Tuesday morning dawned over Guarly. Jason adjusted his jacket as he opened the front doors of the police station, walking toward the office he shared with the other long-haired detective. Along the way, he carefully observed the other officers, busy as usual, though he barely paid them any attention. He already had leads—possibly everything he needed to solve the mystery of the Vigilantes. Still, something refused to settle in his mind.
Although the city had seen many events beyond the ordinary, the idea that a thirteen-year-old girl could be one of the Vigilantes was utterly ridiculous. There was simply no way someone that young could physically match an adult. The dark-haired detective continued walking until he finally reached the office. When he opened the door, he found Surgiri finishing his shift. Neither of them spoke; they simply studied each other with their eyes until the long-haired brunet finally asked:
"Have you made any progress in your secret investigation?"
The blue-eyed detective merely nodded and stepped aside to let him leave. Without another word, Matías exited the room, letting out a long yawn.
Jason walked to his desk, placed his investigation folder on it, and sat down, staring at the ceiling. None of it made sense. It felt more like a story written by a madman or someone high on drugs. The mere fact that a teenage girl could be one of the Vigilantes made no sense. He needed more information. Perhaps the solution wasn't in one Vigilante alone, but in the group as a whole.
He left the office determined to search for similar cases, if any existed. He grabbed his laptop and accessed the police database. It didn't take long for him to find the case of the "Mall Hero"—another teenager who had, by sheer chance, neutralized a group of terrorists who had attacked a shopping center earlier that year, causing heavy civilian casualties. Apparently, the minor had controlled the situation alone, armed only with a pair of knives.
Jason closed the laptop. It was unreal. Everything felt like trying to explain life while being high.
Two questions formed in his mind:
"Why teenagers? There's nothing special about them—aside from their age. If my analysis of the Álvarez case is correct, I'd have to add an unknown figure, someone who must clearly be an adult. But what role would this figure play, and why is there no mention of such a suspect in any case?"
He shook his head, dismissing the possibility of that strange figure surrounding those adolescents. It wasn't leading him anywhere. He put the laptop away and opened his folder, laying out the clues on his desk.
First, the photo of Marcelo Álvarez's corpse alongside the location where he was found. Next, the map with the circle drawn around Green Tiger, followed by the few images they had of the Vigilante Plata. Then, the photograph of the twins, and finally, the picture of the teenage girl, Emily Forcer.
Standing up, he thought:
"We have the sexual predator Marcelo Álvarez, with sixteen confirmed victims and one more—Emily Forcer—who was likely attacked in the alley where Álvarez would later lose his life, along with his reproductive system, and suffer a fractured skull after his head was smashed against a brick wall. After that, some time passed before his twin nephews took over the same task, repeating the cycle of rape, execution, and preserving the body before dumping it elsewhere to mislead the police—until Surgiri Welter managed to capture them, possibly with recent help from the Vigilantes."
With his theory fully formed, Jason looked out the window and muttered to himself:
"Then all that's left is to follow the suspect until I have more information and can talk to her. Though it would probably be best to speak directly with her family about the abuse."
He paced back and forth, knowing something still didn't add up—specifically, who had killed Álvarez. It couldn't have been just anyone. Whoever did it must have possessed immense strength and muscle. After all, they had crushed both a skull and a wall with brute force.
The only thing that gave shape to his theory was the possibility that Álvarez's killer acted as some kind of mentor to the Vigilantes. Even then, it didn't explain how a thirteen-year-old girl could possibly handle everything Plata and the others had been doing.
Then he remembered the image of the red-haired boy in the nearly destroyed warehouse, wearing military-grade clothing and loaded with drugs. Perhaps the brown-haired girl was using the same thing. With nothing but speculation filling his head, he decided to begin observing the suspicious girl.
On a city street, the four teenagers walked toward a meeting with Jex. As the area grew emptier, Emily spoke up:
"Don't you think it's strange that Niter and Roxy didn't know there were more golden Oksilis?"
The blonde looked up at the sky in annoyance and replied:
"Very strange. They worship them and give king-level privileges to anyone with that skin color. How could five of them go unnoticed? Or better yet—what would happen to their people if they found out there's a way to change skin color?"
The dark-skinned boy couldn't help but feel that, at the very least, the extraterrestrials he'd interacted with were on their side. Still, it was a valid question—how hadn't they drawn attention?
