing the man across the face with the butt of the gun. Blood sprayed as the guard¡¯s nose shattered, and he went down in a heap.


    The second rifleman took a rapid step with the goal of flanking him. He powered his rifle as he took off, aiming directly for a point blank headshot. Within one fluid motion, Zabo turned to face the hunter and threw the gun in his hands like a javelin, striking him in the chest with such force that it knocked the wind out of him.


    The guard stumbled back, gasping for breath, but Zabo showed no mercy. He drove a knee into the man¡¯s midsection, doubling him over, then delivered a brutal uppercut that sent him sprawling to the ground.


    The last of Noah¡¯s henchmen hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes as he watched Zabo tear through his comrades with surgical precision. He aimed his weapon, hands shaking, but before he could pull the trigger, Zabo closed the distance in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the man¡¯s wrist, twisting it until the guard cried out in pain and dropped the gun. Then, with a swift, practiced motion, he swept the man¡¯s legs out from under him, dropping him to the floor with the rest of them.


    Ell and Mia watched from the back in excitement. ¡°Did you see that Ell? He beat those bad guys in seconds.¡± Mia¡¯s eyes shone.


    Ell couldn¡¯t help but be shocked, ¡°I didn¡¯t know he could move like that, does he maybe have super strength or something.¡± Maybe that kid is actually special.


    Zabo wiped his hands against each other. ¡°Well, that takes care of the grunts. Now it¡¯s time for the main boss.¡± He looked at Noah with a smile whilst taking heavy breaths. ¡°Two guys with super strength and three with telekinesis? You really didn¡¯t bring any of your guild¡¯s heavy hitters, did you?¡±


    Noah¡¯s expression darkened, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his composure. His eyes burned with a cold fury, and Zabo could see that the taunt had struck a nerve. ¡°You want a heavy hitter, eh?¡± Noah spat, his voice dripping with venom. ¡°Be careful what you wish for, rat.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he saw the storm clouds gathering overhead, the first rumblings of thunder echoing in the distance. He knew Noah was about to unleash something far more dangerous than the goons he had just taken down. But he had no intention of backing down. Not now. Not ever.


    Noah leaked killing intent, that made even swallowing the lump in Zabo¡¯s throat difficult. I definitely can¡¯t beat him. Fuck, what do I do? As the skies darkened, Zabo made a quick decision.


    Quickly, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a small, metallic object. He hurled it at Noah with all his strength, but Noah easily dodged it, the object clattering harmlessly to the ground.


    ¡°Run!¡± Zabo screamed, his voice full of urgency as he turned to Ell and Mia. ¡°Run now!¡±


    Ell didn¡¯t hesitate. She grabbed Mia¡¯s hand and bolted past Noah, closing her eyes in fear of what he would do. Before Noah could even lift a muscle, Zabo appeared in front of him, blocking his path with a clenched fist aimed directly at his face.


    Noah deflected the punch with a lazy swipe, a smirk playing at his lips. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this, young man?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but you¡¯ll have to get through me first,¡± Zabo said, his fists clenched tightly as a bead of sweat slowly running down his forehead.


    ¡°Very well. I commend your tenacity. Although I doubt you¡¯ll last very long,¡± Noah mocked, as he raised his hand, and the sky above them turned even darker. The stormy clouds gathered ominously. The crackle of thunder counted down the seconds to their bout.


    Zabo¡¯s muscles tensed, his body coiling like a spring ready to be unleashed. He had to face an elite noble that was clearly stronger than him. I guess it¡¯s karma for all those years pretending to be weak at the academy, huh?


    Zabo looked past Noah¡¯s shoulder, to the girl who has escaped. He knew he couldn¡¯t back down. Not now. Not when they were counting on him.


    Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the icy determination in his amber eyes. This was it, a fight where he could test his full capabilities. But this was no spar. Lives were at stake. He had to hold Noah back, no matter the cost.


    As the first raindrop fell, the two men stood facing each other, neither willing to give an inch. The battle had begun.

 Chapter 61 - What is He??!!

    The stormy clouds summoned by Noah coiled around them, creating a fighting ring from above. Neither spoke a word. Zabo could sense his cold and calculative gaze, knowing this might be his last day in this world, he didn¡¯t look away. With no signal or warning, both men charged at each other at blinding speed.


    Zabo was a human missile, his body a haze as he closed in on the noble. He went low, considering Noah¡¯s taller stature. Once in range, from the ground, he rose, catapulting himself upwards with momentum, aiming an uppercut at Noah¡¯s jaw. Noah simply tilted his head to the side, Zabo¡¯s fist straying away from the target.


    In retaliation, Noah swung a punch of his own towards Zabo¡¯s head, but he plummeted down once again, weaving under his punch like a pendulum. In the same motion, Zabo went for a counterpunch, with the only thing he could hit being Noah¡¯s torso.


    As if encountering a bug, Noah swatted it away, his movement leaving a trail of electric residue. He moves fast, perhaps a speed enhancing ability. Noah smiled, realizing that this fight may be more fun than he had initially thought. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see what you got, Zabo Kiakor.¡±


    With such a warm invitation, Zabo didn¡¯t need to think twice before summoning all the force he could into each of his attacks. Noah welcomed the tidal wave of attacks, allowing the strikes to make contact before pushing him away, allowing him to come again, like he was bouncing a ball against a wall.


    ¡°Quit toying with me!¡± Zabo shouted, as he threw a spinning kick that got palmed away, causing him to stumble to the ground.


    Noah couldn¡¯t help but admire his fighting ability. For an inferior being, he fought well. Too well. If he would hazard a guess, this boy was miles ahead of his sister, hell he¡¯d probably beat him as well, if they were the same age. Fascinating. Zabo¡¯s form was a constant, unpredictable motion, his limbs striking with a speed that seemed almost supernatural. His fists and feet cut through the air with a terrifying swiftness, each blow landing with precision and force far beyond what his lean frame suggested.


    His strikes are far too powerful to be merely speed enhancement. Is his enhancement a unique ability? Noah continued to scramble to defend himself, walking a fine line between testing the young man¡¯s power but also endangering his life. Though a formidable fighter himself, he found it increasingly difficult to keep pace with the onslaught. Each time he raised his arms to block a punch, Zabo¡¯s fist was already retracting, another strike coming from a different angle. He deflected a powerful kick aimed at his head; the impact resonating through his arm like the shock of a sledgehammer. The sheer velocity of Zabo¡¯s attacks was overwhelming, each strike carrying a bone-jarring force that left Noah reeling.


    Such strength isn¡¯t unheard of, but mixed with that speed It¡¯s bizarre. Noah cursed under his breath as he blocked a kick aimed at his head, the impact reverberating through his arm. This wasn¡¯t right at all. The kid was too strong, too fast. This was not the regular super strength that he was used to. It was as if Zabo¡¯s very existence defied the natural order.


    Deciding he had seen enough of Zabo¡¯s close combat, he disengaged. His body enveloped in electricity and before Zabo¡¯s next attack could make contact, he shot backwards, gaining some distance to continue probing him, this time from a distance.


    Zabo didn¡¯t pursue, sensing the shift in strategy. He watched as Noah¡¯s expression darkened. The man¡¯s bloodlust oozed from his smirk. Zabo had felt like he was winning the fight, but seeing the Voltaire unphased, it was wishful thinking. Noah¡¯s eyes narrowed as he raised a hand, a crackle of electricity sparking between his fingers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see how you handle this.¡±


    With a low growl, Noah¡¯s eyes glowed with an eerie blue light, the power of his Esper abilities awakening within him. The surrounding air hummed with energy, the atmosphere thickening with the electric charge. He thrust his hand toward the ground, and a bolt of lightning exploded from his fingertips, shooting downward with blinding speed.


    Before the lightning could even touch the earth, Zabo had darted to the side, his body moving with an instinctive speed that left Noah momentarily stunned. The lightning struck the ground where Zabo had been standing just a heartbeat ago, leaving a smoking crater in its wake and the waft of chlorine.


    Noah¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°How¡­? How did you know when the lightning was going to strike?¡± His gaze zeroed in on Zabo, only to notice that the boy¡¯s eyes were closed. His eyes are closed in the heat of battle against the great Noah Voltaire. Is he mocking me!?This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Zabo exhaled slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Holy shit, that actually worked. Man, I never train in flow, but goddamn, it¡¯s amazing. I¡¯ll never question you again, Master. All that training his entire life seemed to all be worth it now.


    Noah¡¯s expression hardened as he clenched his fists. This boy is more than interesting. Is he a new type of specimen? He possesses physical enhancement yet also displays sensory abilities. He had never encountered someone who could fight in such a manner. It was mildly infuriating, seeing his lightning, the power that had always made him feared, so effortlessly dodged.


    Very well, let¡¯s see how he handles this. Noah raised both arms to the sky, his eyes blazing with blue energy. The storm clouds above heard his cries churning madly as they built up strength. Lightning spiraled up the heavens, dozens of bolts coming together in a chaotic pattern, where you couldn¡¯t tell where they were going to land. The storm came down on top of Zabo like a rain of arrows.


    The ground erupted in flames as the bolts struck, one after another, in rapid succession. Zabo continued to close his eyes, as he danced through the storm, swaying and swerving, each bolt continued to miss him by breadth¡¯s hair, the searing heat kissing his skin but never quite touching. He moved like the wind, his body flowing with the rhythm of the world around him.


    ¡°I live within the world, but the world whispers to me. I am a reader of its secrets. I am its vessel.¡± Zabo whispered to himself, an ancient mantra of a civilization in ruins.


    Noah¡¯s frustration boiled over as he watched his lightning strikes miss their mark, again and again. Noah scorched and burned the ground, but the boy remained untouched, moving with an almost preternatural grace. It was as if he could anticipate the lightnings path before it even formed, dodging with a precision that was infuriatingly perfect.


    ¡°How is this possible? What kind of Esper abilities does this rat possess?¡± Noah snarled. He hated to admit it, but seeing a boy a few years younger than him toy with his powers completely shattered his pride. Yet, his sheer intrigue that bordered on madness smothered his tarnished pride. Zabo¡¯s evasive maneuvers defied all logic.


    As he envisioned what he would do next, he remembered why he was here. He looked back over his shoulder, the path the bastard had taken to run away. I can¡¯t possibly just leave without this boy. He could be the key to the next evolution. What if I convince him to join me, somehow?


    ¡°Listen young man, I apologize for calling you a rat earlier-¡±


    Cutting off his sentence, Zabo reached into his satchel and pulled out something small and angular. Before Noah could stop him, he flung the object at him with a sharp, practiced motion. Instinctively, Noah dodged to the side, the object whizzing past his ear with a high-pitched whistle.


    For a split second, Noah thought he had evaded the attack. But then he heard it, a faint whistling sound, growing louder as it looped back around. His eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. The object, a boomerang, sliced through the air and struck him on the head, before returning to Zabo¡¯s outstretched hand, landing perfectly in his grasp.


    Noah¡¯s anger flared. To think he was willing to allow this insolent rat to join his ranks. ¡°You¡¯re going to regret that one!¡± He summoned two balls of pure blue energy that wrapped around his hands like gloves. Sharply inhaling, he brought his hands together, combining the energy and molding it into a javelin shape.


    However, before he could throw it, Zabo bolted away, his feet barely touching the ground as he sprinted toward the nearest building. In a flash, he scaled the wall, his hands and feet finding firm contact on the rough surface.


    ¡°Get back here, you little-¡± Noah shouted, cutting himself off as he threw the lightning javelin, aiming for Zabo¡¯s back. The blast struck the building, setting it ablaze, but Zabo had already vaulted over the roof, disappearing from view.


    Noah¡¯s fury knew no bounds as he sent more lightning crashing down onto the rooftops, each strike more destructive than the last. Flames erupted across the buildings, the once peaceful neighborhood now a burning hellscape. But Zabo was always one step ahead, his figure darting between the flames like a shadow in the night.


    With Zabo getting further away, Noah¡¯s breaths came in ragged gasps, his chest squeezing, trying to keep him at full strength. Never had he been so outmatched, so outplayed by someone whom he considered inferior. His vanity shouted for him to chase after, to finish what he started. But Zabo was already too far ahead.


    With a last roar of frustration, Noah clenched his fists, the electricity in the air fading as he slowly brought his powers under control. The storm clouds above dispersed, the sky gradually clearing back to a pale blue. He stood amidst the wreckage he had created and simply tutted his tongue.


    Zabo had escaped for now. But Noah swore to himself that this was far from over. He would find that rat, and when he did, he would make sure he¡¯d find every secret that the boy¡¯s powers hid. Noah watched the distant flames dance across the rooftops with a detached annoyance. He stomped away from the scene, leaving his unconscious men in a heap. He was a hunter and his pride couldn¡¯t allow his prey to escape.

 Chapter 62 - Misdirection

    As Ell and Mia ran, they could see the raging storm that seemed to grow with each passing second from where they had left Zabo. Ell ran with Mia¡¯s small hand clasped tightly in hers. They darted through crowded streets, swatting away people who blocked their path. Ell continued to look up over her shoulders to see those dark clouds, where below it all Zabo was fighting a battle she feared he wouldn¡¯t survive.


    ¡°Please,¡± Ell whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the sound of their hurried steps. ¡°Please let him be okay.¡± Guilt gnawed at her. She hadn¡¯t asked for Zabo¡¯s help, and yet he had stepped up, putting his life on the line to protect her and Mia. Now, the thought that he might die because of them filled her with dread. She bit her lip, pushing the thought away. There was no time for despair; she had to focus on getting Mia to safety.


    Ell continued to look forward, pulling it at Mia harder. They ran with the aim of getting to the city center. She hoped that if they could reach the heart of the city, so many people would deter any further attacks. The Voltaires might be powerful, but even they wouldn¡¯t risk causing a scene in broad daylight with so many eyes watching. The power of perception and brand image was crucial to running a profitable guild. They wouldn¡¯t be so hasty in destroying that.


    But as they ran, she felt a vibration from her pocket. God, I thought I turned it off. At first, she ignored it. There was no way she could afford a distraction right now, not when every second counted. Yet, the phone continued to vibrate persistently, demanding her attention. After a moment of hesitation, she slowed down just enough to pull the device from her pocket.


    It was a sleek device, covered in ripples of broken glass from being dropped one too many times. Ell hated Kajima labs for making such brittle technology. With not much money, she kept hold of her phone for years. Yet the message that plastered her entire screen was the most clear thing she had seen on her phone in years.


    Confused, she looked at the number, to which she didn¡¯t recognize. The message continued to pop up like cancer. The words sent a chill down her spine: ¡°Take a left turn. Trust me, I¡¯m a friend.¡±


    Ell¡¯s instinct was to discard the message, but something about it gave her pause. The timing was too precise to be a coincidence. Someone was watching her. Gritting her teeth, she made a snap decision. Trusting the unknown message was a gamble, but right now, they had little to lose. I can¡¯t seriously be trusting this? Have I gone crazy!?


    As if confirmation of her internal question, she guided Mia to the left as they veered into a narrower street. As they followed the new path, more messages appeared, each one directing them through the city¡¯s labyrinthine streets. Left, right, another left. The instructions were clear, and though Ell¡¯s heart raced with anxiety, she obeyed them without question. Something about these messages was convincing and had an edge of unexplainable allure.


    Ell and Mia eventually reached the small nondescript apartment building that had been guiding their frantic escape. Blending into the city¡¯s drab surroundings, the structure¡¯s exterior was unremarkable. The building stood three stories tall, its dull gray concrete walls marred by years of neglect. The paint on the building had long since faded, leaving behind a patchwork of peeling layers that hinted at brighter days long past. Although in much better condition than the buildings found in Rustblock, it was still the place that people walked by without a second glance, a forgotten relic in a bustling city.


    As they stood before the building, Ell¡¯s phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with another message from the unknown sender: ¡°The door is open.¡±


    Ell¡¯s breath caught in her throat as she read the words. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle, the cool metal sending a shiver up her spine. She could feel Mia¡¯s small hand tightly gripping her own, the child¡¯s fear mirrored in her wide, anxious eyes.


    ¡°Ell, where are we going?¡±


    ¡°Somewhere safe.¡± Ell whispered to Mia, in truth she had no idea what they were heading to, but there was no reason to scare the child. ¡°Stay close.¡± She squeezed Mia¡¯s hand, trying to convey a sense of safety she didn¡¯t truly feel. With a deep breath, to steady her nerves, she pushed the door open.


    The door creaked ominously as it swung inward, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretched out before them. The air inside was stale, tinged with the faint scent of mold and dust. Flickering overhead lights struggled to stay on, casting erratic shadows that danced along the cracked walls. The effect was disorienting, as if the building itself were alive and watching their every move. Every sound seemed amplified in the oppressive silence, from the faint hum of the flickering lights to the creaking of the floorboards beneath their feet as they stepped inside.


    The feeling of being watched ever since she received those messages became amplified. It felt like unseen eyes were tracking their every move. Exposed, vulnerable and naked. The shadows on the walls seemed to stretch and reach out toward them, making the hallway feel longer than it actually was.


    The phone buzzed again, and Ell nearly jumped out of her skin. She glanced down at the screen, where another message awaited her: ¡°Go to the second floor, first door on the right.¡±


    She took a deep breath, steadying her heart beat and fear, as she led Mia toward the staircase at the end of the hall. With every step, the wooden stairs groaned under their weight. The narrow staircase was dimly lit, with no surrounding windows. The flickering light from above barely reached the lower steps, making the climb feel even more foreboding. Every creak and groan of the steps seemed louder in the confined space, as if the building were protesting their intrusion.


    Ell¡¯s anxiety felt like an exploding sun, her breath becoming shallower as they neared the second floor. She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong, that they were walking into a trap. Yet there was no turning back now. They had no choice but to trust the instructions from the mysterious sender. Yet doubt crept back into her mind. The thought of all of this being an elaborate plan to catch them in a confined space.


    When they reached the second floor, Ell paused at the top of the stairs. The hallway contained the same dimness as the one below, the flickering lights casting familiar shadows. She could feel Mia trembling beside her, and she gave the girl¡¯s hand another reassuring squeeze.


    They approached the first door on the right, as directed. The door, much like the rest of the building, was old, its paint chipped and peeling, revealing the worn wood underneath. Ell hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips, her breath hitching in her throat as she tried to steel herself for whatever was on the other side. Slowly, with a hand that trembled ever so slightly, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She opened to see a cramped square room, its layout evincing its past use as storage rather than living space. Stacks of old newspapers and cardboard boxes lined the walls, with some shoved haphazardly into corners. Paper and folders cluttered the floor with random items, and more boxes that made the room seem more like an obstacle course. The air was thick with dust, and a small, barred window stifled the sun¡¯s rays.


    Right against the back of the wall lay a small desk, its surface covered in a jumble of papers, notebooks, and a few scattered pens. Above the desk hung a whiteboard covered in notes and indecipherable diagrams. Who the hell uses a storage room as an office? Ell couldn¡¯t help but wonder.


    There, at the center of the desk, sat a beautiful gray pigeon perched inside a cage. The bird¡¯s beady eyes watched them intently as they entered, its head cocked to one side as if it were studying them. Mia instinctively hid herself behind Ell.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, the bird won¡¯t hurt you. It¡¯s in a cage.¡±


    The bird wasn¡¯t what scared Ell, but the person she had just noticed sitting by the desk, amid all the clutter, a short young man, whose presence was completely camouflaged. His skin was a deep shade of brown that didn¡¯t look appealing under the dim lights. His overgrown afro framed his face, making him look slightly disheveled. Despite the cramped quarters, he seemed perfectly at ease, as if this chaotic space was a sanctuary rather than a prison.


    The man held a phone to his ear, speaking in a low, hurried voice that was barely audible over the crackling of the old phone line. His dark eyes flicked toward Ell and Mia as they entered, acknowledging their presence with a brief, almost indifferent glance before returning to his conversation. His tone was urgent, filled with an undercurrent of tension that suggested whatever was happening on the other end of the line was far from routine.


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re here, Yuen,¡± the man said, his eyes flicking over to Ell and Mia as they entered. ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯ll figure it out.¡± He sounded exasperated, almost panicked, as he hung up the phone and stood up. Without warning, he rushed over to Mia, who shrank back in fear, clinging to Ell.


    Ell made eye contact with the young man, but he didn¡¯t give her any signal of recognition, despite how scared and lost the pair looked. Instead, he focused on the phone that he held close to his ear, his dark eyes flicked towards Ell and Mia for only a second, before speaking to whoever he was on the phone with, his tone urgent.


    ¡°They¡¯re here Yuen.¡± The man quickly got out of his foldable chair and pushed them into the room before closing the door. ¡°You know when you gave me that pigeon, I thought it was a gift, for y¡¯know joining you guys and all. I got really attached to that bird.¡± Ell couldn¡¯t help but be confused, Is this guy friend or foe?


    ¡°Okay, okay my bad, I got distracted.¡± It appeared the man was getting admonished over the phone before he hung up the phone, stricken with a look of panic. Without warning, he rushed over to Mia, who shrank back in fear, clinging to Ell. ¡°Hey!¡± Ell protested, trying to push him away, but the man was already moving, his hands patting Mia down as if searching for something hidden. Mia whimpered, her eyes wide with fear. Ell tried to intervene, but the man dodged her attempts, pushing her hands away.


    ¡°Got it,¡± the man muttered to himself, a hint of relief in his voice as he pulled back. He held up a tiny chip between his fingers, showing it to Ell and Mia with a grim smile. ¡°You were being tracked.¡±


    Ell¡¯s heart sank as she took the chip off the man¡¯s hands to scrutinize it. ¡°Noah Voltaire, that bastard. I should¡¯ve realised when he let us go so easily.¡±


    The man nodded in agreement. ¡°Yeah, the sly bastard did something similar before.¡± He let out a dry laugh, though there was little humor in it. ¡°Listen, I¡¯m sorry for the rough welcome. We needed to be sure you weren¡¯t being followed.¡±


    Ell¡¯s mind raced, trying to process everything. ¡°Who are you?¡± she demanded, her protective instincts flaring up again. She didn¡¯t trust this man, despite his apparent help.


    ¡°Oh, sorry about that. I¡¯m a private investigator.¡± He said, as he moved towards the pigeon¡¯s cage. ¡°Just started this gig, so I¡¯m kind of new to all this.¡± He began fumbling with the cage¡¯s lock, trying to open it.


    Ell fought the urge to scream and shout that this investigator didn¡¯t answer her question. Before she could even say anything, she felt Mia¡¯s hand trembling as she clutched at her pants. Ell knelt beside her, pulling her into a comforting hug. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Mia. We¡¯re safe here.¡±


    ¡°I just miss my mommy, Ell. I miss her so much,¡± Mia whispered in response.


    ¡°I miss her too.¡±


    The comforting silence got cut short with the chirps of the pigeon that the investigator now held in his hands. He trudged over to the pair, trying hard not to hurt the bird. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Sabir, I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d make me do this.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ell asked, watching him with suspicion.


    ¡°You see that chip you¡¯re holding? Do me a favor and put it on Sabir.¡±


    Ell¡¯s eyes widened in recognition. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not actually stupid.¡± She quickly scrambled towards the pigeon and placed the chip on its stomach.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find I¡¯m quite clever. If we¡¯re lucky, Noah¡¯s tracking system will follow Sabir instead of you.¡± He moved the chip to the bird¡¯s leg and walked over to the small window, which was barely big enough for the bird to fit through.


    ¡°Can you open this for me?¡± The man asked, his hands full with the bird. Ell hesitated for a moment before stepping over the clutter to unlatch the window. With a nod of thanks, the investigator set the bird free, watching as it flew out into the open sky, carrying the tracker with it.


    He cried profusely. His crying made Ell feel uncomfortable, and she didn¡¯t know what to say to console him. It¡¯s just a bird, goddammit


    ¡°Sabir! I¡¯m going to miss you.¡± As he cried, Mia waddled towards him before tugging at his shirt.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Mister, you can always get a new bird.¡±


    With the child¡¯s consolation, the investigator wiped his tears and smiled. ¡°You¡¯re right, I could replace him. But maybe what¡¯s most important is that I treasure every memory I had with him¡± He placed a reassuring hand on the top of Mia¡¯s head. ¡°You¡¯re safe now.¡±


    Mia giggled slightly. ¡°Thank you, mister.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡±


    An awkward silence overcame the three of them, before the investigator scrambled to find two foldable chairs laying randomly on the floor. He folded them, allowing them to sit. ¡°Sorry for my lack of manners. Please sit. People will arrive to take you somewhere safe soon.¡±


    Ell reluctantly sat down, pulling Mia into her lap. As Mia sat down, her curiosity peaked. ¡°Is this actually your office?¡±


    The man paused, glancing over his shoulder with a sheepish grin. ¡°Well yeah. I just moved in. The last tenant, or should I say janitor, left little behind.¡± He chuckled.


    Ell sighed. She finally put her defenses down and relaxed. ¡°My name is Ell, Ell Marie.¡±


    Mia looked up at the private investigator with wide, curious eyes. ¡°I¡¯m Mia Quinn.¡±


    The man smiled warmly at her, his demeanor suddenly much softer. ¡°Well, hello there, Mia,¡± he said, crouching down to her level. ¡°I¡¯ve been wanting to meet you for quite some time.¡± He reached out, gently ruffling her hair in a gesture of comfort. ¡°My name is Max, Max Crawford. I¡¯m going to protect you from now on.¡±

 Chapter 63 - Lightning Hunt

    Am I gonna survive? The question in the back of Zabo¡¯s mind continued to scream out, but he forced himself to ignore it. Instead, focusing on stabilizing his footing as he sprinted across the rooftops. His feet pounded against the concrete with every desperate stride. The sun was setting, casting long shadows that kept him concealed. But was it enough?


    With every leap, the gap between each building felt wider and wider. He felt tired, weak, and defeated. His muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion clawing at him, but he pushed forward, driven by sheer willpower and the primal instinct to survive. He knew he was running on empty. The last of his aura reserves expended on a lost fight against Noah Voltaire, the rising star in the world of hunters. He didn¡¯t stand a chance.


    Now, with no aura left to bolster his strength or sharpen his senses, Zabo was just another pathetic dud. The way his body swayed as he ran was a constant reminder of his mortality. The Zabo that had once taken out Noah¡¯s five grunts was now just an empty husk. A husk that desperately screamed for survival.


    He could only lament his laziness in training and his lack of drive.  His master had always urged him to cultivate his aura, to expand it, to tap into the deeper wells of power that lay within him. But the lack of excitement in it all caused him to slack off. He¡¯d often make excuses that aurasphere cultivation was too slow. That his speed and agility could allow him to end fights with a blink of an eye. I hate battles of attrition.


    Regret gnawed at him. If only he had listened to Master Mourning. If only he had pushed himself harder, maybe he wouldn¡¯t be in this situation. Maybe he would have the strength to face Noah Voltaire head-on. But there was no time to dwell on the what-ifs. He was alive, and as long as he kept moving, there was a chance, a slim one, but a chance nonetheless, that he might escape. Maybe he¡¯ll go for the two girls instead. Ugh then everything I did was for nothing.


    He landed on the next rooftop, and his thoughts were abruptly cut short when he saw that something, no, someone, was blocking his path. Zabo¡¯s head, previously lowered and fixated on his feet, rose slowly. The figure was tall, wrapped in a blue long coat with white trimmings.


    Noah Voltaire stood there, waiting for him.


    Noah¡¯s presence was like a cold shock to Zabo¡¯s system. Sporadic flashes of lightning illuminated the man¡¯s figure, and his expression held a calm amusement, as if this chase was nothing more than a game to him. Zabo screamed at his body to change direction. Before even making any distance, Noah raised his hand, and a bolt of electricity shot out from his fingertips. The lightning struck him mid-leap, the searing pain shooting through his body and killing all momentum. The force of the impact sent him plummeting off the edge of the building.


    Time seemed to slow as he fell, the ground rushing up to meet him. He crashed down onto the pavement of an empty side road; the impact jarring every bone in his body. Pain exploded in his limbs, and for a moment, everything went white. When the pain subsided, he lay on his back, paralyzed and unable to move. His body felt leaden, every nerve ending tingling with residual electricity.


    ¡°How¡­ how could you be so fast?¡± Zabo croaked, his voice barely audible over the ringing in his ears. He struggled to lift his head, his vision blurry as he tried to focus on the figure approaching him.


    Noah¡¯s smile was one of pure satisfaction. ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± he said with a mocking tilt of his head. ¡°I¡¯m lightnings incarnate.¡±


    The casual arrogance in Noah¡¯s tone was infuriating, but he was too weak to do anything about it. All he could do was watch as Noah sauntered closer, his boots clicking softly against the pavement. When he was close enough, Noah clicked his fingers, and another bolt of lightning struck him square in the chest.


