The cart was being pulled slowly down the dark corridors, its wheels groaning on the stone floor as the guards pushed it indifferently. One of them sighed in boredom. "Ah... damn it, why do we always have to drag these half-dead corpses?"
But Seraph was not a corpse, not yet. His body lay in the cart, his chest rising and falling with difficulty, his breath shallow, as though caught between life and death.
When they arrived at the room, the door creaked open with an annoying sound, and they tossed him onto the bed as if he were an empty sack, before closing the door behind them, leaving him alone in the darkness. Hours passed... or maybe days, he couldn't tell. But he suddenly woke to the sound of a soft knock on the adjacent wall. A familiar voice, gentle yet heavy with worry. "Seraph... are you awake?"
He slowly opened his eyes, his senses muddled. He tried to sit up, but a searing pain pierced his ribs, as if knives were embedded in his body. He lifted his hand a few centimeters and felt bandages around his chest, his nose covered with medical tape, and sterile cloth wrapped around his abdomen.
Seraph: "I... I'm here, Luna..."
Luna was in the next room, lying on a narrow bed next to her wall, with a small bookshelf containing a few tattered books.
Luna: "Are you okay? I heard what happened..."
His eyes narrowed for a moment, as if she were asking him a foolish question. How could someone like him be okay? The wounds covering his body, the pain stabbing through his ribs with every breath, the humiliation he had swallowed, and the reality forced upon him... which part of him could be okay? But what was the point in telling the truth? What was the point in showing his weakness? He swallowed his bitterness, exhaled softly, as if testing the truth of his own words.
Seraph: "Yes... I'm fine. I just feel... like my body is no longer mine. Like I'm a pile of broken bones held together by threads of pain."
He paused for a moment, staring at the empty space before him, exhaled slowly, then added in a soft voice, though this time it carried a hint of bitterness.
Seraph: "I feel... like I can't stay here any longer."
After he said that, silence filled the room for a moment. He didn't know if his words had reached her as he intended, but he felt their weight in his chest. Exhaustion gnawed at his body, and pain pulsed through every cell of him, but what wore him out more than the physical pain was the overwhelming sense of helplessness.
This place wasn't just a prison, it was a machine grinding down anyone who entered, crushing them until nothing remained but the faint shadow of who they once were.
He hadn't expected a reply, but he heard her voice after a moment, soft, but laced with sadness. "I'm sorry for that... I hope you'll get better soon."
Seraph was sitting on the floor, leaning against the only corner that wasn't covered in blood or marks of wounds. His body bore the scars of brutal training, and the never-ending pain had carved his face, distorting his features, but what hurt him more than anything else was the feeling of helplessness that clung to him. He stared at the wall in front of him as if trying to read through it an answer to the chaos in his mind, as if this cold wall could offer him an escape from the hell he was trapped in.
Seraph's voice was broken, as if the words were being ripped from him violently, as if even the air itself weighed heavily on his chest.
Seraph, in a nearly strangled voice: "I want to get out of here, Luna..."
There was a moment of silence. Only Seraph's heavy breathing mixed with the faint hum of the pipes in the corners. Luna was on the other side, in the same position, in the same cell. But she didn't respond immediately; her words came after a pause, as though she were considering what to say before letting it out. The silence was more painful than anything else, for it signaled the truth they both feared facing.
Finally, her voice came, calm and harsh, as if cutting through the wall itself.
Luna, whispering quietly: "There's no way out, Seraph... The only way to survive here is to get used to it."
Time stopped for a moment between one sentence and the next. The pain Seraph felt in his body was familiar, but he realized these words were harsher than any physical torture he had endured. The truth, that dark beast from which there is no escape, had crept into his heart like a cold dagger.
He didn't know which was worse: the pain gnawing at his exhausted body or the bitter truth that had settled in his heart. Would it be worse if he kept wishing to escape? Or if he realized that hope had become an illusion, and staying here, in this hell, was his only fate?
