President Jack Connor, once a symbol of power and authority, had now become nothing more than a trembling shadow of himself. He stood, struggling to catch his breath, as if the entire world was collapsing around him. His ears rang with the words of Five as he continued his attack, but his mind was lost between truth and lies, between the desire for survival and the futility of his desperate attempts.
Five, with a cold smile, continued: "Question four... Did you give orders to eliminate political opposition members who posed a threat to your power?"
Jack, trapped between his lies and the pressure of reality, shook internally. His body trembled, but his hand, which had been shaking on the table, now stiffened as though it no longer belonged to him. His eyes darted wildly, as if trying to find a way out of the predicament he had placed himself in. Words stumbled from his lips in a desperate attempt to convince, but his voice was hoarse and trembling.
Jack: "This is not true!! I never did that!!... Where the hell did he get these questions from?!"
But his dry gaze, the tension etched on his face, revealed an undeniable weakness. His mind could not escape the truth that was relentlessly chasing him. He tried to appear strong, but every word that left his mouth only weakened him further.
Five watched quietly, as if waiting for the moment of total collapse. He paid no attention to Jack's desperate attempts.
Five: "Answer... wrong."
And with that, the matter was settled. In that moment, the sound in the room was louder than any word. It was as though time itself had stopped, and all the attendees were frozen in heavy silence. The psychological wound inflicted by Five was deeper than any physical stab.
Jack: Quickly: "No!!... I didn't do it!"
But the confusion was evident on his face. He had fallen into the trap of his own confession, and every time he tried to prove his innocence, he dug deeper into his lies. At that moment, his heart raced, as though it would leap from his chest. He himself could not believe what was happening. A feeling of fear, anger, and helplessness gripped his heart and mind simultaneously.
Five, with a calm tone and cruel sarcasm: "One last attempt…"
And Five smiled faintly, but Jack's heart, which he thought still held some hope, began to crumble. But he seemed to refuse to admit it outright. He slammed his fist on the table, as if the only remaining option was to bang his head against the wall.
Jack, angrily, his voice filling the room: "You damn kid!! I'll finish you off completely, and you'll see it!! I didn't do it... I didn't do it!"
But with every word, the walls drew closer. He was now shouting at the top of his lungs, as if trying to escape his torment, but the gap between him and the truth had grown larger than he could have ever imagined.
And in the moment when his mind was screaming, each word a weapon turned against himself, the deafening sound erupted.
A gunshot, seismic, its sound like thunder tearing through the sky, exploded in everyone's chest. In that instant, everything froze. Time stopped, and the eyes couldn't blink.
The women in the crowd all screamed at once, their voices blending with the echo in an atmosphere thick with terror. One woman fell to her knees, her hands fluttering in the air as if pleading for survival, her face pale, eyes filled with tears, while the gazes of the onlookers watched the scene in a state of horror.
People in the streets, in homes, and in squares were in a state of shock. Even the hearts that had hoped for his downfall could not react to the magnitude of the truth that was being hurled at them, and they did not know if they were dreaming or trapped in a nightmare.
Five's manic laughter filled the space. His sharp voice, merging with his laughter, seemed more than just a victory; the cruelty of the psychological battle had reached its peak.
The viewers behind screens in their homes had their hearts shaken as well. A feeling of being lost, followed by an outburst of screams, some sitting on the edge of their seats as if about to explode, while others were kneeling on the ground. In some places, hands waved in the air from sheer shock, while others began fleeing from the TV screens as though the truth had become unbearable.
On the periphery, outside the confines of the room, distant voices were heard... confused security officers, and generals in closed rooms exchanging bewildered glances, trying to understand what was happening and what would happen after this fateful moment.
Amid this chaos, Five's laugh resurfaced, sharp and harsh, as if a knife had plunged into the surrounding silence. It scattered in the air like flying ash, sticking to the hearts and leaving a devastating mark on the souls of those present. His laughter was not just laughter, but the sound of metal scraping against stone, laden with scorn and pain.
Five, laughing slowly, spoke with a mocking tone: "Answer wrong... again. You know, Jack? 'You're not just digging your own grave with your own hands, Jack... you're burying yourself alive.'"
As the echo of Five's laughter gradually faded, a heavy, tense silence crept into the room, filling the space as if it were swallowing everything around it.
Inside one of the prisons, where inmates watched the events on the deteriorating screens, they began to cheer, clap, and shout. "Five! This guy is amazing!!"
Their shouts scattered in the air as if they saw in Five their lost hero, the man who took justice into his own hands, pouncing on the false heroes and making them collapse in an instant.
