Chapter 38 - Chapter 38 — Remnants of the Abyss

Two Days Later — May 24th, 2015 — Sunday — Chicago Central Hospital — 02:22 AM

Kai woke up to the sound of his own heart.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The ceiling was way too white. The air, way too clean. Controlled cold, the smell of antiseptic and plastic. This wasn't a regular hospital room. Monitor cables ran over his chest and arms; a transparent line was stuck to the back of his hand. On the right, a digital panel pulsed with graphs; on the left, a glass partition opened into another room.

He pushed himself up slowly, sitting on the gurney. The headache hit in thick waves, as if his skull were two sizes too small; opening his eyes only made it worse.

The door opened.

"You finally woke up."

Cosmic walked in wearing his human appearance and a lab coat. Kai blinked, his eyes burning with the light.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days." Cosmic checked the monitor. "Thirty-two hours and twenty minutes, to be exact."

Kai sighed, too drained to be dramatic.

He glanced down at his hand—the ring that had been on his finger was gone. Broken during the fight. No more camouflage. His hair would stay white until... whenever.

He pushed the thought aside.

"Damn. What about my parents?"

"Viktor's death was announced." Cosmic kept his tone steady. "I called in a favor from a friend. Your family thinks you're with his family. Helping them."

Kai turned his gaze to the glass, letting it sink in.

"Where exactly am I?"

"Chicago Central Hospital. Research wing." Cosmic jerked his chin toward the surroundings. "Elise has connections here."

"So you saved me again."

Cosmic turned half his body, glancing at the bed on the other side, curtain half-drawn, sheets rumpled.

"Actually… not alone."

Kai waited.

"When I got to you, time was broken around you. The void had slipped out of control. I couldn't get close, your energy was pushing me away." Cosmic scratched the back of his neck. "Atom Eve showed up. Helped from the outside, manipulating the matter around the field, stabilizing it while she shoved me forward and I broke through your… bubble. We went all the way to the limit. You crossed the line."

Kai stayed silent.

"She stayed here for a few hours that day," Cosmic went on. "Only left when Elise confirmed you were out of danger. Before she went, she asked your real name."

Kai adjusted his posture, the electrodes tugging.

"She already knows my name. I told her once on New Year's, a long time ago."

"Then she forgot or didn't recognize you with white hair." Cosmic shrugged, fingers already flying over the terminal. "Either way… you should thank her when you run into her."

The door opened again. Elise walked in wearing a hoodie with her lab coat thrown on top, hair tied up any old way, a cup of coffee in hand.

"Good. Awake." She checked the monitor quickly. "We're running a few scans again."

They took Kai to the room next door. Scanner, electrodes, the low hum of a machine. A few minutes later, he was sitting up again, Cosmic standing beside him while Elise flicked through images on the screen.

On the monitor, brain cross-sections glowed in grayscale and false colors.

"Here." She pointed. "Three microlesions. Temporo-parietal junction. Ventromedial prefrontal cortex. Amygdala."

"Translation," Kai muttered.

"The amygdala regulates emotional response: fear, anger. The prefrontal area helps control impulse and link decisions with emotion. The temporo-parietal region meddles with self-perception—your sense of 'you' compared to the rest of the world." Her tone stayed clinical, direct. "You pushed your brain with an absurd amount of energy. And from these scans, this has been happening for years. That energy has always been messing with you."

Cosmic folded his arms. "What exactly happened out there?"

Kai told him about the fight—only the power-related parts.

Cosmic stared at the monitor. "So that's it. Two uses of that power. The third when I got to you and you froze the field by yourself. Three marks."

Elise let out air through her nose, a half-tired smile.

"You're lucky you're still you."

The words went in too deep. Viktor on the ground. Mirage by the truck. Russell laughing. The sharks at the bottom of the sea. Kiana saying, 'I don't want to be with you anymore.' All the existential void up until that moment, and finally… Viktor again, leaning against the tree, talking to him.

Something was wrong. Something in him. He'd felt it for a long time, but now it was starting to make some sort of sense.

Elise switched to another screen.

"Let me sum it up: this void energy isn't sitting in some 'magical separate place'. It's mixed through your whole body. Parts of your system are conducting it where there should only be ordinary tissue. If you keep forcing discharges like that before you recover, the most probable outcome is neural collapse. In humans, it would be something between an aneurysm, heart attack, or full system failure."

"Then good thing I'm not human," Kai said.

"Exactly. That's why you're still sitting here." Elise pointed at the screen again. "Recovery is possible. Your cells are incredibly adaptive, I've never seen anything like it. Your brain should learn to handle this over time—there'll come a moment when you can hold on to who you are. But that doesn't mean that even if your mind stabilizes with these powers, you won't suffer side effects. These scars in your brain are here to stay. In the short term, you may have mood swings, periods of extreme apathy, rage episodes, flashes… hallucinations. Your sense of self might misfire sometimes, until your brain rewires itself."

"Hallucinations, huh?" he murmured, connecting dots.

"You may not feel like yourself all the time." Elise didn't sugarcoat it. "You shouldn't use those powers again until you've recovered. And to be safe, I think you should avoid any superhero missions for a while. The white strands in your hair are accumulated stress—your body going past its limits. Once you're recovered, the color should stabilize. And because of physiological priorities, hair is one of the last things to be restored—so treat it as a visual warning."

Kai ran a finger along his temple, feeling how sensitive it was. "And my eyes? Keeping them open feels like my head's about to explode."

"Result of those scars we saw plus photosensitivity. Tissue reacting to overload." She printed an authorization form. "Wear sunglasses for a while. Officially: medical prescription. I can't guarantee if standard medication even works on a biology like yours."

Sunglasses? You've got to be kidding me.

"Any questions?" Elise asked.

"No."

She nodded. "Then rest. I'll grab more coffee and finalize the report."

Elise left.

The door had barely closed when Cosmic spoke, still facing the monitor.

"By the way. Your suit. Though I doubt you're gonna use it for a while. I had it repaired."

Kai frowned. The images of the massacre came back in full, and with Elise's recommendation, the decision suddenly seemed easy.

"Throw it away."

Cosmic turned. "What?"

"Throw it out or do whatever you want with it." His voice came out steady.

Brief silence. Cosmic studied his face.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not a hero." Kai kept his tone almost too calm. "I shouldn't even be here. You know that."

"Kai…" Cosmic leaned against the counter. "The GDA didn't tell the public anything about what happened there. Knowing the man in charge, I bet he felt more relieved than worried after you took care of the cartels and the purple-shell guy at the same time. That was the void, not you."

"That wasn't just the void." Kai held Cosmic's gaze. "That was me. And I'd do it again."

Cosmic let the weight of that land, without backing off.

"You're grieving. For Viktor, for Rachel. I am too." He drew in a breath. "But you walked out alive."

"Grey is dead." Kai concluded. "Tell the GDA whatever you want. Say he didn't make it."

Cosmic stayed quiet for a moment, then inclined his head.

"Alright. Take all the time you need." His voice dropped a notch. "But… Remember this when you decide who you'll become: the void has been messing with your brain from the start, the scans prove it. You have a good heart, and you should understand this—one life ended never gets the chance to change. Where there's life, there's possibility."

Kai was about to snap back when his eyes slid past Cosmic's shoulder.

Viktor was leaning in the corner, arms crossed, wearing that same half-smile as always.

Cosmic went on, unaware.

"You went to Oakwood because Mark depended too much on you. Now, with everything that's happened… maybe you're the one who depends on him. Maybe he's the one who'll keep you human, even inside the void."

Kai shut his eyes for a moment.

"Maybe," he answered, not really focusing on anyone. "But you're still way too kind."

"And you're still way too stubborn."

"Still, you're the one saying the guy who killed more than fifty criminals without blinking has a good heart. Maybe you're terrible at reading people."

Cosmic laughed under his breath. "Could be."

Elise came back in with a digital folder in hand and deep shadows under her eyes.

Kai stood up, moved back to the bed and lay down at the edge. "I'm leaving when the sun comes up."

"Good. Seems you at least listened to half of what I said." She put the tablet away. "Rest until then. If you don't pass out, you're cleared."

Cosmic gave a little wave.

Kai just nodded. He lay back again. The headache was still there. The void too. And for now, the two would keep each other company.

May 24th, 2015 — Sunday — Cosmic's Apartment — Downtown Chicago, Illinois — 04:15 AM.

The apartment door opened with the soft click of a numeric code. Cosmic stepped in first, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. Elise followed, dropping her bag on the kitchen counter.

She went straight to the sink, turned on the tap, filled a glass and drank half of it in a single pull.

"Honestly," she said, setting the glass down on the counter, "with that level of activity in his brain, I have no idea how he managed to grow up and not become a complete psychopathic. Even before what he did to the cartel guys… I mean."

Cosmic walked into the living room, turning on only the corner lamp. The apartment was simple, functional: gray couch, stacks of books, two mugs forgotten on the coffee table. He sat down, loosening the collar of his shirt.

"Kai is different," he said, eyes resting on some random spot on the wall. "He already was good and had a good heart before he was even born. Even with everything against him, he never just gave up. He only got too tired."

Elise frowned.