Seraph sat in the corner near the wall, leaning forward, pale and trembling, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. In the small cell, the stillness was heavy. The sound of his breaths filled the empty space, and the silence itself was almost harder than anything else. Everything in this place seemed to breathe death, but everything also carried the silent whispers of life that they had struggled to keep from losing.
Luna sat on the floor near the wall, her hands between her knees, while Seraph sat in front of her, his face pale, his eyes carrying something of confusion and sorrow. The moments passed slowly, and their silence was almost as heavy as the torment that assailed them.
Seraph, weakly, trying to break the silence: "Luna... do you have memories of your life before this? Of... who you were?"
At that moment, when Seraph asked her about her memories, Luna began to recall a scene from the past, when she first entered the laboratory.
Three years ago.
She was sitting on the cold chair, her feelings mixed between tension and confusion. The room was dim, with faint lighting that gave the atmosphere a gloomy tone. Suddenly, a stranger approached her, wearing a motorcycle helmet that covered his entire face. He reached out his hand toward her abruptly, but before he could touch her, Luna screamed at the top of her lungs.
Luna: "Stop!!... Please, stop for a moment, I want to talk to you!!"
The person looked at her in surprise, but there was no change in his concealed features. He simply moved his hand in robotic motions, as if he was used to such screams.
From the distant corner, Professor Zero was standing, observing the situation, but he showed no interest in what was happening. He simply said indifferently:
Zero: "What are you doing? Get your work done."
Then, the person in the helmet didn't stop. Instead, he turned toward her again and moved closer. This time, Luna's voice rose once more, louder and more insistent.
Luna: "Please!! I promise I won't try to escape or even oppose you! Just leave me with memories of one friend!!... Just one day!!"
Zero caught a glimpse from afar, her eyes shining intensely, firm, filled with emotion. But he only raised an eyebrow in surprise, then started to walk toward her.
Zero: "One friend? This sounds interesting.... But, Does this friend happen to be someone I know?..."
Luna hesitated for a moment, gripping the edges of the chair tightly, but her voice came out hesitant, filled with pleading.
Luna: "Just... one day. Please...."
At that moment, Zero smiled a cold smile, as if it held no emotion.
Zero: "Alright then... you have it. But... don't regret it later... having just one person in your mind... is a continuous torment."
Luna smiled weakly, as if Zero's words were chasing her, spinning in her mind, but at the same time, she was grateful because this person meant more to her than anything else.
Luna suddenly returned to the present, as if time had stopped for a moment. Seraph stood before her, waiting for her answers with questioning eyes. However, her gaze never met his; instead, her eyes were lost, descending into the void as if searching for something she couldn't find. Her facial expression was grim, empty, as though she was no longer human. Everything about her was lifeless, as if she had turned into a machine, programmed to react without feeling, without memories. Her heart was in a distant place, unreachable, where words vanished before they even left her lips.
Then, as she tried to strain her brain, she felt as though something heavy was battering her. She focused, desperately searching for something within those lost memories that scattered like incomplete puzzle pieces. She tried to find something, anything... Suddenly, an image flashed before her eyes, a scene from the past, one she remembered with great difficulty.
Her sister... was in front of her, waving in the air, her scream echoing in her ears as if time was repeating the sound. The sun was setting on the horizon, darkness approaching, while that house burned in the background of the scene. The flames were consuming everything, and broken glass scattered around them, as her sister screamed in unbearable pain. But Luna was there, motionless, as if frozen in that moment, unable to move or save her.
Luna didn't answer immediately. She was watching her dirty hands, as if trying to find something in them that connected her to a past that had become so distant. She thought about her words before they came out, as though afraid to reopen an old wound. Every time she tried to recall something, she felt a voice inside her head scream, followed by a headache that swallowed her thoughts entirely. She concentrated, but she knew she would find nothing but pain.
Then, in a low voice, Luna answered, as though telling a story.