Meanwhile, the green-eyed girl stared at the ground, questioning internally:
"How do they change skin color? That entire race judges capability based on skin tone. If we discover how they do it, maybe we can actually improve their lives… maybe we can make that horrible racism disappear."
Noticing her companions' uneasy expressions, the brown-haired girl—usually the one who held them together—stopped, smiled at them, and said:
"One thing is certain. We're going to help them, no matter what. We will."
Simple but powerful words. They were enough to lift their spirits slightly. The others smiled back and continued walking.
After a long journey, they finally saw the graffiti-covered warehouse where Jex was waiting. They stopped at the door as the security camera above them scanned their presence. A beep and a small green light signaled their arrival, and the doors opened.
Inside, they found the white-haired boy wearing what looked like a lab coat, stained with various colors. Smiling, the brunet asked:
"What are you doing?"
Jex turned his head, revealing dark protective goggles and a blowtorch with a long flame. He turned it off, revealing a box filled with connected torches aimed at a cube glowing bright red.
He climbed a ladder to the second floor and exclaimed:
"That little box of yours is incredibly tough. I tried cutting it with an industrial saw—it shattered the saw. I admit, that surprised me. Then I used a hydraulic press, but it broke that too. What you brought me is fascinating. I tried chemicals—no corrosive agent penetrated its surface. Extreme cold, to see if I could make it brittle like glass—but it has some system that keeps its temperature stable. If you don't believe me, just look at that damn cube."
They all stared again, shocked to see the bright red glow fade back into its usual dark gold.
Jex slid back down the ladder, handed each of them a sheet of paper, and said:
"I wrote down every process I tried. A thousand and one methods…"
"I see you even ran a chemical analysis," Francesca said seriously.
"Yes. It took me about four hours with a file to get a sample large enough," Jex replied.
"So it's a mix of gold, copper, steel, and tungsten," Francesca read. "That explains the resistance—but not why it doesn't yield."
"I know," Jex muttered, tapping his foot. "It's like it has some kind of electromagnetic field."
"You made it move?!" Alexa and Tyron exclaimed.
"Yes. Yesterday, I applied force from every direction. I built a machine for it—when it destroyed my press, I built six smaller ones and crushed each face individually. Two sides caved in… but when I pressed them with my fingers, they snapped back. So my conclusion is that it's a kind of safe with a locking system—one that responds to force transmission."
"I see," Emily nodded. "So you couldn't find another way to open it."
"No. Give me one more day, and I guarantee I would."
The four whispered among themselves. The black-haired girl spoke first:
"We should leave it with him. He got us a lead."
The brunet agreed, but Emily hesitated—depending on what the cube contained, it could cause trouble with their master.
Before she could say anything, the blonde grabbed the cube and declared:
"We're not leaving it. You did what you could. We'll take it from here. Thanks. Goodbye."
Jex stared up at the ceiling, frustrated at having failed his promise.
The trio caught up to their friend. Smiling, she looked at the cube in her hand.
"Francesca, why did you do that?" the brunet asked. "He might've opened it."
"No," she replied confidently. "He never could. But he gave us the key."
"What key?" the black-haired girl asked.
"The force system," Francesca said playfully. "It's something the Oksilis can do naturally."
They all understood at once. Telekinesis was the lock's key.
A new problem arose—they didn't have that ability.
But Francesca smiled.
"With enough Fiu, constant energy bursts, and perfect synchronization… we can do it."
By the waterfall, the four teenagers stood with their eyes closed, focusing on the flow of Fiu. Minutes passed. When ready, the black-haired girl cut a tree trunk and set it upright. Francesca placed the cube on top.
Positions were assigned. Energy was released.
The cube floated.
Pressure followed.
The panels shifted.
Rotation. Adjustment.
Finally—light.
The cube transformed, unfolding into a star-shaped structure.
Inside was something none of them expected.
"…An egg?!"
A green egg, speckled with blue.
They closed the cube immediately.
"We're taking this to the Master—and to Niter," Francesca said.
Elsewhere, Jex leaned back in his chair, smiling faintly—until a wave of Fiu surged below.
Annoyed, he looked down at a man in a dark trench coat, a round shield on his back.
"What now, old man?"
"That Fiu… I don't recognize it. Who were they, son?"
Jex sighed.
"I honestly don't know."
"I hope you haven't crossed paths with the new students of the Master of Sword."
Jex smirked.
"Please. I'd recognize my rival's students anywhere, Grand Master of the Shield."
"…You'd better have. Now get dressed—we have a mission."