    The pain was excruciating, like being stabbed with a thousand white-hot needles. His back arched involuntarily as the electricity coursed through him, his muscles seizing up, but the strange thing was, he remained conscious. He was still alive.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Noah said, his voice almost soothing. ¡°You can¡¯t die from these. At least, not yet.¡±


    The cold assurance in Noah¡¯s voice sent a wave of despair crashing over Zabo. This was it. This was how he was going to die, slowly, painfully, at the hands of a sadistic bastard who enjoyed playing with his prey. He could barely breathe, the effort of drawing in each breath a monumental task. The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, a sickening reminder of the damage already done to his body.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Please¡­ please¡­¡± Zabo gasped, his voice trembling as he reached out with a trembling hand, touching Noah¡¯s boots in a gesture of submission.


    Noah¡¯s smile widened, pleased with the apparent display of surrender. ¡°Are you ready to beg for mercy?¡± he asked, his tone laced with condescension.


    His eyes narrowed, and with the last of his strength, he gritted his teeth. ¡°Please¡­ kill me already, you inbred fuck.¡±


    The words hung in the air, shocking Noah into silence. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the storm overhead, the wind howling through the deserted streets. Then Noah¡¯s expression twisted in fury.


    ¡°You filthy rat!¡± he snarled, his previous amusement gone. His eyes glowed with an intense, dangerous light as he summoned another bolt of lightning, this one more powerful than the last. The energy crackled in the air, but instead of striking Zabo, it coiled around Noah¡¯s outstretched hand, the electricity solidifying and shaping itself into a deadly spear of pure energy.


    Zabo watched, helpless, as Noah picked him up by the collar, lifting him off the ground with ease. ¡°It¡¯s too easy with you lying on the ground,¡± Noah spat. And with that, he hurled him into the air, sending him flying several feet above the ground.


    For a split second, everything seemed to slow down again. he felt weightless, suspended in the air, his body broken and burning with pain. He knew what was coming next, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He could only watch as Noah drew back his arm and threw another lightning infused javelin.


    The bolt of energy darted through the air, spinning as it stretched toward Zabo. He barely had time to brace himself before it struck, the spear piercing through the right side of his abdomen with a searing burst of pain. The force of the impact sent him spiraling back down to the ground, where he landed with a sickening thud.


    Zabo lay there, his body twitching uncontrollably as the pain radiated from the wound in his side. He could feel the burn, the electricity still coursing through his veins, eating away at him from the inside. His vision blurred with tears, and for a moment, he thought this was it. His body would finally give out, and he would find the peace he so desperately craved.


    But death did not come. Instead, Noah stood over him, his expression one of cold, detached curiosity. ¡°I give you credit,¡± Noah said, his tone almost conversational. ¡°You were stronger than you looked. But I didn¡¯t even show you half of what I could do, and now look at you, struggling to breathe. How cute.¡±


    His chest heaved as he tried to draw in air, each breath a struggle against the overwhelming pain. His mind was foggy, the world around him fading in and out of focus. But through the haze, he could still hear Noah¡¯s voice, taunting him, mocking him.


    The man crouched down beside him, leaning in close so that Zabo could see the distant gleam in his eyes. ¡°But you know,¡± Noah continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, ¡°in all my life, I¡¯ve never seen something like you. I wonder what you are.¡±


    Zabo tried to respond, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. His body was shutting down, his vision dimming as the darkness closed in around him. Noah¡¯s voice grew distant, fading into the background as his consciousness slipped away. But before he could fully succumb to the darkness, Noah¡¯s voice cut through the fog once more, cold and sharp as a knife.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shame, really.¡± Noah sneered, as he tended to his fingernails. ¡°All that running, all that fighting, and for what? You think you¡¯ve saved anyone? You think you¡¯ve protected that little girl? Listen here, rat, I put a tracker on her. I can find her whenever I want. This little game of yours would never change that.¡±


    The words struck him harder than any physical blow. He tried to process what Noah was saying, but his mind was sluggish, clouded by pain and exhaustion. A tracker on Mia? How? When? His thoughts scrambled, desperately searching for an answer, for some way to make sense of this nightmare. But the realization hit him like a hammer. Noah had been ahead of him the entire time. Everything he had done, every effort he had made to protect her, had been for nothing.


    ¡°You see, young man,¡± Noah continued, his tone almost pitying now, ¡°you¡¯ve accomplished nothing. All you did was delay the inevitable. I¡¯ll get to her whenever I please, and there¡¯s nothing you, or anyone else, can do to stop me.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes, mixing with the blood and grime on his face. His body trembled with the weight of his failure. He had fought so hard, risked everything to keep that little girl safe, only to learn that his efforts had been in vain. The girl he had sworn to protect was still in danger, and there was nothing he could do about it. Was choosing to put his life on the line for people he didn¡¯t know the right call?


    For a moment, he felt something deep within him shatter. He had always believed that he could make a difference, that he could protect those who couldn¡¯t protect themselves. He had dared to hope that he could be the Messiah his people needed, the one who could lead them to safety, to freedom. But now, as he lay broken and defeated on the cold pavement, all of those hopes seemed foolish, na?ve.


    ¡°Master¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± Zabo whispered, his thoughts a jumbled mess of regret and despair. ¡°I got into this mess¡­ the last Scion wasn¡¯t me¡­ I couldn¡¯t save anyone¡­¡±


    Noah¡¯s voice, now distant and echoing, continued to mock him, but Zabo was barely aware of it. His consciousness was slipping away, the world around him fading into a void of blackness. The last thing he heard before everything went dark was the sound of Noah¡¯s laughter, cruel and victorious, ringing through the empty streets like a death knell.


    And then there was nothing.

 Chapter 64 - Dismissed

    Noah Voltaire stood over Zabo¡¯s crumpled form, watching as a puddle of blood leaked from his side. His lightning javelins were one of his most deadly techniques in his arsenal. The fact that the young man was still barely breathing was a testament to his strength.


    ¡°I have you now.¡± He smiled as he bent down to look at Zabo¡¯s worn-out face, his eyelids still wet from crying. He glanced around, checking if anyone had noticed their fight. Smiling, he realized he was alone. Opening his hand, lightning crackled from his palms, the energy pulsating with raw, destructive power.


    He was unsure what to do with the boy. The disrespect he had been shown was unfathomable, worthy of death, yet the power he showed was disturbing, to say the least. Noah¡¯s curiosity couldn¡¯t allow such a specimen to die. New Esper powers were scarce. If he played his cards right, he could profit over him. Yet that would mean letting him live.


    Noah raised his hand, a bolt of lightning coiled around his arm like a hissing serpent preparing its strike. ¡°I¡¯ll just have his body dissected.¡± He yawned as he charged a lethal attack, the energy transitioned to the ends of his fingertips. Just as Noah was about to unleash it, an unfamiliar sound pierced the air.


    A metallic click resonated across the middle of the desolate street. Then, like a choir, several more clicks followed, echoing through the street. Noah pulled his arm away, the lightning fading along with it. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow, his heightened senses straining to pinpoint where the sounds came from. Someone was here. No. There were multiple.


    And they were armed.


    An icy dread settled over him as he slowly turned to look behind. Emerging from the shadows like specters were figures dressed in the unmistakable blue and white uniform of the Zeus Guild. They moved with military precision, their steps synchronized, and their presence imposing. Each one carried a sleek, high-tech rifle, the barrels glowing with an ominous, faint blue light, primed and ready to fire at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Noah looked upwards towards the rooftops of the buildings. More men came into view, they aimed down at him with longer rifles attached with scopes. He was completely surrounded. The elite members of the Zeus guild had come out to play. ¡°Damn it,¡± Noah hissed. He pivoted, turning to see all the possible angles. Their formation was tight, calculated, leaving no gaps for escape.


    No one spoke as the men on the ground edged closer to Noah and the passed out Zabo. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch infinitely as Noah assessed his options. He could try to fight his way out, but even he wasn¡¯t arrogant enough to believe he could take on this many armed hunters alone, especially when they had him surrounded.


    Slowly and deliberately, Noah raised both his hands in the air as an act of surrender. His movements were careful not to provoke the hunters into action. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡± Noah demanded, his voice slightly shaky. He hated how he sounded right now, betraying the sliver of doubt creeping into his mind. Father will be furious.


    This was an unfamiliar situation, a feeling of uncertainty that Noah had never felt before. He was a prodigy, the next patriarch of the Voltaire family, yet here he was, surrounded, outmaneuvered, and at the mercy of forces beyond his control.


    The hunters remained silent, their weapons trained steadily on him, their faces devoid of emotion. The only sound that filled the air was the faint hum of their charged rifles, an open threat that needed no words. Noah¡¯s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he awaited a response, any response, from the men who now held his life in their hands.


    One of them stepped forward, parting the ranks like a ship cutting through water. The man who emerged was older than the others, his face hardened by years of battle. He slicked his navy-blue hair back into an undercut, shaving the sides close to his scalp. Several scars crossed his face, the most prominent one running from his forehead down to his jawline, giving him a fierce, almost predatory appearance.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Noah¡¯s eyes widened in recognition. Arcturus Voltaire, a leader of the Collateral Family and the Guild Master of Zeus. His presence here was unexpected, to say the least.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been making quite the mess of the city, Noah,¡± Arcturus said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that could cut steel. ¡°This isn¡¯t Sector 5, where you can treat everything like a toy.¡±


    The weight of Arcturus¡¯s authority was palpable, and Noah¡¯s arrogance faltered. He quickly bowed his head, forcing himself to show respect. ¡°Guild Master, I apologize,¡± Noah said, trying to keep his voice steady.


    Arcturus raised a hand, silencing him with a dismissive wave. ¡°Please, Noah, call me uncle. After all, we¡¯ll be family soon, once Vincent becomes engaged with my daughter.¡±


    Noah clenched his teeth, his forced smile straining at the corners. The idea of Arcturus being considered his superior, let alone his equal, was more than he could bear, but he said nothing. Arcturus continued, his tone shifting to one of mild reprimand. ¡°However, I can¡¯t overlook the fact that you¡¯ve been using the squad I allocated to you without good reason. Harassing citizens like this is bad for the guild¡¯s reputation. Care to explain yourself?¡±


    Noah felt the simmering anger rise within him, but he held it in check. ¡°It¡¯s main family business,¡± he smirked. ¡°I apologize for putting the guild¡¯s reputation at risk.¡±


    Arcturus shifted his gaze to Zabo, whose blood continued to leak, reaching Noah¡¯s feet. ¡°Well, I think your business here is complete. Return to Sector 5. That¡¯s an order.¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, a flicker of defiance crossed his features. A Damn collateral dare give me orders, he should be bowing at my feet. I am the future patriarch.* He quickly bit his tongue, knowing that Arcturus held so much influence in this city and had power rivalling his father, it would be unwise to cause a fuss.


    ¡°If that¡¯s the guild master¡¯s orders.¡± He turned to leave, but in his periphery he saw Zabo laying face first on the ground. He could see his back rocking from his shallow breathing. Noah smiled. He couldn¡¯t leave empty-handed, and the boy could prove useful to the family. Striding over to the boy, Noah reached down and grabbed Zabo by the collar, hoisting his limp body off the ground, he carried his body over his shoulder.


    The surrounding hunters instantly aimed their rifles at him, a low hum of energy building as they readied their weapons to fire. One hunter, a large man with spiky orange hair and a cannon-like weapon slung over his shoulder, stepped forward. His voice was deep and steady as he spoke. ¡°Leave the kid.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so the lieutenant can speak. I always thought you were mute, Hazard.¡±


    Zeus¡¯s lieutenant, Hazard, the second in command, looked unphased by Noah¡¯s taunt. Instead, he angled his weapon towards Noah. ¡°We can¡¯t let you kill a man who hasn¡¯t committed any clear crime.¡±


    Noah¡¯s lip curled in contempt. ¡°Oh, so you think you can stop me? You were a nobody in the academy, and you¡¯re still a nobody now.¡±


    Before Hazard could respond. ¡°Hazard, stand down.¡± He turned to Noah, his eyes cold. ¡°Leave, Noah. Take the random street kid with you, if that¡¯s what the main family truly desires.¡±


    He¡¯s mocking me. With a last glare, Noah adjusted his grip on Zabo and gave a tight, annoyed smile. ¡°Very well, uncle,¡± he said, the word a sneer on his lips. ¡°I¡¯ll be leaving now.¡±


    As he turned to go, Noah couldn¡¯t resist not having the final word. He glanced back at Arcturus. ¡°Your loyalty to the family will be questioned soon... Uncle.¡±


    Arcturus simply smiled in response. ¡°I remain forever loyal to the main family,¡± he replied, his voice steady. Noah couldn¡¯t understand what was going through the man¡¯s head, but he knew he had struck a nerve from the slight twitch in his eye.


    Noah took Zabo¡¯s limp form and walked away, a trail of Zabo¡¯s blood following closely behind. As he left the scene, the hunters lowered their weapons, the tension slowly dissipating. Arcturus watched him go. When Noah was finally out of earshot, Arcturus turned to Hazard. ¡°Keep an eye on him. I have a sneaking suspicion that the main family is up to something.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Guild Master.¡±


    As Arcturus ordered his men to return to HQ, he took a moment to look at the puddle of blood left behind where Noah had stood. ¡°This could be our moment,¡± he murmured to himself. ¡°The time to strike and establish a new era of the Voltaire family.¡±

 Chapter 65 - Kajima Labs

    Zabo woke to the sensation of being dragged. His blood rushed to his head from being held upside down. Pain radiated from his right side, where Noah¡¯s brutal assault had scorched and torn his flesh. He couldn¡¯t remember passing out, but the last thing he recalled was Noah¡¯s mocking voice and the searing agony that followed. Now, barely conscious, he was acutely aware of his precarious situation. He tried to move, but his limbs felt like lead, his body too damaged to respond.


    He blinked several times to clear his blurred vision, but all he saw was a haze of light filtering through the urban landscape. The surroundings gradually came into focus¡ªhigh-rise buildings, neon signs, and streets crowded with people moving about their lives in blissful ignorance of the bloodied young man being dragged through their midst.


    Zabo struggled to form words, his voice barely a whisper. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ going on?¡± he croaked out, though the effort sent a fresh wave of pain through his side, making him wince. He craned his neck to look up at Noah, who was hauling him with one arm, the other free to swat away any onlookers who got too curious.


    Noah didn¡¯t bother to answer, instead focusing on walking briskly through the cityscape. He weaved through the crowd, his attention solely on the destination ahead. Zabo tried again to speak, but the exertion was too much, and he lapsed back into silence, his mind racing with confusion. He could barely comprehend what was happening, let alone why Noah was dragging him through the bustling streets of the city center.


    The surrounding buildings towered into the sky, sleek glass and steel structures that seemed to pierce the clouds. The city center differed from the dingy alleys where Zabo had fought for his life just moments earlier. Here, the streets were pristine, the people well-dressed and oblivious to the brutalities that occurred in the shadows. Zabo could barely keep his eyes open, but when he did, he caught glimpses of polished surfaces reflecting the endless glow of neon lights. The world around him seemed distant, unreal, as if he were moving through a dream, or a nightmare.


    Ahead, a massive tower loomed, its silhouette cutting a stark figure against the sky. The structure was unlike anything else in the city, a marvel of modern architecture that reached dizzying heights. At its peak, the name ¡°Kajima¡± was emblazoned in bright, luminescent letters, visible even from the ground below. The tower was a symbol of power and wealth, its presence dominating the cityscape, and it was where they were headed.


    As they neared the tower, Zabo¡¯s condition worsened. He could feel the life draining out of him with each passing second, the blood seeping from his wound in a steady, sickening flow. He had no aura left, no strength to draw on, and he knew that without it, his chances of survival were slim to none. All he could do was hold on to consciousness, hoping for some miracle that would spare him from whatever fate awaited him at the top of that towering edifice.


    Noah pulled Zabo through the grand entrance of the building. Zabo¡¯s flipped view caused the polished floors to shake. The lobby was opulent, with a sleek, minimalist design. The people inside turned to stare, their eyes widening in shock as they recognized Noah Voltaire, heir to the Voltaire family, and the bloody, broken body he dragged behind him.


    Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. ¡°Is that Noah Voltaire? What¡¯s he doing here?¡± ¡°Oh my God, he¡¯s even more handsome in person!¡± ¡°But who¡¯s that he¡¯s dragging? Is he¡­ dead?¡± The whispers grew in intensity, a murmur of excitement and fear that filled the lobby.


    Noah ignored the stares and whispers, his focus fixed on the elderly receptionist stationed behind the massive, curved desk at the center of the lobby. She was a frail woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun, her eyes magnified by thick glasses. As Noah approached, her gaze fell on Zabo¡¯s mangled body, and she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.


    ¡°Dr. Valenkov,¡± Noah said, his voice cold and commanding. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    The receptionist was trembling, her eyes darting between Noah and Zabo¡¯s bloody form. The sight of the young man¡¯s side, a gaping, charred wound from which blood oozed steadily, seemed to paralyze her with fear. It took her several moments to find her voice, and even then, it was barely more than a whisper.


    ¡°H-his lab is¡­ free for you to enter, but¡­¡± she stammered, unable to tear her gaze away from Zabo¡¯s wound. Her hands fidgeted nervously with the papers on her desk, as if searching for something to anchor her away from the dangerous noble.


    Noah didn¡¯t wait for her to finish. He strode past the desk, still dragging Zabo, who was now leaving a trail of blood across the pristine marble floor. The receptionist watched them go; her face pale and her body trembling as she realized there was nothing she could do to stop him.


    They moved deeper into the building, where the atmosphere became more sterile with the smell of bleach that clung to the nose. White corridors lined with doors bearing plaques engraved with the names of various researchers and departments. The lighting was harsh, fluorescent bulbs casting an artificial brightness over everything. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    As Noah reached the door to Dr. Valenkov¡¯s lab, his footsteps echoed in the empty hall. He paused for a moment before pushing it open. The lab was spacious but eerily empty, with only the hum of machinery breaking the silence. The usual bustle of activity was absent, the rows of desks and workstations deserted, save for one figure bent over a microscope.


    The woman looked up as they entered, her brown hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore a crisp white lab coat, her ID badge clipped to her breast pocket, the name ¡°Dr. Samantha Hart¡± printed in bold letters. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Noah and the bloodied figure he dragged behind him.


    Panic flashed across her face, and she quickly stood up, nearly knocking over the stool she had been sitting on. ¡°Hello¡ªcan I help you?¡± she asked, her voice shaky.


    Noah ignored her question and glanced around the lab, taking in the various pieces of equipment and the rows of vials and containers. ¡°Dr. Valenkov,¡± he said, his voice low and menacing, ¡°where is he?¡±


    Dr. Hart swallowed nervously, her eyes flicking back and forth between Noah and Zabo¡¯s lifeless form. ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry,¡± she stammered, ¡°but Dr. Valenkov is on a scientific expedition right now. I don¡¯t know when he¡¯ll be back, but he left me in charge of the lab. Is there anything I can do?¡±


    Noah¡¯s gaze shifted to the ID badge pinned to her lab coat. ¡°Dr. Hart,¡± he intoned, the edge in his voice unmistakable, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t happen to have any vials of ambrosia here, would you?¡±


    Dr. Hart¡¯s eyes widened in fear, and she took a step back. ¡°Ambrosia¡­ it¡¯s a rare potion, and it must be handled very carefully,¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but even if I had any, I couldn¡¯t just give it to you.¡±


    Noah¡¯s expression darkened, and he took a step closer to her. ¡°I see, then I suppose I need to leave a message for Dr. Valenkov. Please make sure he knows I was looking for him and I need his expertise in Sector 5. I presume you know who I am already.¡±


    With that, Noah turned to leave, dragging Zabo¡¯s body towards the door, but Dr. Hart¡¯s voice stopped him. ¡°Wait!¡± she called out, her voice desperate. Noah paused, turning back to face her.


    Dr. Hart hesitated, then pointed to Zabo. ¡°That boy¡­ he¡¯s dying. I¡ªI have something that might help, but it¡¯s not complete. It won¡¯t fully heal him, but it could stop the bleeding.¡±


    Noah looked at her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. ¡°You said you didn¡¯t have any ambrosia,¡± he said, his voice cold.


    Dr. Hart shook her head. ¡°It¡¯s not ambrosia,¡± she explained, ¡°but a derivative I¡¯ve been working on. It¡¯s still in the experimental stage, and it won¡¯t completely heal his wound, but it could buy him some time.¡±


    Noah watched her carefully as she grabbed a small orange vial from a nearby shelf. She approached Zabo cautiously, her hands trembling as she uncorked the vial and poured the contents over his wound. Zabo¡¯s body convulsed, a strangled scream escaping his lips as the liquid touched his flesh. The bleeding slowed, but the wound remained deep and gruesome, the surrounding flesh still raw and burnt.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Noah said, though the words carried no genuine gratitude. He turned to leave, dragging Zabo behind him once more, but Dr. Hart¡¯s voice called out to him again.


    ¡°Wait!¡± she said, her voice more urgent this time. ¡°You can¡¯t just leave him like this. He¡¯ll die if you don¡¯t do something.¡±


    Noah glanced back at her, his expression one of mild annoyance. ¡°He¡¯s a criminal,¡± he said dismissively. ¡°His life or death is of no consequence.¡±


    Dr. Hart flinched at the coldness in his tone, but she didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Even criminals deserve a chance at survival,¡± she replied, though her voice wavered. ¡°Besides, if he¡¯s valuable enough for you to bring here, then maybe he¡¯s worth saving.¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes narrowed as he considered her words. He wasn¡¯t used to being challenged, especially not by someone as insignificant as a lab assistant. But there was something about her that piqued his curiosity. Her boldness, or perhaps her naivety, in standing up to him, made him pause, but not only that, she seemed¨Coddly familiar. He turned fully to face her, still gripping Zabo¡¯s collar tightly.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name again? Have we met before?¡± Noah asked, even though he already knew from the id.


    ¡°Dr. Samantha Hart and I would¡¯ve remembered if I met someone as famous as you.¡± She replied, lifting her chin up.


    ¡°Well, Dr. Hart, you¡¯ve done your good deed for the day. But understand this: his fate is not in your hands.¡±


    Samantha bit her lip, her eyes darting to Zabo¡¯s limp form. ¡°If you leave him like this, he won¡¯t make it. The derivative I gave him isn¡¯t enough. He needs proper treatment.¡±


    Noah¡¯s patience was wearing thin. He¡¯d had enough of this pointless conversation. ¡°Your concern is touching,¡± he said sarcastically, ¡°but unnecessary.¡± He turned back toward the door, signaling that the discussion was over.


    Samantha watched as Noah turned to leave, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she should be relieved that the young man might have a chance, but the fear of what might happen next still gnawed at her.


    Without another word, Noah turned and left the lab, Zabo¡¯s bloodied body still slung over his shoulder. As the door closed behind them, Samantha felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She had no idea if the young man would survive the night, or if Noah would simply kill him. All she knew was that she had done everything she could, and now it was out of her hands.


    She stood there for a moment, her mind racing. Then, with shaking hands, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number, her breath hitching in her throat as she waited for the line to connect.


    After a few rings, a voice on the other end answered. ¡°Max?¡± she said, her voice trembling. ¡°He was here. Noah Voltaire was just here. I think¡­ He was looking for Dr Valenkov. Do you think he¡¯ll find out what we did?¡±


    The voice on the other end responded, and as they spoke, the weight of what she had gotten involved in settled heavily on Samantha¡¯s shoulders. Something far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined, and there was no turning back now.


    Noah Voltaire, you¡¯ll pay for what you did.

 Chapter 66 - To The Cell

    Zabo¡¯s whole body throbbed in pain as his consciousness returned, reminding him he was at the mercy of a ruthless noble, who viewed him as nothing more than entertainment. That bastard could¡¯ve gone for his actual targets, but the cocky bastard found some time to still fight me. Now I¡¯m gonna die.


    As Noah hauled his body around without a care in the world, Zabo could feel a slight warmth as they entered a building. He noticed the cold, sterile air around him, tinged with the faint scent of chemicals and disinfectant. The harsh lights cast a long shadow of Noah¡¯s figure and with Zabo¡¯s own shadow trailing closely on top. While only inches away from his head touching the floor, Zabo felt the light rebound off the metallic surface directly onto his face.


    As his vision cleared, the futuristic aesthetic of the place became apparent. Sleek machines crooned, and digital screens blinked with streams of data. This wasn¡¯t some back-alley hideout. He was in a high-tech laboratory.


    Kajima Labs.


    Damn trust a Voltaire to be able to just walk into the biggest company in Havana and act like they own the place. Although, in a way, the Voltaires did own everything, everything worth owning in this city. The power they wielded was terrifying, far beyond anything Zabo had ever imagined. And now, somehow, he had interfered with their business.


    Once again, Zabo¡¯s vision slowly dimmed. Damn it, body, stay awake! I wanna see what¡¯s inside. Unaware of what had happened within the confines of the laboratory, he had reawakened, feeling less weak than before. His body still felt like lava, with every minor twitch of his muscles brought a wave of agony.


    The fresh night breeze brushed through Zabo¡¯s thick dreadlocks. The realization that they had left the lab settled in. Noah¡¯s voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. ¡°Finally awake, huh?¡±


    Zabo turned his head to see the young Voltaire standing over him, his expression unreadable. He realised he was leaning against a brick wall, sitting down. They were right beside the entrance of Kajima. His wounds had stopped bleeding thankfully, yet it was strange. He could still feel the sensation of losing blood, like the hole caused by Noah¡¯s attack was clogged up haphazardly, causing it to leak. Zabo didn¡¯t need to be restrained; the injuries he sustained were stronger than any shackle.


    He wanted to ask what was going on, what had happened, but the words died in his throat. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to know the answer. Whatever was in store would not end well for him.


    Watching his hopeless face, Noah called out to his men, who were lingering by the entrance. The five of them, bruised and battered from their earlier encounter with Zabo, looked at him with undisguised venom. Noah gave them a curt order. ¡°Take him back home.¡±


    Home? Zabo¡¯s confusion deepened, but Noah¡¯s men did not give him any time to dwell on it, as they yanked him up and snapped cold metal cuffs around his wrists. No chance of escaping right now. I¡¯ll just have to comply. When I get the chance to recover my aura, I¡¯ll make a break for it.


    They pushed him along, the two with super strength he had beaten gripped onto his shoulders using their powers, Zabo could¡¯ve sworn he could hear his bones breaking under the pressure, but oddly he didn¡¯t feel a thing, they reached a waiting SUV, shoving him into the backseat. The door slammed shut behind him, and the vehicle started moving almost immediately. Zabo looked out the window as they left the towering structure of Kajima Labs behind, the city¡¯s gleaming skyscrapers reflecting the gleaming moon. Everything looked so normal, so completely indifferent to the fact that he was being driven away from his home by a group of men who probably wanted nothing more than to finish what they started back in the alley.


    Zabo could feel every pair of eyes focused on him within the car, their hatred rooted deep in their scowls. He could tell they were itching for an excuse to retaliate for the beating they¡¯d received. Trying to break the silence with an attempt at antagonizing them, Zabo forced a smile and asked, ¡°So, what do you guys do for fun around here?¡±


    The response was stony silence, broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over the smooth pavement. Zabo glanced around at the five men, each one looking as though they were barely restraining themselves from ripping him apart. The driver finally spoke up. ¡°You¡¯re lucky we¡¯re not allowed to touch you.¡± He looked towards his rear-view mirror to look at Zabo with his flared nostrils before returning to the road with a harrumph.


    Okay, not the best icebreaker, he thought, leaning back in his seat. With a sigh, he gave up trying to engage them. Instead, he focused on himself, trying to recover. He could feel some of his aura returning, the energy slowly trickling back into his body. But he wasn¡¯t nearly strong enough to make a break for it, not yet, at least. He conserved what little he had regained, biding his time.


    He had to get away. Noah would regret letting him live.


    But then a nagging thought crept into his mind, one that had been bothering him ever since he¡¯d first come face to face with Noah Voltaire. Why didn¡¯t he kill me? Zabo had been certain that calling Noah an inbred would have signed his death warrant. The insult had slipped out in the heat of the moment, and afterward, he had been sure Noah would kill him for it. Yet here he was, still alive, albeit barely.


    Goddamn it. Why did I say that!? He started knocking his head in self punishment, which resulted in a few amused looks from Noah¡¯s henchmen. Zabo knew better than to provoke someone as dangerous as a Voltaire. But then again, it wasn¡¯t as if it was the first time Noah had heard that insult. Considering all the rumors about noble families and their... interesting family trees. It must¡¯ve all been true. Zabo nodded in realization. Poor guy. Elektra is probably his aunt or something.


    Nobles could do what they liked; it wasn¡¯t his problem. But now, he thought with a wry, sarcastic smile, I just have to let Noah know it was all a misunderstanding, right? I¡¯ll be let out with a smile.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He sighed audibly; the sound breaking the oppressive silence in the SUV. His thoughts drifted back to Noah¡¯s earlier words, the mention of Mia and Ell being tracked gnawing at him. Were they in danger because of him? Had he put them at risk by getting involved with all of this? He prayed, silently and fervently, that they would somehow survive, knowing Noah was most likely still looking for them.


    But as much as he worried for them, Zabo knew he had to focus on his own survival right now. He had to figure out a way out of this mess. The thought was a bitter one, but it was true. He couldn¡¯t help anyone if he was dead.


    Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain from both of his shoulders that caused him to shudder. What the hell, why am I feeling pain now? He gnashed his teeth, trying to bear the pain, as his eyes drifted towards the two men who had hurt him. Their eyes seemed excited, waiting for an excuse to get revenge. Yet somehow exhaustion overwhelmed all his senses. His eyelids grew heavy. Before he knew it, he had drifted off into a fitful sleep.


    When Zabo awoke, the SUV was slowing to a stop. He blinked, trying to beat away the grogginess. I¡¯ve been passing out way too much. What the hell happened? The men who had been so silent before were now murmuring to each other. Zabo glanced out the window and felt a fresh wave of dread.


    The vehicle had pulled up to a massive estate designed with an intricate architecture made of cobblestone and marble. The house stretched far and wide, an imposing structure surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens and other buildings that Zabo could only assume were part of the estate. A tall gate loomed ahead, and beyond it, a footpath led up to the vast building.


    One of the men shoved Zabo toward the door. ¡°Out,¡± he ordered curtly.


    Zabo got dragged out of the SUV, his hands still cuffed, and guided through the gate and along the path to the entrance. The house loomed larger with every step, and a growing thought pounded in Zabo¡¯s mind. I¡¯m fucked.


    They reached the front door, and as it swung open, a familiar face greeted Zabo, one he hadn¡¯t expected to see during their holidays.


    Elektra stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise as they fell on Zabo. Her casual shorts and crop top didn¡¯t disguise her serious demeanor. Her bitch face doesn¡¯t stop even at stop at home, huh?


    ¡°What is he doing here?¡± she asked, her tone tinged with disbelief.


    One of Noah¡¯s men stepped forward. ¡°Lady Elektra, do you know this boy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Elektra¡¯s gaze narrowed, trying to assess the situation. She couldn¡¯t understand why he was here. She finally made the connection to what could¡¯ve happened, but the possibility seemed outrageous. How could this useless guy have gained the interest of her brother? A brother, who had shown no interest towards his own sister.


    Elektra crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised. ¡°What did you do to get involved with Noah? I didn¡¯t think you were stupid enough to mess with him.¡±


    Zabo said nothing, the venomous looks from the surrounding men reminding him to stay quiet.


    ¡°Noah said he should be put into the cell,¡± one of the men said.


    Elektra waved a dismissive hand as she opened the doorway for them to enter. ¡°I don¡¯t care. Do what you need to do. Noah called me all excited, saying he found something groundbreaking. When he should be looking for that damn kid. I took an interest at first, but to find out it¡¯s just this guy. How disappointing.¡±


    Her words stung, but Zabo kept his face impassive. There was no point in arguing with her. Elektra had always looked down on him, and that wasn¡¯t about to change now. Zabo had to hide his true abilities while living in the academy. No one knew what he was truly capable of.


    ¡°Well, quit standing there. Take him to the cellar.¡± Elektra ordered. Turning away, she climbed up the grand staircase, but paused halfway, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, gopher. You¡¯ll have a friend to keep you company in that cell.¡± She laughed as she continued up the stairs, the sound echoing through the grand lobby.


    Down a flight of stairs, the men dragged Zabo. The temperature dropped as they descended. The lavish surroundings gave way to something much more ominous, a dark basement with thick stone walls and iron bars, designed to punish those who have wronged the noble family. Zabo saw a small, open room. The only thing there was a chair made of metal, a sea of blood stains covered the floor surrounding the chair. They pushed him through the long corridor into a single barred cell at the end.


    One of the men pulled out a key. Unlocking the door, he shoved Zabo inside with a rough push. The cell door clanged shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the cold, damp space. Zabo stumbled forward, catching himself on the wall as he tried to regain his balance.


    ¡°Enjoy your stay,¡± one of the men sneered through the bars. ¡°But don¡¯t get too comfortable. You won¡¯t be here long.¡±


    ¡°Once I¡¯m out of here, you and your buddies are gonna be eating dirt like last time.¡± His words seemed to strike a nerve, but they quickly came over with laughter. He watched as they walked back down the corridor, their footsteps echoed, as they left him all alone.


    The cell was small and dark, with barely enough room for him to stretch out. A thin, dirty mattress was shoved into one corner, and a small, rusted sink and toilet occupied the opposite side. The only light came from a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting eerie shadows on the walls.


    Zabo rubbed his wrists, the cold metal of the cuffs biting into his skin. His entire body ached, yet the injuries he had sustained felt oddly dull. He caressed his side where Noah had struck him. The feeling of soft flesh and warm blood made him shiver. ¡°Damn it, I need to heal.¡±


    His thoughts were interrupted by a low, raspy voice from the shadows.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Zabo jumped, spinning around to face the source of the voice. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes darted through the dark corners of the cell. For a moment, he saw nothing, just shadows clinging to the cold stone walls. But then, from the murky darkness, a figure stepped forward. The single lightbulb from outside the cell flickered, catching on a pair of unnervingly bright gold eyes that seemed to pierce right through him.


    Zabo¡¯s breath caught in his throat. ¡°What the-¡±


    The rest of the words died on his lips as fear seized him. The figure moved closer, the golden eyes never leaving Zabo¡¯s face. What the hell is that? He could feel it in his bones. There was something wrong with that thing. Something that defied the laws of nature.


    He tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The walls of the cell pressed in around him, and his legs felt like lead. Trapped, he realized Elektra wasn¡¯t joking, and his mind raced. She had said he¡¯d have company in this cell, but Zabo hadn¡¯t imagined it would be anything like this. He looked towards the figure and realized what he was looking at.


    A scream ripped from Zabo¡¯s throat, raw and desperate, echoing off the stone walls of the cell. The sheer terror of the situation overwhelmed him, crashing over him like a tidal wave. Sharing a cell? With that? This was madness. He wasn¡¯t just sharing a cell; he was sharing his last moments.


    Zabo realized he would not survive this. He wasn¡¯t just sharing a cell with a man; he was sharing it with a bomb set to explode any minute.


    And he was going to be the only casualty.

 Chapter 67 - Chaos

    Sabir paced in circles around the corner of his cell. Neither darkness nor the damp air could stifle the rage that boiled from within him. The cold, hard floor attempted to act as a buffer to contain him, but only a constant image overflowed in his mind. A singular, burning memory: Vincent Voltaire.


    His meeting with him played out in a relentless loop, over and over, with each replay only sharpening his anger like a blade. Vincent¡¯s face of pure agony and self hatred made him want to puke. The way he looked at him so pitifully, as if seeking for someone to forgive him for his sins. Sabir¡¯s teeth ground together at the thought, his jaw aching from the pressure. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that pathetic look off Vincent¡¯s face. He killed the mother of his child, his lover, Sabir¡¯s own sister, and now he acts like an abandoned puppy.


    All of it an act.


    The scene unfurled once again. He remembered the heat that surged through his veins, the way his vision had narrowed until all he could see was Vincent, his target, his enemy. Sabir had felt his muscles coil, adrenaline pumping through him like a drug, pushing him into a frenzied charge. He had thrown himself at Vincent, his fists ready to inflict pain, to make him pay for what he stole.


    But then, in an instant, his rage-fueled assault had been cut short.


    Elektra.


    Sabir clenched his fists. It was to be expected. Of course it was. She had been a catalyst to all of Sabir¡¯s suffering, and then once again she interfered, appearing out of nowhere so swift and effortless, she came between them. Spinning and twisting, she struck a spinning heel kick, connecting with his jaw, that crumpled all his fight and sent him crashing to the floor along with his consciousness. He hadn¡¯t even had time to react, let alone defend himself. One moment, he had been a whirlwind of fury, and the next, everything had gone black.


    When Sabir had finally come to, he found himself in this freezing, dimly lit cell. The biting cold gnawed at his skin, seeping into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the chill of the realization that he had been defeated so effortlessly again.


    Warren had been waiting for him to awaken. According to Warren, he had fought to keep him alive. Elektra was set on killing him, but Warren prevented it. Judging by his black eye and bruises, when he told the tale, Sabir¡¯s survival came with a price.


    The memories caused Sabir¡¯s fists to clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms as if the pain could somehow keep the anger in check. With a grunt, he resumed his pacing, his body vibrating with a restless energy that had no outlet. The cell was too small, too confining. He felt like a beast trapped in a cage, his fury bouncing off the walls and echoing back at him. His breaths came in short, ragged bursts, each one laced with the memory of Vincent¡¯s infuriating plea of death.


    I¡¯ll get back to you Vincent, just you wait, your pleas of forgiveness won¡¯t save you, Sabir swore to himself. This whole family will pay. He wanted to tear him apart, to see the fear in Vincent¡¯s eyes, to know that he was the one who had finally wiped that idiotic look off his face. Only once he had felt the pain of death that Cynthia had felt, only then could he be forgiven.


    He couldn¡¯t just let it go. He couldn¡¯t just sit here, stewing in his own anger while Vincent went on with his life, untouched by the fury he had ignited. But as much as he wanted to act, to strike out and claim vengeance in the name of his sister, the cold metal bars of his cell were a constant reminder that he was at the mercy of those he wished to defeat.


    He ran a hand through his hair as frustration came over him. How do I get out of here, damn it all! He still had no clue of how he could escape. These bars were impossible for a dud like him to break through. Until he figured it out, he was going to be here indefinitely, unless Warren finds the chance to break him free. But until then, all he could do was pace, clinging to the anger that burned inside him, keeping it alive like oil over a flame.


    Two days had passed since then, and Sabir was no closer to exact his revenge. He had spent most of his time plotting his escape, or better yet, how he would kill Vincent when he finally got out of this damn cell. But Warren interrupted his thoughts when he came to see him again.


    ¡°So you¡¯re here again. Please tell me you came here with a key this time.¡± Sabir pleaded.


    Warren shook his head and sighed, releasing his anxiety into the cold air. ¡°You keep asking me the same thing. You know I can¡¯t do it, not yet. I¡¯ll figure out a way. Just hold on. Please,¡±


    ¡°Fine, keep me locked in here. Just kill Vincent for me, and I¡¯ll die happy,¡± Sabir spat out venomously. His frustration leaking out, with Warren being the recipient of it all.


    Warren moved closer to the cell, his hands gripping on the bars. ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that, even if you¡¯re joking. He¡¯s my brother.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡±


    And with that Warren had left once again, leaving Sabir still locked up and seething. Another few hours passed when suddenly his solitude got interrupted, when he heard heavy footsteps and muffled voices echoing down the corridor. He pressed his ear against the cold, damp wall, trying to make out what was happening. Moments later, the cell door screeched open, and a couple of Noah¡¯s bruised-up henchmen unceremoniously threw into the cell a young man around his age.


    The young man groaned, clearly in pain from his rough handling. He stood in front of the bars, trying to peer into the corridor, but the guards had already left. He looked even worse for wear than Sabir himself. Whilst Sabir wore a dirty white shirt along with his black slacks. The young man¡¯s clothing was burnt and torn in place, evidence that he had been in a fierce battle. It looked almost pitiful. Sabir saw this as an opportunity. Maybe this new cellmate could help him escape, or at least provide some entertainment. In truth, he had become lonely with only his small meeting with Warren being his only bit of human interaction.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Sabir took a step forward, trying to make his presence known. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    The man flinched, his wide eyes darting towards Sabir like a cornered animal. Before Sabir could say anything else, the man let out an ear-piercing scream.


    ¡°Help me! Help me!¡± the guy shrieked, pressing himself against the cell bars like they were his last line of defense. Sabir blinked, completely thrown off by the reaction.


    ¡°Hey, hey, calm down!¡± Sabir said, trying to approach him. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you?¡±


    The man, who Sabir realized was probably in worse shape mentally than physically, started crawling away on all fours, desperate to put distance between them. His hands scrabbled against the rough stone floor as he tried to scuttle to the other side of the small cell. But in his panic, he tripped over his own feet and landed face-first with a dull thud.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Sabir asked, genuinely confused now. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna hurt you, man. What the hell did they do to you?¡±


    The guy didn¡¯t answer. Instead, he kept crawling, still trying to escape Sabir as if his life depended on it. He screamed again, louder this time, as he struggled to get back up, only to trip over his own feet once more. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but laugh. The situation was ridiculous. This guy was clearly terrified, running around like a scared rabbit, but it only entertained Sabir, who had nothing better to do, so he chased after him. It was almost comical.


    ¡°Stay away from me, or you¡¯ll kill me too!¡± the man wailed, his voice cracking with fear.


    Sabir raised an eyebrow. ¡°Kill you? I haven¡¯t even touched you!¡±


    The man desperately continued to scramble away from Sabir¡¯s clutches, which only amused him more. The chase continued, with Sabir half-heartedly trying to catch him while the guy kept dodging and slipping. It became apparent that the man was terrified of him. Perhaps he feared human contact?


    Just as Sabir was enjoying this absurd game of cat and mouse, they both froze at the sound of approaching footsteps. The young man immediately pressed his face against the bars, a desperate plea spilling from his lips. ¡°Please, just get me out of this cell! I don¡¯t want to die!¡±


    ¡°Zabo? The gopher?¡± Warren asked, his voice laced with surprise.


    ¡°Warren? The weakling?¡± Zabo retorted, his tone just as bewildered.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± they both asked at the same time.


    Warren, looking more confused by the second, shook his head. ¡°I live here, you dumbass. What are you doing here?¡±


    Zabo rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the ceiling of the cell. ¡°Oh, right, yeah, makes sense. Anyway, how did I get here? Right uh, to make a long story short, I ended up fighting your brother, and now I¡¯m in this cell.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened in disbelief. ¡°Wait, what? You fought my brother? What did losing all your lunch money to Elektra make you go stupid?¡±


    Zabo brought his face closer to the bars, his face pushed against a gap. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t lose my lunch money. I let her take my lunch money!¡±


    Warren smirked. ¡°That sounds like cope, man.¡±


    Sabir, who had been watching this exchange with confusion, stepped in to understand what was going on. Everything was moving too quickly. ¡°Do you two know each other or something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, me and him-¡±


    Just as Warren was going to explain, Zabo cut him off, remembering Sabir was nearby. He reached through the bars and grabbed Warren by the collar. ¡°Please, Warren, get me out of this cell! Or at least put me somewhere away from him!¡± Zabo pleaded, his voice edging towards hysteria.


    Warren¡¯s gaze shifted to Sabir, his eyebrows raised in accusation. ¡°What the hell did you do to him?¡±


    Sabir held up his hands in mock innocence. ¡°I did jack shit! He¡¯s clearly mentally ill.¡± He motioned towards Zabo, as he began tearing up, trying to reach for Warren.


    Warren shook his head, while swatting away Zabo¡¯s hands. ¡°Nah, he¡¯s not crazy, at least I¡¯m pretty sure He¡¯s a real loner at the academy so I don¡¯t know. But I know he¡¯s Elektra¡¯s gopher. He waits on her, hand and foot.¡±


    ¡°Stop calling me that!¡± Zabo snapped, glaring at Warren.


    Warren ignored him, leaning in closer to inspect Zabo. ¡°That crazy guy didn¡¯t hurt you, did he?¡± He saw Zabo¡¯s side where Noah had attacked him. ¡°Holy shit, who did that to you?¡±


    Sabir raised his hands once more. ¡°I swear I didn¡¯t hurt him, but if there was anyone, I was gonna hurt it sure as hell will be your brother.¡±


    Zabo, who had been inching away from Sabir, paused and looked at him incredulously. ¡°Wait, why the hell do you want to kill Noah? Are you stupid? The guy¡¯s like one of the best young hunters.¡±


    Sabir rolled his eyes. ¡°Not Noah, you idiot. I want to kill Vincent.¡±


    Zabo blinked, clearly lost. ¡°Who¡¯s Vincent?¡±


    ¡°My other brother,¡± Warren said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.


    ¡°Oh. I don¡¯t care,¡± Zabo replied, turning his attention back to Warren and tried again to reach out to him through the gaps in the bars.


    Sabir threw his hands up in frustration. ¡°You just asked!¡± He moved towards Zabo, pulling him away from the bars, so that Warren could actually talk, without being grabbed on.


    ¡°No! Don¡¯t touch me, you crazy demon.¡± Zabo screamed as he pushed away from Sabir. Everyone fell silent as Sabir fell to the floor. Sensing the chaos in the room spiraling out of control, Zabo tried to bring some order back to the situation. ¡°Listen, please just get me out of this room. Otherwise, I swear I¡¯ll die.¡±


    Sabir got up from the floor, brushing himself off, not at all annoyed at being pushed, but more so intrigued. ¡°Who¡¯s gonna kill you?¡±


    Zabo, clearly fed up with everything, threw his hands in the air. ¡°You!¡± He closed his eyes and took a sharp intake of breath and, with a sharp crack, the handcuffs around his wrists shattered, clattering to the floor.


    Warren took a step back, eyes wide. ¡°Oh, shit. Who was the idiot that gave the guy with super strength handcuffs?¡±


    Zabo turned to Warren, his expression serious. ¡°I¡¯m getting out of here, Warren. I don¡¯t know you that well, but you should leave too. For your own safety.¡±


    Zabo grabbed the cell bars, bending them aside as if they were paper. He squeezed through the gap, desperate to get to what he considered safety.


    Warren, recovering from his shock, tried to block Zabo¡¯s path. ¡°Hey, I can¡¯t just let you leave!¡±


    He pushed him aside with a single hand before stepping out of the cell. ¡°Okay, fine! Just take me somewhere else, away from that guy!¡± He jabbed a finger in Sabir¡¯s direction. ¡°The guy¡¯s gonna explode any minute!¡±


    Sabir¡¯s confusion grew by the minute. Alright, who the hell is this guy? He finally snapped and asked, ¡°what do you mean I¡¯m going to explode?¡±


    But Zabo didn¡¯t answer. He was already halfway down the corridor, leaving Sabir and Warren to stare after him, one baffled and the other concerned.


    Warren shook his head, muttering under his breath. ¡°I swear, this place gets weirder every day.¡±

 Chapter 68 - Family Ties

    Alaric Voltaire sat behind his enormous oak desk, the soft creak of leather as he leaned back in his chair, the only sound in his otherwise silent office. His fingers drummed on the polished wood, a faint smile playing on his lips. He always enjoyed the quiet moments in his domain, where he could enjoy his own company. He could watch the kingdom he owned with a detached satisfaction. There was no greater feeling than admiring what you own. Not only that, but everything was going to plan, and it gave him a great sense of relaxation. He was close to securing his empire. He could feel it.


    His good mood didn¡¯t last long.


    Outside his door, a commotion erupted, followed by the muffled sounds of raised voices. Alaric¡¯s smile grew wider, knowing precisely who it was. Sure enough, Vincent Voltaire shoved open the office door with a loud bang and stormed in, his face twisted with anger. Fredrick, the head butler, trailed behind, his normally impeccable demeanor ruffled as he tried to restrain the young heir.


    Vincent had become much more¡­wild since that last time Alaric had seen him. The untrimmed beard, along with the unruly locks he had grown, gave him the impression of a peasant more than that of a noble.


    ¡°Master Vincent, you can¡¯t just-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± Vincent snarled, slapping Fredrick¡¯s grasp away from his arm as if he¡¯d been some pesky annoyance. His gaze locked with Alaric, his eyes blazing hot, as he stormed across to his father¡¯s desk. Fredrick faltered by the door frame, glancing at the two men, but Alaric waved him away in dismissal with a careless flick of his wrist. Fredrick stepped back, though he continued to stay near the door, ever watchful over his master and his son.


    ¡°I see you¡¯re finally ready to talk,¡± Alaric said smoothly, his voice calm, almost welcoming. ¡°Though, by the look on your face, it seems you¡¯ve yet to accept the situation.¡±


    Vincent slammed his hands down on the desk, the wood creaking under the force of his anger. His face was flushed red, every muscle in his body tight with rage.


    ¡°You¡¯re damn right I haven¡¯t accepted it!¡± Vincent snarled, leaning in further towards Alaric. Their faces were only a few centimeters apart.


    Alaric replied to his son¡¯s fury with cold indifference, fingers still lazily drumming against the desk, before sighing as if it was only a child¡¯s tantrum. ¡°What is the matter now, Vincent?¡± he asked, weighted by the tone of disappointment. ¡°Must you always resort to theatrics?¡±


    Vincent¡¯s breath came in sharp, angry bursts, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions. ¡°Cynthia and Mia didn¡¯t deserve to die! They were innocent, Father! What kind of monster kills his own blood like that?¡±


    Alaric did not even flinch an inch. His eyes cold and calculating, he remained as collected as ever. ¡°We are your family,¡± he said simply, his words devoid of genuine emotion.


    And now anger rose anew, hotter, more desperate in Vincent. ¡°I want to die, Father,¡± he spat, his voice trembling with the force of his hate. ¡°To think I¡¯m so pathetic. I want to die, but every time I look at you, all I feel is the overwhelming urge to kill you!¡±


    In a moment, Fredrick was beside Vincent, and a blade shone in the dim light of the office, pressed against Vincent¡¯s throat. Cold steel kissed Vincent¡¯s skin, and he went still; his body stiffened and a thin line of blood trickled down his neck.


    ¡°Careful, Master Vincent,¡± Fredrick said calmly, as he brought himself closer to Vincent¡¯s ear, his voice almost a whisper. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t speak such dangerous words in front of the patriarch. Especially not in front of me.¡±


    Vincent¡¯s eyes darted to the butler, his voice low, meeting Frederick¡¯s tone. ¡°Before he is the patriarch, he is my father.¡± His head tilted just slightly, the movement causing the blade to bite deeper into his skin. ¡°Remember your place, Frederick.¡±


    Alaric, still seated, raised a hand. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Fredrick,¡± he said before flicking his hand, motioning Frederick away from his son. ¡°Step back.¡±


    Fredrick took only a second to back down, lowering the knife before stepping away to return to his position by the door.


    Alaric leaned forward slightly, his gaze now fully on Vincent. ¡°So, what exactly is it you want, Vincent? You know as well as I do that what happened was necessary. That illegitimate child being alive-she was a threat. With her existence, the collateral branches would have every reason to rebel against the main family.¡±


    Vincent firmed his fists, his jaw clenching as he worked to keep himself in control. ¡°A reason to rebel?¡± he spat, his tone seething with disdain. ¡°And why, Father? Why would they have reason to go to war over an illegitimate child?¡± He didn¡¯t allow Alaric time for an answer; instead, his voice rose in volume, his own answer shouting aloud. ¡°It¡¯s because of you.¡±


    For the first time, Alaric¡¯s face moved, just a fraction. It was subtle, an almost imperceptible flicker of something in his eyes, but it was enough that Vincent saw it. He had hit a nerve.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°When Warren was born,¡± Vincent continued, his voice growing steadier, ¡°I accepted him as my brother. I never once thought of him as inferior, never treated him like he was less. But tell me this, Father, why does he get to live while my child, your granddaughter, has to die?¡±


    The room was silent for a moment, heavy in the tension that clung to the air, smothering. Alaric sat perfectly still, staring with an unblinking gaze at Vincent. In that instant, he spoke in a cold, calculated tone. ¡°That bastard is no grandchild of mine.¡±


    Vincent¡¯s face screwed up in disgust, but that did not deter Alaric as he continued. ¡°After Warren was born, I made an agreement with the collateral families. They were already unhappy with Warren¡¯s existence, so I promised them that no more children shall be born prior to an agreement.¡±


    Vincent¡¯s anger flared once more, his voice sharp. ¡°You¡¯re just scared of losing your power, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t until then that Alaric¡¯s mask broke, his eyes narrowing and voice dropping to an icy growl. ¡°I fear nothing, boy.¡±


    Their tense exchange was then suddenly cut short when Alaric¡¯s office door flew open once more, this time swinging violently as Noah stormed inside. His face full of annoyance, Alaric¡¯s attention immediately diverted away, giving Noah an expectant nod. ¡°Noah, I take it your mission is complete?¡± Alaric clenched his fists, awaiting the good news.


    Vincent¡¯s stomach turned at the casual way his father referred to the act of murder as a ¡°mission.¡± The thought of his daughter being reduced to nothing more than a task on a to-do list made him sick.


    Noah was in no mood for pleasantries, however. In two quick strides, he crossed the room, reaching out and grasping Vincent by his collar, lifting him off the ground and pinning him to the wall. Vincent gasped, more out of shock than pain, struggling to free himself.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± Vincent snarled, his hands clutching at Noah¡¯s wrist in a futile bid to loosen his brother¡¯s grip. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Noah¡¯s eyes were cold, full of accusation. ¡°You helped the bastard escape, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Vincent blinked in confusion. ¡°What? I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about!¡±


    Alaric rose from his seat, his gaze sharp as he addressed Noah. ¡°What happened?¡±


    Noah¡¯s grip tightened on Vincent, his voice low and furious. ¡°I put a tracker on the bastard, just in case. I went to retrieve her, but what I found was some stupid bird. Someone helped her escape, and the only person who could¡¯ve done that, who would¡¯ve known about the tracker. This doesn¡¯t bode well for you, little brother.¡±


    ¡°Noah,¡± Vincent wheezed as his face reddened from not getting air. ¡°It wasn¡¯t me. I don¡¯t know anything about this.¡±


    But Noah¡¯s face remained dark, his suspicions clear on his face. ¡°Someone is helping them. And right now, all signs point to you.¡±


    Noah¡¯s grip on Vincent tightened, his muscles tensing as if he was about to slam his brother against the wall again. Coughing, struggling to breathe, Vincent¡¯s fingers dug into Noah¡¯s arm with a futile attempt to let go. His mind was in a tangle. He had no idea what Noah was talking about. He had helped no one escape. In some twisted way, he had already accepted that his daughter was dead.


    Alaric¡¯s voice cut through the thick air like a knife. ¡°Enough, Noah. Let him go.¡±


    For one quick second, Noah¡¯s eyes wavered in indecision. His glare shifted from Vincent to their father, as if he was going to disobey Alaric¡¯s command. Slowly, he released his grip to let Vincent fall to the ground, gasping for breath. He edged closer to his father¡¯s desk, ignoring his brother. ¡°You can¡¯t trust him. He¡¯s always been soft. If anyone would betray the family, it¡¯s him.¡±


    ¡°Betraying the family? I would hope betraying the family doesn¡¯t include failing to do a single important mission.¡± Alaric¡¯s eyes blazed with anger. He imagined something would go wrong, but for Noah to have failed in this manner. It was embarrassing for the Voltaire name.


    ¡°I might have failed for now, Father, but I brought a prize with me. An interesting specimen, his powers-¡±


    ¡°Silence.¡± Alaric stopped Noah in his tracks. ¡°We have no hope of catching that child now. She could be on the other side of Havana by now.¡±


    Still catching his breath, Vincent wiped the blood from his neck where Frederick¡¯s knife had nicked him. His hands shook from the adrenaline in his body, but his voice didn¡¯t when he spoke. He pushed himself up to the floor, where he gained the attention of Alaric and Noah. ¡°I didn¡¯t help anyone, Noah. I wouldn¡¯t risk the family for-¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± Noah cut in, ¡°you didn¡¯t even finish that sentence. Because you would risk the family, wouldn¡¯t you? Over some misguided sense of justice for your dead whore.¡±


    The word hit Vincent like a physical blow, catching his breath in his throat as, for a moment, the room seemed to close in around him. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of grief and fury flooding every corner of his mind. His vision blurred, but through it, all he could see was Noah¡¯s smug, hateful expression.


    ¡°Whore?¡± Vincent whispered, his voice low and shaking with the rage barely contained within him. His body quaked as he took one step closer towards Noah, his fists so tightly fisted that his knuckles turned white. ¡°Whore?¡±


    His voice rose higher, hoarse from emotion, his words acidic and caustic. ¡°Say her name. Say Cynthia¡¯s name. She was my fiance! The mother of my child! You don¡¯t get to reduce her to that.¡±


    Noah barely flinched, but Vincent could see a flicker of surprise in his eyes. That only fueled Vincent¡¯s anger. His breath came faster, harsher, his pulse hammering in his ears as he stepped closer. ¡°You didn¡¯t know her. You didn¡¯t see the kindness in her eyes. You didn¡¯t hear her laugh, or feel her warmth, or hold her while she... while she-¡±


    Vincent¡¯s voice cracked, the rage that tangled with his grief choking him. He caught himself, swallowed the sob that clawed at his throat, but the tears were already burning at the corners of his eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare speak about her like that again.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s dead. It doesn¡¯t matter now.¡±


    Vincent snapped. With a roar of fury, he lunged at Noah, his hands flying toward his brother¡¯s throat. But Noah, quick as ever, sidestepped him, catching his arm and twisting it behind his back, forcing him down.


    ¡°You¡¯re pathetic,¡± Noah growled in his ear, pinning him to the ground. ¡°All this rage, all this grief. For what? She¡¯s gone. Your child will follow her soon. You¡¯ve lost everything.¡±


    Alaric sighed deeply. ¡°Vincent, leave us. Clearly you¡¯re not prepared to marry Arcturus¡¯s daughter yet. Go back. I have important discussions to be had with your brother.¡± Alaric motioned for Frederick to escort Vincent out. ¡°Frederick, see that Vincent is attended to.¡±


    ¡°Yes, master.¡± Frederick bowed deeply before pulling Vincent to the door.