Luna, whispering, as if trying to recall words lost to her: "I had a sister... a little sister. I was with her. But... I only remember this. I can't recall anything else."
Seraph looked back, trying to understand her words, but he felt what she was trying to hide. He knew their memories had been erased, but the idea of losing the past still spun in his mind, as if something had been lost forever.
Seraph, hesitantly, trying to summon his strength: "What do you remember about... your homeland, about your life before you were here?"
Luna, her voice breaking: "I can't remember. I only... remember her screams. My sister, as she moved away from me. Everything else is gone... the fire burned everything. Everything... then..."
Luna suddenly clutched her head, as if the pain came suddenly from a deep place inside her mind.
Luna, almost choking, her eyes closing gradually: "It was... as if everything was collapsing. All I remember is the pain... just the pain."
Her eyes were closing slowly, as if resisting returning to those lost moments. The headache in her head made everything fade, even the words. Every time she tried to remember, the pain became sharper, as if it was returning deep within her.
Seraph, moving closer to the wall: "Luna... please, stop. Don't say any more. I'm sorry... I shouldn't have asked that."
His voice was faint, mixed with regret, as if he wished he could wipe this pain away from her. He knew what she had recalled wasn't just a memory, but a deep feeling of betrayal. But he couldn't remain silent while Luna sank into a battle with memories that shouldn't even exist. He couldn't bear to see her suffering, but words were not enough to stop this painful wave.
The next day – Training Ground.
The air was cold despite the warmth of the place, as if the air itself was filled with harshness, resembling the silent walls that watched them without mercy.
Seraph stood in the middle of the arena, staring at the weapon in his hands. A small rifle, slightly heavy, not as intimidating as he had expected, but he felt it was a weapon of death, not just a training tool. Then came the voice.
Romanov: "Ninety-three!! Hold your weapon properly and fire!"
Seraph raised his hand, aimed at the target, and pulled the trigger. But the recoil was stronger than he expected, the butt of the rifle slammed into his forehead, the gun slipped from his hand, and his head jerked back as the weapon fell to the ground. Suppressed laughter erupted from the other boys, while the instructor growled sharply.
Romanov: "You fool! Pick up your weapon again!"
Seraph bent down, his hand trembling as he picked up the rifle, his fingers gripping it tightly, fearing it would fall again. He took a breath, aimed again, and fired.
The shot missed the target. He fired again. Missed again. Once, twice, five times... all the bullets were useless.
The instructor stood in front of him, his gaze like a knife cutting through his bones. Then, without warning, he grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off the ground before shoving him forcefully, making him fall onto his back.
Romanov: "Twenty push-ups, now!"
Seraph started the push-ups, the first, second, third... but by the sixth, his body started to collapse. His arms trembled, every nerve in his body screamed in pain. Mocking whispers began to spread around him.
"How weak he is..." "He won't last long..."
He lifted his head with difficulty and looked at the instructor, who was watching him coldly.
Romanov: "Are you done already? Then twenty laps around the arena! Move!!"
Seraph began jogging, his breath heavy, his heart pounding wildly. He completed the first lap, then the second, with every step feeling as though his feet were sinking deeper into the ground.
On the seventh lap, he stopped for a moment, gasping as if he were about to suffocate. But the instructor wouldn't let him catch his breath.
Romanov: "Do you prefer to be crushed? Then go ahead!"
He turned toward the ring, then shouted loudly.
Romanov: "Number twenty-one... to your position!"
A cold laugh came from Jiren, as he made his way slowly toward the ring. As for Seraph, he felt pure panic. His legs could no longer move, but the instructor grabbed his arm harshly and shoved him forward. "Move!"
He walked toward the ring slowly, his steps heavy. He wasn't moving of his own will, but as if he were being led to the guillotine. His mind was in turmoil, his body exhausted, and his soul eroded from within, but something else was taking control of him at that moment… A memory.