"I don't get this 'good heart before he was born' thing. I don't know if it has to do with him being from that alien race you mentioned… 'Viltrumite'." She crossed her arms. "But with something messing with his head like that, anyone else would've gone insane long ago."

Cosmic glanced at the window, where Chicago's lights scratched faint reflections into the glass.

"I know what that power can do to someone, but his mind is strong," he said quietly. "I just hope he doesn't get swallowed and lose himself."

She only nodded, exhausted. She picked up the empty glass, left it in the sink and headed toward the bedroom.

"His cells are incredibly adaptive, he'll heal if he takes a break. Eventually, I think the side effects will get better too... I'm going to try to sleep a bit. Don't stay up too long, okay?"

He let a half-smile show. 

"Promise."

Elise disappeared down the hallway.

Cosmic took a deep breath, sat there in silence for a few seconds, then picked up the small communicator from the side table and clipped it to his ear.

"Cecil."

Static. Then the familiar voice.

"You know what time it is? Any good news about the kid?"

"He's alive," Cosmic answered. "Awake. Conscious. But I have a question, Cecil." A beat. "How did you know the exact location to send me that day?"

On the other end, nothing but breathing for a few moments.

"…"

Cosmic went on, his tone unchanged.

"I understand why you did it. I'm not going to dump all the blame on you. It saved his life. And I know you honored the deal not to shove the GDA onto the kid or drag his family into this. But that still breaks our trust."

Cecil finally spoke, voice tired and rough.

"Sorry. You wanted to keep the secret, and I did. I didn't expose the boy. I just did what I thought was right for his own good."

Cosmic glanced toward the hallway, where Elise had gone silent.

"Right. Then I'll be blunt. He asked me to tell you he didn't make it. He dropped the hero identity. Grey is dead. How you use this information will tell me if I can still trust you."

Cosmic took the communicator out before any reply could come, left it on the table, and headed down the dark hallway. He lay down beside Elise, who was already asleep, back turned toward him. Then he closed his eyes.

On the other end, Cecil let out a weary breath. He knew this was the end of the Young Team.

Back at the Hospital — May 24th, 2015 — Sunday — Chicago Central Hospital — 04:22 AM

Kai was out, not drifting into a deep sleep so much as being swallowed. The dark came too fast, too thick. And in it, the memory replayed.

The field returned whole.

Twisted bodies. Soaked earth. Salamanca in the center, his head a few meters ahead, like someone had paused a movie on the worst possible frame. Viktor down. Mirage sliding down the truck's side. Kai himself, from a third-person angle, hovering above it all, watching the monster with blue eyes walk through the massacre as if he were taking a stroll.

A voice sounded beside him.

"Heavy, huh."

Viktor. On his feet, hands in his pockets, leaning against a patch of nothing, staring at the scene with tired irony.

"I guess they deserved it, but you didn't need to go that far, man."

Observer-Kai spoke before he could think.

"I did what I had to do."

"Did you really just do that?" Viktor turned his face toward him. "Or did you just break all the way?"

Down below, the figure that was the other Kai—the one inside the massacre—lifted his head as if he'd heard that too. He smiled faintly. There was nothing good in that smile.

"They killed Mirage," the Kai on the ground said, his voice echoing through the dark. "If no one stands above them, they come back. They grab someone again. Friends. Family. Someone has to keep them in their place."

Observer-Kai shot back, harsher than he expected.

"So what?"

"So leaving them alive is giving them a chance to kill people who deserve to stay alive," the Kai of the massacre replied. "Bad people only understand a limit when it's final."

Viktor pulled a face.

"They might have deserved it," he admitted, without much weight. "But you're still a hero with the powers of a god. Your main job is to protect the weak. And bonus: bag as many girls as you can along the way. That's the ideal package."

The Kai down below laughed.

"Girls, huh? I tried that so many times. In my last life, I ended up with nothing. This one went the same way… she left. Vanished. Traded me for a life far away from here. I don't belong in this world. Or the other."

Observer-Kai felt the words hit and didn't like the answer. He shot back.

"That's not true. In this life, you have more. You have your family. You have Mark. You had Kiana. You had friends. You had choices. This is better than before."

"If it's so much better, why am I empty?" the Kai down below cut him off. His blue eyes lit up, reflecting all the bodies. "Why is it that when I'm empty, the only thing that makes sense is staring into the infinite?"

Viktor raised his hands, trying to mediate.

"Because you're broken right now, congratulations, it happens. But you've been forgetting basic math, man. You have god-tier power. You're in a paper world. You can save way more people than you can hurt. It's not about belonging or not. It's about what you choose to do with that, and how much you enjoy being the best, the strongest, the prettiest, the most everything." Viktor spread his arms wide.

"Did my choice change anything?" the Kai of the massacre shot back. "You still died."

Viktor pointed at his own face.

"I'm literally right here annoying you. So yeah, it changed something."

Observer-Kai started to respond and froze. Something about that other version of him… broke the line. The image wavered.

The Kai of the massacre split in midair like a reflection separating from the mirror. He became two.

One, shoulders loose, blue eyes sharp and cutting, mouth hard. Cold. Rational.

The other, chest heavy, brown eyes clenched against the urge to collapse. Raw pain, empathy laid bare, everything right at the surface.

Between them, Viktor let out a low whistle.

"There. Now we're organized."

The cold Kai spoke first.

"The answer is simple. Cartels, supervillains, anyone who lays a hand on innocents… disappears. I do what no one else wants to do. Efficient. We should keep being Grey."

The brown-eyed Kai stared back.

"And then what? You look at Mark. At Debbie. At the few people who still trust you. What's left? You become what you hate most. I already told you—Grey died there. You cross another line and who cleans up? Who holds Nolan back if he snaps? Who stops the next Russell?"

The blue-eyed one scoffed.

"You. And you fail. Again. You always fail, because you never learn."

Viktor stepped between them, pushing both by the shoulders.

"Enough. You two are the same guy, just cut in half. One came from the past life, the other came from this one. One doesn't care about life, has no hope and doesn't give a damn if he's alive or not—he wants to burn the world before the world burns the innocent. The other wants to live, find hope again and save everyone—or at least let Mark save. Newsflash: alone, both of you screw everything. Together, you might actually work."

Both Kais turned to look at him.

Viktor pointed at the new Kai—the one who still felt things.

"You're not ready to become one person yet, so you drive. At least for now. Somebody has to remember why we care."

Then he pointed at the cold one.

"And you stay in the front seat. Whisper options when needed, alright? But no grabbing the wheel without a vote."

Observer-Kai felt pressure build in his skull. This wasn't just a vision. It was a choice. And none of those voices was going to vanish. All of them knew everything. All of them remembered everything. All of them were him.

"Deal?" Viktor asked, serious for a rare second.

Both Kais nodded—and the answer came in unison. "What about you?"

"Me? I'm here to knock some sense into your thick head," Viktor laughed. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. I'm the one who should've lived, anyway."

The headache exploded. The Kai who'd been watching from the outside felt like he was being split into three pieces, each one placed into one of them.

Kai woke up ripping at the air with a hoarse scream, as if someone had driven a burning blade behind his eyes. The monitor shrieked with alarms. He sat up on the bed, gasping, the room spinning.

And he saw.

Two figures were watching him. Himself, with that cold blue stare—and Viktor, arms crossed, tilting his head as if to say, your turn.

The three presences weren't empty shadows. They felt. They had opinions. They were all there. And he was one of them.

The voice that came out of Kai's throat was his, but it came filtered through the decision just made.

The other two stayed quiet. Watching.

For now, the part of him that still felt would be the one holding the wheel.

Following Days — Chicago, Illinois

In the morning, Kai went home.

Cosmic's cover story held. Everyone believed he'd spent the last few days helping Viktor's family through the loss.

Debbie met her son in the hallway and hugged him without saying a word. Only when she let go did she catch, in passing, the now-white hair — and chose not to comment. After what happened with Kiana and now the mourning… she understood it in the only way she needed to: escape; a strange way of holding the world together so it wouldn't collapse.

It worked. No one pushed past that.

Nolan kept his distance in silence; Mark stayed quiet, accepting the short answers.

Kai went upstairs to wash his face, then in his room picked up the glasses — an old gift from Kiana. He stared at them for a moment. From that day on, he wore them all the time — the light hurt, and hiding his eyes helped keep the headache, and the outside world, under control.

Wednesday. Overcast sky. Viktor's funeral. Closed casket.

The cemetery felt too small for the number of people Viktor had saved as Vortex without ever showing his face. Schoolmates, one or another hero and what looked like GDA agents in civilian clothes, almost no family. Jenny was there, leg bandaged, crutches leaning against the side of the plastic chair they'd set for her.

When Kai approached, he took off his glasses just enough to really look at her. Jenny dropped the crutches, clumsy, and threw herself against his chest. The crying came instantly. Short, raw sobs, no filter.

He stayed there, steady, holding her—one hand on her back, the other keeping her from collapsing. He supported her and waited for the sobs to ease.

"How are the injuries?" he asked after a while, voice low.

"They're better… I'll live," Jenny answered, sniffling, eyes swollen. She took a deep breath, as if having to cross a wall. "I'm not going to be Reflex anymore. I can't. I'm sorry… I think about that day and I freeze. I have a panic attack just imagining it. I can't do it."

Kai nodded, without judgment.