    Vincent struggled as Frederick pulled him away, his breath ragged, his heart breaking all over again. But even through the pain, one thought seared brightly in his mind: I won¡¯t let you make me forget her.

 Chapter 69 - Fixation

    Her boots echoed off cold stone as she went down the steps toward the prison cells, the rhythmic thuds of a backdrop to chaotic thoughts whirling within her head. Every time she thought of Sabir, something twisted inside her chest. It wasn¡¯t quite an obsession. No, obsession was too strong a word. But she could not deny that he occupied her mind far more than any other opponent ever had.


    As she climbed down, her hands ran through the railings with an absent mind. Her short cyan hair swayed slightly with each step. Once again, she had dismantled Sabir, yet she still felt an inexplicable feeling of having lost. This feeling wasn¡¯t even about almost losing in The Commons anymore, that was nothing but the past, but the feeling of beating down on a weakling, someone defenceless, someone she was taught to look down upon, for the first time in Elektra¡¯s life she felt somewhat ashamed of her actions.


    Shame? In punishing someone who dared to forget his place. Yeah right. She reasoned with herself internally. He dared to even think about harming a member of the main family, let alone a noble.


    A shiver ran down Elektra¡¯s spine, remembering his defiance. Only brought back those damned memories. The way his eyes had rolled back in that last second, leaving nothing but the whites of his eyes, the way he fought with reckless abandon, as if some demon were driving him from within. It didn¡¯t leave her head. Every night, it confronted her in her sleep, the picture of Sabir with that vacant, zombie-like expression, his fists flying at her with unnatural force. And it wasn¡¯t even a clean win either, and her pride couldn¡¯t stomach it. There was something hidden deep inside him, something dark and powerful that she couldn¡¯t understand.


    She needed to find out what it was. Otherwise, she may never have the closure she sought. Yeah, that¡¯s why I¡¯m always thinking about him, she tried to rationalize in her head.


    She thought back, when Warren had brought Sabir to one of their daily sparring sessions. Elektra had seen it as her chance to probe, to draw that power out once more. But to her disappointment, she¡¯d been left beating up a defenseless dud. It hadn¡¯t been the fight she craved. He had given her nothing. It was more of the same at the club. Maybe it was all a miracle.


    Now, walking deep inside the cellar, she suddenly heard muffled shouting. Her brow furrowed with concern as she quickened her footsteps, her boots clattering loudly on the cellar¡¯s cold metallic floor. Down she went, the shouting getting clearer; she recognized the voices: her brother, Sabir and her gopher.


    ¡°What the hell is going on now?¡± she muttered to herself, her curiosity piqued.


    The shouting grew louder as she reached the end of the corridor, arriving at the sole prison cell. There, she saw Warren struggling to drag Zabo back into his cell. Zabo, wide-eyed and frantic, was digging his heels into the floor, trying with all his might to resist.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back in there! No way! The man¡¯s a psychopath!¡± Zabo screamed, his arms flailing.


    Warren clung onto Zabo, using the entire length of his arms to bear hug him. He attempted to pull him back before he got in trouble for allowing a prisoner to escape. ¡°What the hell are you talking about? Calm down, man!¡±


    Inside the cell, Sabir was pacing back and forth, glaring at Zabo with an annoyed look. ¡°Quit calling me crazy, or I swear to god, you¡¯ll regret it.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s eyes bulged, and he shrieked even louder. ¡°Did you hear that, Warren? He¡¯s a suicide bomber! I¡¯m not staying here with him!¡±


    Warren unconsciously loosened his grip on Zabo, before glancing over at Sabir, utterly baffled. ¡°What the hell are you talking about, Zabo? A suicide bomber?¡±


    Despite Zabo¡¯s earlier show of strength, when he¡¯d snapped his handcuffs like paper, Warren noticed he didn¡¯t use any of his Esper abilities now. He was thrashing around weakly, not using even a fraction of his strength. Warren narrowed his eyes, wondering why Zabo was holding back. His eyes edged to Zabo¡¯s side, where he could see the raw skin from an attack. It didn¡¯t take great detective work to see who might¡¯ve attacked him. It¡¯s a surprise he was even walking, considering he took an attack from Noah.


    Suddenly, they heard a small cough ahead of them. Warren and Zabo, still wrestling with each other, stopped and turned their heads forward, where they saw Elektra standing on the stairs, her cyan-colored hair reflecting weakly from the single light bulb from above. Wearing short black dungarees with a white T-shirt underneath and her long combat boots, her clothing elevated her calm look.


    Zabo¡¯s eyes widened with recognition. ¡°Oh, shit... I¡¯m so screwed.¡±


    Before he could even blink, a blur of motion sent him reeling. Elektra catapulted towards Zabo. Seeing their prisoner attempting to escape, she sent a flying kick against the side of Zabo¡¯s skull.


    In an instant, Zabo¡¯s world spun, and then darkness closed over him.


    ***Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Zabo awoke with a groan, his head throbbing as something cold dripped down his scalp. He blinked against the harsh light, squinting as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He felt liquid running down his face and hair, and with a groggy voice, he mumbled, ¡°Stop pouring whatever the hell that is on me¡­¡±


    He sniffed, trying to catch the scent of the liquid, and his face twisted in confusion. ¡°Wait¡­ Is this apple juice?¡±


    Standing over him, Sabir held an empty cup, smirking. ¡°Good. You¡¯re awake.¡± He tossed the empty cup to the side and folded his arms.


    Zabo scrunched his face up, trying to raise himself, but his arms barely budged. He looked down at himself and got even more frustrated. He was hogtied with two preposterously long chains-about fifty-five feet each-wrapped around him in stacks; they were fastened to a great number of heavy iron balls to weigh him down onto the ground. He groaned in disbelief. The sheer weight of the chains didn¡¯t even allow him the luxury of sitting up.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± Zabo muttered, his head still pounding, his hair sticky from the apple juice. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he let out a sigh. ¡°Well, guess I¡¯m gonna die down here.¡± He took one last look at the ceiling before closing his eyes, intending not to open them again. The weight of the iron balls and the sticky mess of juice in his hair made him feel even more miserable.


    Sabir stepped into his line of vision, his golden eyes gleaming. He knelt beside Zabo, casting a long shadow over him. ¡°I¡¯ll cut to the chase Zabo- was it? Let¡¯s try to escape.¡±


    Zabo blinked, taken aback. For a moment, he thought he had misheard. ¡°Escape? With you?¡± He scoffed. ¡°Your nuts. There¡¯s no way I¡¯m teaming up with a guy who¡¯s basically about to die.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t waver. ¡°Listen, I have no idea what¡¯s going through your head, but I¡¯m not going to die. You have a choice to make. Do you really want to stay here, tied to the floor, covered in apple juice, while the nobles laugh at you? Or come with me and escape.¡±


    Zabo glared at him, still pinned under the weight of the chains, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. ¡°I¡¯m in¨CBut you should know something¡­ something about your body.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s expression shifted, the casual smirk fading as he leaned closer, his golden eyes narrowing. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ***


    A few moments after, having knocked Zabo cold, Elektra had leaned against the cell¡¯s iron bars, regarding Warren with a mild curiosity. ¡°What¡¯s going on with him?¡± she asked, nodding toward Zabo.


    Warren scratched his head, similarly confused. ¡°Beats me. He broke out of his handcuffs earlier real scared, but he didn¡¯t use his powers after that. He keeps referring to Sabir as a ¡®suicide bomber,¡¯ though. No idea what that¡¯s about.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably physically drained after fighting Noah. Breaking the cuff was all he could muster.¡±


    ¡°Why is he here?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Apparently, Noah is really interested in him, God knows why. Maybe you should know, since he¡¯s your classmate.¡± Elektra shrugged.


    ¡°Zabo¡¯s usually pretty quiet other than catering to you hand and foot, he doesn¡¯t really have any friends.¡± Warren looked towards Zabo¡¯s passed out form, he seemed at peace.


    ¡°Well, you two should get along fine.¡± Elektra smirked, as her gaze shifted from Zabo to Sabir, who sat cross-legged on the cell floor, seemingly unbothered by the surrounding chaos. She couldn¡¯t help but feel that familiar intrigue, that nagging obsession. What was it about this guy? What made him different from everyone else she had ever fought?


    She let out a sigh and yanked her attention back to Warren. ¡°But you really are an idiot, Warren. You must know Noah¡¯ll kill you if his prisoner gets away, won¡¯t he?¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes widened in realization, but he shrugged defensively. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not the one who put handcuffs on a guy with super strength. That¡¯s on whoever thought that was a good idea.¡±


    Elektra gave him a pointed glance: ¡°Shut up, weakling. Don¡¯t act as though you are off the hook. You should be the one paying attention.¡±


    Warren rolled his eyes, but said no more. Elektra turned to go back upstair, her voice raised to summon the maids. ¡°Bring me as much chain as you can find. And some of those heavy iron balls, too. The bigger, the better. Warren, go help them.¡±


    Warren grumbled under his breath, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°Great, more physical work. Like I¡¯m surprised.¡±


    Elektra didn¡¯t bother responding to him. She already knew what to do. She wasn¡¯t going to take any chances with Zabo, not now that Noah really seemed to take some sort of interest in him. As much as she hated the idea of wasting her energy on such a weakling like Zabo, he still had strong enough powers to attend the hunter academy. By keeping him in check, she would please her brother, hopefully he would show her some recognition for her efforts.


    While the many maids hurried entering the cellar with long trails of chains and iron balls, using their telekinesis to carry them, Elektra¡¯s gaze once again drifted toward Sabir. He remained seated, still as a statue, his posture relaxed, but there was an intensity to his stillness. It was like he was always waiting, calculating, even when he seemed to be doing nothing.


    For a moment, their eyes met, her flashing blue against his deep gold. Elektra felt a weird tug, as if something, somewhere in there behind his eyes, was buried, ready to burst loose. And her heart thudded fast at the very thought.


    Why do you keep holding back? She found herself wondering, her lips parting slightly as if she might say it out loud. But she didn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t show that level of interest, not to someone like him. But in the back of her mind, she couldn¡¯t help but think that he was up to something.


    Still, Sabir didn¡¯t budge an inch. If anything, his eyes of gold seemed to narrow into amusement, as if he knew the inner workings of her mind, knowing exactly how much he¡¯d gotten under her skin.


    Elektra tore her gaze away, scowling. ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky,¡± she whispered to herself. Yet deeper inside, she knew Sabir wasn¡¯t any prisoner. There was something in him, something strong, and she knew it.


    As the maids once again came carrying obscene quantities of chain and iron balls, Elektra clicked again into command mode. ¡°Warren, help them with the chains. We¡¯re tying this idiot down properly.


    Warren groaned again, but he did so, wrapping Zabo in the heavy chains as Elektra watched on with a critical eye. Meanwhile, her mind was still half-focused on Sabir, as fascination marred with frustration gnawed at her.

 Chapter 70 - Aura

    Sabir leaned against the icy wall of the back of the cell. He sat watching Zabo in front of him, as he laid on the floor completely pinned to the ground under the weight of heavy chains tied to multiple enormous balls the size of cannons. They seemed to be an amalgamation of multiple different metals, forming a heavy clump that left Zabo wincing at the constant pressure.


    Zabo¡¯s hair clung to his forehead from the sticky apple juice that Sabir had poured on him, causing his thick dreads to appear more matte and messy. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but feel a tinge of pity, watching the young man lay there helplessly under an insane amount of weight. But then again, he had been asking for it, acting all delirious and blaming Sabir for everything.


    Sabir got up and moved closer to Zabo squatting beside him. ¡°Hey, be careful, will you? You¡¯re gonna step on my hair,¡± Zabo groaned. Sabir smirked, glancing at the frizzy mess that was Zabo¡¯s hair.


    ¡°Can you really call that hair anymore?¡±


    Zabo¡¯s eyes strained to the side so he could peer at Sabir to show his annoyance. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°You know I can see your face, the perk of not being pinned to the floor.¡±


    ¡°But I can¡¯t see you,¡± Zabo grunted, the slight rattling of chains resonating through the cell.


    ¡°Should¡¯ve thought about that before you tried to escape. Are you an idiot? Escaping through the front door is the dumbest thing you can do.¡± Sabir needed to admonish this kid¡¯s clear lack of critical thinking. With Zabo becoming his partner, he needed to make sure he didn¡¯t become a liability. Especially if he was a dumbass. Which, based on their very small sample of interactions, he was.


    Zabo wanted to retort that he originally wasn¡¯t trying to escape, but only tried to get away from Sabir. He bit his tongue, knowing saying anything could mean he was at Sabir¡¯s mercy, being completely incapacitated by those damn chains.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Sabir refocusing the conversation. ¡°You were about to tell me something was wrong with my body.¡±


    Zabo sighed as he looked back at the ceiling, a sight he had become used to. He sighed before he spoke. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t realized what you¡¯ve been doing.¡±


    ¡°Doing what?¡± Sabir frowned.


    Zabo gritted his teeth before shifting his head slightly to the side, looking up at Sabir from the corner of his eye. ¡°Tell me, Sabir¡­ who taught you how to aura?¡±


    Sabir blinked, his mind racing. Aura? He had heard about different applications to Esper powers, but nothing came to him when he heard the word. He could only assume it was some application of being an Esper. ¡°No,¡± he admitted slowly. ¡°I haven¡¯t been taught about anything like an aura. I¡¯m a dud, you see. I¡¯ve got no powers.¡± Sabir braced himself for the eventual mocking that would entail from his admittance to being a dud. It was an eventuality. Knowing that Zabo was a trainee hunter, he expected as much.


    To his surprise, Zabo laughed, a dry, bitter sound. ¡°I¡¯m a dud too, Sabir.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s eyes widened in shock. ¡°There¡¯s no way. Warren and Elektra both said you had super strength. How else did you break through those bars?¡±


    ¡°In a way, I do. But it¡¯s not because of Esper powers. It¡¯s because of aura.¡±


    ¡°Aura¡­¡± Sabir muttered, rolling the word around in his mouth like it was foreign. ¡°So what¡¯s this magical power you call aura, then?¡± He couldn¡¯t buy this. The idea of using something to replicate the power of an Esper seemed almost comical. ¡°So you say you¡¯re a dud right and you can use this ability, this aura, and become as powerful as an Esper? Not just any Esper, but a hunter?¡±


    Zabo nodded, as much as he could manage while bound to the ground. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the gist of it.¡±


    Sabir smiled, not believing a word he was saying. ¡°You can¡¯t expect me to believe this, can you? If you want to mock me, just do it.¡±


    Zabo sucked his teeth in annoyance. ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m joking?¡±


    ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not making this up?¡± Sabir asked, his skepticism creeping back in.


    Zabo thought for a second, pondering how he could prove he was telling the truth. ¡°You remember when weakling Warren was trying to drag me back into the cell after I broke out? He was able to hold me back, right? Neither of us budged.¡±


    Sabir remembered the scuffle, Warren grew frustrated at trying to drag Zabo back inside. Zabo should have been strong enough to overpower Warren, yet they remained at a standstill. Zabo had broken through the handcuffs and cell bars earlier, displaying strength that a dud could only dream of. But he didn¡¯t use it during that scuffle with Warren. Why?


    Zabo seemed to read his mind. ¡°If I had super strength like they said, shouldn¡¯t I have been able to out-muscle Warren easily? I could¡¯ve escaped, no problem.¡±


    Sabir nodded slowly. The logic was sound. If Zabo had true super strength, overpowering someone like Warren should¡¯ve been simple. But then Sabir thought of something else. ¡°You used your powers to escape the handcuffs and break the bars,¡± he analyzed. ¡°Maybe you just got tired after that. Like Cassius, when we were trying to get away. He said he¡¯d ran out of energy, that he needed time to recover.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Zabo shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know who Cassius is, but you¡¯re wrong. If my power was pure super strength, it wouldn¡¯t stop working like that. Enhancement abilities, like super strength, don¡¯t just run out of juice, they backfire on your body if you overuse them. But they don¡¯t just turn off.¡±


    ¡°How do I know that¡¯s even true? You could be making this all up.¡±


    Zabo was beginning to lose patience. ¡°Are you dumb, or have you just never been to an academy before?¡±


    ¡°I went to a Beacon school.¡±


    Zabo couldn¡¯t help but leak out a laugh at the words¡¯ beacon school. ¡°A Beacon school? Aren¡¯t those just for duds and weaklings? What can they teach you there? Boring stuff like math? Hahaha¡± The chains rustled in unison with his laughter, which only made Sabir feel more annoyed.


    ¡°You said you¡¯re a dud too.¡± Sabir cocked an eyebrow, knowing he caught a contradiction.


    Zabo¡¯s laughter faltered, and he looked at Sabir awkwardly. ¡°Right¡­ yeah, my bad. When you have to act like one of those elite brats for as long as I have, you kinda forget it¡¯s all an act.¡±


    Sabir was about to press him on that point. What the hell does he mean, acting like the elites? Zabo sensed the direction of Sabir¡¯s thoughts and quickly got back on track. ¡°Look, let me make this simple for you. I¡¯m a dud, yes. But I have abilities that allow me to go toe-to-toe with many hunters. And you, Sabir, are also capable of using those abilities.¡±


    Sabir crossed his arms, still skeptical. ¡°I¡¯m capable of using them? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not kidding. You can use aura, just like I can. In fact, I¡¯m gonna say this as gently as I can.¡± He paused, locking eyes with Sabir. ¡°It¡¯s killing you.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s breath hitched in his throat. ¡°What? What are you talking about? C¡¯mon, this jokes gone on too long now.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s face became serious, his voice shaky as he spoke. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m so freaked out about being so close to you. Somehow, you¡¯re leaking out an aura like a dam with a giant hole. With your body releasing that amount, your limbs might shoot off. Or even worse, you¡¯re going to explode to kingdom come.¡±


    The cell fell silent, except for the faint clink of chains as Zabo shifted. Sabir¡¯s golden eyes darkened, processing the gravity of these revelations. He has to be making this all up, he has to be. Maybe Elektra put him up to this.


    Zabo, sensing his hesitation, smirked. ¡°You don¡¯t believe me, do you? Think back, Sabir. Has there been any time where you¡¯ve felt a strange calmness or sudden strength¡­ or even a moment you sensed danger before it even happened?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Sabir tried to disregard what he was saying, but memories began resurfacing that felt eerily similar to what he had described.


    ¡°It¡¯s been happening to you for a while now. You¡¯ve been using it without realizing. Think. Anytime you¡¯ve been in crazy danger, where your life was on the line,¡± Zabo pushed for an answer.


    Sabir¡¯s eyes narrowed as his mind pulled him back to the past. The day his life turned upside down. The Wyrmraiders had surrounded him, holding him in place through telekinesis, sneering down at him. But he¡¯d gotten free, something inside of him snapping as he¡¯d shattered their mental hold. He chalked it up to adrenaline, maybe willpower. But now.


    Sabir shook his head against it, but other memories began surfacing, unbidden.


    The time he, Max and Samantha got caught in the crossfire between the two hunter guilds, they had been hiding, trying to avoid the chaos, when an energy blast deflected their way. Sabir had sensed it before it was closed in on them. He pushed his friends out of the way, thinking it was just down to quick reactions. Or was it?


    That other time. With the Vinefiends. Maize Gaian had unleashed those terrifying monsters on him, their claws wrapping around him, suffocating, squeezing the life out of him. But something inside him had exploded, a raw, instinctual power that let him tear through one of them, far beyond what his normal strength should allow.


    Then there was Elektra. Sabir shuddered; his head whisked back to their brutal fight at The Commons. Elektra was merciless; she teased him, routed him with no effort. He felt the defeat happening in real time: his body accepting the contact, his strength seeping out from his skin. And then something supernatural happened. His eyes fogged up. His world went dark as his consciousness completely slipped. And in those moments, something else took over. The rest of the fight was a blur afterward, flashes of movement, the shocked look on Elektra¡¯s face, of his body acting on its own, as if controlled by a force well beyond his level.


    He¡¯d fought her like a man possessed, like some sort of mindless zombie, and when he¡¯d come to, the look on Elektra¡¯s face hadn¡¯t been one of victory.


    It had been fear.


    Realization dawned on him. This entire time, it hadn¡¯t been luck or chance that had saved him. No. He had ignored it, focusing on what he thought mattered more. It had been this¡­ aura that saved him countless times. He had been unconsciously using it, tapping into it in moments of extreme danger, when his life was on the line.


    Zabo¡¯s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. ¡°You¡¯ve been using it unconsciously. That¡¯s why you didn¡¯t notice. But it¡¯s been there, Sabir. All along.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s emotions swirled. Surprise, excitement, and pure disbelief. That he had been tapping into some power source that could allow him to stand on equal footing with a hunter, the prospect of being something more than a weak, powerless kid from The Limbo. If he could learn to tap into this power, his revenge could truly become a reality. But then, just as quickly, he cooled his excitement. He had remembered the reason Zabo brought this all up.


    He looked at Zabo, his face expecting answers. ¡°But¡­ why is it killing me? If I¡¯ve been using it, why is it supposedly tearing me apart?¡±


    Zabo sighed. Finally, they had come to the crux of the issue. ¡°Because you don¡¯t know how to control it. Aura isn¡¯t something you just tap into randomly and expect it to work without consequences. It¡¯s like a muscle. If you don¡¯t know how to train it properly, it¡¯ll break you.¡±


    Flashes crossed his mind of those instances where he had felt the surge of that strange energy course through him, the Wyrmraiders, the energy blast, or the Vinefiends, each time it felt different like a different type of strain pushed against his body, a strain his body wasn¡¯t fit to handle.


    ¡°And right now,¡± Zabo added, his voice low, ¡°it¡¯s already breaking you down from the inside. I¡¯d give it a week or two at most and you¡¯re gonna be a corpse.¡±


    Sabir swallowed, his throat dry. He had unknowingly been wielding a power that could kill him. He had been so focused on surviving each day, fighting his way through every obstacle, that he never even questioned how he had survived impossible odds. Now he faced the terrifying truth. ¡°So-so what do I do?¡± Sabir muttered.


    Zabo, still pinned by the chains and iron balls, looked at Sabir with a mix of pity and understanding. ¡°You need to learn how to control it, Sabir. Before it¡¯s too late.¡±

 Chapter 71 - A Life for a Life

    He had to learn to control it? Sabir trembled, as he thought, how do I control something that I don¡¯t even understand? He did not know where to even start. And the thought of tapping into something so dangerous, something that had been eroding him from the inside, was terrifying. But the alternative¡­ He had seen too much death, too much loss. He wasn¡¯t ready to add his name to that list.


    Sabir¡¯s gaze hardened as he loomed over Zabo lying on the ground. ¡°Then tell me how. Tell me how to control it.¡±


    Zabo sighed heavily, shifting slightly under the weight of the chains and iron balls, pinning him to the floor. ¡°I can¡¯t teach you, Sabir.¡±


    Sabir frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration. ¡°What do you mean, you can¡¯t teach me? You¡¯ve been using aura all this time.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Zabo replied, ¡°but I¡¯ve been training with an aura my whole life. It¡¯s second nature to me. I can barely even explain how I do it, let alone teach you the basics. There¡¯s a difference between knowing something and being able to teach it.¡±


    Sabir felt a knot of frustration twist in his stomach. He had finally uncovered something that could give him the edge he needed to survive, and yet it still seemed out of reach. ¡°So what are we supposed to do then?¡± he muttered, more to himself than to Zabo.


    Zabo gave a small shrug, or at least as much of a shrug as he could manage under the chains. ¡°We agreed we¡¯d escape, right?¡±


    Sabir nodded. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Well, if all goes to plan, which it won¡¯t, mind you, once we¡¯re out of here, I can take you to my teacher. He¡¯s the one who trained me, and he can teach you how to control your aura properly.¡±


    Sabir shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t leave. Not yet.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°What? Why? This place sucks. Let¡¯s get out of here while we still can.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving Sector 5 until I kill Vincent,¡± Sabir said, his voice hardening with the weight of his resolve.


    Zabo blinked, clearly taken aback. ¡°Let me get this straight, you want to kill a Voltaire, you? As a dud?¡±


    Sabir¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Zabo scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re serious? There¡¯s no way you can kill him. He¡¯s Noah¡¯s brother, for crying out loud. Have you seen what Noah can do!? Vincent¡¯s probably just as strong. And besides, have you ever even killed anyone before?¡±


    Sabir¡¯s golden eyes burned with vengeful intensity, but underneath that flame was a churning storm of emotions. His breath came in slow, controlled paces, but inside, he was fighting against the raw rage and the moral conflict tearing at his conscience.


    Killing. The very thought had once repulsed him. His sister had raised him better than that. Living among the scum within The Limbo, people were murdered all the time, all for the sake of survival, or at least that¡¯s how they rationalise it. Life was sacred, wasn¡¯t it? His sister that had taught him even in the darkest moments, a line had to be drawn, a line that separated them from the rest of The Limbo. A line that would allow them closer to reaching the walls of Havana. But Vincent had crossed that line when he took Cynthia away. Cynthia, the sister who had been his rock, his guide, his only family. And now she was gone.


    How could he stand by and do nothing? How could he let Vincent walk free when he was the reason Cynthia was buried in the dirt?


    Sabir¡¯s fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms. An eye for an eye. That was the only justice he could make sense of now. If Vincent had taken Cynthia¡¯s life, then his life was forfeited. A tooth for a tooth. Because Sabir knew deep down it was wrong, even though he tried to maintain and rationalize that logic. He wasn¡¯t a killer. He wasn¡¯t supposed to be this person.


    Yet here he was, standing on the precipice of revenge, trying to justify murder in his heart. His mind ran through every scenario, every possibility, every excuse to make it seem okay. ¡°Vincent deserves this. He has to pay. There¡¯s no other way.¡±


    But as much as he wanted to believe that, there was still a nagging voice in the back of his mind, his sister¡¯s voice, telling him that this wasn¡¯t the answer. That he would lose a piece of himself if he went through with it. Sabir could feel the weight of that truth settling into his bones, but he pushed it down, buried it beneath the raw need for vengeance.


    ¡°This will be the one and only time I kill another human,¡± Sabir said finally, his voice low, trembling with the intensity of the emotions he was trying to contain. He told himself that this was for Cynthia. That this would be the last time he crossed that line.


    But even as the words left his lips, Sabir couldn¡¯t shake the hollow feeling in his chest. Deep down, he knew there was no going back.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Zabo sighed, his tone softening as he looked at Sabir. ¡°I can tell you don¡¯t have it in you to do something like that, Sabir. Look, I¡¯m not trying to pry into your personal issues, but you should forget about this petty revenge and focus on surviving. You¡¯re walking straight into death¡¯s door if you go after Vincent.¡±


    Sabir¡¯s chest tightened, a wave of anger swelling within him, threatening to burst. Petty? Zabo thought his need for revenge was petty? It felt like a slap to the face, a dismissal of all the pain, the loss, the emptiness that gnawed at him every waking second. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, fingernails digging into his palms until he felt the sharp sting of skin breaking.


    How could Zabo understand? How could anyone understand what it was like to lose the only person who ever cared about you? Cynthia wasn¡¯t just his sister; she had been his protector, his mentor, his guiding star. She was the only family he had left in this fractured world. And Vincent had gotten her killed, even though he had promised her love. She died, as if her life meant nothing. Nothing.


    Sabir¡¯s breath became ragged, and he fought the urge to lash out, his body trembling with barely contained rage. Petty. The word echoed in his mind, twisting his thoughts into darker shapes. This wasn¡¯t some trivial grudge he was holding onto. This wasn¡¯t some childish need for payback. It was justice. It had to be justice. What else was left when the world had taken everything from you?


    ¡°My sister,¡± Sabir said through gritted teeth, his voice low and raw, laced with barely restrained fury. He could feel the heat behind his eyes, the tightness in his throat as the weight of it all threatened to suffocate him. ¡°Vincent killed my sister. He¡¯s going to pay for that.¡±


    As the words tumbled out, the anger in Sabir¡¯s chest twisted into something deeper, something darker, a festering wound that refused to heal. He knew Zabo was wrong about him. He had to be. This wasn¡¯t some mindless thirst for blood; it was a debt that had to be paid. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.


    Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered doubts- Cynthia¡¯s voice, reminding him of who he used to be, of the line he was about to cross. But that voice was barely a whisper now, drowned out by the crushing weight of grief and anger that surged through him like a storm.


    Sabir¡¯s chest burned, his heart torn between the aching grief of his loss and the icy fire of vengeance that threatened to consume him whole. He knew this path could lead him to his own destruction. He knew it, and yet the pull of revenge was too strong, too intoxicating. What else did he have left?


    His hands shook, his jaw clenched, and all he could feel was the overwhelming need to make Vincent suffer the way he had suffered.