In that dark room, where light barely seeped in, only to intensify the shadows, the pains were silent, but endless. The children, whose voices had been silenced by too much moaning, the walls that stored between their cracks screams no one had ever heard, the floor stained with the marks of trembling feet, and shattered souls still trying to hold on to life. Everything here breathed death, but it breathed slowly, as if life itself refused to die completely.
Seraph sat there, hunched over in the corner near the wall, his exhausted body no longer feeling the pain as much as the helplessness. He didn't know what hurt more... the wounds that wouldn't heal, or this life.
A heavy silence, a stillness that suffocated his breath, but in the end, he spoke.
Seraph, in a low voice, barely audible: "Luna... How did you accept all of this? Even when you knew staying here meant we would die slowly?"
His voice was fragile, but it carried more than words, it carried a muffled scream, a question he never expected to get an answer to.
Luna, in a calm voice, but full of sorrow: "Because we weren't meant to stay here, Seraph... but we are here. And any attempt to deny that won't change the reality."
She paused for a moment, then continued, in a voice almost like a deadly whisper.
Luna: "Every day... we're not trying to live, we're trying not to die. Not by running away, but by adapting... by letting go of everything we used to believe in."
The air was thick, and the words they exchanged fell between them like stones thrown into a bottomless well.
Seraph, hesitantly, but his voice growing sharper: "But I... I don't want to accept this. I don't want to live here forever. I want us to get out... to live in peace, you and I."
Here, her silence was harsher than any words. There was no quick reply, as if she were searching for something, for a feeling that should have been there, but she couldn't find it.
Luna, calmly mixed with bitterness: "The life you dream of... isn't ours. It's something that's been taken from us, and it will never return. The only truth here is that if you want to stay, you have to become one of them... become part of this machine, no matter the cost."
Her voice was cold, but deep within, there was something more painful than tears. A long silence passed. The sound of Seraph's breath became clearer, as if he was breathing from inside an inescapable grip. But now, the voice calling him was deeper, more harsh. He knew Luna was right, but he couldn't accept what she was saying. He wished there was something, anything, that could give him hope again. But he knew now that, like Luna, he would have to get used to this truth.
Seraph, in a choked voice, barely holding himself together: "This can't... How can you keep going like this..."
Luna, whispered: "Because I have no choice. And you won't either."
Seraph felt something breaking inside him. He wanted to scream, to object, to deny... but he couldn't.
Because she was right. Because there was no escape. Because this truth, no matter how hard he tried to resist it, surrounded him from every side.
At that moment, Seraph felt tears almost falling from his eyes, but they didn't come. He knew what he needed more than anything was to stop running from the truth, to accept that life here was no longer what it used to be.
Then... he returned to the present. He stood in the middle of the arena, surrounded by dim lights, and eyes watching him indifferently. His body was tense, his breath heavy, but it wasn't the physical pain that weighed on him... but the weight of memory. In front of him, Jiren, his opponent, stood coldly, ready to end him.
Seraph knew the fight wasn't just another confrontation. It was the continuation of every moment he had lived in this place. It wasn't a fight for victory, it was a fight for survival...
And he had to decide. He stared at Jiren, who stood in the middle of the ring with a crooked smile.
Above them, the professor silently observed the scene.
Seraph... felt terrified. But he also felt something else. That thing was boiling inside him.
And for the first time since arriving in this place... he wasn't sure if it was a desire to fight, or the beginning of his transformation into something entirely different.
In that moment, as he stood in the ring, despite the heat of the air, he felt a hidden cold creeping into his body, not the cold of the place, but the cold of that memory...
He remembered the previous night, when he sat in the cell, leaning against the cold wall, and the faint shadows of the dim lights cast their distortions on the decaying ceiling. Behind that wall... was Luna.
He knew she was there, hearing her calm breaths, realizing that despite her long silence, she was always thinking, analyzing, reading even when she didn't have a book.
He hesitated for a moment, but decided to ask.
Seraph, in a quiet, hesitant voice: "Luna... I never asked you before, but... do you have a superpower too? Like the other kids outside?"