"I'm not going back either. At least not until I recover. For a while… After that… I don't know." He held her gaze a little longer. "If you need anything, tell me."

She nodded back, with no real confidence that the world would be alright, but believing him out of habit.

For Kai, the strangest thing wasn't the coffin. It was Viktor, leaning against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching his own funeral with the face of someone about to crack a joke.

"What a terrible mood," Viktor muttered in his head. "Not even an epic soundtrack? I don't like sad vibes."

Kai didn't answer. He just put the glasses back on.

On Friday, the GDA held the official ceremony.

A packed auditorium, flags, giant screens, carefully measured speeches. They talked about the Young Team as a symbol of hope. About the latest operations against the cartels. About the purple-armored villain brought down. About the lives saved.

On the screens: Mirage. Vortex. Training photos, mission footage, fragments of what would never truly be shown.

"Mirage died in service," the spokesperson announced. "So did Vortex. Other members will be out of action, but their legacy remains."

No word about torn bodies, about a field covered in blood. Nothing about Grey. Atlas was there, getting attention in his uniform, and that was the last time anyone saw him. Andrey had found a few clues that his mother might be in Russia, so he left with the GDA's help.

Social media flooded with tributes. Edits with Vortex's symbol, messages for Mirage, thank-you videos, hashtags climbing non-stop.

Cassie watched it all and felt her chest tighten. Page after page, post after post — she knew the faces under the masks — and watched Kai sink into silence, skipping classes for days in a row.

And Kiana? Cassie tried sending messages. Several.

No reply. The studio filtered everything. Kiana's profiles had become a billboard of behind-the-scenes, official posters, subtitled interviews, photos with co-stars.

"Even after what happened to Mirage and Viktor… nothing?" Cassie thought. What bubble is she in that she can't see what the rest of the world is living through?

And, in a way, she really was in a bubble. In the bubble her father built… and the one she chose to stay in.

On the other side of the world, the girl who once flew over Chicago in Kai's arms now woke up in Seoul, memorized lines, changed costumes, stepped into other characters. No real news from the West. No word about Mirage, no word about Viktor, no word about Grey drenched in blood.

The rhythm of mourning carried on over the next days. School, headlines, tributes, silence. Everyone coping however they could.

Kai kept moving. Half present. Half gone. The void leaning on his shoulder as if it were part of him. And Viktor always close, as if he'd never left.

June 10th, 2015 — Wednesday — Oakwood — 07:04

Kai walked into the main corridor. Too much light, too many people, too much noise. He knew he'd already blown past the limit of allowed absences, but there was still a way to patch things up with a good conversation and his ranking. He arrived early, sat in his usual seat and waited for the teacher—planning to ask to talk before class.

But before the teacher, the door opened and his stomach clenched. Cassie walked in covered in bruises, scratches on her face, her arm in a sling.

"Cassie." He was already on his feet. "What happened?"

She avoided his eyes, more than anything wanting to avoid worrying him after everything. "Nothing, I'm fine. Lost a ranked match, that's all. And why are you wearing sunglasses in the classroom?"

Kai ignored the question. "Just that? What do you mean? Not even when you fought Kiana you looked like this."

"I'm second now." She gave a short smile, proud and bitter at the same time. "With half the weirdos out of school, I almost took first."

Amy from the boxing club leaned on the desk, joining in. "Yeah… but he could've stopped when she went down, you know? He didn't need to twist her arm."

Behind the dark lenses, Kai's eyes flashed blue. His voice came out direct, cold. "Who was it?"

"Brandon Thorton," Amy answered without needing to think.

Kai walked out of the classroom without another word. Cassie shot Amy a sideways look. "Seriously?" Then the two of them went after him.

The hallway opened like water. Kai crossed to the other building and shoved the sliding door of Brandon's classroom hard enough to make the frame rattle. Half the class swallowed dry.

Brandon, in the back, spun his chair around and smiled. "Finally here to accept my challenge?"

Kai took a step forward—and stopped. Viktor's hand, living in some corner of his mind now, landed on his shoulder.

"Easy. He did it in front of everyone. It's going to be better with the whole school watching. Let the other us handle it."

Kai stared at the nothing behind the sunglasses, and the blue faded. His eyes went back to brown, the void pulling back a bit. Jaw still locked, fists clenched — but his voice changed.

"I accept the ranked match. Whenever you want."

"Great!" Brandon opened his arms like he was basking in applause. "I'm first now, and I'm important here, you know? I'll make it today. Just wait for the announcement."

By the doorway, Cassie and Amy watched in silence. Kai walked past them; they fell in step without saying a word, all eyes in the corridor following them and slowly thinning away.

Cassie slipped a hand into her pocket. "Thanks. Teach him a lesson… but don't overdo it."

Amy walked two steps ahead and turned, walking backward as she talked. "Wrong. You can overdo it. Pay that jerk back, like you did with Liam last year. The club's counting on you."

Kai let a half-smile escape. "Got it."

Amy grinned, nodding. "Gotta go to my class. Catch you guys later."

Cassie rolled her eyes and tilted her chin toward his glasses, changing the subject. "Seriously, what's with the sunglasses inside school?"

"Doctor's orders. Headaches."

Cassie raised a brow. "You're going to have to take them off to fight."

"Yeah. Shame." He sighed, purposefully dramatic, turning the corner.

Before the first class ended, the Oakwood speakers crackled to life, asking for attention to "an announcement regarding today's ranked fight: 32nd place versus Oakwood's first place."

The rest of the morning blew by on autopilot, rumors stirring every hallway.

"There's a ranked match with first place today!"

"He's Kiana's ex! Did he bleach his hair?"

"He's hot, but he must be full of himself—sunglasses at school?"

The semester already smelled like vacation, like the end of a championship — and even so, Kai still hadn't fixed his attendance issue.

During the 10:20 break, as he headed out to get some water, a girl from another class blocked the fountain, phone in hand. Loose light-brown hair, pretty, perfect uniform, courage borrowed from the moment.

"I… I'm interested in you," she said quickly, like she was ripping off a bandage. "Since the beginning of the year. I know about you and Kiana… anyway. If you want, we could go out sometime."

Kai set his bottle on the fountain; sunglasses still on his face. "Thanks for telling me," he replied quietly, simple, without humiliating her. "But I'm not in the mood."

She nodded and walked away, face burning. Behind her, two friends who'd only come to "get water" nudged each other, whispers scratching the air. He turned toward the hallway and saw, as always, Viktor walking beside him — shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets, sarcasm glued to his face.

"Congrats, champ," Viktor grumbled, folding his arms. "First one of the day and you already wasted it. The line moves, man. Time to stop being an idiot. Kiana's probably sitting on some Korean guy by now. You saw that picture on her profile, that actor's probably the new boyfriend."

Kai stopped in the hall and stared at the ghost. "Do me a favor and shut the fuck up."

Viktor raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Just proving a point. Peace?"

But the silence settled and he went back to class.

Last period of the morning. When the bell rang, another approach. In the shaded courtyard beneath the trees, a third-year student showed up with a folded envelope.

They exchanged a few words and Kai took the envelope on reflex.

"Your hair looks good bleached like that. And… I think you're really handsome," she said with surprising confidence. "I'd like to go to the movies with you. What do you say?"

Viktor stepped right behind her. "Another one? Same day? I told you. Say yes. Today you get first place in the ranking and celebrate being first—" He gave a wicked grin, sizing her up. "—in something else too."

Kai clenched his jaw, annoyed by the routine speech… and, deep down, accepting that Viktor's voice kept him anchored. The irritation underneath was still better than being alone with his own head.

"I appreciate it. Really," he said, handing the paper back. "But I'm not interested right now."

She gave a small smile, keeping her dignity. "Ouch. I thought I had a shot, but I guess I can't compete with your ex. It's fine. Good luck today."

When she left, Amy and another girl from the boxing club sitting on the nearby bench bit back laughter. Amy whispered, "He's handsome even when he's rejecting people."

Even without trying, Kai drew attention wherever he went — even more now that his ex was becoming an actress and his name kept showing up next to hers in comments and speculation.

In class, the teacher pretended to explain statistics while half the room scrolled on their phones. Group chats blew up with clips of Brandon flooring his latest opponents and the video of Kai knocking out Liam with a single punch months earlier. In every hallway, the dark sunglasses pulled eyes toward him like spotlights.

"Cut the 'not in the mood' crap," Viktor muttered, dropping into the desk beside him, chair tilted back. "You need to remember you're the best one here, a god walking among mortals. Today's simple: you teach Brandon a lesson for what he did to Cassie, then it's the heartbreak tour."

"All day repeating this," Kai shot back, dry, resting his face on his hand. "Give it a rest."

Viktor spun a phantom pen between his fingers. "You know with the videos you have, you can fix the absence thing. If I were you, I'd enjoy every second of this."

Kai tightened his grip on the notebook. "I warned you about Robert, I told you he was the guy with the spikes. If you were me, you wouldn't have died."

Viktor didn't answer that. His smile faded for half a second before returning. He just sat there, present — and, strangely, that was enough.

Lunch went by with the bare minimum: he and Cassie ate quickly in the cafeteria, half a dozen practical phrases. The old circle had shrunk. Samuel had left school the year before, others had graduated; only Kai, Cassie and a few boxing club members remained.