At the same time, a neighboring head of state watched the scene on his screen in his office, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His laughter erupted loudly as he said to his advisor: "Look at how this madman is destroying Jack! This kid, he's breaking them all, hahahaha!"
His laughter carried a vile mockery, for his people too saw in this scene the decline of Jack's regime, confirming that the man who had believed he would stay on top of the pyramid had started to fall.
At that moment, everything moved quickly, as though time itself had frozen, and the stillness in Arcadia was a hidden battle between truth and lies, between life and death. The large screens displaying the event around the trial square, capturing every precise detail, had gathered the entire nation's attention. Eyes hardly moved, and the sounds emanating from homes, cafes, and streets were trapped between silence and fear. Everywhere there was a freeze in breath, hope mixed with terror, and everyone knew they were living a pivotal moment in the history of their country.
As the cameras focused on President Jack Connor's face, his body slowly collapsed before everyone's eyes, eroded under the pressure of the questions. He breathed heavily, each breath seeming like his last. His face was pale, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, and his mouth trembled in desperate attempts to deny everything.
Five, watching the president's collapse, was in no rush. He looked at him with cold intensity, asking question after question, as if every word added more weight to the burden Jack carried on his chest. His words scattered in the air like bullets cutting through space.
Five, with an ominous smile on his face: "Question five… Did you approve the destruction of entire hospitals in war zones just because they were run by organizations not loyal to your government?"
Jack stood helpless. He refused to believe what was happening to him. He screamed in desperate attempts to turn things in his favor.
Jack, his voice trembling, waving his hands: "No! No! That's a lie! I never approved anything like that!"
But Five did not stop. He continued, ignoring this question, offering no confirmation or denial. He was savoring every moment of this hellish performance, toying with Jack's words as if they were strings in his hands, growing happier as he saw his opponent crumble before him, relishing his psychological torment.
Five, with an even colder tone: "Question six… When you signed peace agreements in front of the cameras, did you know that the weapons you secretly sent to the same factions you had promised to destroy would be used to slaughter entire families? Or was the money enough to silence your conscience, if you even had one..."
Jack, with blood now pooling in his fingertips, screamed with even more distress. The sound of each question pierced his heart, as though hell had begun to erupt from within him.
Jack collapses onto the table, slamming his fist down: "I swear I didn't do it! I kept my promise! I wasn't part of it!!"
But the cameras captured the changes in his face. It was a lie, and everyone now knew that Jack was sinking deeper into the swamp of betraying his people.
Five, with a mocking smile as he turns to the crowd: "The seventh question… Were you aware of a network of kidnapped children being used as forced labor in your secret projects?"
Loud voices rose from outside, some shouting violently while others merely watched in silence.
Jack, struggling to push the words out, his voice choking between tears and speech: "Please! No! That was beyond my control! Stop!!"
But everyone knew it was more than just beyond his control.
Then came the final question, like the finishing blow.
Five, with a harsh tone, standing a few steps away from Jack, pressing him further: "The eighth question... Did you have any direct involvement with espionage networks infiltrating other nations to gather classified information that could lead to the destruction of innocent lives?"
Jack, his face pale, avoiding Five's gaze, his senses muddled, but his voice barely comes out: "…No."
At that moment, as if time had frozen, four deafening gunshots erupted inside the building, their echoes rippling across the square like the very strokes of fate itself. The terrifying sound tore through the silence, slicing through the air like lightning, accompanied by a deep shock that swept over the crowd.
The successive gunshots shattered any hope Jack had of escape. The shock spread like wildfire, the crowd erupting into fragmented screams... some rising, others falling, their disarray inescapable. Some dropped to their knees, hands trembling in a desperate attempt to atone for sins they never committed, while others ran with all their might, fleeing from the sound of gunfire pounding in their ears like their own racing heartbeats.
In the capital's streets, panic spread like a storm, drowning the city in a sea of chaos. No one knew what would happen, but everyone felt the ground tremble beneath their feet. Waves teetered on the brink of collapse, where no one would be safe anymore. The world had turned upside down. The streets were engulfed in turmoil, buildings loomed like ghosts on the horizon, while on screens... big and small... the events unfolded as if in an endless tragic play.
As rage burned in the depths of Jack Connor, he seemed to be suffocating under the fire of his final lie, drowning in an endless delirium. All eyes were locked onto him, his hand trembling over the communication device, as if these were his final moments before vanishing into oblivion. His voice rose in hysteria, reverberating through the room like thunder tearing apart the stillness in a critical instant.
Jack, in a broken voice: "Kill him! Shoot him now!!"