The answer didn't come immediately. There was a moment of silence, as if she were weighing the question in her mind, then he heard the sound of paper slowly being turned.
Luna, calmly, with a tone almost indifferent: "Of course I do."
He paused for a moment, not expecting such a simple answer.
Seraph, with eager curiosity: "So... can you tell me how to awaken my power? Can anyone here do it?"
He heard the sound of the book closing, followed by a light movement as it was placed beside her. She had stopped reading, which meant that this was serious.
Luna, in a calm, deliberate tone: "This is not a simple question, and there is no easy answer to it. But it is not impossible."
Seraph, with a more determined voice: "I want to know... I want to understand how this happens."
Luna, her voice calm but heavy: "Alright then... Listen carefully."
A moment of silence passed, as if giving him the chance to prepare for what was to come.
Luna, slowly, as if painting a picture with her words: "The first thing you need to do... is sit down. Do not move. Sit and rest, and let everything else fade away for a moment."
He obeyed without hesitation, sitting on the hard floor, feeling the cold seeping through his clothes into his body, but he ignored it.
Luna, quietly, with a distant resonance in her voice, as if whispering into his mind: "Close your eyes... and focus on one thing only... your breath. Inhale slowly, then exhale. Don't think of anything else."
He obeyed again. He took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then released it slowly, as if getting rid of something heavy that had settled in his chest.
Luna, in a low voice, as if probing his mind: "Now... don't think of your body as just a body. Think of it as a river... the river flowing inside you is not water, but something else... energy, light, a living pulse."
He began to feel it... something different, a faint sensation, as if he could sense the flow of blood coursing through his veins, the beats of his heart slowly quickening... this was different.
Seraph, softly, with his eyes closed: "I feel... something..."
Luna, in a whisper, almost like magic: "This is the 'Dorothy Light' flowing through your veins... it's not just blood. It's the power that lives within you, waiting for you to open your eyes to it."
Her words were slow, steady, as if trying to bind him to something invisible, something that had always been there but he hadn't noticed.
Luna: "Don't force it out. Don't try to control it. Just... let it show you its way."
In that moment, he felt something deeper. It wasn't just a pulse, it was like a thread of light moving within him, flowing through two veins, tracing a path in his body. He couldn't see it, but he felt... this path... this was it...
Seraph, in a faint voice, yet with a hint of amazement: "I see it...!"
Luna, calmly, with a trace of a hidden smile: "Alright then... this is the beginning of the path. Now, you must choose."
Seraph, in a whisper, as if facing himself for the first time: "Choose...?"
Luna: "Every power needs a will. It needs something to guide it. This light will not move on its own... you must give it a reason. Why do you want this power, Seraph?"
The question struck like a lightning bolt. Why?... For a moment, he found himself searching for an answer... but there was nothing clear. There was anger, there was fear, there was the desire to survive, to fight... but which of these was real? Which one was the thing that could move this light within him?
He felt his heart beat faster. The pressure began to build, the light within him began to tremble.
Luna, in a calm voice, but more serious than ever: "If you don't know why you want this power... it will never belong to you."
In that moment, Seraph opened his eyes, and all the sensations he had felt vanished.
He returned to reality, but he was not the same person.
In the arena, where the air was charged with electricity, and where everyone stood in a silent circle of awe and terror, he felt a shiver run through his body, coursing through his veins glowing golden as if they were pathways of liquid fire running in his blood.
And in the blink of an eye...
Sparks gathered in his palms, his fingertips ignited, and flames rose as if his skin were cracking open to release a power that had been trapped inside him for years.
"No..."
But it was too late.
In an instant, tongues of flame shot out like a scorching whirlwind, an infernal explosion erupted from his grip without mercy, as if it had a will of its own, devouring everything in its path.
Two veins appeared on Seraf's hands, glowing with a bright radiance. The light emitted from them almost illuminated the surrounding space, as if the fire itself was running through his body.