13:27. The hallway to the gym was boiling. Kai changed, put his sunglasses and belongings in his backpack and pushed the double doors open. The high-end gym gleamed: four regulation rings side by side, the central one reserved for the fight; seamless padded flooring, bright white lights without shadows; side panels showing ranking and timer. On the big screen: "1st — Brandon Thorton" and, right underneath, "Challenger — Kai Greyson." Brandon waited with a territorial grin.

An official checked them both and gave the signal.

Cassie sat in the stands, folding the sling in her lap. Rows of students filled in waves.

13:30. The chime cut the crowd's murmur.

"Competitors to the center," called the referee.

Kai took two steps to the line. With his free hand, he cracked his neck while he looked around. The gym held its breath.

Viktor whistled from ringside, pleased with the drama. "Showtime."

Kai breathed steadily — and, because he had no idea what Brandon could do now, he was genuinely calm.

The bell had barely dropped when Brandon smiled. The air around them sank, as if someone had turned up gravity inside the ring. His Ego flared in a compact radius, invisible and brutal.

All the waiting, all the preparation up to that point — an area that big? It would be hard to maintain, but just the ring? Possible.

Things got heavy. In one second, more than 90% of Kai's strength was amputated from his body, like someone had flipped off his internal breakers. Brandon also yielded — the field hit him too. But it didn't end there. If it did, it wouldn't have been a problem; what remained of a Viltrumite's strength was still more than enough.

The rest of what Kai had left was cut in half and drained; half flowed into the owner of the Ego, swelling Brandon's muscles with power that wasn't his.

Kai stumbled a step, then reset his center of gravity. His silence measured his shock exactly.

Brandon moved first. A dry straight. Kai blocked with his forearm and felt the bone rattle.

Brandon's victorious, mocking voice followed right on top of the hit.

"Doesn't feel so strong now, does it?"

The sequence came: jab, cross, short hook to the body; Kai closed his guard, absorbing the blows on his torso, slipping his head a hair's breadth off line. The ring felt like clay — each step forward demanded three times the effort — and Brandon's punches, juiced by the drain, fell like sledgehammers. Kai tested a straight counter. Brandon blocked, solid. Short exchange: shoulder to shoulder, sidestep, forearms scraping. The field tilted the whole game the wrong way.

His power… it's heavier than those villains' drain.

Brandon upped the pace, chaining combinations of three to five strikes, changing height. Kai started to catch the rhythm: two high to open the guard, one to the solar plexus to steal air, short pause, restart at the chin. Even so, he took a clean cross to the mouth. The taste of iron spread.

"Today you finally pay for it. Where are your blue eyes now?"

Kai lifted his chin just a bit.

Muryō Kusho would break this drain, just like that day— and beyond Brandon's shoulder, he saw Viktor in the stands, sitting like always, that same half-smile that pissed him off and kept him grounded — No. Not happening.

No void energy. Elise warned.

But if I turn my eyes on, it'll be easy to see his strikes…

In the row above, Cassie watched on her feet, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out why Kai was being pushed back.

We're equal… no… he's actually stronger now. This is my chance to show what Henry's style can do. I don't even have to hold back, my raw strength is gone anyway. Damn…

Kai sighed internally and locked his focus back on Brandon, without letting the blue flare.

"Actually, I don't need them to deal with you," he said, voice clean and confident.

Brandon's jaw tightened. He charged in, angry.

Kai adjusted his stance. He let his chest loosen, settled his weight into his heels, shortened his levers — no explosions, just technique, precision and economy. He let his body learn the new gravity. Shoulders relaxed, chin down, hands alive.

The irony was that Brandon's Ego, by stripping brute strength from both and draining some of Kai's, had levelled the field. Without bursts of superhuman strength spinning out of control, the ring became a real ring — and the entire school could see.

Brandon tested Kai's lead leg first with a low kick. Kai raised his shin at the perfect time, checking the strike, and answered with a double jab just to touch, measuring distance and rhythm. Brandon fired back a heavy cross and followed with a mid kick to the ribs. Kai twisted his hips inward, "hugging" the kick with forearm and elbow, letting the energy slide across his back — the deflection Cassie had drilled into him on the mats from day one.

Cassie leaned forward. That deflection was clean. Too clean.

Brandon closed the distance and hammered inside: jab to the eye, straight to the chin, short hook to the body. Kai accepted the first two on his guard and let the hook cut through, rolling his torso with the punch; Brandon's arm overshot, and Kai answered with a tight combination — hook to the liver, uppercut grazing the base of his chin, calf kick biting into the lead leg. The dry crack of the kick pulled a chorus of "oooh" from the gym.

Brandon flinched just a bit, then came in harder. Surprise head kick. Kai ducked a hand's breadth, the heel sweeping across the top of his hair. He came up with a straight to the chest, Brandon blocked and locked him in the clinch. There, Brandon tried knees to the sternum; Kai pinned his forearms by threading his own to the inside, biceps glued to biceps, and redrew the angle, turning from the shoulder to steal leverage — Cassie's school again — until he broke the grip and slipped out, planting a teep to the gut to buy air.

On the panel, the clock chewed seconds. A small cut now lined Kai's lip; Brandon's thigh bloomed red, already darkening to purple.

The intensity climbed. Brandon bit down, switched stance and fired a nasty inside low kick followed by a straight to the nose. The crack echoed. Kai stepped back, wiped the blood with the back of his glove and came in with a short combo: jab to the eyes, cross as bait and, when Brandon raised his guard, a side kick to the sternum that shoved him back two shoe-lengths. The Ego field gnawed at Kai's muscles, but technique stitched everything together.

Cassie watched. Her style. Redirecting, burning out the other's force, giving it back through the cracks.

Brandon growled and cranked up the volume. He dove into a cascade: three shots to the head, two to the body, another mid kick. Kai absorbed it on forearms and torso, slipped his head off line, touched him with a jab again just to break his timing and, when Brandon tried to repeat the pattern, Kai rolled his torso over the axis and drove a clean counter — straight right inside the looping cross. The impact made Brandon blink. Kai stapled another low kick into the same leg. Brandon's base shook.

The gym went wild.

Wounded in his pride, Brandon went in to finish. Left cross, right overhand, step inside to cut the angle and… nothing. Kai had already seen it. He dragged the overhand into empty air with a short sidestep, "caught" Brandon's arm with his forearm and shoved his shoulder forward, breaking his balance. In that brief vacuum, Kai dug a left hook to the body — deep, right on the spot — and brought up a short straight to the jaw. Brandon staggered back until the ropes kissed his back.

"Close in. Don't give him room," Cassie muttered.

Kai didn't. He stepped outside Brandon's lead foot, blocking his escape route. Brandon tried to slip out the other side with a desperate spinning backfist. Kai dipped his shoulder, let the strike skim past and planted his feet.

First, the hook: heavy, clean, crashed through his guard and rattled Brandon's head to the right. In the same instant, Kai's hips turned all the way.

The spinning kick came down like a hammer.

His shin smashed the side of Brandon's face. Brandon flew over the top rope, bounced off the outside padding and hit the floor below.

He spent four seconds feeling his vision blur before he got up. Silence like an empty court, then a burst of screams.

Those seconds, down outside the ring without reacting, were all the referee needed.

"Win by ring out… Kai Greyson!"

The lights seemed whiter, the noise louder. In the stands, two more boxing club members jumped to their feet, roaring.

"I told you our club is the best!"

"That's Cassie's style, look at that! It's hers!"

The screen already showed the new first place. Kai Greyson.

Cassie smiled in a way only someone who understood every technical choice could smile. The ferocity was there, but so was the precision. Kai stood still for a second, breathing deep, chest rising and falling under the weight of the Ego that still hadn't fully faded.

First in the school. No blue eyes. Just technique, reading, and a stubborn decision not to give in.

Brandon got up with his jaw locked, blinded by the rage of watching his plans and all his effort go down the drain.

In a jump, he came back into the ring, powered purely by anger. The gym shouted with him. Kai had his back turned.

"This isn't over, I'm going to destroy you and then I'll take care of the girl's other arm."

Kai's eyes swept the stands in a flicker where, seconds earlier, Viktor had "been." Empty now, he was gone. His gaze climbed to Cassie — the sling on her arm — and stopped there. Take care of the other arm?

His eyes turned blue on their own.

Brandon charged for the strike. Even with his back turned, Kai tilted his head a centimeter and let the punch slice through nothing, as if he also had eyes in the back of his head.

"Stop! The fight is over!" the referee shouted, blowing the whistle.

No one heard.

The referee climbed into the ring—and staggered. Brandon's Ego field crushed his strength. He couldn't reach them.

Kai's stare was distant and cold. Brandon threw another straight; Kai caught the fist in midair, turned into the blow and drove the point of his elbow into his ribs. He flowed with the spin around Brandon's back, trapped the arm, twisted the joint until he could lock the second one inside his reach and swept his base.

Brandon fell to his knees.

"This… isn't… over!" he snarled through his teeth.

Kai's thought slid in, metallic, as if another mouth spoke inside him.

Doesn't matter. You let them live and they come back to hurt innocent people again. Trash will always be trash.

With both arms trapped behind his back, Kai planted his right foot in the center of Brandon's spine. The gym held its breath; even the phones stopped.