    Zabo was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening. ¡°Fine,¡± he said finally, his tone resigned. ¡°Do what you want. But our partnership ends after we leave this cell. I¡¯m not getting myself killed by sticking around you while you chase after someone like Vincent.¡±


    Sabir nodded, knowing deep down that Zabo was right. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    Zabo looked at him for a long moment before speaking again. ¡°Do you even have any ideas about how we¡¯re going to escape?¡±


    Sabir was about to respond when the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor outside their cell. Both of them tensed, their attention shifting to the entrance.


    A tall figure appeared in the dim light, his cyan hair tied back in a ponytail. Noah Voltaire. He was wearing a grey turtleneck and black pants, his steps measured. Following behind him was an old man with greying hair, dressed in a suit similar to the one Sabir had worn as Warren¡¯s manservant¡ªthough the old man wore a tie, a subtle mark of higher status. Sabir recognised him as the head butler. What was his name, Frederick or something? Why is he here?


    Noah was carrying a small, dark orb in his hand, its surface smooth like glass, and large enough to fit in his palm. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he approached the cell.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Noah said with a smirk. ¡°You two are a sight for sore eyes. Sabir, did you make a new friend?¡±


    Zabo, who couldn¡¯t see who had entered the room from his position on the floor, scowled at the sound of Noah¡¯s voice. ¡°It¡¯s Zabo,¡± he muttered. ¡°I know you probably didn¡¯t catch my name when I was beating the shit out of you.¡±


    The old man¡¯s gaze flicked down to Zabo¡¯s incapacitated body, then back to Noah. Noah merely shrugged in response, an almost playful glint in his eyes.


    Reaching into his pocket, Noah pulled out a small key and unlocked the cell door, swinging it open with ease. He stepped inside, heading straight toward Zabo.


    Sabir saw his chance. Without thinking, he bolted for the door, hoping to slip past them in the confusion. But as soon as he reached the threshold, the old man was there, blocking his path. A sharp gleam caught Sabir¡¯s eye, a knife, expertly brandished by the old man.


    The old man tutted softly, shaking his head. ¡°Going somewhere, boy?¡±


    Sabir cursed under his breath, backing away and returning to his place in the cell. He sat down, his heart pounding with frustration and fear.


    Zabo, still pinned beneath the chains, let out a resigned sigh. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan here? You came to kill me, right? Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised, though I was really hoping I¡¯d live a bit longer.¡±


    Noah grinned, kneeling down beside Zabo. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to live, Zabo. Just a little longer.¡±


    He held up the dark orb in his hand, letting the dim light glint off its surface. Zabo¡¯s eyes widened in panic, his breath catching in his throat.


    ¡°Why¡­ why did you bring that?¡± Zabo stammered.


    Noah¡¯s smirk widened. ¡°Zabo Kiakor. Living in Rustblock. Attending The Regalis Hunter Academy. Possesses the abilities of super strength.¡± He paused, watching Zabo¡¯s reaction. ¡°He exhibits very passive behavior. Quiet in class, and does not stand out much in practical work. From what we¡¯ve seen, he¡¯ll likely be a run-of-the-mill hunter when he graduates.¡±


    Noah¡¯s tone shifted, becoming darker as he leaned closer to Zabo, his voice a near whisper. ¡°I did my homework, Zabo. Your teachers at the academy don¡¯t think highly of you. You¡¯re hiding something. You¡¯re hiding your true abilities. And I want to know why.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s face drained of color, his gaze locked on the orb in Noah¡¯s hand. Panic washed over him, his body trembling despite the chains holding him down.


    Sabir watched, his own heart racing, unsure of what the orb was, but knowing, deep down, that whatever it was, it wasn¡¯t good.

 Chapter 72 - To Kill a Bloodline

    Noah towered over Zabo. His intentions were unclear to Sabir, but he knew only one thing. That orb was bad news, from the way Zabo¡¯s usual cocky demeanor had transformed into something that could only resemble abject fear. It has to be some torture device. Sabir winced at his own thoughts, the memories of laying in that iron chair resurfacing, causing the burns and cuts he received to ache.


    I should try to help him. Sabir analyzed the tense atmosphere, looking for a way to interfere. Perhaps he shouldn¡¯t get in the way. He¡¯d only be drawing attention to himself, but Noah was an evil bastard. Whatever he was planning would not be nice. But all he felt was a pair of eyes locked on him, a gaze that made him freeze in his tracks. Frederick¡¯s ancient eyes continued to glare at him. He wore a predatory smile, one that made Sabir want to crawl into a hole and hide.


    Sabir fought back the urge to run away, with his body stiffening under the pressure that the head butler released. One wrong move and he¡¯ll kill me. I can just feel it.


    There was nothing he could do.


    He hated it. Hated that he couldn¡¯t save Zabo, couldn¡¯t even save himself. But the truth of the matter was simple: he would die if he tried. And so, all Sabir could do was apologize silently to Zabo, regret sinking deep into his bones. He had to live for another day.


    Sabir could only watch on as Zabo¡¯s eyes flicker between Noah and the chains that bound him, calculating an impossible escape. Zabo, an injured prey, was at the mercy of a true predator. He cursed under his breath, frustration leaking from every pore. He wriggled under the chains, straining against them, but his efforts were in vain. The iron balls weighing down the chains made every movement a struggle.


    His aurasphere was completely empty, all his power he had drawn up, wasted trying to escape. It was stupid on his part to use his aura so recklessly. He could not focus nor meditate, recharging his aurasphere had become impossible. Zabo cursed himself. Powerless once again. How many times had he found himself in situations like this, unable to summon his aura when it mattered the most? Too many times. Regret gripped him as he thought about Master Mourning, his teacher. He had wasted so much time, distracted by chasing after girls and playing around. Had he truly dedicated himself to the journey of cultivation, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have been in this mess.


    Noah¡¯s smirk deepened as he leaned down, grabbing Zabo¡¯s right arm. Zabo gritted his teeth and tried to push back, his fist clenched tight in resistance, but the chains and his own exhaustion held him fast. With almost casual ease, Noah pried Zabo¡¯s hand open and shoved the dark orb, the Astral Gauge, into his palm.


    Noah caressed his hand, showing great care with his new toy. ¡°Let¡¯s see what powers you really possess.¡±


    The orb was an Astral Gauge, Sabir finally understood, an object of extreme importance, that measured the strength of one¡¯s Esper powers, from F to S rank. He had heard about them, but never seen one in action. The Threshold had one at all times, to test if people had the power to enter Havana.


    He didn¡¯t understand why knowing his strength truly mattered until he realised that with this Sabir could truly know if what Zabo was saying was true. Was he truly a dud? If that were the case, then everything else¨Chim dying, it could all be true. Sabir swallowed hard. The outcome of what this orb revealed was unclear even now. Would it truly change anything?


    They all waited in anticipation, staring at the orb in Zabo¡¯s hand, waiting for it to glow with a different shade other than black, but nothing happened.


    Noah¡¯s brow furrowed in confusion. He turned to Frederick, the old butler who was still standing at the cell¡¯s entrance. ¡°Frederick, what are the chances this Astral Gauge is broken?¡± Noah asked, his voice slightly contained.


    Frederick responded without hesitation, ¡°Impossible. The gauge cannot lie.¡±


    Noah shot a bewildered look back at Zabo, then back at Frederick. ¡°Then what does this mean?¡± he demanded, clearly agitated by the result.


    Frederick¡¯s response was calm, but his words were cutting. ¡°It means you almost lost to a dud.¡±


    The insult hung in the air. Noah¡¯s face twisted with disbelief. ¡°No¡­ he can¡¯t be a dud. He was too strong to be a dud.¡± He shook his head as if the answer could somehow change through sheer will. Noah stuck his own neck out, promising his father that he brought a prize, even though he had failed in capturing the bastard. But now¨Ceverything was disintegrating in front of his eyes.


    Frederick¡¯s lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile. ¡°Perhaps Master Noah was simply having a rough day and created this fabricated tale to save face.¡± He shrugged before he shot Noah with a judgemental stare. ¡°Your father won¡¯t take too kindly to this.¡±


    Noah scowled, frustration clear in his tone. ¡°This is no time for your stupid jokes, Frederick,¡± he snapped, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit cell. His cyan hair fell loose from its tie, his long hair fluttered in the cold cell, while his new fringe covered his eyes full of thoughts. ¡°Why is he listed as having super strength and attending a hunter academy if he¡¯s a dud? It doesn¡¯t add up.¡±


    His gaze drifted back to Zabo, who lay completely prone, his expression hard to read. Yet Noah knew the boy was hiding something. The Astral Gauge had shown nothing, yet something about it felt wrong. He was no fool. He sensed Zabo¡¯s strength during their fight. It wasn¡¯t just brute force; it was something more. There had been a presence, an energy contained in all of his movement, in each attack. Energy so strong, he had seen nothing like it. Noah had felt it in his bones. It was no illusion. There was power buried deep within him.


    He¡¯s hiding something, but what? And why? Noah questioned.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Frederick, ever calm, stood idly by while Noah seemed to throw a baby tantrum. His expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of impatience in his eyes as he interrupted Noah¡¯s thoughts, ¡°There isn¡¯t time for conspiracies or irrelevant distractions, Master Noah. Need I remind you, I am here to fulfill my own duties.¡± His gaze sharpened as it slid over to Sabir, who still seemed unable to take a breath fraught with fear.


    Sabir¡¯s muscles tensed, feeling the weight of Frederick¡¯s attention on him. It was like being caught in a spider¡¯s web, his entire body screaming at him to move, to fight, to do something, but he couldn¡¯t. The more he tried, the more his heart slowed, yet each heartbeat pounded in his chest, and sweat trickled down his neck. But he forced himself to remain still, his golden eyes fixed on the floor. If he moved now, even a flinch, it would be over.


    Noah¡¯s frustration simmered on the surface before he glanced once more at Zabo, lying defenseless in chains. Something gnawed at him, a gut feeling he couldn¡¯t shake. Zabo was hiding something. ¡°You¡¯re not a dud, I can feel it. I know there¡¯s something in there.¡± He glanced towards the Astral Gauge in his hand. ¡°But if this gauge can¡¯t show it¡­ why?¡±


    His jaw clenched, his temper flaring. He didn¡¯t enjoy feeling as though he was missing something. Being left in the dark, when he should know everything and he definitely didn¡¯t like being undermined. Still, he would not lash out, not now, when he still had a lead.


    He turned to Zabo, his eyes narrowing, studying the boy. Bound, battered, and helpless, Noah couldn¡¯t shake the feeling he was getting played. Sure, Zabo fought him, with a strength no ordinary person had, and yet here the gauge measured him as a nobody. He didn¡¯t need some piece of technology to tell him what his instincts already knew.


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out what you¡¯re hiding, Kiakor,¡± Noah said, a dark promise woven into his words. His voice echoing across the room, his voice lowered into a near whisper, low enough for only Zabo to hear. ¡°You think you can fool me? You can¡¯t. Not forever.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s face remained a mask of defiance as he lay on the ground, but he knew if Noah continued to push for the truth, everything would be over. Noah¡¯s push for the truth would expose the order, leading to hundreds of deaths. I¡¯m sorry everyone. He couldn¡¯t help but feel that everything would become his fault, a sense of guilt biting at him viciously.


    Noah stood and turned to leave, but he paused at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder one last time. ¡°You¡¯re lucky today,¡± he spoke with a coldness that made Zabo fearful. ¡°I don¡¯t have time to torture you, but don¡¯t think for a second this is over. I¡¯ll figure it out. And when I do¡­¡± His sentence trailed, allowing the threat to hang in the air. He harrumphed, turning to leave, storming toward the exit, the Astral Gauge still clutched tightly in his hand.


    As the door groaned shut behind Noah, the heavy thud of its lock seemed to reverberate around the room. Frederick watched the young Voltaire disappear down the corridor, his face inscrutable. Slowly, he let out a great, quiet breath that he hadn¡¯t even realized he¡¯d been holding onto, shaking his head in silent reprimand.


    ¡°The Lord¡¯s children still have much to learn,¡± he muttered under his breath, his voice carrying a note of both amusement and disappointment.


    With a swiftness that belied his old age, Frederick¡¯s hand moved smoothly toward a pocket within his jacket. As he drew out his knife, its gleam caught the dim light, the intention of the act plain as daylight.


    Frederick turned to Sabir next, his eyes shone brightly with killer intent. The head butler looked on with a detached gaze, though a sea of lethality laid around him. He looked at Sabir from top to button, seeing his white shirt turned gray from specks of grime, his black trousers and dust and dirt scuffed his black leather shoes. Frederick smiled, knowing that the cell hadn¡¯t been kind to him. In truth, he thought this punishment for anyone was far too soft.


    Sabir¡¯s golden eyes clashed with Frederick¡¯s, sizing each other up. Throughout his life, Frederick had seen that fire in eyes, soaked in vengeance, forged by dogmatic views of striking back at a world that took everything from them and gave nothing. Frederick had killed many of such men.


    They had all failed.


    Frederick¡¯s thoughts lingered on the name Quinn, a bitter taste filling his mouth at the very mention of it. To most, it was just another name, but to Frederick, it was a stain on the Voltaire legacy, a festering wound that had almost destroyed everything he had sworn to protect.


    He thought lust and greed cursed the Quinn bloodline. There was no other explanation. Frederick had watched, years ago, as Cynthia Quinn sought to bring down the glorious Voltaires, a family that stood as pillars of power, untouchable by common men. She had nearly succeeded, too. Her ploy to seduce master Vincent was successful, however the patriarch had foreseen it all.


    His grip on the knife¡¯s hilt tightened as he thought about the past. Lord Voltaire gave Frederick a purpose, a reason to exist. Frederick owed everything to the Voltaire family: his life, loyalty, and soul were theirs to be used as an instrument. It wasn¡¯t just that the Voltaires held immense power; they were gods, their lineage traced by the threads of fate themselves to lead, to rise above the weak. To Frederick, they were not mere nobles but gods amongst mortals. And he, their dutiful servant, would do anything for the sake of the family.


    He couldn¡¯t¨Che wouldn¡¯t let the Quinn¡¯s blood rise again. They were parasites, gnawing at the very root of the Voltaire Empire and dulling the purity of what his lord had built. This was no longer a question of revenge or duty; it had become fanaticism. Just the fact that a threat toward his family existed, breathing somewhere in the world, propelled him into a righteous rage. The very concept was sacrilege to him. The Quinn¡¯s blood was vile, an affront to the sanctity of the Voltaire lineage.


    The little blade in his hand was tiny, deadly, and a symbol of his devotion. Having tasted the blood of traitors before, with every killing, Frederick felt this strange satisfaction that he was purifying the world in the name of his lord. The killing of Sabir was not some sort of task but a holy act, an offering to the first Voltaire sovereign, a means of ensuring his legacy would never be tarnished.


    As his fingers traced the sharp, cold metal, Frederick¡¯s eyes narrowed on Sabir. There he sat, defiant, yet so clearly afraid, oblivious to the weight of history that surrounded him. To Frederick, Sabir wasn¡¯t just a boy. He was a symbol of everything that threatened the Voltaires. A filthy, vile stain that had somehow escaped being wiped clean.


    How dare he sit there with those eyes brimming with hatred? How dare a filthy dud, a parasite that had no right to exist anymore¡ªchallenge the will of the Voltaires? Frederick¡¯s lip curled in disgust. The Quinns weren¡¯t just enemies; they were a blight on the very fabric of Voltaire supremacy, and Frederick couldn¡¯t let them pollute the world any longer.


    This was his lord¡¯s mission to him, and never once had Frederick turned his back upon a mission. The blood of the Voltaires was sacred, untainted by disgusting duds and weaklings. The very idea that Sabir could walk freely, plotting vengeance, was blasphemous. Sabir¡¯s survival threatened the purity of the Voltaire family, and Frederick could feel his hatred swell at the thought.


    His steps were slow, measured; the knife flashed in his hand as he neared Sabir. His eyes stayed steadily fixed upon the boy; his eyes shone bright with contempt. It wasn¡¯t murder in Frederick¡¯s mind, but justice. A divine act that would clean the world once again of another impurity.


    ¡°Your blood¡­¡± Frederick muttered under his breath, his voice a growl. ¡°It will never tarnish the Voltaires again. I shall kill you like I killed your sister.¡±


    ¡°What- what did you say?¡±

 Chapter 73 - He Has Uses

    Frederick edged closer to Sabir. With each footstep, Sabir felt a tightening on his neck, as if the very air threatened to strangle him. It took all the willpower he had to take even a single breath in Frederick¡¯s presence. The singular light source from outside the cell reflected Frederick¡¯s blade, causing him to squint. His heart raced. He pressed himself further against the wall, his legs trembling, unable to muster the strength to move.


    Had he heard correctly, did this old man truly kill his sister? Then what about Vincent? Did he lie? Was he trying to protect the true killer? The number of questions flooding his mind dazed him. All he could do was stand idly by, at the mercy of Cynthia¡¯s potential killer.


    As if on cue, Frederick spoke in a low voice, seething with contempt. ¡°That lowly woman should have known better. She thought she could be among nobles. Please.¡± His hand tightened on the hilt of his knife. ¡°Now her only family shall join her for her transgressions.¡±


    His words sparked all the emotion buried behind the fear. Sabir let out a guttural scream, his jaw clenched tight. He banged his fist against the wall behind him. Spittle flinging out of his mouth as he spoke, his eyes bulging with an intense fury. ¡°You killed her? YOU KILLED HER!¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did. Did you really think Vincent had the mettle to kill a pretty woman?¡± Frederick admitted calmly, raising the knife up into the air, ready to be plunged into Sabir¡¯s chest. But before Sabir could even a voice cut away all the tension.


    ¡°Stand down, Frederick.¡±


    Frederick turned back, his frame covered the figure that stood in front of the cell. But Sabir knew who it was, just based on the voice alone. Elektra.


    She stood by the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light spilling into the cell. Her presence, though slender and graceful, exuded authority. She looked expectantly at Frederick, watching him frozen mid strike. Frederick trembled with rage, having been told to stand down, yet he didn¡¯t yield yet. He quickly brought the knife to Sabir¡¯s neck. A small trail of dark blood leaked out.


    ¡°Why must you protect him, Lady Elektra? Perhaps you¡¯ve also become attached to filth?¡± said Frederick.


    Elektra sighed at being tested. When would it end? She stepped forward into the cell, the door still opened. ¡°No. Far from it, in fact. They¡¯re needed,¡± she said, placing her hands on her hips. ¡°Both Quinn and my gopher¨CI mean Zabo. You know I¡¯m taking part in a dungeon raid. The expedition into the dungeon requires bodies. Whether they live or die in the process is irrelevant, but for now, they serve a purpose. They¡¯re the only ones fit for such a dispensable role.¡±


    Frederick¡¯s lip curled in disgust, though he did not hide it. ¡°You wish to use these disgusting lower beings? Sabir Quinn¡¯s blood is a stain. It¡¯s already tarnished this family once. It will do so again.¡±


    Sabir couldn¡¯t believe what he was hearing, a murderer calling him disgusting. What a sick joke. He tried to quell the rage that boiled like lava. He just about stifled the words he wanted to scream. Remaining silent, his mind raced. Sabir didn¡¯t even know the old coot, and he created a whole villainous backstory. He was a lunatic. A fanatic.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Elektra snapped, stepping on Zabo¡¯s chest, who lay by her feet. ¡°This isn¡¯t about bloodlines or vendettas. Personal feelings won¡¯t interfere with the mission. If Sabir dies, then so be it, but it will be during the expedition, not by your hand tonight. If he lives, he¡¯ll be all yours.¡±


    Zabo stood frozen like a statue. No unnecessary movement here, he thought, trying hard not to bring attention to himself, even with Elektra¡¯s foot on his chest. His exchange with Noah still weighed heavily on him and he didn¡¯t want to get into more hot water with another Voltaire. Especially someone like Elektra, who was fiery at best. Trying to calm his beating heart, he felt his wound tingle slightly. What¡¯s going on with me? Zabo questioned, sweat dripping down his back.


    Frederick¡¯s fingers flexed around the hilt of his blade, a brief flash of anger crossing his face before he quickly masked it. ¡°People like him are a virus. His mindset will spread and threaten the family,¡± he growled. ¡°I remember how she nearly brought us to ruin that boy¡¯s damn sister. Although it brought me great joy when I put an end to it, when I shot that poison dart through the trucker¡¯s window. How joyful it was seeing her all bloody. My only regret is that I didn¡¯t kill the bastard as well. And the genius of the poison, to think The Hound thought it was The Triads.¡±


    Sabir gritted his teeth as he watched Frederick relish the memory of murdering his sister. A chill crawled down his spine, the man¡¯s hatred almost palpable. His sister, the one who had once cared for him, the one who had left him that pass to enter Havana. That was how she died in the end? To a poison dart?


    Elektra, remaining unmoved by Frederick¡¯s tirade, spoke again, her tone calm. ¡°We all make sacrifices for the greater good. I want to kill the kid as much as you do, but in this case, irrelevant. I need them for the expedition because they are expendable. Unlike you, unlike me, they are replaceable. Zabo may be a student of the academy, but he has no one behind him, no investors. And Sabir...¡± She glanced at the heap that was Zabo, tied to the ground in a pathetic state, and continued, ¡°Well, he¡¯s only a dud. A useful one, for now.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Frederick¡¯s role as the head butler did not exceed the authority of an heir, openly crossing Elektra would defy the Voltaire laws. Tutting his tongue, he lowered his blade completely, with the rage still seething beneath his skin. ¡°Very well,¡± he said, enunciating every syllable, ¡°but mark my words. Once the expedition is done, his life will be forfeit unless he proves his worth.¡± He masked his smile well enough. He knew he simply had to talk to his master and be given the order to kill him. But for now, he¡¯d have to wait.


    Sabir swallowed hard, his mind swirling with thoughts of survival. He wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to believe Elektra¡¯s intervention was out of mercy. He was nothing more than a pawn, a disposable asset. The looming threat of the dungeon expedition weighed on him. What did they need a dud for exactly?


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky,¡± Elektra said, her eyes shifting to Sabir, her gaze cold. ¡°You get to live just a little while longer. But make no mistake. If you fail to serve your purpose, Frederick will get his chance.¡±


    Sabir nodded in silence, his body shuddering, while he came up slowly to his feet. Although the blade was gone, he felt Frederick¡¯s stony gaze, as if Frederick would plunge it deep at any second, killing him in cold blood if allowed.


    In the doorway''s shadow, Warren stood quietly, watching the entire exchange unfold. His face was pale, his expression conflicted. He promised himself he¡¯d help Sabir. He couldn¡¯t stand by and watch Frederick kill the boy, not like this.


    Frederick, catching sight of Warren in the doorway, narrowed his eyes. He sneered, recognizing the fear in the young man. Warren flinched, stepping back slightly but not retreating completely. Frederick¡¯s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he stormed out of the room, his boots echoing ominously against the stone floor. His last glare at Sabir promised that this wasn¡¯t over.


    The moment Frederick left, Zabo groaned in pain. His wound he gained from Noah¡¯s last attack in Tetra City began bleeding again. Whatever that doctor gave him at the lab wore off. His wound had reopened, and he was bleeding profusely. Sabir rushed to his side, kneeling to check on him. Zabo¡¯s skin was pale, sweat glistening on his forehead. The heavy chains and weights tied to him made it impossible for him to move.


    ¡°You might want to hurry,¡± Elektra said, her gaze fixed on Sabir. ¡°If Zabo dies, it¡¯s on you. His health is your responsibility now. And Warren¡¯s.¡±


    She raised her voice. ¡°Warren! Stop hiding in the shadows and come in here.¡±


    Warren stepped hesitantly into the room, his eyes fixed on Zabo, filled with concern. He avoided Elektra¡¯s gaze as he rushed toward Sabir and Zabo, his hands shivering.


    ¡°Help them,¡± Elektra ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. ¡°Get Zabo out of here. And make sure the maids help remove some of those weights before he collapses completely.¡±


    Warren stiffened at Elektra¡¯s command. He turned towards her, pointing his finger at her. He squared his shoulders, his voice unsteady but resolute. ¡°I¡¯m going to help them, Elektra. But not because you told me to. It¡¯s because I want to. Someone has to look out for them.¡± Jutting his jaw, his hands still trembled slightly as he bent down to support Zabo.


    Elektra raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She smirked, her brother¡¯s defiance only entertaining her. ¡°Whatever makes you feel better, pussy,¡± she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. ¡°Just get it done and stop wasting my time.¡± Without sparing him another glance, she turned away, her attention already shifting elsewhere.


    Before stepping through the doorway, Elektra paused, casting a last glance over her shoulder. ¡°Prepare for the dungeon expedition. Make sure they¡¯ve had a meal and some fresh clothes. That¡¯s all three of you, by the way. We will leave soon.¡± Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out, leaving the trio alone in the cell.


    Warren knelt beside Zabo, he winced surveying Zabo¡¯s condition, as he hooked an arm beneath the man¡¯s shoulders. Sabir moved to the other side, but they hesitated, their eyes shifting to the iron balls still bound to Zabo¡¯s chains, weighing him down. A pair of maids scurried in as Elektra had commanded, their hands deftly untying the heavy iron orbs from Zabo¡¯s legs.


    Once the final weight clattered to the ground, Sabir and Warren lifted him to his feet. Zabo¡¯s body still sagged between them, his head lolling, barely conscious, though his breaths now came a little easier without the crushing burden of the weights. The maids backed away silently, leaving the three of them to stumble forward, each step a painful reminder of how close to the edge they all were.


    ¡°Hold on, Zabo,¡± Sabir whispered, though the way Zabo¡¯s head hung limply made his heart race with uncertainty. He tried to sound reassuring, but doubt gnawed at him, an icy fear creeping up his spine. As they dragged Zabo forward, with the long chains tied to his arms trailing behind them. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but wonder if any of them would survive the expedition. Zabo¡¯s labored breaths reminded Sabir of their fragility; a grim realization settled in his stomach: they were taking him to a dungeon to be a meat shield. Not just him, but Zabo, too.


    ¡°Hold on, Zabo,¡± Sabir murmured. ¡°We¡¯ll get through this. I promise.¡±


    But deep down, he wasn¡¯t sure he believed it. The expedition felt like a death sentence, and every moment that passed brought them closer to it. Sabir clenched his fists, steeling his resolve. He would not die here, not without a fight. I will not be a part of these damn games Elektra, I¡¯ll escape, just you wait.


    Escape? Sabir gritted his teeth. Had he given up on revenge and all he sought now was survival? His sister¡¯s true killer had revealed himself. Frederick. That old man, a demon filled with malice. Would he just allow him to get away with it all? Frederick, you¡¯ll be the one to die first. Sabir promised to himself.


    As they stumbled out of the cell, Sabir had made up his mind. He was going to use this opportunity of false freedom to the fullest. He may not know when he¡¯d die, but when that time comes, the Voltaire¡¯s will suffer alongside him.

 Chapter 74 - The Day Before

    Night had fallen, Sector 5 was in deep slumber, the Voltaire estate deathly quiet, yet in one of the upper bedrooms, Elektra sat reclined on a sleek, metallic chair, her legs crossed casually as she toyed with the VR visor on her lap. A piece of expensive technology designed by Kajima Labs, elegant, lightweight, and as expensive as one might expect for something designed to train hunters. For Elektra, VR was more than just training, but a way to unwind and have fun.


    Lifting the visor, she attached it to her temples, feeling the familiar click as the tinted glass panel slid down over her eyes. She couldn¡¯t see much through the glass and the attachment blocked her ears. With the visor numbing two of her senses, it only calmed her. Her chair creaked as she leaned back, taking a deep breath as the world around her dissolved, replaced by the crisp, artificial clarity of the virtual realm. The pure gray world assembled right before Elektra¡¯s eyes like a jigsaw puzzle.


    The small area seemed forever expanding yet caged. Occasionally, the wall rippled like a stone being thrown into a lake, a reminder that this world was simply an amalgamation of ones and zeros, completely detached from the real world. A virtual world where Elektra¡¯s life could be forgotten, where she could do what she pleased, if only for a fleeting amount of time.


    The virtual world created to be Elektra¡¯s playground, was not just a game, but a training tool designed to enhance IQ, sharpen reflexes, and improve battle sense. Originally intended for young hunter students to hone their combat skills, the equipment had since become a toy for the wealthy and powerful, entertaining themselves as they saw fit.


    Elektra¡¯s avatar in the game materialized before her: identical to her real-world appearance, with her short hair and slender, toned build. The only difference was her hair and eyes, both a plain brown, making her look eerily similar to her half brother. A floating window hovered in front of her. She glanced at the window¡¯s faint glow, as it blended with the dull backdrop of the virtual world.


    With a flick of her wrist, she began scrolling through the options. ¡°What should I fight today?¡± she mused, her fingers moving as if tapping on invisible walls.


    ¡°Wyrmrings? Too boring. Vinefiends? Way too easy.¡± Her gaze hovered over a more interesting option. A wicked smile played on her lips. ¡°Arachtula, that¡¯ll do, I suppose.¡±


    With a click, the surrounding environment shifted, and the ground trembled as eight gleaming eyes shot out from the ground. pixels danced and pulsated, as more eyes were rendered, all fixed on her. Its body materialized next, pixel forming lumps that soon came together to form three sections of a body, eight long limbs shooting out from beneath. It was enormous, its black, segmented body glistening as it clicked its mandibles, emitting a low, menacing hiss.