This was not just fire... it was hell being born from his body.
Giren, who stood across from him, couldn't even scream.
His wide eyes were the last thing to show before the flames consumed him, his body melting like wax in a merciless hell.
A distant scream, then nothing...
The air filled with the scent of burning flesh, and black smoke rose as if lost souls were fleeing from the battlefield, and the entire place trembled under the reign of the fire.
A deadly silence.
All eyes were fixed on Seraph, all bodies frozen in place, as if death stood among them watching silently.
Except for one.
Professor Zero watched the scene from his seat, not a trace of concern on his face, only a smile... the smile of a being who saw his project succeed before his eyes.
Seraph, at that moment, didn't see any of this.
He was trapped inside his own body, burning from the inside.
His veins swelled more, as if they were about to burst, the pain was unbearable, as if every particle of his being was being torn apart under the pressure of something bigger than his human body could withstand.
Seraph: "Stop... stop!"
But he didn't know how. His fingers were aflame, his skin was beginning to erode, unbearable heat, as if his very soul was slowly burning.
Then... a single voice cut through the smoke behind him, a rough, heavy voice, unyielding.
Romanov: "Power is not just a tool you possess, it is part of you, pulsing in your veins like your heart. If you try to suppress it forcefully, it will tear you apart from within... and if you let it run wild unconsciously, it will consume you just as it consumed others. Do not fight it... understand it, make it breathe with you, make it an extension of your will, not an enemy that devours you."
The voice of the trainer was steady, not carrying pity, but carrying a truth that could not be disputed.
It echoed in Seraph's mind, like a slap that woke him from his own nightmare.
Breathe...
As if it were the first time he had breathed since everything had ignited.
Hot air entered his lungs, but it wasn't just air... it was another sensation, as if his entire body was absorbing what was happening, as if it was speaking with the power that had been trying to tear him apart.
It wasn't about extinguishing the flames by force, but allowing them to settle... to return to where they should be. With every breath, the flames receded.
The glowing light from his veins faded, and the pain slowly started to subside, as if it had only been waiting for this moment.
His hands, which had been burning like hot embers, began to return to normal, his glowing veins dimmed, and the pain faded... but it didn't go away entirely, leaving its mark in every corner of his body, etched there forever.
Finally, Seraph collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps, as if his lungs were trying to pull air from the void. His wide eyes never left the scene before him, but he wasn't really seeing it... he was losing himself within it, dissolving like the bones that had melted before him.
Romanov: "You fool!!... You weren't supposed to learn this before you were ready!! You almost caused your own death in the worst way possible!!"
The trainer's growl was like a harsh blow that brought him back to reality for a moment, but he didn't turn, didn't care, as if the voice wasn't truly reaching him.
His eyes were there, on the corpse... or what was left of it. A charred lump, blackened, just the remains of a human who no longer had a name, no longer had features... just a burned shadow of what it had been moments ago.
Seraph: "I... killed him?"
It wasn't a question, it was an acknowledgment steeped in cold shock. The words came out in a weak voice, as if he couldn't believe it, as if his mouth hesitated to utter them, as if, if they weren't said, it wouldn't be real.
But the scene before him didn't spare him... it didn't leave him a chance to deny the truth.
A heavy feeling dropped onto his chest, not just fear or regret, but something deeper, something older, like a buried part of darkness that had been waiting for this moment to emerge... and now it was staring directly at him.
Then, without warning, he felt warm liquid slowly trickling from his nose. Red blood drops hit his trembling hands, small, but as if they expanded before him, covering the entire scene, until there was nothing left but them.
Then... he fell.
His weak body gave in, his mind could no longer bear it, his consciousness faded, leaving him to drown in the black void.
From the upper floor, Professor Zero stood leaning on the railing, his cold eyes watching the scene from above as if he were observing a mere laboratory experiment. There was no trace of surprise or concern on his face, only pure scientific curiosity and a sense of satisfaction laced with cruelty.
