"I've heard about your situation." Demurc steadied himself, "You refuse to tell us anything about your ability. Why is that?" He asked as he sat across from her, his tone even, not confrontational.
Cynthia's gaze flicked toward him briefly, then drifted back to the table. She said nothing.
Demurc didn't push. He simply leaned back in his chair, watching her through half-lidded eyes. The faint hum of the overhead lights filled the silence.
Cynthia's eventually spoke, her voice faint.
"Well... it's not really me," she said, hesitating between every word. "But I guess it's still me. I didn't— I didn't know what happened. It just... bursted out of my hands all of a sudden."
Her hands trembled slightly. "I don't remember much after that. Just screams... and then nothing."
Demurc leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he observed the subtle flicker of emotion on her face.
"So, you're saying that it suddenly happened," he said slowly. "You didn't even fully know what unfolded yet you turned yourself in."
Cynthia didn't respond.
"What about what burst out of your hands? Can you recall what it was, or maybe show me?" Demurc asked, his tone calm yet probing.
Cynthia didn't respond. Her fingers twitching against the cold surface of the table. A trace of worry crossed her face.
"You don't have to worry," Demurc assured, his voice steady. "I may not look like it but I'm strong enough to handle it."
Her eyes flickered up to him briefly before dropping again.
"The thing is…" she said softly, hesitating. "I don't remember that part either. It just… kinda happened, I guess."
After several hours of questioning, Demurc finally stood up in his chair. Despite his calm persistence, he hadn't managed to extract anything useful. Cynthia's memories were fragmented, she couldn't recall the event, nor explain how her ability manifested.
Given the uncertainty and potential risk, Demurc decided she would be placed under containment within NEUS. Before her transfer, she was required to undergo a full physical and psychological examination to ensure stability.
Demurc personally oversaw the whole process. Though she was under escort, no restraints were used; Cynthia hadn't shown hostility or resistance. She wasn't treated as a criminal, yet the nature of her undefined powers demanded caution.
Ever since Bearers began using their abilities against the government, they were deemed an immediate threat to national security. Containment became their only fate, a strict and uncompromising protocol enforced by NEUS.
However, a few exceptions were made. Certain Bearers, those who had long served the government before the incident, were permitted to continue their duties under strict surveillance. Their cooperation was considered vital to the ongoing mission, locating and eradicating the source of all corruption, the Oddity.
Demurc Viole, already a highly regarded military officer even before the Oddity incident and emergence of Bearers, was among the few who continued to serve under the government's command.
Unlike most Bearers who were either hunted or contained, Demurc's record earned him a position of trust within NEUS. His role as Warden granted him authority over containment operations, and made him one of the few Bearers allowed to use their powers freely under government sanction.
Back in the present, Demurc had woken early and completed his morning rounds. Now seated in his chamber, he worked through the remaining paperwork required to authorize the examination of Subject 05-1A.
The quiet rustle of papers filled the room. The time passed without any incident, everything unfolded in its usual order.
By the next day, the authorization for Subject 05-1A's examination was still pending. NEUS protocols were rarely swift, every signature, every clearance required a chain of approval that wound through several departments. Medical, security, and command before anything could move forward. Demurc didn't mind; the delay gave him time to rest.
A funeral was scheduled in the afternoon for the soldiers lost during the last patrol with the group consisting of only new recruits. Their names had already faded from the public bulletins, replaced by new incident reports and casualty lists. Within NEUS, death was routine, acknowledged, saluted, and then buried under more paperwork.
Demurc made his way outside through the rain, the downpour relentless, blurring the edges of the world into gray. The vehicle came to a halt before the burial grounds, and he stepped out, opening his umbrella against the cold torrent.
Rows of soldiers stood in formation, their uniforms darkened by the weather. At the forefront, gravediggers waited beside the open earth, the caskets lined neatly before them, each draped in the black cloth bearing the NEUS insignia.
All around them, old graves stretched across the field, weathered stones and faded names, a reminders of the countless who had fallen before.
The procession moved with deliberate precision. The caskets descended one by one, their motion slow and soundless beneath the rain. Some soldiers stepped forward to lay flowers or medals atop them, gestures brief but sincere.
Families wept behind the line. Their cries were swallowed by the rain and the low rumble of thunder.
At the center, a commanding officer stood rigid, his voice firm as he offered the final prayer.
"Service acknowledged. Duty fulfilled."
As the coffins vanished beneath the earth, the soldiers raised their hands in one last salute. The sound of shifting boots and falling rain became the only rhythm left, a requiem for the fallen.
Demurc watched in silence, his gaze fixed on the graves. There were no words left to speak.
As time went on, the crowd thinned, leaving only families and a few lingering close friends and comrade. The rain had softened to a steady drizzle, though the sky remained heavy and gray.
Demurc lingered near the line of fresh graves, his gaze fixed ahead. Among the fading silhouettes, one man stood motionless, he ahd no umbrella, no attempt to shield himself from the rain. He simply stared down at the grave before him, water running down his face, indistinguishable from tears.
Footsteps approached from behind, soft against the wet ground.
"Hello, Warden," a calm voice greeted.
Demurc turned slightly. Alice stood there, dressed in black like the rest, a dark umbrella in hand.
"Hello, Alice," he replied, his tone even, his eyes drifting back to the lone man in the rain.
Alice followed his gaze toward the man standing alone in the rain. It was Adam, the lone survivor of both the Fifth and Sixth Squads.
"Squad Captain of the Fifth Squad," she said quietly. "He's already completed his psychological assessment and came here for the funeral."
Demurc gave a faint nod, his eyes never leaving the man. "And the results?" he asked.
"He's stable, but he seems to be overwhelmed with self blame." Alice replied after a brief pause. "The evaluators noted traces of survivor's guilt… understandable, considering what happened."