    ¡°Gross,¡± Elektra muttered, wincing in disgust. But her fingers twitched eagerly, hungry for a battle.


    The Arachtula skittered forward, its monstrous legs pounding against the white floor. Each step sounded like the strike of a war drum. Elektra could feel her feet vibrate as it moved closer to her. Purple Venom dripped from its mandibles, hissing as it hit the floor. Elektra narrowed her eyes, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to spring.


    The Arachtula lunged at her; she sidestepped with a pirouette, feeling the rush of air as its deadly limbs slammed down where she had been standing just moments before. The air caused her to lose balance. Quickly, she used her hands to propel her into a somersault.


    ¡°Too big,¡± she thought, biting back a curse as she spun out of reach of another swipe from the creature. Elektra was used to close combat. Her fighting style relied on quick kicks and precise strikes, but against something this size, her usual tactics were useless.


    She smirked. ¡°Fine. Change of plan.¡±


    Electricity crackled to life from her shoulders, dancing all the way to her fingertips. She flicked her wrists, and the air buzzed with raw energy. Putting her palms together, she felt the electricity pushing and pulling. She twisted the energy, grunting against the pulling force. At her fingertips, the crackling arcs of lightning coalesced into the shape of a glowing bow. Elektra grinned, drawing the electric string back, aimed directly at the spider-like monster.


    The Arachtula lunged again, its venomous fangs bared, but this time Elektra was ready. She released the string, sending a sizzling bolt of lightning hurtling toward one of its massive legs. The electric arrow hit the mark with a deafening crash, exploding in a shower of sparks as the limb disintegrated into pixelated ash. The creature screeched, its balance faltering as it stumbled to the side.


    Before it could recover, Elektra pulled the bow once again, another bolt of energy drawn ready to be fired. She released the blast once again, this time targeting a second leg. The blast went through its leg like a spectre, tearing the limb clean off. The Arachtula shrieked, thrashing wildly, its remaining legs struggling to keep it upright. It moved awkwardly, swaying from side to side, its eyes still pinned on Elektra, fighting its only instinct.


    ¡°Two down,¡± Elektra muttered under her breath, not deterred by the multiple eyes watching her filled with anger.


    The spider¡¯s remaining legs flailed desperately, trying to swipe at her, but Elektra only sped up faster. She jumped into the air, her electrokinesis propelling her up high. A series of precise shots followed, each blast of lightning leaving behind a smoking ruin where a limb once stood. The Arachtula¡¯s massive body crashed to the ground, crippled and helpless, its once-terrifying form reduced to a writhing heap of smoldering chitin.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    But Elektra wasn¡¯t done yet. The strong never show mercy.


    The creature hissed, its enormous head twisting to face her, venom dripping from its fangs as it prepared one final, desperate attack. But Elektra¡¯s last shot already whistled through the virtual space, the energy in her hands glowing so brightly it lit up the entire battlefield.


    She took a deep breath, summoning all the strength she had. She felt the crackle of raw power as she fired. The bolt of pure energy tore through the air, striking the center of the Arachtula¡¯s body. A blinding flash of light engulfed the creature entirely, leaving nothing but charred flesh.


    Elektra stood over the smoking remains, her breath steady, the bow of lightning dissipating from her hands in a flash. She wiped a bead of virtual sweat from her brow, smirking down at the destroyed creature. ¡°Gross,¡± she muttered.


    As the battlefield around her dissolved, the neutral colours of the virtual world returned. She exhaled sharply, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, even though her actual body was just sitting comfortably in her room. That was enough for one night, she thought.


    Just as she reached for the floating menu to log out, an unexpected shimmer appeared before her. The air wavered, and slowly, a tawny owl materialized, its wings spread wide as it descended, landing gracefully in front of her. Its feathers were a deep brown, with streaks of gold that caught the white light of the virtual space, and its eyes were piercing yellow, staring at her with an almost all-knowing intelligence.


    Elektra jumped in her seat, momentarily losing her balance. ¡°What the¡ª?¡± she blurted out, falling to the ground as the owl flapped its wings and landed atop her head.


    ¡°Arran,¡± she growled. Her server had been hacked, and she knew exactly who to blame. She immediately recognized the bird, or rather avatar, as her bitter rival. Maize Gaian, little miss perfect. ¡°Maize, stop using Arran to hack into my server.¡±


    The owl, or rather, Maize¡¯s voice through it, let out a soft chuckle. ¡°Oh, come on, Elektra. You had Arran help you only a couple of months ago to track down poor old Cassius. What¡¯s one little favor between friends?¡±


    Elektra scowled, brushing the owl off her head. Although Maize was right, it didn¡¯t feel good being intruded on. When she had called Arran to find The Hound¡¯s address, she didn¡¯t think it would be used against her like this. ¡°I already apologized to The Hound for what I did!¡± she cried.


    ¡°Not to him, you didn¡¯t,¡± Maize¡¯s voice teased. The owl flew from Elektra¡¯s shoulder, hovering in the air. ¡°Cassius almost killed you, didn¡¯t he? Deservedly so, if you ask me.¡±


    Elektra shot a hand out, trying to grab the owl, but it darted out of reach with a flap of its wings. ¡°What do you want, Maize?¡± she asked, her tone sharp, though there was a trace of exhaustion beneath it.


    Maize landed directly in front of Elektra, tilting its head in that peculiar way that owls did. ¡°Remember what we discussed when we were on Violet while we were flying to the Commons?¡± Maize¡¯s voice asked, feigning innocence.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Elektra asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.


    ¡°Oh, I knew you weren¡¯t paying attention!¡± the owl hooted, flapping its wings in frustration.


    Elektra thought back, her mind racing to recall their conversation. They had been flying on Violet Maize¡¯s massive, terrifying mount. But she had been so consumed with finding Sabir Quinn that she had paid little attention to what Maize had been saying.


    ¡°Well?¡± the owl prompted, stomping her talons against the floor.


    Elektra sighed. ¡°Fine, fine. What did we discuss?¡±


    ¡°We agreed to a partnership for a dungeon expedition, of course,¡± Maize said, her tone suddenly more serious.


    Elektra blinked. ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡±


    Maize¡¯s voice didn¡¯t falter. ¡°We found a dungeon. It¡¯s about 700 kilometers from Havana. We¡¯re leading the expedition. You, me, and a few others.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s far as hell!¡± Elektra protested, feeling a twinge of dread. ¡°Our entire summer will be wasted. I wanted to enjoy my time off, not spending it fighting monsters. We do that kind of thing every day at the academy.¡±


    Maize¡¯s tone was unsympathetic. ¡°Yes, well, that¡¯s all lovely except for the fact that your father, my mother, and the Boreas family have already agreed to this expedition. It¡¯s been arranged for our ¡®development,¡¯ as they call it. Remember, this is going to be a real dungeon, no simulation, or some teacher monitoring us. We¡¯re going to be leading fully fledged hunters.¡±


    Elektra cursed under her breath. ¡°Why couldn¡¯t you just find a dungeon nearby, ugh? Alright, when exactly do we leave?¡±


    ¡°You have a week to prepare,¡± Maize said. ¡°Though I suppose your people will do most of the work for you. I, on the other hand, won¡¯t be given that privilege.¡±


    Maize paused, then added, ¡°That brings me to my second request. Since we¡¯re now partners, I need some help. We need porters for the expedition, and it seems no one is eager to volunteer.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you make some of your collaterals go?¡± Elektra asked, a bit irritated.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to bring any of my family,¡± Maize explained, her voice serious now. ¡°It could get dangerous. We need people who are¡­ expendable.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s mind immediately flickered to the two prisoners locked away in the estate¡¯s dungeons. ¡°I think I know who I can get. Is two porters enough?¡±


    ¡°Should be fine,¡± Maize replied.


    ¡°Good. Then, if that¡¯s all, I¡¯m logging off,¡± Elektra said, her hand once again hovering over the floating menu.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± Maize¡¯s voice chirped, a hint of mischief returning.


    Elektra groaned. ¡°What now?¡±


    ¡°Whatever happened to Sabir Quinn?¡± Maize asked sweetly.


    Elektra grinned, her mood brightening slightly. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s doing just fine. Just fine.¡±


    ¡°Mmm,¡± Maize purred through her owl avatar. ¡°He was such fun. I¡¯ll have to meet him soon when I can. I¡¯ll introduce him to some of my other toys.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll meet him sooner than you think,¡± Elektra said with a smirk, finally pressing the power button.


    As she logged off, she could still hear Maize¡¯s voice trailing. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± Maize called out. Elektra ignored her. The world around her dissolved into a cascade of black, and the familiar weight of reality returned.

 Chapter 75 - Bandaged

    Three pairs of footsteps echoed through the staircase. Sabir and Warren struggled to carry Zabo up the stairs. They gritted their teeth and pushed him upwards towards the physicians¡¯ quarters. The chains tied to Zabo¡¯s wrists still trailed from his arm, the iron links clinking and scraping against the stone steps with every shaky movement.


    A creeping sense of anxiety washed over Sabir. Every time the chains would smack against the stairs, fearful that he may step on the chain, tripping them all up. He could tell just by Zabo¡¯s heavy breathing alone that he was a mess. Each step seemed to drive more pain into his battered form, and worse of all his tightly shut jaw, stifling his pained screams.


    Sabir glanced at Zabo¡¯s right side, where his shirt had been completely burnt and singed, revealing his exposed ribs. Blood soaked through his shirt, dripping onto the floor, creating a trail of splatters. He grimaced at the sight. He closed his eyes, tightening his grip around Zabo¡¯s arm, hoping to ease some of the pain, but there was only so much he could do.


    ¡°Hang in there, Zabo,¡± Sabir muttered.


    Zabo let out a strangled scream, his voice echoing through the stairwell. ¡°Whatever they did to me in Kajima Labs... it¡¯s only gotten worse! I swear it¡¯s like the effects have reversed or something!¡±


    On the other side of Zabo, Warren showed a spark of interest at the mention of Kajima Labs. ¡°Wait¡­ you went to Kajima Labs?¡± He shifted his grip on Zabo, his expression darkening. ¡°If Noah took you there, then there¡¯s no telling what he did to you. I know he likes to do¡­experiments with Doctor Valenkov. He¡¯s also a bit of a nutter.¡±


    ¡°I could¡¯ve sworn I was given ambrosia.¡± Zabo mumbled.


    ¡°Ambrosia?¡± Sabir asked, raising an eyebrow. A feeling of familiarity crossed his mind, but he couldn¡¯t place where he had heard the word from.


    Warren glanced at him. ¡°It¡¯s a miracle drug, pretty much. Heals wounds, recovers fatigue, all that good stuff. But it¡¯s expensive, crazy expensive. Noah usually carries a vial or two on him. But I¡¯ve never heard of its effects being completely reversed.¡±


    At that moment, Sabir¡¯s memory flashed back to his first encounter with Noah Voltaire in the Limbo. He remembered the strange liquid Noah had forced him to drink when he¡¯d been half-dead from his injuries. It had saved his life, and Sabir had thought little of it beyond being grateful for surviving. But now, realizing that it was ambrosia, a drug so valuable it could buy someone¡¯s life several times over, made him uneasy.


    To use something so valuable on me, Sabir wondered about Noah¡¯s intentions. Sabir¡¯s outlook on Noah had grown even worse. To have used something so valuable in order to get what he needed made him feel sick. Was it all an investment for him, or was it all just a matter of pride in completing his mission?


    They finally reached one of the top floors and staggered into the physician¡¯s room. The scent of disinfectant hit Sabir¡¯s nose, sharp and sterile, mixed with the faint metallic tang of dried blood. The room itself was impersonal and cold, almost devoid of any personal touch. Along the walls, neatly arranged shelves held various medical supplies, vials of strange-colored liquids, neatly stacked bandages, jars of herbs and tinctures, and rows of gleaming surgical instruments that looked as though they had never seen a speck of dirt.


    They saw in the room''s corner a bed with its bedding only half done; however, the snow-white sheets were too clean to seem inviting, as if reserved for a corpse. Beside it, a wheeled metal tray held an array of surgical tools, scalpels, forceps, clamps, all polished to a shine, reflecting the cold, artificial light from the overhead lamps. A large glass cabinet stood against the far wall, filled with old, weathered tomes and bottles with labels written in a language Sabir couldn¡¯t understand. Everything about the place screamed efficiency, functionality, and order, but it lacked warmth. It was more a place for fixing broken things than healing people.


    The physician, an older man with thinning gray hair and sharp, clinical eyes, looked up from his desk as they entered. He wore a spotless white coat, and his gaze flicked over the trio with the detached scrutiny of someone used to assessing damage rather than people. His face, pale and angular, twisted into something sour as soon as he laid eyes on the group, particularly on Zabo¡¯s bleeding form.


    ¡°Master Warren,¡± the physician said, standing up from his desk, his movements precise and deliberate. He spoke stiffly with formality, though there was a deep undercurrent of respect that laced his tone. ¡°You grace me with your presence.¡± Although his voice sounded respectful, Sabir noticed his eyes never met Warren¡¯s. instead it felt like he was looking past him.


    He glanced at Sabir and Zabo, his expression turning colder. This time Sabir could feel the man¡¯s gaze. The feeling of disdain, as if he were looking at a bug, but the moment he turned back to Warren, his entire demeanor shifted, becoming deferential. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought in another... project,¡± he said, eyeing Zabo¡¯s chains and tattered clothing with distaste. His words were careful, though it was clear he was holding back harsher thoughts. He spoke as if addressing a guest of the Voltaires, but beneath the civility lay judgment.


    ¡°Yes, Doctor Vanholm,¡± Warren said smoothly, not feeling perturbed, even with Sabir stiffening. ¡°He needs treatment. Don¡¯t mind the chains. Focus on the wounds.¡±


    The physician gave a curt nod, all traces of disdain vanishing the moment Warren spoke. ¡°Of course, Master Warren. As you command.¡± He moved toward the bed with a practiced calm, his hands already reaching for the sterilized instruments on the tray beside it.


    As Vanholm approached Zabo, he hesitated for a moment, glancing at Warren with a brief look of concern. ¡°Master Warren, you¡¯ve always been... well, you rarely ever came here,¡± he said carefully, his respect for Warren clear in the cautious way he phrased his words. ¡°Are these... individuals truly people you wish to help?¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°Just treat him. No more questions.¡± Warren replied, giving a faint dismissive wave.


    The physician bowed slightly before replying. ¡°Understood,¡± he said, before turning his attention to Zabo. The doctor¡¯s entire demeanour shifting to that of a dutiful doctor, Sabir could tell that the physician didn¡¯t just serve the Voltaires, he revered them, and Warren¡¯s very name commanded his respect, even if he didn¡¯t respect him as a person.


    Frederick¡¯s fanatical grin flashed through Sabir¡¯s mind, the similarity in behaviour unsettling. He couldn¡¯t understand why people put these so-called nobles on a pedestal, as if they were divine beings. They were powerful, of course, but what had they done to be deserving of such praise and respect? They were neither Samaritans nor heroes, just regular humans, filled with their own greed and desires, no different from the people of The Limbo.


    The waving hand of the physician cut Sabir¡¯s thoughts off, motioning for him and Warren to place Zabo on the bed. They complied, carefully lowering Zabo onto the white sheets, wincing as Zabo groaned in pain.


    Vanholm carefully peeled away Zabo¡¯s shirt, revealing the bruised and battered flesh underneath; the physician didn¡¯t react, though there was a slight twinge of displeasure. ¡°The Voltaires have given me the finest of instruments, the finest medicines. Yet somehow, I end up treating the lowest of the low,¡± he muttered under his breath, too quietly for Warren to hear but loud enough for Sabir to catch the hint of contempt in his voice.


    His hands moved with careful precision, despite his grumbling, his gloved hands inspected Zabo¡¯s ribs and he calmly stitched inspected his wounds with delicate care. ¡°Master Warren,¡± the physician spoke; his eyes never leaving the wound. ¡°It seems you¡¯ve brought another stray on death¡¯s door.¡± His eyes quickly shot towards Sabir, before focusing back on Zabo.


    Sabir bristled at the comment, unsure whether to be offended or to laugh. A stray? It was clear, even the physician viewed him as subhuman: he wasn¡¯t one of them, just another wild dog off the streets. Sabir glanced at Warren, whose face remained impassive, offering no defense or apology.


    There was nothing left to do for them, but watch nervously, waiting for the diagnosis. After a long silence, the physician sighed. ¡°It seems it¡¯s not as bad as I had first thought. Some major burns, but he¡¯ll live. Master Vincent and Noah could testify to that, the way they used to fight. His ribs are also cracked, but they¡¯ll heal with time. Some bandaging, and he¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Warren stepped forward. ¡°Will he be physically fit in a week?¡±


    The physician frowned, raising an eyebrow. ¡°In a week? That¡¯s not wise, Master Warren. If he moves too much, his wounds will reopen.¡±


    Warren cursed under his breath. ¡°Elektra isn¡¯t gonna be happy.¡±


    Ignoring Warren¡¯s muttering, the physician began cleaning Zabo¡¯s wounds. Zabo¡¯s body twitched with every touch, and soon he was screaming as the physician started sewing him up.


    ¡°Stop your ruckus, boy,¡± the physician scolded, his voice harsh and annoyed. ¡°Or I¡¯ll sew your mouth shut next.¡±


    As he worked, the physician finally noted the chains trailing from Zabo¡¯s wrists. His eyes narrowed, and he tugged at one link, clearly irritated. ¡°These chains are in the way. What kind of fool drags himself up here with this mess attached to him?¡±


    Warren shrugged, glancing at Sabir. ¡°Not much we can do about it.¡±


    Once the physician finished stitching and bandaging Zabo¡¯s wounds, he stood back and crossed his arms. ¡°He can stay here to rest, or you can take him elsewhere, though I¡¯d recommend tossing him on the street where he belongs. Criminals like him have no business in a house like this.¡±


    Warren shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll take him with me to my room.¡±


    Sabir stepped closer to Zabo, concern etched on his face. ¡°Do you need help?¡±


    Zabo grunted, pushing himself up with a surprising burst of energy. The sudden movement made the physician panic.


    ¡°You fool!¡± the physician barked. ¡°Don¡¯t make any sudden movements! You¡¯ll tear your stitches.¡±


    Zabo ignored him, his face twisted in defiance. ¡°If an old wound reopens, it¡¯s just a reminder of your weakness,¡± he said, his voice strained but resolute. ¡°And I¡¯m not weak.¡±


    The physician rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. ¡°All hunters are the same. No sense of self-preservation.¡±


    Zabo stood, his steps slow but determined, dragging the heavy chains behind him. Warren and Sabir quickly moved to follow as Zabo began walking toward the exit.


    ¡°Wait up!¡± Warren called, exasperation in his voice. ¡°You don¡¯t even know where you¡¯re going!¡±


    Zabo didn¡¯t respond, continuing down the corridor, his chains clattering against the floor. Sabir and Warren exchanged glances, then hurried after him.


    Watching Zabo¡¯s limping form from behind, Sabir couldn¡¯t shake this uneasy feeling. Noah had Zabo put through hell, and yet here he was, refusing to acknowledge his pain, refusing to let himself appear weak. He respected Zabo¡¯s resilience, but yet he wondered if it was truly strength or just stubbornness.


    In truth, Zabo was his only staunch ally. He was in the same boat as him. Both prisoners of the Voltaire family, they¡¯d need to band together to survive. Warren had his allegiances to his family, even if they didn¡¯t value him, his last name was still Voltaire. How were he and Zabo going to escape now they were needed for a dungeon expedition, with their exact role still unclear?


    The thought made Sabir¡¯s stomach tighten. He did not know what was waiting for them in that dungeon. Elektra¡¯s plans remained mysterious, and considering Zabo¡¯s condition, he doubted their chances if they faced something too dangerous. And yet, despite everything, Sabir clenched his fists, determined to survive. No matter what.


    He glanced at Warren, who was walking in silence beside him. Warren had been quiet ever since the physician¡¯s room, a storm of thoughts likely brewing behind his calm demeanor.


    They caught up to Zabo, who had stopped at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. Warren was the first to speak.


    ¡°You really should¡¯ve let us help you,¡± Warren muttered. ¡°Elektra¡¯s gonna have our heads if you¡¯re not fit for the dungeon.¡±


    A low chuckle escaped Zabo¡¯s lips, but it carried an undertone of pain. ¡°I¡¯ve been through worse. Besides, I¡¯m not going to that damn dungeon, no I¡¯m making my escape.¡± He looked towards Sabir to his side and nodded his head. ¡°We¡¯re gonna be leaving.¡±


    Sabir bit his lip, not entirely sure how they would go about it. Whilst escaping the crazy clutches of the Voltaire¡¯s sounded great, revenge lay heavily on Sabir¡¯s mind. He glanced at Warren, whose face showed pure concern.


    But Zabo had made up his mind. And as Sabir and Warren moved to support him once again, Sabir couldn¡¯t help but think about what awaited them all in the days ahead.


    Whatever it was, it would not be easy.

 Chapter 76 - Murky Veins

    Warren sat on the edge of his bed, watching Sabir pace back and forth on his wooden floor, the occasional creak from the floorboards the only thing that broke the silence between the three young men. Warren was getting bored watching his two new friends think, it seemed between them they shared a single brain cell.


    Zabo sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, his eyes closed, but there was no deep thought in his countenance. He was struggling to think and his sleepiness wasn¡¯t helping the situation. He opened his eyes, his gaze flitting around the bedroom, looking for some sort of inspiration.


    Dark oak furniture filled the space within the small room, an elegant aesthetic fit for a noble. Zabo watched Sabir bump into a wardrobe while pacing, unable to see, because of the drawn curtains and the singular flickering candlelight by Warren¡¯s nightstand, that caused dark shadows to be painted on the walls.


    Sabir rubbed his shoulder and let out a sigh. Despite how warm and comforting Warren¡¯s bedroom was, only anxiety filled his mind. Sabir broke the silence, ¡°So... what are we going to do about Zabo?¡± he said, his voice steady, yet the tapping of his feet exposed his unease. ¡°We only have a week, right?¡±


    ¡°Whoa, I didn¡¯t know you cared about me so much, Sabir,¡± Zabo chuckled, from his place against the wall, breaking the stillness.


    ¡°Quit laughing,¡± Sabir snapped, turning on his heel to glare at Zabo. ¡°We¡¯re in the same boat. I don¡¯t want to see you die, alright?¡±


    Warren watched them bicker before he spoke up. ¡°Then can you also give up on your revenge? Killing Vincent won¡¯t change anything. You¡¯re my friend, Sabir; I don¡¯t want to see you die, either.¡± Warren shifted awkwardly on his bed, realizing how cringeworthy he sounded. He sighed before adding, ¡°Besides, he¡¯s my brother. I can¡¯t just let you kill him.¡±


    Sabir stopped pacing, the suddenness of Warren¡¯s words catching him off guard. His hands clenched into fists. ¡°You¡¯re right. As of right now, Vincent isn¡¯t who I need to kill. It¡¯s that damn old man. Frederick. He killed her, but don¡¯t think Vincent is off the hook; he had his part to play, I know it.¡±


    Warren took a sharp intake of breath. ¡°You honestly believe that? Come on, Sabir, we never got the full story. It¡¯s clear he didn¡¯t want that to happen. He¡¯s a victim in all this, just like the rest of us,¡± Warren argued, pleading for his brother¡¯s case.


    Sabir knew Warren was right. Deep down, he had always known, but his pride wouldn¡¯t let him admit it. He couldn¡¯t leave it alone, not after everything; he needed more people to blame. His sister, Cynthia, was dead. He had no one left; he just wanted more people to suffer the same fate.


    Zabo¡¯s voice cut through Sabir¡¯s thoughts. ¡°You¡¯re going to be dead before you even get revenge.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Warren asked, frowning; his gaze shifted to Zabo.


    Zabo snickered, looking from Warren to Sabir. ¡°Oh? You haven¡¯t told him yet?¡± He crossed his arms, his grin widening. ¡°Sabir over here is dying.¡±


    Warren blinked, confusion crossing his face. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°According to him, some power inside of me is killing me.¡± Sabir sighed, returning to pacing, this time a little slower.


    Warren let out a laugh, though there was an edge of unease behind it. ¡°What? You¡¯ve got some spirit inside you? You gonna turn into a nine-tailed monster or something?¡±


    Sabir couldn¡¯t help but snort, shaking his head. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m struggling to believe him myself. After all, I feel fine.¡±


    Zabo stood up, pushing himself off the wall; a small, exasperated laugh left his lips. ¡°Fine, don¡¯t believe me. Watch this.¡± Without warning, Zabo ripped the bandages off his torso, revealing his poorly healed wounds. The stitches tore, and blood dripped down his side.


    Sabir threw both his palms out in a desperate plea. ¡°What are you doing? Stop!¡± Sabir exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat. Warren shot up from his bed, alarm spreading across his face.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Zabo said through gritted teeth, his face pale from the pain.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get blood on my floor,¡± Warren said, wincing as he watched Zabo¡¯s blood trickling down slowly.


    Zabo rolled his eyes. ¡°Just watch,¡± he said, unfettered by the two men¡¯s reactions. They watched in silence as Zabo sat down, with his legs crossed in a meditative stance. His posture serene and unhurried, he closed his eyes, his breaths slowed, his lungs contracted and relaxed in a melodic rhythm, each inhale and exhale deliberate and controlled.


    Both Sabir and Warren swallowed hard, a feeling of apprehension repelling between them. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows that did very little to ease the tension. Sabir couldn¡¯t help but question what he was doing. What is he trying to do? He thought. Meditating when he had opened his wounds? How was this going to prove anything?


    Warren glanced over at Sabir; they both exchanged anxious looks amid the silence. With each passing second, Sabir could only think about how the longer this dragged on, the more likely Zabo had lied about everything. He moved around uncomfortably, his previous doubt settling into an uneasy foreboding.


    A few seconds passed before Sabir noted a delicate shift. A nearly undetectable steam rose from Zabo¡¯s skin, wafting up in wisps that caught the half-light of the small room. As the steam thickened, it clung to Zabo¡¯s muscles; they grew taut and defined, each sinew becoming more pronounced as though carved from stone. The contours of his arms and chest solidified, rippling with newfound strength.


    Yet, the most amazing transformation was the quick recovery from Zabo¡¯s injury. Before their eyes, the once nasty, bleeding gash of a rib wound appeared to be healing. The skin mended, smoothed itself together over the wound, and looked almost as if it had never been cut, barring the bruising and scars. The entire process was hypnotic. That made it hard for Sabir to peel his eyes away.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Sabir¡¯s heart raced seeing the wound magically close by itself. He thought back to the time Maize had healed him; it felt like she manipulated nature to heal him, whereas what he saw right now felt more natural. Warren mirrored Sabir¡¯s shock, his mouth wide open and eyes wide.


    ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± Warren whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in Sabir¡¯s ears.


    The air in the room thickened with the intensity released by Zabo. Candle flames flickered and spat, casting a light that caused the shadows to come alive. Zabo¡¯s skin, smooth and pristine, caught the light; he looked rejuvenated and full of life; the toll in the prison cell disappeared like it never happened. The atmosphere in the room had changed dramatically; skepticism and doubt had given way to something else¡ªsomething more akin to fear.


    The astonished faces of Sabir and Warren didn¡¯t seem to phase Zabo; he continued to meditate. His breathing remained steady as the surrounding environment pushed him further and deeper into his body. He drew more energy, allowing it to enter through his pores; like a river, he circulated it into his body, the wider ocean.


    As the river finally flowed into the ocean, leaving no energy left for Zabo to draw from, he slowly opened his eyes. The calmness in his gaze seemed to pierce through the confusion and disbelief writhing in Warren''s and Sabir¡¯s faces. ¡°There. I¡¯ve recovered some of my aura,¡± said Zabo calmly.


    Sabir and Warren had sat there for what felt like an hour, their eyes transfixed on Zabo¡¯s transformation. Zabo¡¯s voice broke the spell, and Sabir¡¯s mind raced, trying to comprehend what he saw. Before he could even question him, Zabo had vanished. Sabir barely blinked before he felt the weight of chains on his shoulders. Sabir looked over his shoulder to see Zabo''s arms wrapped around him and Warren.


    ¡°So fast,¡± muttered Sabir.


    Warren¡¯s eyes grew wide with disbelief. ¡°Shit, I thought you had super strength, not speed.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s grin returned. ¡°I¡¯m a dud, remember? What I use is a secret, a secret a noble like yourself isn¡¯t allowed to know.¡±


    Warren turned to Sabir, throwing Zabo¡¯s arm off his shoulder. ¡°He might be right, Sabir. Whatever he just used wasn¡¯t normal; it felt... different. If what he¡¯s saying is true, you might be in trouble.¡±


    Sabir couldn¡¯t believe it. Aura. Power. This was all real. And he was supposedly dying because of it. His chest felt tight, but he shook the feeling off.