His voice came out low, intimate, soulless—only for Brandon.

"You twisted her arm after the fight. Shame I can't kill you here."

Brandon grunted in pain.

"But this… this I can do."

Kai pulled. Hard.

The double crack of both shoulders snapping echoed through the gym.

Brandon's scream filled the space like a siren. But the world had already turned distant.

Shouting, the referee's whistle, someone yelling to call the infirmary. The Six Eyes registered everything; Kai looked like he was in a trance. All the noise, muffled, like they came from underwater.

He let go of the limp arms. Brandon collapsed forward, gasping. Kai stomped on his knee, twisting the joint outward. Another shriek. People looked away.

Kai turned his back, stepped out of the ring with his hands in his pockets. The strength the Ego had stripped was already coming back as Brandon's field unraveled.

While they rushed to help Brandon, Kai walked to the locker room, grabbed his things. He paused for a second in front of the polished metal door: the reflection staring back at him had two eyes glowing too bright.

He tried to switch them off. Nothing. His reflection stared back, unblinking.

He shoved open the side door, crossed the open area and shot into the sky before anyone could see him leave.

Kai landed on the edge of a nearby building and stopped at the ledge, the wind cutting across his face.

Viktor's voice came from behind him, light, hands in his pockets as always.

"You know you're not wearing your mask, right? Someone could see you."

"Would it make any difference?" Kai's reply came out cold.

Viktor stopped beside him, watching the traffic below.

"Relax, I'm not judging. You didn't kill the guy. Though I almost thought you would." He huffed a laugh. "He deserved that, though."

Kai didn't answer. He just kept staring at the horizon, blue eyes burning.

"Look," Viktor went on, softer, "you did your part. You showed up at the right time. Now you can relax."

Kai's eyes finally lost their glow, returning to brown. He drew in a breath. "There goes any chance of fixing my absences."

"You still have the videos, don't you? And either way, he attacked you first." Viktor shrugged.

Kai fixed his gaze on the emptiness over the avenue, his eyes normal again.

"Shit."

Next Day — Thursday, June 11th, 2015 — Oakwood — 6:47 AM

Kai sat on the bench in the hallway across from the main office. He had arrived early, before anyone even called him in. Backpack at his feet, sunglasses on, posture way too relaxed for someone waiting on his own verdict.

Students walked by. Side glances. Whispers. No one came close, but it was obvious the attention on him had only grown. Even without checking, he knew more than half the school followed him on social media by now.

The secretary had looked over at him three times in the last ten minutes. Each time she seemed more nervous.

Kai didn't move. He just waited.

He knew exactly how this worked: Brandon had been taken straight to the hospital after yesterday's fight. Dislocated shoulders, a blown-out knee, maybe a few broken ribs. His father had probably called the principal already. The emergency council meeting had probably happened. The decision had already been made.

All that was missing was the summons.

The office door opened. The principal stepped out — gray suit, crooked tie — and looked Kai up and down with open disdain.

"Grayson. Good that you're already here. My office. Now."

Kai picked up his backpack and stood slowly.

"Yes, sir," he said.

The principal slammed the door a little harder than necessary, circled his desk and sat. He straightened his tie and drew in a deep breath.

"You broke both of Brandon Thorton's shoulders and his left knee. After the fight was over. In front of more than two hundred students," he said.

Kai sat in the chair across from him and set his backpack on the floor. "That's right," he said.

"'That's right'?" He leaned forward. "Grayson, you might have managed to take first place — and we know how much that matters here — but it seems you didn't grasp the seriousness of what you did! The Thorton family donates thousands of dollars every year to this school. His father is demanding your immediate expulsion. And he wants to sue you and your parents for assault."

Kai slowly pulled his phone from his pocket and dropped it onto the desk between them like it was nothing.

"I've got a better proposal," he said.

The principal looked at the phone as if it were a bomb. He didn't touch it. The screen was already open on the gallery.

"Go ahead. Take a look," Kai said.

The principal hesitated, then picked it up. The first video started on its own — Oakwood's hallway, recorded more than a year ago. A smaller boy cornered against the lockers. Three others around him. A shove. Laughter. One of them dumped a drink onto the boy's shirt. The camera shook; whoever was filming was clearly hiding.

He swiped to the next clip. More of the same. Different hallway, different victim. One of the bullies kicked the backpack away, books scattering across the floor.

In the third video, a teacher walked by. He looked. Turned his head. Kept walking.

The principal swallowed.

"These videos are old," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "They're from when the previous principal was in charge."

Kai tilted his head, a slow half-smile starting to form on his lips.

"They could be from when the previous principal, Radcliffe, was in control," he said. "He seemed like the kind of man who knew how to make the ugly parts of this place disappear." He paused, the smile sharpening. "Doesn't look like that's your case."

The principal dropped the phone on the desk as if it were hot. He straightened up, his expression hardening.

"Listen, Grayson," he said, voice colder now. "You might think this is some kind of trump card, but it isn't. The school wouldn't suffer from these videos. Bullying happens everywhere. Everybody knows that. And what you did — deliberately breaking a boy's arms after the fight was over — crossed every line." He laced his fingers on top of the desk. "I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice. You're expelled."

Kai didn't move. He just watched him for a moment, as if processing the information without any rush. Then irony slipped into his voice — calm, almost amused.

"I see. So the videos aren't a problem," he said. He let the pause hang between them. "Guess they're not a problem, just like that kid, Edward, who showed his powers live and then conveniently 'transferred out' to avoid giving the school any trouble."

Silence dropped.

The principal opened his mouth. Closed it. His composure started to crack.

"Grayson…" he began.

"Or maybe," Kai continued, voice still calm but each word landing with surgical precision, "I could bring up how this school has a habit of sweeping any incident that might scare investors under the rug. Radcliffe knew how to do that. You clearly don't."

The principal ran a hand over his face. When he spoke again, his voice was tired, edging on desperate.

"The school's investors…" He looked at Kai now, directly — no longer with disdain, but with something close to contained panic. "I haven't been in this job long. This would ruin me. You can't—"

Kai took his phone back and slid it into his pocket. The sunglasses hid whatever was in his eyes when he looked at the man.

"So let's do it like this," he said simply. "First condition: Cassie becomes Oakwood's official number one when I'm gone. GPA calculations, ranking, everything. She deserves it."

The principal blinked. "But Brandon—" The sentence died on his tongue. He just nodded.

"Second condition," Kai went on, same neutral tone. "My record goes out clean. No absences. No disciplinary marks. Passing grades in everything. And when my parents ask why I'm leaving, you're going to tell them the school canceled the performance-based scholarship program I was in. Budget cuts. Administrative decision. Whatever bullshit you want."

The principal opened his mouth to answer, but Kai raised one finger.

"Third condition." The sunglasses stayed fixed on him. "You do everything in your power to convince the Thorton family not to sue. Tell them it's not in the school's interest to escalate. If they sue anyway, those videos go public immediately."

The principal swallowed hard. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair.

Kai tilted his head a fraction.

"I don't leak the videos. Not to press, not to social media, not to the parents of those kids," he said. He let a brief pause stretch. "And I walk out of this school of my own free will. No scandal. No headlines. No institutional negligence investigation."

The silence lasted a full ten seconds. Kai's faint, lopsided smile seemed to crush the principal's ego more than the demands themselves.

He inhaled deeply. Exhaled slowly. He looked down at the desk, then back up at Kai.

"You really thought this through, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

Another beat of silence. The principal rubbed his forehead, massaging his temples. When he spoke again, his voice came out defeated.

"Alright. I accept. Cassie goes to the top, your record gets wiped, and I'll talk to the Thortons," he said. He pointed at Kai, trying to salvage some scrap of authority. "But those videos have to disappear. Completely. No copies, no cloud, no—"

"The videos stay with me," Kai cut in, firm. "As insurance. If you hold up your end, they never see the light of day. If you don't…" He let the rest hang in the air.

The principal closed his eyes like a man accepting total defeat.

"Fine. Fine. It's done," he said. His shoulders sagged. The fight was over.

Kai stood up slowly and grabbed his backpack. He stopped at the door, hand on the handle, then turned his head a little.

"Thank you for your understanding, sir. Just a reminder — our deal is for what's already on that phone. Anything that happens after today? That's on you."

His tone was polite. Almost cordial.

But there was something cold underneath.

Kai opened the door and walked out.

The principal stayed alone in the office, staring at the empty spot on the desk where the phone had been. He drew one last deep breath, then picked up his landline and dialed.

"Hello? Yes. I need to speak to Mr. Thorton. It's urgent," he said.

Kai headed straight for the main corridor.

The students noticed. Of course they did.

He crossed the lobby, backpack slung over one shoulder, sunglasses on. One group stopped talking when he got close. Another group looked away but kept watching from the corner of their eyes. A sophomore girl gave him a shy wave. Kai answered with a short, neutral nod.

No one said a word.

No one needed to.

The rumor was already everywhere. Yesterday's fight, what he'd done to Brandon, the new first place. Kai could feel the weight of their stares — half fear, half something like respect. Maybe a twisted kind of admiration.

He didn't stop to check.

He pushed open the glass door and stepped out.