The words left his mouth like sparks of fire, burning everything in their path. His voice quivered with every syllable, like a man choking inside an iron cage, unleashing all his pent-up fury. But despite the violence in his voice, something was strange about the sniper team's leader. The man stood before him, his weapon trained on Five, yet he had not moved... hesitation flickering in his stance, mingling with uncertainty. A reluctance he wouldn't admit, but one evident in his tense expression.
The room buzzed with hushed voices... Jack's advisors trying to de-escalate the situation. Their words sped up, attempting to quell the flames Jack himself was igniting. But instead of extinguishing the fire, everything kept escalating. Jack was unraveling, his features laced with delirium, his mind seemingly fracturing under the pressure. He pounded the table with his fist, his fingers nearly breaking apart in a complete breakdown.
Then, suddenly, in the square, the earpiece transmission cut through Rivander's thoughts like a hammer.
Maviudas, over the earpiece: "Three of them are down."
Rivander, whispering urgently, pressing the earpiece: "Maviudas!? What the hell are you doing? Are you still inside the building?"
Rivander's voice was laced with worry, every word dripping with tension. He couldn't grasp what was happening, couldn't piece it together. Everything was losing meaning fast, like a scene unraveling before his eyes.
At that moment, Maviudas stood inside a narrow elevator, his heart pounding rapidly, the scent of blood thick in the air. The doors slid open slowly, revealing Seraph leaning against the wall, his face drenched in blood, unconscious. Maviudas felt time slipping away, but he knew his mission was far from over.
Maviudas: "I left two unconscious on the second floor. I'm on the third floor now… The hallway is completely empty. Where are you!? Why haven't you breached the building yet?"
His voice was tight with worry, the tremor in his words betraying the mounting tension.
Rivander: "Wait… What?… What do you mean by 'completely empty'?!"
Shock was evident in his voice, but deep down, he knew something was terribly wrong. Everything was beginning to rot from the inside.
Meanwhile, Maviudas moved cautiously, his steps quick yet his eyes never leaving the shadows lurking in the corners. The air in the hallway was heavy, as if time itself had stopped. A strange sense of danger filled the atmosphere... everything around him screamed that something was off, yet what made him hesitate was how normal everything seemed…
When he reached the third floor, he carefully opened the door, his expression taut, fully aware that every second could be pivotal. He entered the first surveillance room, where silence reigned. The room was almost empty except for several hostages bound on the floor, their eyes shut, seemingly unharmed. They lay in eerie stillness, making no sound.
Maviudas approached the window, where a figure stood, aiming a weapon toward the square. The movement was slow, devoid of any panic, as if this person was in no hurry. Yet, Maviudas wasn't about to stop there. He approached cautiously, his steps weighted.
And in the instant he raised his weapon to strike the man's neck, the unexpected happened. His weapon sliced through the air as if striking nothing, while the figure before him remained still, without reaction. It wasn't a man of flesh and blood... it was more like a manifested mirage, a faint reflection of a reality that could not be touched.
His eyes widened, struggling to comprehend this illogical sight. He hesitated for a moment, waving his hand in front of the entity, only to see his fingers pass through its body without resistance, as if grasping air. The being before him looked terrifyingly real yet was simultaneously nonexistent... a bizarre blend of contradictions.
Maviudas, hesitating: "A hologram?… No, impossible… It's too realistic… How can this be? Is this his ability?!!"
A cold chill swept over Maviudas, his blood freezing in his veins for a moment. His heart, which had been racing moments ago, suddenly stalled, as if trying to recalibrate to this distorted reality. His mind ignited with calculations, trying to piece together the scattered fragments of this puzzle.
Maviudas, whispering almost inaudibly: "Fake… This isn't real."
Suddenly, the earpiece transmission shattered his daze. Rivander's voice screamed sharply, the situation clearly slipping beyond control.
Rivander: "Maviudas! What's going on? What the hell is happening?! Answer me!"
But Maviudas was already sprinting at full speed, dodging pillars and narrow corridors, heading for the rooftop. In his mind, the sound of gunfire echoed in a maddening rhythm, like his own heartbeat accelerating with every step.
Maviudas, his voice sharp and charged with urgency through the earpiece: "It's fake! All the hostages are fine… Those gunshots… He was controlling them himself!"
His voice was a slap to reality, filled with an urgency that could not afford delay. As he ran, his words struck Rivander like electric pulses. Rivander stood still, eyes staring into the void, his mind gasping for breath amid the flood of realization washing over him.
The words Five had spoken at the beginning echoed in his mind like a distant refrain.
"How weak you all are. How fragile your so-called system is. And how powerless you stand before a single entity that dares to say… No."
Rivander turned slowly to the gunmen at the windows. Something in their stance, their demeanor, the eerie calm surrounding them made him grasp the terrifying truth…
This wasn't just an attack. It wasn't a random threat or a mere attempt at control.