    ¡°Put your vengeance aside, Sabir. You need to survive first. Wait, no¡ªwe need to survive,¡± said Zabo, his expression somber.


    Sabir remained silent. The sheer burden of all that had happened was pressing down on him, but he still had anger and frustration simmering in the back of his mind. Frederick simply could not be allowed to walk free, and he still needed to understand Vincent¡¯s involvement. But Zabo was right. If Sabir didn¡¯t live long enough to carry out his plans, there would be no point in having plans.


    As the tension settled, the three boys stayed in Warren¡¯s room for the night. It was too dangerous to go anywhere else. They bickered for a while about who would get the bed. Zabo claimed it almost immediately; Warren argued halfheartedly before giving up and tossing a pillow at him. Sabir, not in the mood for arguing, grabbed a blanket and threw himself on the floor. ¡°Shut up already,¡± he groaned. ¡°Can¡¯t you be considerate to someone who¡¯s supposedly dying?¡±


    The room finally settled into a heavy silence. Warren tossed Sabir and Zabo some old clothes to sleep in and told them they needed to take a shower the next day. With that said, everyone drifted off, the exhaustion of the day catching up with them.


    Just as Sabir was relaxing, Zabo¡¯s voice cut through the silence. ¡°Hey, you guys awake?¡±


    ¡°I would be if I were in my bed. What is it?¡± Warren grumbled, adjusting his blanket so it could fit his tall frame.


    ¡°I think this is the closest I¡¯ve ever had to friends,¡± Zabo said softly.


    Warren snorted, rolling over. ¡°Who said I was friends with you? Go to sleep man; you¡¯re in your feels.¡±


    As the room grew quiet again, Sabir¡¯s mind wandered. He thought of Sam, Max, and his niece. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder if they were safe. He wished he could be there with them.


    Then, with no sign, an intense, stabbing pain pierced Sabir¡¯s chest, as if someone had skewered his heart from within. He sucked in air; his breathing became shallow as the intensity of it squeezed against his lungs like a noose. His heartbeat became a locomotive, heading straight through his body, growing louder with each second. It hammered against his ribcage as though it wanted to tear its way out. Pain usually felt like a whisper, a tide that slowly waned, but this¡ªthis felt like a raging inferno.


    Sabir held his chest with shaking hands, trying without success to keep the pain at bay. Every breath felt shallow and hard, an attempt to pull air into lungs that seemed on fire. He was in agony¡ªnot just pain, something that felt like molten metal coursing through his veins, searing every nerve as it spread. The sensation crawled under his skin, a sickening heat that twisted inside him, suffocating him.


    A wave of dizziness washed over him, and his eyesight turned murky. The room seemed to tilt and spinning, but he knew it was him who was off balance. Sabir fought to pull himself up from the makeshift bed and stumbled toward the door. His legs felt like lead, and a part of his mind screamed that he needed to go somewhere¡ªanywhere¡ªaway from the muscles in his body that felt like they were being shredded. He hung onto the door frame and peered through the opening, down the hall, greeted with nothing but darkness.


    His world became a distorted blur of shadows. The walls seemed to close in; the surfaces twisted grotesquely ghoulish figures that bore whips slicing at him. His mind struggled to make sense of his surroundings; he knew he was seeing things, but he couldn¡¯t seem to gain control. His breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, each inhale like trying to drag air through burning embers.


    With shaking hands, Sabir lifted his shirt, and what he saw froze the very blood in his veins. A network of thick black veins marred his skin. They pulsated angrily beneath the surface and twitched and bulged with a vigor that was almost animated, like there were beats running rampant from within. His veins spread rapidly from his chest, shooting out in all directions, forming the pattern of a web, staining his pale skin with their venomous hue.


    They throbbed in time with his heartbeat, swollen, pushing up against his skin as if they might burst open at any moment. The pressure beneath them was unbearable¡ªa sensation of something festering and growing, pressing outward as if trying to escape his body.


    Sabir gagged, bile rising in his throat. It was as if his chest were rotting from the inside out. Sleek, unmarred skin earlier turned black as it decaying before his eyes, the veins beneath spread outward, like the roots of a parasitic infection. He tried to scream, but no sound came through. His throat constricted, shutting off the windpipe before his voice as his hands clasped his chest, fingers digging into his skin to stop whatever was happening to him.


    A dark, monstrous thing awakened inside him, eating him alive from the inside out, devouring his organs and life force. Every pulsation drove a new, searing wave of heat through his chest that set ablaze every inch of his body.


    His legs buckled, and Sabir went down to his knees in the hall, gasping for breath. His vision dimmed, spots dancing before his eyes as the pain went on, climbing higher and higher. He grasped the floor, his fingers scraping the wood as his chest heaved; the black veins spread farther, growing by another inch. He knew he couldn¡¯t take this much longer; it felt as if his body were going to break, as if he were burning from the inside out with no way to put out the fire.


    He was dying. There was no doubt now. Something inside him was tearing him apart piece by piece, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

 Chapter 77 - Expedition Day

    Hot water hit Sabir¡¯s body; it did very little to ease the pain radiating from his chest. He used his fingers to pull his long hair back, which had grown long enough to reach the tip of his nose. The overwhelming pain from that night had quelled only slightly; he had fallen asleep for a few hours before being woken by Warren and forced into the shower.


    The water here was clean, smooth with no lingering smell; the water in The Commons paled in comparison. Yet Sabir knew this comfort to be temporary; once he left this room, he had to prepare for war.


    He banged his fist against his chest, trying to erase the pain that kept flowing within him with more pain. Yet he couldn¡¯t feel his hand on his chest; the bulging veins numbed all sense of touch in that area. Come on, Sabir, fight it. He closed his eyes, trying to rally himself.


    Turning the tap off, he dried himself with the towel Warren left behind, along with a new pile of clothes for him to wear. Sabir examined the clothing; it seemed to be from Warren¡¯s own wardrobe, something that didn¡¯t fit him. A plain white shirt with a black jacket, along with some pants.


    The sound of shouting penetrated through the bathroom door as he put his arms through the shirt. Elektra was here. ¡°Shit, why is she here now?¡± Sabir cursed. Quickly, he got dressed and went to see what all the shouting was about.


    An army of maids swarmed the room, each levitating an iron ball, their eyes glowing with concentration, their telekinesis impressive. The clanging of chains drew Sabir¡¯s attention to Elektra, who placed Zabo back in cuffs. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about using your powers; one move and I¡¯ll fry your brain.¡±


    ¡°Let go of me,¡± said Zabo, trying to pull away from Elektra, despite her threats.


    ¡°You know he can barely move with those lumps of iron tied to him,¡± Warren protested, his voice even but tense. ¡°We¡¯re not helping him if we keep him locked up like this.¡±


    Warren knew that with those weights, Zabo could never escape. Any attempt would be futile. He had to give him a chance. After all, allowing Zabo to escape with Sabir in tow would mean Sabir would survive. He couldn¡¯t allow his only friend to die.


    ¡°Barely move? You¡¯re forgetting who we¡¯re dealing with, Warren. This one didn¡¯t just try to escape once; no, he tried to escape even now, when we needed him.¡± She pointed at Zabo accusatively. ¡°I¡¯m not taking any chances; him barely moving is a blessing for us.¡±


    He tried to escape again. Without me? Sabir didn¡¯t know what had happened, but clearly Zabo made a break for it, and Elektra intercepted him. Sabir didn¡¯t understand why he¡¯d try to escape without a plan when they decided they¡¯d work together.


    ¡°Ah, if it isn¡¯t Sabir, enjoying the water, I suppose. Well, I hope you made the most of it. Your friend here had landed you back in the cell. Oh, and we¡¯re going to keep some guards to watch over you, too. Can¡¯t let you ever think of escaping again.¡±


    And just like that, guards escorted them back to the cell they thought they had escaped.


    ***


    ¡°Why the hell did you try to escape!?¡± Sabir screamed, ignoring the pain he felt in his chest.


    Zabo was now tied back to the ground, all the iron balls attached once again. ¡°Listen, I wasn¡¯t trying to escape; I was scouting looking for ways to escape,¡± he whispered so the guards outside couldn¡¯t hear them.


    ¡°So now what wise guy, Mr. Aura?¡± said Sabir, rolling his eyes.


    ¡°I fucked up.¡± Zabo muttered. ¡°I¡¯m not getting anywhere now with these damn things attached to me. I¡¯m sorry, Sabir.¡±


    Frustration clawed at Sabir; how did they get hit with a setback like this? It was almost unconceivable, and all of it was unavoidable. No. Elektra knew this would happen. She wanted this to happen. She wanted us to think we could escape so then she could put us back in here. Destroying all our hope. The escape was all pretense. Sabir clenched his fist before he punched the wall.


    ¡°Aye, keep it down.¡± A guard shouted.


    Sabir glanced at Zabo, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Both of them were trapped¡ªphysically and mentally. He hated the feeling of helplessness, but what could they do? His own body was betraying him. The black veins that had started at his chest were now creeping toward his neck and stomach; the dark web-like lines pulsed beneath his skin. He buttoned the collar of his shirt to hide the veins.


    He needed to hide it; if he were to show weakness now, Zabo would only come to worry. They needed to remain calm, but it would come at the cost of Sabir¡¯s life. The pain was unbearable; it constantly throbbed, like a worm; it crawled through his body, through his veins, threatening to tear through and escape.


    While Sabir stifled his screams and groans, Zabo lost hope. The defiance that had once burned in his eyes was slowly fading, replaced by a dull resignation. He knew it wasn¡¯t over; they had a setback because of his stupidity, but there was still a chance. The day of the expedition. That was their chance. When everyone was distracted, they¡¯d make a bolt for it.


    Sabir noticed Zabo close his eyes to meditate, just like last time, the same slow, deliberate breathing he¡¯d used before to heal himself. Maybe Zabo was building up strength, or maybe it was just a way to pass the time. Sabir wasn¡¯t sure, but the sight of it gave him some strange comfort.


    The days slowly rolled by; Warren only came to visit once; he had to prepare for the expedition, leaving them alone. Sabir noticed his fear; the truth was Warren had the most power to help them, but his fear of his family prevented him from pulling through. Sabir didn¡¯t blame him; no, he even respected him for trying. They were small ants among titans. In The Limbo, it was every man for themselves; to even feel the support of a friend for him was enough.


    ¡°Even with my aura,¡± Zabo said one night, breaking the silence that had settled between them. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to run away with these weights attached to me. They¡¯re too heavy; I¡¯d never make it far.¡±


    Sabir nodded, leaning back against the cold stone wall of their cell. ¡°I know. But we might have a chance. Elektra said they plan on using us; they have to take those chains off if that¡¯s the case.¡±


    Zabo sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his head against the wall. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re going to be used, whatever they have planned for us.¡± The prospect didn¡¯t sit well with either of them; both of their hatred for nobles only grew with each passing day.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Frederick came by regularly to check on them, though Sabir had wished he¡¯d do more than just look. There were moments when Sabir secretly hoped the old butler would put him out of his misery. The pain was becoming unbearable, and he wasn¡¯t sure how much longer he could take it. But all Frederick did was stare at them like they were animals in a zoo, then simply walked away, grumbling to himself.


    The only silver lining in this nightmare was the food. They were being fed well, better than Sabir had ever eaten in The Limbo. The meals were better than what Warren would give him, which was essentially his lunch half eaten; they were given dishes filled with rich meats and fresh vegetables, nothing like the scraps he was used to. Zabo had a theory about it.


    ¡°They¡¯re keeping us healthy for a reason,¡± Zabo had said one evening, poking at his meal. ¡°They need us for something. I reckon they''re gonna use us as monster bait or something.¡±


    Sabir didn¡¯t doubt it. The day of the dungeon expedition was fast approaching, and the Voltaires had made it clear that they were coming along, whether they liked it or not.


    The morning of the expedition arrived sooner than expected. Sabir had spent most of the night in restless pain, the black veins now inching dangerously close to his throat. He kept his shirt pulled tight, doing his best to conceal the grotesque marks. If someone like Elektra noticed, they¡¯d probably kill him; the reason was obvious. Faulty goods.


    Elektra and Warren appeared at their cell, the sound of the heavy iron door creaking open, jolting Sabir out of his uneasy sleep. Warren stepped forward first, his face set in its usual hardened expression, but there was a flicker of sympathy behind his dark, tired eyes. His hair had grown out since Sabir had first met him, now tied loosely in a bun at the back of his head, with a few strands still hanging down in front, framing his face. The long hair gave him a more rugged appearance. He wore a simple white t-shirt beneath a black trench coat that billowed slightly as he walked, and on the chest of his shirt was the Voltaire symbol¡ªa bird with its wings spread wide, flanked by two jagged lightning bolts.


    ¡°Get up,¡± Elektra commanded, stomping on the ground to wake up Zabo, who was still snoring loudly. There was no warmth in her tone, only cold authority. She strode into the cell with purpose, her cyan hair cropped short, falling just above her ears. She wore a sleek, fitted grey crop top revealing her toned midriff, camo khaki pants tucked into black combat boots that clacked against the cellar floor with every step. Like Warren, her shirt bore the Voltaire family¡¯s emblem, the bird and lightning bolts shimmering faintly in the dim light.


    ¡°It¡¯s time,¡± said Elektra, smiling, her eyes locked onto Sabir¡¯s. There was no room for negotiation in her gaze. They were going to be dragged into this expedition. Her gaze seemed to dare him to try something¡ªto even attempt to escape.


    Sabir stumbled to his feet, his legs flaring with pins and needles. Zabo lagged behind, grunting as he tried to stand, the weight of the iron balls dragging him down. ¡°I¡¯m struggling to move,¡± Zabo muttered. ¡°Can you take these damn balls off me?¡±


    Elektra laughed, shaking her head. ¡°You really think I¡¯m that stupid? You¡¯ve got twenty fully fledged hunters outside waiting. Go ahead, try to escape. I¡¯d love to see you die. Warren, remove the chains.¡±


    Zabo and Sabir shot each other looks. We¡¯re fucked, they thought in unison; if they even made it out of the estate, there would be several hunters waiting for them. They had lost all hope. They were at Elektra¡¯s mercy.


    Warren moved toward Zabo¡¯s chains, his expression serious. ¡°On second thought,¡± Zabo said quickly, taking a breath to control his anger, ¡°I think I¡¯ll keep the chains. I¡¯ve grown attached to them. Just get rid of the damn balls.¡±


    With a sigh, Warren crouched down, removing the iron balls from Zabo¡¯s chains. He leaned in, whispering in Zabo¡¯s ear. ¡°She¡¯s right. You try anything now, and you¡¯re dead. Don¡¯t be stupid. Play along. Wait. We¡¯ll get you out of here, eventually; but one wrong move. You get yourself and Sabir killed.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s expression darkened; with the weight lifted, he got up. He stretched each arm; the chains rustling with each movement.


    With everything set, Elektra led the way; she motioned for Warren to stay close to the two of them. Warren stood behind the pair, leading them out of the cell. He leaned in between them and spoke in a hushed tone, low enough for his sister not to hear. ¡°You¡¯re going to be our porters for this expedition. I just found out. They didn¡¯t have anyone else to hire.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± Zabo cursed. Being a porter was dangerous; they were dispensable only to be used to carry the team¡¯s belongings; they could be left for dead at a moment¡¯s notice. It¡¯s fine; I can protect myself. But the issue is him. Zabo peered at Sabir; he was clenching his jaw tight and his eyes were dark from lack of sleep. ¡°You alright,¡± asked Zabo.


    ¡°You two shut up and keep walking,¡± Elektra¡¯s voice cut off their whispers. Warren, in response, pushed the new pair of porters forward.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Sabir grunted.


    Zabo looked at Warren, and they both exchanged worried looks. With Elektra having eyes behind her back, they stepped outside, saying nothing else. The cool breeze hit Sabir¡¯s face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he breathed in the fresh morning air. It was strange, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin after so long being locked a dark cell. Zabo walked beside him, silent but taking in the same relief.


    The fresh air was a brief reprieve, but as Sabir and Zabo stepped further into the open, the sight that greeted them brought an additional weight to their hearts. Beyond the estate walls, a large group of people had gathered. People wearing different styles of attire, some armored in heavy steel, others cloaked in dark leather, but all of them looked stiff and emotionless. The vibe they gave off was like when Sabir had first met Cassius. The gleam of weapons strapped to their backs, from swords to rifles, made him squint. Elektra was right. These hunters were prepared for a war.


    They would kill without hesitation.


    Four huge armored vehicles were parked in front of the groups. They were each low to the ground yet robust, resembling beasts with heavy black tires and steel-plated bodies that looked ready to endure anything. The crowd moved around them, inspecting their equipment, whispering to one another, and getting ready for the upcoming expedition.


    Warren and Elektra led Sabir and Zabo toward the group, and Sabir couldn¡¯t shake the rising dread in his stomach. The black veins on his body pulsed with every step, the pain slowly becoming unbearable, but he kept his expression neutral. Zabo was right beside him, quiet, his eyes flicking warily over the scene.


    Suddenly, something changed. Sabir sensed it before he saw it¡ªa surge of wind so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. He heard a sound; it sounded oddly familiar, like giant wings flapping through air. Whatever it was, it was huge, and it was coming closer, breaking through the air with an intensity that froze him in place.


    Out of nowhere, something from above gripped him¡ªsharp and powerful¡ªit lifted him off the ground with such speed and force that everything beneath him, not just the ground, but also the trees, the buildings, and the sky, blurred together. He opened his mouth to scream, but the wind blasted the sound away. Despite it all, he was being lifted higher and higher into the air, with everything down below becoming smaller and smaller.


    Sabir could discern only the outlines of what had captured him. It was massive, sleek, and dark, with thick feathers and a body that comprised pure muscle. As its powerful claws dug into his sides, its long, serpentine neck stretched down toward him, its fierce and predatory eyes glaring back at him. Just when he thought they couldn¡¯t possibly get any higher, it propelled them higher into the air.


    It looked like something from an ancient legend, a hybrid of eagle and lion, but far more terrifying. The beast let out a deafening screech, and Sabir¡¯s heart raced in panic as he realized how high they were climbing.


    It was taking him directly up into the clouds; the wind screaming in his ears. The beast¡¯s grip was as tight as it could get, and death felt certain. Sabir¡¯s vision blurred again, and the pain in his body merged with the terror of the moment. He was being pulled upward, and everything was slipping away.


    Fear surged through him, an icy wave that clawed at his chest even harder than the creature¡¯s talons. As the wind tore at his face, all Sabir could think was that this was it¡ªhis last moments. The pain, the black veins, the hopelessness of escape¡ªall of it collapsed under the crushing reality of the sky, pulling him into its void.


    And then, there was nothing but the sky above and the chaos below, as the ground disappeared beneath him¡­

 Chapter 78 - Griffin

    Sabir¡¯s voice tore through the air. He tried to scream, but the creature¡¯s enormous teeth clamped down on his collar, lifting him high into the sky. He felt as though the fabric of his jacket would tear from the speed they were flying. His arms flailed helplessly. If he even freed himself, he¡¯d be buying a one-way ticket to becoming a puddle of blood.


    A gust of wind slapped against his face, forcing his eyes shut, but when he blinked them open, he glimpsed the beast in his periphery. He had seen that creature before. He knew who it belonged to as well. Maize Gaian, among the nobles he met, she was probably the nicest, minus the fact she enjoys watching him almost die.


    The memory of that day hit him like a cold slap. He had ridden on that bird after Elektra attacked him and Cassius. Maize offered him a ride, and he had no choice but to take it. A monster that the Gaians tamed, it was one of many, part of the nobilities¡¯ proud collection of creatures. Riding on the beast had been one of Sabir¡¯s most terrifying experiences. He begged for Maize to drop him off at The Commons. He feared his life was on the line if they flew any further.


    Gritting his teeth, he realized this was Maize¡¯s doing. She probably thought this was all a game. With the black veins on his chest spreading like ink under his skin, Sabir didn¡¯t have the strength to struggle. His body refused to respond. Every breath sent waves of pain through his chest. His will to fight back crumbled.


    Sabir gave up. His vision tunneled, and the wind embraced him. He accepted the darkness, only acutely aware of the scream that faded from his throat.


    Suddenly, a sharp whistle broke through the blanket of wind. A single, shrill sound that pierced through the high clouds. The monster snapped its neck; the sound bringing its attention. Without warning, it plunged downward, pulling Sabir with it. His stomach lurched as the ground surged closer, the wind now a roar in his ears. The descent was so fast, Sabir hanged on for dear life. They plummeted to the ground; the landing creating a small crater. The griffin cushioned the momentum by skidding along the dirt with a spray of debris before coming to a halt.


    The griffin spat Sabir out, dropping him onto the cold, hard ground like a discarded toy. It jutted out its beak as if it did nothing wrong.


    Sabir grasped for air. His vision shook from the intense speed. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder that steadied him. Zabo crouched beside him, his face full of worry. On his other side, Warren bent down, watching over him, his lips tense, as his eyes darted to someone else.


    ¡°You alright?¡± asked Zabo.


    Sabir couldn¡¯t answer, still gagging for air. As his mind reeled from the near death experience, he tried to follow Warren¡¯s gaze. To his horror, Maize Gaian waltzed towards them, her expression unreadable as she marched straight toward the lion eagle hybrid.


    ¡°What were you thinking, Violet?¡± she hissed at the beast, wagging a finger like she was scolding a pet dog. ¡°I told you not to fly so high. That was reckless!¡±


    Warren snapped upwards, heading straight towards her with his fists clenched. ¡°Reckless? That thing nearly killed him! You call that reckless?¡± His voice was low, but laced with anger. ¡°You could¡¯ve gotten him killed!¡±


    Maize turned her attention away from her pet towards Warren. She looked at him from top to bottom, a smile playing on her lips. Her gaze then flicked to Sabir, still on the ground. Her eyes narrowed as she approached Sabir and Zabo.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just walk away from me, damn it,¡± Warren called out, an edge of frustration in his tone.


    Sabir tensed up under her stare, the memory of her making him fight those Vinefiends played in his mind.


    ¡°Sabir Quinn. Long time, no see,¡± said Maize, her voice dripping with false sweetness. ¡°I hope you haven¡¯t forgotten about me. Sorry about Violet. She was just excited to see you.¡± She hung her head low, apologetic over her pets behaviour.


    Whipping her brown hair away from her face, Maize leaned close to his ear. He could smell the sweet scent of flowers wafting off her. ¡°What happened to you?¡± Her tone was low, filled with concern.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± stammered Sabir.


    ¡°You¡¯re dying,¡± she whispered.


    Sabir shook, taken aback by Maize¡¯s perception. Can she fix what¡¯s wrong with me? She had healed him once before. Why can¡¯t she now?


    Shock jolted through Sabir. He stepped away from Zabo, standing as straight as he could. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He couldn¡¯t show weakness here, not to a noble. He needed to show he wasn¡¯t some charity case. It was a matter of pride for him.


    ¡°Of course you are,¡± she murmured, her smile never fading.


    Two men from the group of hunters disrupted their moment. Wearing light brown fur coats with dark blue details, both of them stood tall. The first one to approach her was a man with icy blonde hair; smirking, he walked towards Maize with a grin."I must say, I¡¯m impressed, Gaian. A griffin, under your control? I wouldn¡¯t expect any less from your family¡ªafter all, you are a bunch of hippies." His haughty voice brought the attention of the entire hunters present.


    The man next to him, short and squat with an oddly frog-like appearance, let out a strange, wheezing laugh that drew everyone¡¯s attention. Zabo muttered under his breath, ¡°Weirdo.¡±


    Maize puffed out her chest. The vines and flowers that decorated her hair seemed to grow bigger. ¡°My family may be ¡®hippies,¡¯ but we¡¯re not as dedicated to murder as yours, Rudiger Boreas.¡±


    Rudiger chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°Come now, we¡¯re all nobles here, aren¡¯t we? Let¡¯s not spread disharmony. We¡¯re here for a common goal, after all.¡± His gaze shifted to Elektra. ¡°Your older brother, Elektra, was a mentor of mine. I¡¯ll look after you, of course.¡± He gestured to his frog-like companion. ¡°And my friend here, Saliba, was a friend of Vincent.¡±


    Saliba grinned, his bulbous eyes fixated on Elektra in a way that made everyone uncomfortable. ¡°Oh yes, I took excellent care of Vincent. We had a lot of¡­ fun.¡± His lips curled into a grotesque smile as he licked them.


    Elektra grimaced, trying to maintain her composure; she clenched her jaw. ¡°This is a joint operation, we¨C¡± she began, but Maize interrupted her.


    ¡°We value your experience,¡± Maize said smoothly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be of great help.¡±


    Elektra shot her a glare, her irritation clear. Maize matched her gaze as if telling her to watch what she says.


    ¡°Very well then,¡± Rudiger said, shaking Maize¡¯s hand, then Elektra¡¯s, and finally Warren¡¯s. ¡°Bastard, huh?¡± he sneered at Warren. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll take care of you.¡±


    Warren¡¯s hand remained tense as he reluctantly shook Rudiger¡¯s, his expression unreadable.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Rudiger¡¯s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Zabo and Sabir. ¡°Porters, are you?¡± He smiled at them, yet his voice dripped with disdain, that made both of them shudder. ¡°Skinny, frail¡ªperfect. Though I must admit, we could¡¯ve used more. Resources are thin, I suppose.¡±


    He snapped his fingers, calling out to the other hunters. The murmurings went deathy silent, all of them afraid to offend a noble. ¡°The porters will carry my luggage, as well as Lady Voltaire¡¯s and Lady Gaian¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Any objections?¡±


    A deafening silence followed upon the question. Was anyone stupid enough to defy a noble?


    With that settled, the pecking order had been established. The nobles were on top, followed by the rest of the hunters and then finally there was Sabir and Zabo left to be their dogs. Rudiger then snapped his fingers in their faces, ¡°Well, come on then. Get over here.¡±


    Zabo looked across at Sabir, shrugging, they both reluctantly stepped forwards. Rudiger thrust a great, heavy pack into Sabir¡¯s arms, nearly sending him tumbling backward. ¡°Mind you, don¡¯t drop it,¡± Rudiger added with a snarl. ¡°There¡¯s more where that came from.¡±


    Before Sabir had time to settle under the weight, Elektra walked up, her face a mask of irritation. ¡°Here, take mine as well.¡± She slung her luggage¡ªanother impossibly heavy load¡ªat Sabir without so much as looking his way, the bags thudding into his chest.


    ¡°Try not to slow us down,¡± she grumbled under her breath, already walking off as if the matter had taken up far too much of her time.


    Sabir winced, his arms buckling under the weight of both sets of baggage, but kept his features neutral, refusing to show signs of weakness.


    Watching the scene unfold, Maize Gaian approached them next. Her frown deepened when she saw Sabir under the heavy load. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sabir,¡± she said, her words laced with a curl of genuine regret. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s just a little heavy for me to manage¡­ I wouldn¡¯t ask, but¡­¡±


    For a moment, she hesitated, then gave him her pack, lighter than the others but still adding to the burden. He met her eyes, noticing the apology in her gaze, but he said nothing, simply nodding in response. His shoulders already ached under the weight of it all.


    Zabo, shouldering his own equally heavy weight with a grimace, shot a look at Sabir. ¡°This had better be worth it,¡± he muttered, his voice so low only Sabir could hear.


    Sabir ground his teeth, changing the way he held the packs. ¡°We don¡¯t have much of a choice,¡± he whispered, glancing at Rudiger and Elektra. They entered one of the military vehicles. ¡°We just keep moving and we¡¯ll find a chance.¡±


    Zabo, rolling his eyes, muttered to Sabir, ¡°I hate nobles, and these damn chains are so uncomfortable.¡±


    Sabir smirked. ¡°What an astute observation. Those chains could¡¯ve come off, but you said no. Why?¡±


    Zabo¡¯s eyes sparkled with mischief. ¡°You will see.¡±


    Before Sabir could ask what he meant, someone pushed them towards one of the large vehicles. With a shove, they were crammed into the back, along with heaps of luggage. Warren slipped in next to them, earning an annoyed glare from Zabo.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Zabo grumbled.


    Warren sighed. ¡°No one else wanted me in their car.¡±


    Zabo smirked. ¡°Guess we¡¯re your only choice, then?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Warren shot back. ¡°Sabir was my first choice. You¡¯re the one I don¡¯t want to be caught dead next to.¡±


    The two slid immediately into their usual banter, Zabo sighing with his eyes rolling, Warren leaning forward as if to press his point home. Sabir was hardly listening, though; his mind was somewhere else. The aching in his chest was getting gradually worse; every breath was becoming an effort to take. The black veins crawling across his skin crept up from under his shirt as if settling.


    Zabo, feeling the silence from Sabir, finally nudged him with his elbow. ¡°Look at what you¡¯ve done Sabir, you got him thinking you can do and say anything,¡± he muttered. ¡°You¡¯re so lucky these hunters are around. Let me remind you, they call you ¡®weakling¡¯ Warren.¡±


    Before Warren could shoot back, a shadow fell across the vehicle. Sabir blinked and cast his gaze upward; the aching in his chest was momentarily forgotten as the sound of flapping, mammoth wings captured his attention. Above them, some fifteen feet in the air, Maize Gaian rode majestically on the back of the big griffin, its talons glinting in the sun.