The cool June air hit his face. Kai went down the stairs, crossed the open area in front of the school, walked out the gate without hurrying, and disappeared between the cars.

Hours Later — Boxing Club — Oakwood High School — 5:14 PM

Cassie tightened the wrap around her left wrist. The club had just cleared out; a dozen new students had shown up after the ranked match hype. Her right arm was still immobilized in the sling, useless and pinned against her chest. She let out an irritated sigh, adjusted her stance, and went back to the heavy bag.

Left. Left. Hook.

The gym was empty. The others had left about twenty minutes ago. It was just her, the dull thud of punches, and the sound of her own breathing.

She stopped. Looked at her phone on the edge of the ring.

Nothing.

Cassie grabbed the phone and opened her messages.

Ki, are you okay? Please answer me.

I know you must be busy, but there's a lot happening here.

Kiana, what the hell. Just say you're alive.

All delivered. None read.

Cassie locked the screen hard and tossed the phone back down.

"Fuck, Kiana," she muttered, voice low but loaded with frustration.

She was furious. Her friend vanished right when Kai needed her most. Kiana had disappeared without a word. And Cassie knew something was wrong — Kai with that stone face and those damned sunglasses. It made her want to scream.

Viktor was dead. Kai had disappeared for days. He'd come back different. Colder. More… empty.

And yesterday, he fought for her. Used her style. Beat Brandon. Pure technique.

Then took revenge for what Brandon did to her arm. Broke both the guy's shoulders and his knee.

Cassie hit the bag again, too hard. Pain spiked up through her wrist.

"Idiot," she said, not sure if she meant Kai, herself, or both.

The gym door creaked.

Cassie turned her head.

Kai stood in the doorway. Backpack on his shoulder. Sunglasses. Relaxed posture, but there was something heavy in the way he held his shoulders.

He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, weighing whether he should've come at all.

Cassie dropped the wrap beside the ring and crossed her arms — or at least tried to, with one of them strapped to her chest.

"You here to give me an explanation, or just visiting?" she asked.

Kai took two steps inside. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

"I came to say goodbye," he said.

Cassie didn't answer. She crossed the gym in three long strides and pulled him into a hug — her left arm wrapping tightly around his back, the right pinned between them in the sling.

"Idiot," she muttered into his shoulder. "I knew you were going to be expelled."

Kai stayed still for a second before hugging her back, slowly.

"I wasn't expelled," he said quietly. "I'm leaving the school. I already took care of everything."

Cassie leaned back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were hard, but something underneath had cracked.

"That doesn't fix anything, Kai," she said. She lifted her hand and took off his sunglasses carefully, staring into his brown eyes. "I know you're not okay."

Kai looked away. He didn't answer.

"You're going to be the new number one in school," he said simply. "Probably starting tomorrow."

Her eyes shimmered.

Cassie bit her lip, fighting it back — but it wasn't just about the ranking. It was about everything. About Kiana disappearing without a word. About leaving Kai alone. About being the one who pushed the two of them together and now was stuck here while Kiana was gone. About swallowing her own feelings all this time, holding on, while she watched him fall apart.

She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him.

Quick. Almost rough.

Then she pulled back, breathing unevenly.

Kai froze. No reaction. No expression.

He glanced around — at the heavy bag still swaying a little, at the empty ring, at the scattered gear.

For the first time since the fight, Viktor wasn't there.

No sarcastic comment. No cutting remark. No ghost in the corner watching.

Just silence.

And something shifted.

Kai blinked. Once. Slowly.

When he looked at Cassie again, there was something different. Not in his eyes — they were still brown — but in the way he stood. In the slight tilt of his head. In the half-smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth — warm.

As if someone else had just slid into the driver's seat.

He saw her.

The red hair — straight, natural, tied in a loose ponytail bun with a few strands falling along her face. The V-neck black workout top, soaked with sweat from training, clinging to her skin. Her defined abdomen rising and falling with her quickened breathing. The right arm stuck in the sling, but the left flexing slightly, fingers curling and uncurling. Her lips parted, breath uneven.

He stepped forward, slowly, and cupped her face with both hands — fingers brushing the loose strands of hair.

Cassie blinked, confused.

"Kai—" she began.

He pulled her in and kissed her.

Not like someone hesitating. Like someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Cassie let out a soft sound against his mouth, the fingers of her left hand knotting in his shirt, pulling him closer — while something in the back of her mind screamed that something was off.

It wasn't the same Kai who had walked into the gym two minutes before.

It wasn't the same Kai she was used to.

It was… something else.

But she didn't push him away. Not there. Not then. She didn't want to.

The kiss deepened, heat and frustration and grief all tangled together.

When he started kissing the side of her mouth, Cassie yanked him back by the nape of his neck, hard, bringing his lips back to hers.

"No," she said against his mouth, voice rough. "Like this."

Her good hand tangled in his hair, tugging. She bit his bottom lip lightly — a challenge.

Kai pulled his face away slightly.

"Will you regret—"

"Shut up," she cut him off, and flipped their positions — pushing him back against the ring ropes. Her palm slid down his chest, feeling the tense muscles beneath the fabric. "You're leaving tomorrow. Today is mine."

She kissed him again — deeper, more urgent. The frustration of the last few weeks, the fact that she'd held back all this time, the anger at Kiana, everything pouring out in that moment.

Kai let his hands slide down her waist, pulling her closer. Her body pressed against his, the ring ropes giving slightly behind him.

Kai closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, the warmth and sharpness still there.

Cassie pulled back for just a second — long enough to tug her own shirt up and over her head with her free hand, tossing it out of the ring.

The sling still pinned her right arm, but the rest of her was exposed — pale skin marked with a few old training bruises, the black sports bra. Her defined abdomen rose and fell with her accelerated breathing.

"Your turn," she said. It wasn't a request.

Kai pulled off his own shirt without hesitation, letting it drop to the ring floor.

Cassie didn't wait. She closed the distance in two steps, sliding her hand up his chest, feeling his heart beating fast. She pushed him back against the ropes — the elastic creaking under their combined weight.

"You sure—" Kai started.

"I'm always sure," she cut him off, bringing his mouth back to hers.

His hands slid down her waist, fingers brushing the edge of her sweatpants. Cassie bit his lip again, harder this time, and he responded — his other hand moving up her back, fingers pressing against sweat-slicked skin.

She made a low sound — half sigh, half something deeper.

Kai slid his hands under her thighs and lifted. Cassie wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, using the ropes behind him for support.

The ring canvas was cold beneath his knees as he lowered them both down slowly, settling her onto the same floor where she'd trained alone minutes before.

"Careful with the arm," Kai murmured, adjusting his weight over her carefully.

"Fuck the arm," she answered, pulling his face closer with her free hand.

His fingers traced the line of her abdomen, feeling the tense muscles beneath. Cassie arched slightly into the touch, her breathing growing heavier.

She dragged him close again — deep, almost desperate. His hand moved up, fingers sliding along her ribs, feeling the heat of her skin.

"Don't treat me like I'm going to break," she whispered against his lips.

Kai's eyes — still brown, but still somehow different — met hers.

"I won't," he promised, voice low but firm.

The sound of their breathing filled the empty gym. The light above the ring created a closed circle around them — isolating the moment from everything else.

The rest of the world fell away, leaving only that circle of light and everything it held.

Friday, June 12th, 2015 — Cassie's Apartment — 5:42 AM

Kai opened his eyes slowly.

The room was dark, only a thin gray line of light slipping through the half-open curtain. He turned his head. Cassie was asleep beside him, wrapped in the sheet, her arm in the sling resting over her chest. Her breathing was low and steady.

Kai stayed still for a moment.

Then he got up carefully, looking for his clothes scattered across the room. Shirt on the floor near the bed. Pants hanging over the chair. He picked everything up in silence, getting dressed quietly so he wouldn't make any noise.

Cassie shifted, but didn't wake up.

He went to the window and opened it carefully — the glass creaked a little. The cold dawn air hit his face. Down below, the street was still empty. No cars. No pedestrians.

Kai climbed up onto the ledge and looked down — three floors.

He jumped.

Wind whipped past him as he fell. At the last second, he activated his flight — just enough to slow down. His feet touched the sidewalk with a muffled sound.

He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder, put on his sunglasses, and started walking.

The city was still asleep.

Grayson House — Kitchen — 6:02 AM

Kai pushed the front door open quietly, taking off his sneakers at the entrance. The house was silent — Mark was probably still asleep. Nolan was likely out on some mission. Debbie…

"Kai?"

He turned his head. Debbie was in the kitchen, still in pajamas, a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Hey," Kai said, flat, walking in and dropping his backpack in the corner.

"Wait, you had already gone to school and came back?" She tilted her head, watching him. She took a sip of coffee, then asked, "I didn't see you yesterday. How's the end of the semester?"

Kai stopped in front of the fridge. He took a breath.

"Well, good news is it's over," he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. "But… there's some bad news."

Debbie set her mug down on the table, her expression shifting.

"What happened?"

Kai closed the fridge and turned to her. He took off his sunglasses, showing tired brown eyes.

"I don't know the exact reason. But they talked to me yesterday," he said, pausing. "Oakwood's cutting scholarships. If I want to stay, I have to pay tuition."

Silence settled for two full seconds.

Debbie closed her eyes and let the air out slowly.