This was a demonstration.
Maviudas... his voice echoed through the place with every step he took, running swiftly toward the rooftop, as if the very walls were collapsing under the weight of the truth unraveling before him. Sweat dripped from his forehead while his mind spiraled into a vortex of questions with no answers. He knew everything had been mere manipulation. He knew something far greater than everyone was pulling the strings in the dark... and that perhaps, he was already too late.
Meanwhile, in the government emergency room, Jack Connor had completely lost control. He had crossed the threshold of madness long ago, his eyes widening with frenzy as he shouted at the sniper commander. Orders poured from him rapidly, unstoppable. The sniper commander, in that moment, had already aimed his weapon at Five, his finger on the trigger, ready to kill.
But at that moment, ever so slowly, Five rose. His burdened body moved with deliberate care. He scanned his surroundings before offering a calm smile, as if the sight of death itself was nothing more than an old game. That smile was the key... like a moment of absolute awareness.
Rivander, in the courtyard, was shouting with all his might: "Arthur! He's a fake!!... It's all an illusion!!.."
But nothing could stop what was about to happen.
Then, as if the world had frozen for a brief moment, the gunshot rang through the air... a sound of terror that could not be ignored.
Maviudas burst through the rooftop doors, turning just in time to see Five take a bullet straight to the chest. His body staggered, collapsing slowly, as if each passing second provoked the pain even further. He tumbled toward the edge of the building.
Five looked up at the sky.
The sky watched him back... vast, infinite... holding the serenity he had never found in this world. His blood scattered into the air, like a fading beam of life before his very eyes. His weak hands rose at his sides as if welcoming his fate. His back was turned toward the earth, but his gaze was fixed upon the heavens.
"The sky…" he whispered in a strangled breath, sinking into the depths of his own philosophy.
Five: "[In the end, everything leads back there. We are born to try and understand this world, but in the final moment, perhaps we realize that life was only a brief journey toward the sky… Maybe all the pain we endured, all the moments we wanted to escape, were merely paths leading us back to a place untouched by fear. The sky… is true freedom."]
As he plummeted downward, time slowed, as if the entire universe had granted him one last moment to leave his mark on existence. His blood scattered into the air like a sorrowful melody, each drop telling a tale of suffering, each final breath bringing back memories of his past.
Raising his hand toward the sky, his mind was swept away by a storm of images. Suddenly, he was a child again… back in that small, decayed room, where darkness clung to him like a second skin and the stench of mold choked his breath. The space was so tight, as if the walls crept closer with every second. But there was one thing the darkness could never reach...
That small window in the ceiling.
It had been his only glimpse of something that resembled freedom. His window to hope... whether real or just a lie he told himself each night to stay sane, he never knew. He would always stare through it, watching the distant sky, the stars twinkling as if whispering secrets he could not yet understand.
On those cold nights, he would stretch his small hand toward it, trying to touch something untouchable, searching for something to give him meaning.
And now, after all these years, in a different place... one no less suffocating... he did the same.
He raised his hand once more, reaching for his own sky, as if the child he once was still remained, never truly fading away.
Then, in silence, he called out within himself, a voice barely escaping his lips…
"Luna…"
As if her name was another light in the darkness, as if she were the window he had forgotten was always open.
A faint smile... barely there... curved his lips. And he whispered to himself in a voice almost too quiet to hear…
"I've found my name…"
He lifted his gaze back toward that window. Then, for a moment, he closed his eyes, as if letting that name settle inside him, becoming a part of him.
He was no longer just a number. No longer an experiment. No longer lost.
At last, he was… Sky.
Five had always reached for that window in his dreams, as if trying to touch the sky. He had looked at it every day, knowing it was the one thing life could never take from him.
His name was never just a title... it was the reflection of his truth.
The sky had been his refuge, the home of his dreams, and a silent witness to his loneliness.
And now, in his final moment, he remembered why he had chosen it.
He thought… the sky carries suffering and rage, joy and sorrow, love and hatred.
The sky had witnessed his wounds that never healed, the dreams he buried to survive for the sake of others.
Five, his eyes, despite the weight of pain, shimmered with gentle resolve as he whispered: "The sky… has always watched over us… And now, I have become a witness to it."
And in the instant his body collided with the ground, the wind howled, as if trying to wipe away the tears of the sky itself.
Everything had ended.
And everything had begun to fade into the infinite.
His fall, in that moment, felt like falling through time.
Everyone present... the officers, the detectives... stood frozen in silence, gathering around the crimson stain that had painted the earth.
The orchestra conductor had lowered the curtain.
And the scene had been etched into memory forever.