    Zabo bent forward, and his irritation over Warren gave way to wonder for a moment. ¡°Would you look at that?¡± he breathed, his gaze fixed on Maize as she flew the griffin through the air with apparent ease.


    ¡°She¡¯s showing off,¡± Warren commented, but his eyes were filled with approval.


    ¡°Think she¡¯ll let me ride it?¡± Zabo asked, half- serious, half-joking.


    ¡°You wish,¡± Warren said, drily.


    The griffin beat its wings in powerful sweeps of air, blowing gusts about the vehicle as Maize looped overhead of them, poised and confident in her figure. Sabir looked at her for a moment, a minor diversion from the burning in his chest. But when the griffin flew a little higher, he was drawn back into the tightness in his lungs; the veins throbbing on his skin with each beat of his heart.


    Zabo, visibly shaken by Warren¡¯s comment earlier, turned back to their banter and shoved him lightly. ¡°You think you¡¯re hot stuff just because you¡¯re a noble, huh?¡±


    Warren pushed him back, though the cramped space barely allowed for movement. The two men were practically pressed up against each other, their shoulders knocking awkwardly as they struggled to assert dominance in the backseat. ¡°Shove off, gopher,¡± Warren sneered. ¡°I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±


    ¡°Gopher?¡± Zabo scoffed, his lips curling into a grin. ¡°Come on, electrocute me! Oh, wait¡ªyou can¡¯t.¡±


    Warren¡¯s glare intensified, but Sabir, caught between them and burdened by both their luggage and the worsening pain, felt every jostle like a hammer to his chest. He clenched his fists, trying to keep the pain from showing on his face, his breaths shallow and shaky. The effort to keep his focus was growing harder with each passing second.


    Warren, stilling glaring at Zabo, finally recognized that Sabir was not getting involved in the scuffle; unusually quiet from him. He frowned and elbowed Sabir in the ribs. ¡°What¡¯s the matter with you?¡±


    ¡°¡ªboth of you shut up for a second,¡± Sabir interrupted, his voice strained. He sighed deeply, knowing he couldn¡¯t hide it much longer. ¡°You might as well see.¡±


    Sabir grimaced as he lifted his shirt to show the instrument of his eventual death, revealing the web of black veins snaking across his torso. The sickly black lines pulsated beneath his skin.


    Zabo winced. ¡°That¡¯s disgusting. Put your shirt down. I¡¯m about to throw up.¡±


    Warren¡¯s expression became stern. ¡°You¡¯re dying.¡±


    Sabir pulled his shirt down and nodded. ¡°It seems like it. Even Maize noticed something.¡±


    Zabo¡¯s breath came out heavy, his bravado slipping as he looked at Sabir, the struggle writhe in his face. ¡°That wasn¡¯t what I was expecting,¡± he muttered, his eyes transfixed on the slightest bit of a black vein that crawled up Sabir¡¯s neck. ¡°I was thinking you were gonna explode or something. Dying like that¡­ sounds way worse.¡±


    Warren¡¯s eyes remained fixed on Sabir, his expression solemn. ¡°What can we do to pull him out of this?¡± Warren questioned, his voice carrying the thrust of urgency that sliced through the thick atmosphere. ¡°Just look at him¡ªhe¡¯s running out of time.¡±


    Before anyone could respond, a loud bang erupted from the front of the car, as if someone had just smashed their hand against the dashboard. ¡°Can you all be quiet back there?¡± came a voice from the driver¡¯s seat, unmistakably irritated.


    Zabo shot a glare at the source of the voice and then lowered his voice, speaking quieter now. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t know how to save him,¡± he said, sounding more serious than before. ¡°Or even what could save him. Hell, I don¡¯t even know why he¡¯s like this.¡±


    Warren glanced between Zabo and Sabir, frustration building in his voice. ¡°There has to be something. This can¡¯t be it for him.¡±


    Before anyone could reply, Sabir felt his chest constricting, but this time it wasn¡¯t just from the pain. There was something else¡ªsomething out there. His heart beat like a drum, and his instincts were yelling at him.


    ¡°Jump!¡± Sabir shouted, his voice cracking with urgency. ¡°Get out of the car, now!¡±


    He stared into the wasteland beyond, searching for whatever he was sensing. Warren and Zabo turned to him, then behind them where Sabir was looking. ¡°What? What are you looking for?¡± Warren asked, but Sabir wasn¡¯t listening. His eyes were wide, focused on something unseen beyond the car.


    An odd humming resonated around them, with each second it only grew louder. The floor of the car vibrated subtly at first, but intensified quickly. Sabir¡¯s instincts flared even brighter, a gut feeling that something terrible was closing in.


    Zabo¡¯s brow furrowed as he glanced around, confusion turning to dread as the vibrations intensified. Then he felt it too¡ªsomething massive, something dangerous. His breath caught. ¡°Something¡¯s coming,¡± Zabo whispered, his voice tight with fear. ¡°And it¡¯s big.¡±

 Chapter 79 - Stranded

    The cramped vehicle interior felt thick with tension as Rudiger sat in the middle, his bulky frame wedged between Maize and Elektra. Rudiger looked unbothered by the proximity of the two women, lounging back as if he had all the space in the world. Elektra, however, was doing everything in her power to stay as far away from him as possible. Her jaw clenched tightly as she stared out the window.


    Her eyes would often get drawn to the hunter driving the vehicle, fully cloaked with a hood on. He seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn¡¯t quite place why.


    On the other side of Rudiger, Maize leaned in toward Elektra, speaking freely as though no one else was there. Her voice was casual, but the pointedness of her words was clear. ¡°So, Elektra,¡± she began, flicking a stray strand of her silver hair back. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were going to bring Sabir along as a porter.¡±


    Elektra stiffened slightly but said nothing. Her eyes flicked from the driver back to the window.


    Maize continued, undeterred. ¡°You¡¯re endangering his life, you know. You should care about him more. He¡¯s not some disposable tool.¡± She spoke with an admonishing tone, although she maintained an eerie smile.


    Before Elektra could respond, Rudiger butted in with a snort. ¡°Why do you care about a porter?¡± His face scrunched up in disgust. The thought of Maize, of all people, worrying about a commoner seemed laughable to him.


    Maize¡¯s gaze shifted from Rudiger back to Elektra, her expression unwavering. ¡°Because he¡¯s our friend, right?¡± she asked, her tone taking on a more serious edge.


    Elektra¡¯s heart skipped a beat. She could feel the weight of Maize¡¯s stare, the unspoken question hanging in the air. Elektra didn¡¯t respond, not immediately, at least. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with something, anything, to deflect. If Maize found out how she actually treated Sabir, things could turn ugly fast.


    From the backseat, Saliba craned his neck to get closer, his presence a looming shadow that made Elektra¡¯s skin crawl. His greasy hair and slick grin only intensified her discomfort. ¡°How are you friends with a porter, anyway?¡± he asked, inching closer to Elektra with a smirk that made her stomach turn. ¡°I mean, the guy looks half dead.¡±


    Elektra shot a glance back at him, swallowing her disgust as she forced a smile. ¡°Well,¡± she started, thinking on her feet. ¡°He¡¯s... he¡¯s our charity case.¡± She said the words slowly, feeling the pressure of Maize¡¯s gaze. ¡°Yes, we¡¯re, uh, running a program to help people from The Limbo enter Havana and receive employment.¡± She fumbled slightly, but forced the lie out convincingly enough. ¡°It¡¯s... a project to improve lives, you know?¡±


    Rudiger let out a scoff, turning his head toward her. ¡°The Limbo?¡± he echoed, his brows knitting together. ¡°I don¡¯t actually know what that is.¡±


    Maize turned toward Rudiger, eyes narrowing slightly as she explained. ¡°The Limbo is what those people outside the walls call their home. They live in camps just outside The Threshold¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Rudiger sneered, his lips curling. ¡°Those peasants.¡± He paused for a moment, clearly enjoying the superiority he felt over the subject. ¡°You heard what happened with the Triads, right?¡± His gaze flicked over to Elektra. ¡°You would know, of course. You were there, and so was your brother. Bad publicity for the Voltaires must¡¯ve been. You two ruined the honor of the Seven Noble Families that day.¡±


    Elektra felt the blood rushing to her face. Her fingers dug into the seat beneath her as she struggled to keep her temper in check. She could feel her fists trembling, the urge to slam them into Rudiger¡¯s smug face overwhelming. But she couldn¡¯t¡ªnot here, not now. Not when the delicate balance of power between the families hung by a thread. Any fight between them would send waves through Havana¡¯s upper echelons, causing political upheaval that none of them could afford.


    Maize, sensing the tension but clearly not aware of the full details, spoke up. ¡°I heard bits and pieces about what happened, but down in Sector 3, we don¡¯t really tune into the news much.¡± She crossed her arms, leaning back slightly. ¡°And we don¡¯t allow newspapers from other sections of Havana to circulate.¡±


    Rudiger scratched his cheek, leaning back as though recounting a fond memory. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure Elektra could explain it better, but I can oblige.¡± He grinned as he spoke. ¡°The remnants of those bastard Triads decided to make another desperate attempt for attention. So they burned down the Threshold and set fire to the walls lining The Commons. To top it all off, they somehow recorded everything and turned the whole attack into a damn movie.¡±


    Maize¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°The Triads, yes... wasn¡¯t it your father who tried to wipe them out? Clearly, not too successfully, since they¡¯re still around.¡±


    Rudiger¡¯s jaw twitched, but he didn¡¯t rise to Maize¡¯s bait. Instead, he ignored the jab at his family and continued, his voice taking on a dark edge. ¡°The Triads weren¡¯t the biggest problem. The actual issue was the peasants. When they saw the walls burning, they took it as their chance to breach Havana. And they did¡ªall of them.¡±


    Elektra¡¯s knuckles were white, her rage barely contained, but she stayed silent, trying to control her breathing. She remembered that day vividly¡ªtoo vividly.


    Maize¡¯s expression darkened as she leaned forward. ¡°And what did the hunters do about it?¡±


    Rudiger turned his head slightly, glancing at Elektra from the corner of his eye. His lips curled into a faint smirk, clearly enjoying the fact that he had her trapped in this conversation. ¡°Well,¡± he drawled, ¡°the guilds that had gathered killed indiscriminately, stoking the flames of chaos. And, of course, the nobles had to take the heat for it.¡±


    Maize blinked, her eyes widening. ¡°They didn¡¯t kill everyone, did they?¡±


    Rudiger shook his head, amused by her concern. ¡°No. Once the fire was put out and the Triads escaped, order was restored. We rounded up all the aliens in the area.¡±


    At that, Elektra finally spoke, her voice cold and detached. ¡°Did they kill all the aliens?¡±


    Rudiger shook his head, waving her off with a dismissive hand. ¡°No, no. Aliens are the government¡¯s responsibility, after all. They were rounded up like the pigs they were and sent to a pen. Fitting, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡± He sneered. ¡°After that, the government and the Tempest family struck a deal. They agreed to send the aliens over as an act of goodwill.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Maize¡¯s eyes narrowed with suspicion. ¡°Goodwill? The Tempests do nothing out of the goodness of their hearts. What are they planning to do with all those people?¡±


    Rudiger¡¯s grin widened, a dark glint in his eyes. ¡°Why, the only thing they¡¯re good for. Slaves.¡±


    At that, Maize¡¯s face twisted with irritation. Without another word, she reached for the door handle. ¡°I¡¯m going to fly,¡± she muttered, swinging the door open as the wind rushed in.


    Rudiger raised a hand to the driver. ¡°Stop the¡ª¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Maize interrupted, already whistling. In an instant, Violet, her griffin, swooped down, gliding effortlessly next to the car. Maize leaped gracefully from the seat, landing on the griffin¡¯s back with practiced ease.


    Rudiger watched, stunned for a moment, then let out a small chuckle. ¡°That girl sure is strange,¡± he muttered as he reached over to close the door she left open. ¡°Even for a Gaian.¡±


    He glanced over at Elektra, whose face remained cold and expressionless, though the tension in her body had not lessened. Saliba shifted uncomfortably in the back, craning his neck as though hoping to get a word in.


    The three of them watched as Maize soared into the sky on Violet¡¯s back, disappearing into the clouds above. The hum of the car was the only sound, the monotonous rhythm of wheels on rocky terrain adding to the unnerving silence that hung in the air.


    Elektra kept her gaze fixed ahead, her jaw set. Rudiger, beside her, grunted as if to say something, but thought better of it. Saliba was the only one who couldn¡¯t handle the quiet any longer.


    ¡°So, uh¡­ what¡¯s the plan now?¡± he ventured, his voice shaky.


    ¡°Shut up, Saliba,¡± Rudiger muttered under his breath. He glanced at Elektra, clearly looking for reassurance.


    Elektra said nothing. The tension in her muscles betrayed her calm facade, though she kept driving steadily forward.


    Suddenly, the light dimmed. The world outside the car darkened unnaturally fast, as though the sun had disappeared in an instant. Sabir blinked and looked up in confusion. Rudiger, who had been leaning against the window, jerked upright.


    ¡°What the hell¡­?¡± Saliba murmured, twisting to look behind them. What he saw made his heart race. His breath got caught in his throat as he caught sight of something enormous in the distance¡ªa shadow blotting out the horizon.


    A giant circular mouth loomed behind them. It was impossible¡ªeasily 130 feet in diameter, its massive jaw lined with hundreds of sharp, gleaming teeth. The thing bore down on them with terrifying speed, its hunger palpable. Saliva dripped from its gaping maw, staining the sand below as it neared.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Elektra hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes wide with disbelief. Before she could even swerve, the monstrous creature closed its maw around the vehicle.


    The world vanished into darkness as the car, and everyone inside, was swallowed whole.


    ---


    Far ahead, Sabir ran, his legs burning as he pushed himself through the wasteland. Zabo and Warren were just behind him, all of them panicking, their hearts thundering in their chests.


    ¡°What the hell is going on?¡± Warren yelled, his voice barely audible over the wind howling through the barren landscape. He cast a frantic look back. ¡°What is that thing?!¡±


    Zabo, eyes narrowed, kept his focus on the ground. ¡°It¡¯s burrowing. Something huge is following us!¡±


    Sabir¡¯s pulse quickened. Every instinct screamed at him to run faster, to get away from the impending doom that was drawing closer and closer with each passing moment.


    ¡°Jump! Jump now!¡± Sabir shouted, his voice strained with desperation.


    Zabo and Warren didn¡¯t hesitate. They leaped from the back of the vehicle, crashing into the hard, unyielding ground. The impact jarred their bodies, and Sabir tumbled across the rocky surface, gritting his teeth as pain shot through his limbs. His knees burned from where the coarse sand tore at his skin, but he forced himself to get back up, ignoring the throbbing ache.


    Zabo had already regained his footing, standing tall and scanning the wasteland for danger. Warren groaned from where he had fallen, struggling to rise after the rough landing.


    ¡°Get up!¡± Sabir ran to Warren¡¯s side and grabbed him under the arm, hauling him to his feet. ¡°We have to move!¡±


    Warren stumbled but nodded, his face pale from shock. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and all three of them could feel it¡ªthe ominous presence burrowing beneath the earth, chasing them with terrifying speed.


    ¡°Keep running!¡± Zabo yelled, his voice barely masking his fear. He darted ahead, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Sabir and Warren were close behind.


    The three of them sprinted across the wasteland, their lungs burning as they ran as far from the creature as they could. The sound of the ground shifting grew louder, more intense. They had barely made it a safe distance when Sabir risked a glance back, his heart hammering in his chest.


    In the distance, the four massive expedition vehicles still moved across the horizon, the last remnants of the party. But as Sabir watched, his stomach lurched.


    The creature pursuing them was monstrous. It broke free from the ground, rising high into the air. A massive worm-like monster, its body twisting and writhing as it slithered forward. Its flesh glistened with a sickly sheen, its mouth wide enough to consume entire vehicles in one bite.


    ¡°That¡­ that thing¡¯s huge!¡± Warren gasped, his face pale with disbelief. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen a monster that big before!¡±


    Zabo¡¯s usually stoic demeanor cracked. ¡°It¡¯s going to kill them all.¡±


    Sabir could barely tear his eyes away from the horror unfolding before them. The massive worm surged forward, gaining on the expedition vehicles with terrifying speed. It opened its jaws wide, and in one swift motion, the monster consumed everything in its path¡ªhunters, cars, and all.


    Warren dropped to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the reality set in. ¡°Elektra¡­¡± he whispered, his voice breaking.


    Zabo stood frozen in place, staring at the now-empty horizon. There was nothing left. The entire hunting party, the expedition they had all set out on, was gone. Devoured in an instant.


    Sabir clenched his fists, his mind reeling from the shock. The sheer size and power of the creature¡ªit was unlike anything he had ever imagined. And now they were stranded, alone in the wasteland with no one left but each other.


    ¡°We¡­ we need to keep moving,¡± Zabo said, his voice shaky but determined. ¡°That thing might come back. We have to go.¡±


    Warren didn¡¯t respond, still kneeling in the dirt, his eyes hollow. He didn''t what to make of Elektra dying. He had grown up with her. Every memory, good or bad, had her in it. Her being gone didn''t make any sense.


    Sabir knelt down beside him. ¡°We can¡¯t stay here. If we don¡¯t keep moving, we¡¯ll end up like them.¡± His voice was soft but firm. ¡°Come on, Warren.¡±


    Reluctantly, Warren stood, though his eyes were fixed on the ground. He didn¡¯t look back, didn¡¯t acknowledge the empty space where the expedition once was.


    Zabo took the lead, his steps quicker now as they started walking across the wasteland. Sabir followed close behind, keeping his senses sharp for any signs of danger. Every rumble of the ground sent a jolt of fear through him, but he forced himself to stay focused.


    As they walked, the oppressive silence of the wasteland returned, broken only by the distant howling of the wind. The three of them were all that remained¡ªa group of survivors in a desolate world where every step could be their last.


    Sabir didn¡¯t know what to make of the situation. He didn¡¯t feel any remorse for those people that died. To him, they were just his captors. He was finally free, but now he needed to survive.


    Warren, his voice barely audible, broke the silence. ¡°What do we do now?¡±

 Chapter 80 - The Boss is Coming For You

    Vincent sat at the bar, the neon lights from the club¡¯s sign still flashing through the windows. Nearly 4 AM and the place lay deserted except for leftover cups and bottles strewn across the room. His usual spot by the counter was dimly lit, a perfect hideaway from the world outside, the world he no longer felt connected to.


    The club wasn¡¯t glamorous¡ªjust another place for those looking to drown their sorrows in booze. The air was thick with the stench of stale alcohol, but it was better than being home. He couldn¡¯t stay in the family house anymore; it made him sick to his stomach. Every corner of that mansion reeked of betrayal and power struggles. His name, his blood, didn¡¯t feel like a blessing anymore¡ªit felt like a curse.


    He took another swig from his bottle, barely noticing the bitter burn of the vodka anymore. His thoughts drifted to his sister, to the way she was leaving to explore a dangerous dungeon. And now, Cynthia¡¯s brother, Sabir, was being brought along, headed toward a dungeon with the Voltaires¡¯ knife hovering over him.


    ¡°Sabir Quinn,¡± Vincent thought, staring at the neon-lit reflections on the bar. ¡°He¡¯ll end up just like her. Just like everyone else who¡¯s tangled with our damn family.¡±


    Those golden eyes haunted him. He saw them in his dreams, in his nightmares. Even his own child had those cursed eyes, passed down through Cynthia like a twisted legacy.


    The door creaked open, and Vincent tensed, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Damn it, we¡¯re closed. It¡¯s 4 AM,¡± he grumbled, not bothering to turn around. He heard the hinges squeak unnaturally, the broken door shifting in its frame. His heart skipped a beat.


    ¡°Why is the door broken?¡± A familiar voice echoed through the empty club. Vincent stiffened, momentarily panicked, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. He couldn¡¯t let his guard down, not now.


    Slowly, Vincent turned around, his gaze falling on a short young man standing in the doorway. His straight black hair hung just above his eyes, sharp with rage. The man had pulled his hoodie up, obscuring his face, but Vincent didn¡¯t need to see more to know who it was. The expensive sneakers, the sharp, predatory look¡ªit could only be one person.


    ¡°So¡­ you¡¯ve come.¡± Vincent¡¯s voice was low, almost a whisper. ¡°Yuen.¡±


    Yuen stepped forward, his movements deliberate, calculating. He edged closer to Vincent, never breaking eye contact, and slid onto the purple bench beside the bar. His hands rested on the bar counter as if to keep himself grounded, but his eyes were blazing with unspoken fury.


    ¡°How have you been, Vincent?¡± Yuen¡¯s voice was casual, almost mocking. ¡°It¡¯s been a long time, huh?¡±


    Vincent slowly got up from his seat, walking to the other side of the bar, realising what was about to happen. He glanced at the rows of bottles behind him, the vast array of spirits lined up like soldiers. ¡°Want a drink?¡± he asked, not even looking at Yuen.


    Yuen chuckled softly. ¡°Yeah, sure. I could use one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯ll it be?¡± Vincent asked, trying to keep his voice steady.


    ¡°What have you got?¡± Yuen replied, resting his chin on his hand as if he hadn¡¯t a care in the world.


    ¡°Vodka, rum, whiskey, gin, beer, wine¡­ We got it all,¡± Vincent muttered, waving his hand toward the shelves.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take some of that vodka,¡± Yuen said without hesitation.


    Vincent grabbed a bottle, pouring a shot for Yuen. The vodka splashed into the glass, and Vincent watched as Yuen grabbed it and downed the shot without flinching. His eyes looked towards Yuen¡¯s belt. It was empty.


    ¡°I noticed all the vodka bottles,¡± Yuen remarked, his eyes gleaming. ¡°I thought you had a more refined taste. Didn¡¯t you only drink wine?¡±


    Vincent allowed himself a small, bitter smile, ignoring that Yuen had none of his knives. ¡°Yeah, I remember trying to convince Miguel to improve his palette.¡± He paused, nostalgia creeping into his voice for a fleeting second before it vanished, replaced by weariness. ¡°Well, sometimes you want to forget the world¡¯s weight for a while¡­ and vodka¡¯s the only thing strong enough to lift it.¡± He tipped the bottle to his lips, not bothering with a glass this time, and took a long drink.


    ¡°So¡­ how¡¯s everyone?¡± Vincent asked, his voice suddenly hollow. ¡°I saw what you guys did at The Threshold.¡±


    Yuen¡¯s face twitched slightly. ¡°Hm, everyone¡¯s doing fine. I guess.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Could be better. We¡¯re setting ourselves up in Sector 0.¡±


    ¡°Sector 0, huh?¡± Vincent echoed, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the empty bottle in his hand.


    ¡°Yeah. Sector 0.¡± Yuen¡¯s voice was flat, but Vincent could hear the underlying tension.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Vincent didn¡¯t respond. He took another swig from the vodka bottle before smashing it on the ground. Glass shattered, the sound echoing in the empty club like a gunshot.


    Yuen blinked, watching the shards scatter across the floor. ¡°You just wasted some good alcohol,¡± he remarked dryly. ¡°I could¡¯ve used another shot.¡±


    Vincent leaned against the bar, staring at the mess on the floor. ¡°C¡¯mon, I think we¡¯ve both drunk enough. It¡¯s time you get it over with.¡±


    Yuen looked at him, feigning innocence. ¡°Get what over with?¡±


    Vincent sighed, rubbing his temples. ¡°We both know why you¡¯re here.¡±


    Yuen¡¯s sharp eyes narrowed, his fists clenched tightly under the table. He chuckled, low and menacing. ¡°A triple agent, huh? I would¡¯ve never guessed.¡±


    Vincent turned away, clenching his fists. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to betray you,¡± he muttered, his voice strained. ¡°But I thought it would save my family.¡±


    Yuen¡¯s lips curled into a smirk. ¡°Seems like every Voltaire¡¯s a backstabber. Your family still died, Vincent. You ended up with nothing.¡±


    ¡°At least none of you died,¡± Vincent shot back, his voice suddenly rising.


    Yuen¡¯s expression hardened. ¡°Yeah, but at the price of us fleeing to the middle of nowhere. We had to live out in the wasteland, y¡¯know, living on nothing but nutripulp. Jai and Amaya are just kids. If they died, it would¡¯ve been all your fault.¡± Yuen sighed, twirling the shot glass with his fingertips. ¡°The Boreas family gave up on the chase, but The Hound, he kept searching. All because of you.¡±


    Vincent stood there, silent for a moment, his chest tight. He could feel the distance between them¡ªphysically, emotionally, it was a chasm neither could cross. He stepped closer to Yuen, the counter still separating them. ¡°Just do it.¡±


    Yuen¡¯s stony gaze softened, just slightly. ¡°I haven¡¯t been sent to kill you,¡± he said, almost nonchalantly. ¡°No, I came at the request of someone else.¡±


    Vincent frowned. ¡°Then what do you want?¡±


    Yuen¡¯s tone darkened. ¡°You don¡¯t happen to know if a kid named Sabir Quinn is still alive, do you?¡±


    Vincent hesitated for a second before responding, his voice grim. ¡°You¡¯re too late. He¡¯s dead.¡±


    Yuen didn¡¯t react immediately. He stood up from his seat, moving toward the exit. He glanced at the broken door. ¡°You should really fix this door.¡±


    As he reached the doorframe, Vincent¡¯s voice rang out in frustration. ¡°Is that it? You will not kill me? I betrayed you! I betrayed all of you!¡±


    Yuen stopped, turning his head slightly. His voice was cold, indifferent. ¡°Oh, Vincent. Just drown yourself in alcohol. If I were you, I¡¯d have already tied a noose.¡±


    Vincent¡¯s eyes burned, his vision blurring with unshed tears as he watched Yuen leave. His whole body trembled as Yuen¡¯s final words lingered in the air.


    ¡°The boss didn¡¯t appreciate finding out, the Voltaire¡¯s were trying to frame us for a murder we didn¡¯t commit. She¡¯s coming for you,¡± Yuen said, his voice echoing in the quiet. ¡°And if you¡¯re still breathing when she arrives¡­ well, you¡¯ll die the most painful death imaginable. Burnt to a crisp.¡± Yuen waved his hand with his back turned. ¡°Consider this a last act of kindness from a friend.¡±


    Yuen walked out, leaving Vincent alone with the shattered glass, the broken door, and his looming death.


    Vincent stood frozen in the silence that followed Yuen¡¯s exit. The sound of the broken door creaking slowly shut felt like the final nail in his coffin. He slumped against the bar, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Yuen¡¯s words echoed in his mind, the most painful death imaginable. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they wouldn¡¯t stop repeating, wouldn¡¯t let him breathe.


    Staggering forward, Vincent grabbed the edge of the bar for balance. His hand trembled as he reached for the nearest bottle. The amber liquid sloshed inside, but it didn¡¯t hold any promise of relief. Not anymore. He couldn¡¯t drink his way out of this.


    With sudden anger, he hurled the bottle across the room. It smashed against the wall, the shattering glass mirroring the broken fragments of his life. He looked down at the rack of alcohol, his eyes scanning the bottles stacked neatly, one after another, their polished surfaces reflecting the flickering neon light. For years, they had been his escape, but tonight¡­ tonight, they were just in the way.


    His hands shook as he began pulling them off the shelf, bottle after bottle. Vodka, whiskey, gin¡ªthey all hit the ground, shattering on impact. The rich smell of alcohol filled the room, sharp and overwhelming. He didn¡¯t care. His mind was on something else, something hidden behind the wall of liquor. He knew it was here, buried beneath the bottles he had once clung to for comfort.


    His fingers finally brushed against cold metal.


    A knife.


    The hilt was smooth and familiar as he gripped it tight, pulling it out from the mess of broken glass and spilled booze. The blade gleamed faintly in the neon light, sharp and ready, just like it had been when he¡¯d hidden it there so many nights ago¡ªbefore everything had fallen apart.


    Vincent stared at the knife in his hand, his breath catching in his throat. His reflection stared back at him from the polished surface of the blade, distorted and ghostly. The weight of it felt strange, heavy, but right. He hadn¡¯t been able to protect his family, hadn¡¯t been able to stop the Voltaires from sinking their claws into his life. But maybe, just maybe, he could end it before they tore him apart piece by piece.


    He lifted the knife slowly, his pulse pounding in his ears. His mind was blank, as if every thought had finally drained away, leaving him in this singular moment, alone with his decision.


    The tip of the blade hovered just over his chest, trembling in his grasp.


    ¡°Do it,¡± the knife whispered to him.


    His hand shook harder as the blade inched closer, the cold steel now pressing against his skin. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his body tense, poised on the brink.


    Vincent¡¯s eyes squeezed shut as his grip tightened on the hilt. His heart raced wildly, each beat hammering in his ears as his mind fought against itself. He raised the knife higher, preparing to plunge it deep.


    The sound of a knife dropping to the floor was drowned out by the tears of a broken man.