Then, without turning his gaze away from the collapsed body in the middle of the arena, he Smiled..a cold, calm smile.
A slight smile slid across his lips, not of joy, but of a kind of self-appreciation for a precisely calculated achievement. He didn't see Seraph as a human being but as a solved equation, another piece of the puzzle that was nearing completion.
He then turned, his long coat flowing behind him as he walked away, leaving behind ashes rising into the air, a body barely breathing, and a nightmare that would remain etched in the memory of all who witnessed that moment.
One year and twenty-five days...
A number that meant nothing to Seraph when he entered this place, but now, it had become everything. One year and twenty-five days of pain, of challenge, of the constant struggle between life and death. One year and twenty-five days of breaking boundaries, of reshaping himself from scratch, of understanding what it means to be a survivor in a world that left you no choice but to survive.
At first, he was just another number on the list of experiments, just a body pushed into the testing arena, forced to fight, forced to be stronger, or simply erased. But he wasn't like any other experiment. Every time he fell, he rose again, and every time he bled, he learned. Every time he felt weak, he found a way to turn it into strength.
He learned to control his fire, it was no longer just a raging spark out of control, but a weapon, an extension of him, as though it were a part of his very soul. He realized how it harmonized with his body, how it obeyed his will, how it fed on his emotions without burning him from the inside.
This wasn't just time passing by; it was a series of tests that reshaped Seraph from the inside out. At first, he didn't know how to hold a weapon properly, how to pace his steps, how to fire without his shoulder jerking from the recoil. But the days left him no choice but to learn.
He trained with light weapons, then moved to rifles, before they put a massive sniper rifle in his hands, almost heavier than he was. The first time he pulled the trigger, he missed the target by a wide margin, and the rifle recoiled against him as if mocking him. But he wasn't one to back down.
Today, he stood firmly, his eyes on the target 500 meters away. His breathing was steady, his hand unwavering. With every shot, he realized the sniper was no longer just a tool but an extension of him.
He began noticing the changes around him… the looks that once held contempt for him now avoided him. Those who once saw him as nothing more than prey now hesitated before approaching. Fear... he saw it in their eyes, felt it in their steps.
He was no longer just a survivor, but someone to be reckoned with, a hunter who had mastered the art of choosing his prey.
He stood in the middle of the arena, where he had fought his last battle, his breath heavy, but his heart beating with a confidence he had never felt before. Around him, the place bore the marks of destruction, ashes swirling in the air, the scent of burning permeating the air. On the other side, Zero stood watching, his gaze unchanged, but this time, it carried something new.
Zero: "Prepare the necessary care... Experiment ninety-three... has succeeded brilliantly."
His voice was calm, as if what he had witnessed was merely the expected result of calculations made in advance. Yet, a faint smile slipped onto his lips, not of joy, but of a kind of self-appreciation for a meticulously calculated accomplishment. He didn't see Seraph as a human, but as a solved equation, another piece of the puzzle that was nearing completion.
He then turned, his long coat flowing behind him as he walked away, leaving behind ashes rising into the air, a body barely breathing, and a nightmare that would remain etched in the memory of all who witnessed that moment.
As for Seraph, he finally lifted his head, looked at his burned hands, at the flames still dancing between his fingers, then slowly closed his fist around them, as though accepting his new reality.
He was no longer just a survivor.
He had become something else.
The next day, the sound of Trainer Romanov's footsteps echoed in the main metallic corridor leading to the outer gate. He walked steadily, his steps heavy as if announcing the arrival of a storm. At the end of the corridor, the guards stood rigidly before him, as if hiding behind their strict military appearance.
Romanov, his voice laced with restrained anger: "What the hell is going on?! What is so important that you had to drag me out of my rest for this?!"
No one answered him for a moment, then one of the guards stepped aside, revealing the body of a teenager dangling between their grasp.
The boy had short white hair, wearing white clothes similar to those of the other children, and on his chest, inside a black circle, was a single number. "5."