"Kai… You know we can't afford Oakwood."

He took a sip of water. "I wasn't expecting you to."

Debbie stood, crossing her arms, frustration starting to show on her face.

"Okay. I'll call the school Monday morning. I'll see what I can do. Maybe if I talk to the principal—"

The back door opened.

Nolan came in still wearing his Omni-Man uniform — cape dragging behind him. He stopped in the kitchen, glanced at both of them, and went straight to the point.

"There's a monster in Hong Kong. Did someone make coffee?"

Debbie pointed at the coffeemaker on the counter, irritation clear on her face.

"There is. And Kai just told me the school cut his scholarship."

Nolan poured himself some coffee and took a big gulp — almost half the mug at once.

"Then he'll go to another school," he said simply, like solving a basic math problem. "It's not the end of the world."

Debbie turned to him, incredulous.

"Nolan, he got that scholarship by merit as Oakwood's top student. That matters for his record. For college—"

"He'll figure it out somewhere else too." Nolan finished the coffee and set the mug in the sink. "Kai's smart. He'll adapt."

Nolan walked to the back door, stopped in the doorway, and looked at Kai.

He gave him a small nod and stepped outside — two seconds later the sound of something cutting through the air — whoosh — echoed.

Debbie stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the empty doorway. Then she let out a long, tired sigh.

"Of course. I have to fix everything," she muttered. She picked her mug back up, took another sip, and looked at Kai. "Leave it to me. I'll find a solution."

Kai didn't answer. He just nodded again. He already knew nothing she said would change the deal he'd made with the principal.

Three Days Later — Monday, June 15th, 2015 — Grayson House — Dinner

The front door opened.

"I'm home!" Mark shouted, throwing his backpack on the couch. He walked into the kitchen smelling like frying oil. "Sorry I'm late. They left me to close alone."

Debbie was just setting the lasagna on the table. Kai was already seated, waiting quietly. Nolan was in Washington.

"Perfect. Sit down, dinner's ready," Debbie said.

Mark sat next to Kai. "Dude, lasagna? What day is it?"

"Monday," Kai answered, already eating. Fork. Chew. Swallow.

Mark grabbed a fork and started devouring his plate. Debbie served herself, but watched the two of them for a moment. Then she took a breath.

"Since we're all here… I have some news," she said.

Mark stopped chewing. Kai kept eating, but turned his head slightly toward her.

"I couldn't keep your scholarship at Oakwood," Debbie said, eyes tired, "But it was easy to get you a spot somewhere else with your record from there. I got you into Reginald Vel Johnson High. Same school as Mark."

Mark looked over, half excited and half still worn out from work. "Seriously? We're going to study together again."

Kai stopped eating. He looked at her for two seconds.

"Then the problem's solved," he said, going back to his food. Nothing surprising, just what he'd expected.

The night went on like any other. Viktor was there, silent for once. Cosmic's words echoed:

Maybe Mark's the one who'll keep you human, even inside the void.

Interlude — Part 1: Team Broken Apart

GDA Headquarters — Third Floor Hallway — 10:23 AM

Cecil and Donald's footsteps echoed down the empty hallway. White walls, cold lights, the smell of disinfectant. They passed three locked doors — interrogation rooms that no longer had anyone left to interrogate.

"So it's confirmed that someone was there before we arrived, sir?" Donald asked, adjusting the folder under his arm.

Cecil stopped in front of a frosted glass door — Analysis Room 7. He looked through the glass, watching the techs work in silence inside.

"We don't know," he said, turning back toward the hallway. "It could've been someone from the cartels who escaped, or one of the superpowered individuals Ghost Girl reported that got away." He paused. "But if it was cartel, why take a body and not the drugs? And why not Russell's body? Too many questions, not enough answers."

They turned left, passing the medical wing. An agent walked by. She gave a small nod. Cecil returned it without slowing.

"About Ghost Girl and Reflex," Donald said, checking the folder. "We compensated the families and are covering all treatment costs. Neither of them will be heroes anymore."

Cecil nodded. Expected.

"Atlas is already set up in Russia," Donald continued. "Knowing his personality, he won't stop being a hero — he loves the spotlight. But finding his mother is the priority now. We have no way of knowing if he'll come back here or what he'll do after he finds her."

Cecil nodded in silence. Also expected.

They reached the elevator. Donald pressed the button and waited. The numbers on the display dropped — 8, 7, 6…

"About Nolan's son…" Donald began, lowering his voice slightly.

"Leave it as it is," Cecil cut in, firm. He turned his head, looking at Donald directly. "Just… we'll keep an eye on him."

Donald opened his mouth to ask more, then closed it. He nodded.

The elevator arrived. Ding.

They stepped in. Donald pressed the button for the ground floor.

"So it's just the Guardians for now?" Donald asked as they went down. "No new team?"

Cecil looked at his reflection in the polished metal doors. Older than he was supposed to look.

"No new team," he said.

Somewhere Else in Chicago — Becky's House — 2:51 PM

Becky sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the wall. Her mother sat in the chair by the window, hands in her lap, eyes red but finally dry.

"I still want to do it," Becky said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Be a hero. I still want that."

Her mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Becky…"

"I know what you're going to say." Becky looked over at her. "But I can do it."

"Rebecca." Her mother's voice was firm, but not angry. Just tired. "Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"It's going to heal. I heal fast, you know that," Becky said, stubborn.

"It will," her mother agreed, leaning forward. "But I'm running out of excuses to give Paul. Just this last year, I had to tell him you were mugged, that you fell down the stairs, and now that you were hit by a car. I finally found someone and we have a family."

Becky looked away.

"You're seventeen," her mother said, taking Becky's hand and squeezing it. "That boy from the team died. And what if it had been you?" She shook her head. "Becky, I'm not going to lose you like that. I won't."

Becky stayed quiet, fingers tightening around the bedsheet.

"You're smart," her mother went on, her voice softer now. "Your grades are good. You can go to college. You can be anything. A doctor, an engineer, a lawyer — whatever you want. But you can't be anything if you're dead."

Becky bit her lip.

"I just… wanted to help people," she whispered.

"I know." Her mother squeezed her hand again. "So graduate first. If you still want to be a hero after college, I'll support you."

Becky looked out the window. Outside, the sky was gray. Chicago in June — stuck between spring and summer.

She didn't answer.

But she didn't disagree, either.

Russia — Outskirts of Military Base 47 — 11:14 PM (local time)

Andrey walked down the dirt road, heavy backpack on his shoulders as if it weighed nothing. The town was about three kilometers ahead — weak lights flickering on the horizon. Behind him, the dark silhouette of the military base cut into the night sky.

He didn't look back.

The cold bit at his face, but he barely felt it. Three days since he'd arrived. Two days searching for information. No one knew anything — or no one wanted to talk.

But someone had to know.

She was out there somewhere. She had to be.

Andrey adjusted the backpack, pulled up his hood, and shot into the air.

The road below was empty.

Just him and the wind.

Chicago — Viktor's Memorial — Lincoln Park — 4:02 PM

The memorial was beautiful. A bronze plaque fixed to a stone by the lake.

"Viktor Ramsey — 1997–2015 — A hero who never gave up."

Jenny sat on the bench, eyes locked on the plaque. Her hands trembled in her lap.

She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

No one answered.

The wind blew, rustling the leaves in the trees.

And Jenny kept crying.

Interlude — Part 2: An Unsteady Personality and the Weight of Choice

June 22nd, 2015 — Monday — 3:00 PM

Sunlight slipped softly through the twins' bedroom window when Kai's phone buzzed on the desk.

Cassie: "my dad's calling you to come train here."

Kai stared at the message for ten seconds. Picked up the phone.

Viktor looked at him with a half-smile. "It's an excuse to see you. We're finally living a little, you're going, right?"

"Shut up. I'm going, but it's not like that. It shouldn't have happened before, either. If she brings it up, I'm shutting it down," Kai muttered.

Viktor snorted, annoyed.

Kai finally answered.

Kai: "what time?"

Cassie: "we're here right now."

Kai: "ok."

Thirty minutes later, he pushed open the door to Henry's gym.

The ground floor was busy — people on treadmills, lifting weights, equipment scattered around. Henry was near the free weights, checking a bar that had cracked.

"Kai." Henry turned. Same lazy look as always. "So you're still alive?"

"Been busy," Kai replied, not putting much emotion into it.

Henry straightened up, holding a machine bolt between his teeth. "I heard what happened at Oakwood. Cassie told me." He paused. "Thanks."

Kai just nodded.

"Anyway… bad timing, the machine broke at the same time as the damn heater," Henry said. "I can't go upstairs yet. Cassie's up there. I'll head up when I'm done here — just gotta fix this heater before the whole place blows."

Kai grabbed his backpack and headed up the stairs.

The second floor was empty. Ring in the center, mats on the sides, heavy bags hanging in a row. Quiet.

Cassie was by the ring, finally free of the sling, stretching her arm. She glanced at him, then looked away.

Kai dropped his backpack near the bench.

From downstairs, the muffled sound of weights echoed — clang, clang.

Silence settled again.

Kai turned his head toward her.

And something shifted.

His shoulders loosened. His posture eased. The corner of his mouth lifted — just a little. Viktor was nowhere to be seen.

"So I got it now — this was an excuse and you just wanted to see me, right?" he teased.

Cassie blinked, folding her arms. "What? My dad's the one who asked you to come."

"Sure he was," Kai said, tilting his head, that small half-smile still there.

He stopped in front of her, a bit too close to be casual.

"You've been avoiding looking at me since I walked in," he added.

Cassie finally looked up — straight into his eyes. Brown. But different. Warmer. More… present.

"You're really full of yourself, you know that?"

"I do," he said. He didn't move back.

Cassie held his gaze for three seconds. Four. Five.

Then she let out a breath and shook her head. "I'm going to get some water."

But she didn't go get water.

Five minutes later, the door to the small apartment next to the gym slammed shut. Cassie tossed the keys on the little table by the entrance, turned — and Kai pulled her in by the waist.

"You're different, what—" she started.

"Like it?" he asked, his mouth already close to her neck.

"Obviously," she answered and shoved him back against the wall.

June 23rd, 2015 — Tuesday — 9:00 AM

The alarm exploded into an irritating electronic tone.

Cassie groaned, groping blindly along the nightstand until she hit the button. Click. Silence.

She turned her head. Kai was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Awake. Probably had been for a while.

"What time is it?" she asked, voice hoarse with sleep.

"Nine."

"Shit." Cassie sat up, rubbing her face. "My dad's probably already at the gym. You're safe. You can go out the front door."

Kai sat up and looked around for his clothes scattered on the floor. Shirt near the window. Pants over the chair.

Cassie watched while he got dressed. She wanted to say something. Had no idea what. The feeling that something was wrong just wouldn't leave.

Kai finished tying his shoes. He stopped at the bedroom door.

"See you later," he said.

"Okay."

And he left.

Apartment Hallway — 9:04 AM

Kai opened the apartment door, stepped into the hallway—

And stopped.

Henry was leaning against the wall across from him, arms crossed. Two cups of coffee in his hands — one already empty.

They both stayed frozen for three seconds.

Henry let out a loud sigh.

"I'm not even going to comment," he said.

Kai scratched the back of his head, adjusting the backpack on his shoulder. "See you at the next training?"

"Go to hell," Henry shot back immediately.

But there was no anger in his tone. It was resignation. Almost… friendly?

Kai gave a small wave, turned, and went down the stairs.

Henry stayed there, watching. "You're lucky that if I punched you, I'm the one who'd get hurt," he muttered.

He shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle, staring at the cold coffee in his cup.

One Month Later — South Korea — Seoul — Sunday, July 26th, 2015 — 9:43 PM

Kiana sat on the floor of her bedroom, back against the bed. Claire sat in the chair by the window, hands in her lap, looking tired.

"I used to get messages from her now and then," Claire said quietly. "Mirage. Rachel. Nothing too specific."

Kiana looked at her, pulling her knees to her chest. "You said you were going to tell me something and started like that. You're scaring me."

Claire took a deep breath.

"I lost contact with her. No replies for two months now," she said. "So… I went digging. Called a few contacts I still have in the States. Found out what happened."

Kiana froze.

"With the Young Team," Claire continued, each word heavy. "Back west. In Chicago."

"What… what happened?"

Claire closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, something was broken there.

"Mirage died," she said. "Viktor — Vortex — too."

Silence hit like a concrete wall.

Kiana blinked. Once. Twice. Trying to process.

"Viktor… died?"

"Yes."

The tears came before she could stop them. Hot. Silent.

"When?"

"May. May 22nd."

Kiana covered her face with both hands, shoulders shaking. Claire stood, crossed the room and sat on the floor beside her. She didn't say anything. She just stayed.

After a while — minutes, maybe more — Kiana lowered her hands and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"It's my fault," she whispered.

"It's not—"

"It is." Kiana looked at Claire, eyes red. "I was there. I used to fight with them. And I… I came here. I left everyone behind."

"You didn't leave them. Your father—"

"I left," Kiana cut her off, voice breaking. "Viktor died. Kai lost his best friend. And I didn't even… I wasn't even there."

Claire squeezed her hand.

"You did what you had to do. To protect him. Remember? The promise you made your mom — to become an actress. Your father… he brought you here because he knew staying there was dangerous."

Kiana shook her head, tears returning.

"But I should've… I should've said something. Should've explained. Should've—" She broke off, breathing unevenly. "I miss him, Claire. I miss him and I did everything wrong."

Claire pulled her into a hug. Kiana collapsed into it, crying on her shoulder.

10:17 PM

Kiana sat in front of the computer, the screen lighting up the dark room. She hadn't logged into her social media in months — the studio controlled everything. Posts. Messages. All of it.

But now she was logged in.

Forty-seven ignored messages.

She scrolled slowly. Familiar names. Friends from Chicago. People from school…

And then she saw it.

Kai Grayson — 1 message.

Her heart tightened.

Kiana clicked.

The date was May 22nd. Half-typed.

"How ar—"

Kiana stared at the screen.

How are you.

He'd started typing. And stopped.

May. The date of the day everything happened.

Kiana covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling up again. She wanted to answer. Wanted to say I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I never wanted to leave you. I was only trying to protect you.

But the cursor just blinked on the empty screen.

She couldn't type a single word.

Too late.

She closed the chat.

Scrolled further.

Cassie — 34 messages.

Kiana hesitated, then clicked.

The messages started in March and went on through April, May, June.

March asking for news. April questioning why she'd vanished. May — the words "Viktor died" burned on the screen.

Kiana's fingers trembled over the keyboard.

She started typing. Erased. Tried again.

Finally, the words came — a full confession.

Her hands stopped. The cursor blinked.

Then she wrote the truth that hurt the most: that she missed him. That she missed all of it.

She hit send.

Three little dots appeared almost immediately. Cassie was online.

Chicago — Cassie's Apartment — 9:19 AM

Cassie stared at her phone, Kiana's messages filling the chat.

She read everything twice.

The explanation. The promise to her mother. Her father forcing her to leave. Kiana's guilt for abandoning Kai.

"I miss him."

Cassie froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Guilt hit her. Heavy. Suffocating.

She'd been with him. More than once. While Kiana was on the other side of the world thinking she was doing the right thing. While Kiana missed him.

And Cassie… Cassie had taken that chance.

She started typing a reply. Stopped. Deleted it.

I have to tell her.

But she couldn't.

She typed something else instead. Something safe. Generic.

She said she understood. That she knew Kiana had done what she thought was right. That it wasn't her fault. That it was okay.

Comforting lies.

She hit send.

Kiana replied — thanking her, saying she wanted to go back to Chicago as soon as she could work things out with her father. That she wanted to see everyone. See him.

Cassie read it.

And the guilt tightened its grip.

She locked her phone and tossed it on the bed.

Then just sat there, staring at the wall.

What the hell did I do.

Interlude — Part 3: A New Timeline

One week later — Chicago, Illinois — Monday, August 3rd, 2015 — 6:45 AM

Kai turned on the faucet and let the cold water run for a few seconds before leaning in and splashing his face. The icy shock woke up the rest of his senses. He turned off the faucet, grabbed the towel hanging from the hook, and dried himself slowly.

Then he looked in the mirror.

Brown eyes. Empty.

And his hair — still white.

He ran a hand through the strands, testing the texture. Nothing had changed. Three months since that night in the warehouse. Three months and the color hadn't come back.

Guess I really overdid it that day.

Kai focused his gaze on the mirror — and saw Viktor leaning against the wall behind him, arms crossed, that half-smile on his face.

"New school, new girls," Viktor said, voice teasing. "Don't start with that whole 'I don't belong in this world' speech again. You owe me this one."

Kai sighed, looking at his own reflection instead of Viktor's.

"Give it a rest."

"At least you get to see Cassie then. You have to admit, you're enjoying being with her. I know you are — I'm in your head, after all."

Knock. Knock.

Two knocks on the door.

"Dude, are you on the phone in there? You gonna be long?"

Kai picked up his sunglasses from the sink and put them on. Then he opened the door.

"All yours."

Mark was on the other side, holding a Science Dog comic, still in pajamas. He looked Kai up and down — black T-shirt, jeans and the sunglasses.

"You're not actually going to school in sunglasses, right?"

"Told you already, doctor's orders," Kai replied, walking past him. "Headaches."

Mark made a face, twisting his mouth.

"You're gonna look like a weirdo."

"Relax, Mark," Kai said without turning back, heading for the stairs.

Mark stood there in the hallway for a second, watching his brother go down, then shook his head and went into the bathroom.

Debbie was in the kitchen, finishing the coffee. No sign of Nolan.

"Morning," Debbie said, pouring coffee into a mug. "Nervous for your first day at a new school?"

"Not even a little."

She glanced at him, a half-smile tugging at her lips.

"Knew you'd say that. Sometimes I think a door would show more emotion than you."

Debbie held the mug in both hands, choosing her words.

"I know you've… been through a lot these last few months," she said. "With school. With your friends." She paused. "But if you need to talk—"

"I know. You've said that already." Kai took a bite of his toast. Chewed. Swallowed. "Thanks."

She put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow.

"Where's Mark?"

"Bathroom."

She sighed. "He's going to be late on the first day."

Debbie set the mug down on the table and went upstairs.

A normal morning…

But maybe, not quite that normal.