He had to learn to control it? Sabir trembled, as he thought, how do I control something that I don’t even understand? He did not know where to even start. And the thought of tapping into something so dangerous, something that had been eroding him from the inside, was terrifying. But the alternative… He had seen too much death, too much loss. He wasn’t ready to add his name to that list.

Sabir’s gaze hardened as he loomed over Zabo lying on the ground. “Then tell me how. Tell me how to control it.”

Zabo sighed heavily, shifting slightly under the weight of the chains and iron balls, pinning him to the floor. “I can’t teach you, Sabir.”

Sabir frowned, his brow furrowing in frustration. “What do you mean, you can’t teach me? You’ve been using aura all this time.”

“Yeah,” Zabo replied, “but I’ve been training with an aura my whole life. It’s second nature to me. I can barely even explain how I do it, let alone teach you the basics. There’s a difference between knowing something and being able to teach it.”

Sabir felt a knot of frustration twist in his stomach. He had finally uncovered something that could give him the edge he needed to survive, and yet it still seemed out of reach. “So what are we supposed to do then?” he muttered, more to himself than to Zabo.

Zabo gave a small shrug, or at least as much of a shrug as he could manage under the chains. “We agreed we’d escape, right?”

Sabir nodded. “Right.”

“Well, if all goes to plan, which it won’t, mind you, once we’re out of here, I can take you to my teacher. He’s the one who trained me, and he can teach you how to control your aura properly.”

Sabir shook his head. “I can’t leave. Not yet.”

Zabo’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Why? This place sucks. Let’s get out of here while we still can.”

“I’m not leaving Sector 5 until I kill Vincent,” Sabir said, his voice hardening with the weight of his resolve.

Zabo blinked, clearly taken aback. “Let me get this straight, you want to kill a Voltaire, you? As a dud?”

Sabir’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.”

Zabo scoffed. “You’re serious? There’s no way you can kill him. He’s Noah’s brother, for crying out loud. Have you seen what Noah can do!? Vincent’s probably just as strong. And besides, have you ever even killed anyone before?”

Sabir’s golden eyes burned with vengeful intensity, but underneath that flame was a churning storm of emotions. His breath came in slow, controlled paces, but inside, he was fighting against the raw rage and the moral conflict tearing at his conscience.

Killing. The very thought had once repulsed him. His sister had raised him better than that. Living among the scum within The Limbo, people were murdered all the time, all for the sake of survival, or at least that’s how they rationalise it. Life was sacred, wasn’t it? His sister that had taught him even in the darkest moments, a line had to be drawn, a line that separated them from the rest of The Limbo. A line that would allow them closer to reaching the walls of Havana. But Vincent had crossed that line when he took Cynthia away. Cynthia, the sister who had been his rock, his guide, his only family. And now she was gone.

How could he stand by and do nothing? How could he let Vincent walk free when he was the reason Cynthia was buried in the dirt?

Sabir’s fists clenched tighter, his nails digging into his palms. An eye for an eye. That was the only justice he could make sense of now. If Vincent had taken Cynthia’s life, then his life was forfeited. A tooth for a tooth. Because Sabir knew deep down it was wrong, even though he tried to maintain and rationalize that logic. He wasn’t a killer. He wasn’t supposed to be this person.

Yet here he was, standing on the precipice of revenge, trying to justify murder in his heart. His mind ran through every scenario, every possibility, every excuse to make it seem okay. “Vincent deserves this. He has to pay. There’s no other way.”

But as much as he wanted to believe that, there was still a nagging voice in the back of his mind, his sister’s voice, telling him that this wasn’t the answer. That he would lose a piece of himself if he went through with it. Sabir could feel the weight of that truth settling into his bones, but he pushed it down, buried it beneath the raw need for vengeance.

“This will be the one and only time I kill another human,” Sabir said finally, his voice low, trembling with the intensity of the emotions he was trying to contain. He told himself that this was for Cynthia. That this would be the last time he crossed that line.

But even as the words left his lips, Sabir couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest. Deep down, he knew there was no going back.

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Zabo sighed, his tone softening as he looked at Sabir. “I can tell you don’t have it in you to do something like that, Sabir. Look, I’m not trying to pry into your personal issues, but you should forget about this petty revenge and focus on surviving. You’re walking straight into death’s door if you go after Vincent.”

Sabir’s chest tightened, a wave of anger swelling within him, threatening to burst. Petty? Zabo thought his need for revenge was petty? It felt like a slap to the face, a dismissal of all the pain, the loss, the emptiness that gnawed at him every waking second. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, fingernails digging into his palms until he felt the sharp sting of skin breaking.

How could Zabo understand? How could anyone understand what it was like to lose the only person who ever cared about you? Cynthia wasn’t just his sister; she had been his protector, his mentor, his guiding star. She was the only family he had left in this fractured world. And Vincent had gotten her killed, even though he had promised her love. She died, as if her life meant nothing. Nothing.

Sabir’s breath became ragged, and he fought the urge to lash out, his body trembling with barely contained rage. Petty. The word echoed in his mind, twisting his thoughts into darker shapes. This wasn’t some trivial grudge he was holding onto. This wasn’t some childish need for payback. It was justice. It had to be justice. What else was left when the world had taken everything from you?

“My sister,” Sabir said through gritted teeth, his voice low and raw, laced with barely restrained fury. He could feel the heat behind his eyes, the tightness in his throat as the weight of it all threatened to suffocate him. “Vincent killed my sister. He’s going to pay for that.”

As the words tumbled out, the anger in Sabir’s chest twisted into something deeper, something darker, a festering wound that refused to heal. He knew Zabo was wrong about him. He had to be. This wasn’t some mindless thirst for blood; it was a debt that had to be paid. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered doubts- Cynthia’s voice, reminding him of who he used to be, of the line he was about to cross. But that voice was barely a whisper now, drowned out by the crushing weight of grief and anger that surged through him like a storm.

Sabir’s chest burned, his heart torn between the aching grief of his loss and the icy fire of vengeance that threatened to consume him whole. He knew this path could lead him to his own destruction. He knew it, and yet the pull of revenge was too strong, too intoxicating. What else did he have left?

His hands shook, his jaw clenched, and all he could feel was the overwhelming need to make Vincent suffer the way he had suffered.

Zabo was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening. “Fine,” he said finally, his tone resigned. “Do what you want. But our partnership ends after we leave this cell. I’m not getting myself killed by sticking around you while you chase after someone like Vincent.”

Sabir nodded, knowing deep down that Zabo was right. “Agreed.”

Zabo looked at him for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you even have any ideas about how we’re going to escape?”

Sabir was about to respond when the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor outside their cell. Both of them tensed, their attention shifting to the entrance.

A tall figure appeared in the dim light, his cyan hair tied back in a ponytail. Noah Voltaire. He was wearing a grey turtleneck and black pants, his steps measured. Following behind him was an old man with greying hair, dressed in a suit similar to the one Sabir had worn as Warren’s manservant—though the old man wore a tie, a subtle mark of higher status. Sabir recognised him as the head butler. What was his name, Frederick or something? Why is he here?

Noah was carrying a small, dark orb in his hand, its surface smooth like glass, and large enough to fit in his palm. His eyes gleamed with amusement as he approached the cell.

“Well, well,” Noah said with a smirk. “You two are a sight for sore eyes. Sabir, did you make a new friend?”

Zabo, who couldn’t see who had entered the room from his position on the floor, scowled at the sound of Noah’s voice. “It’s Zabo,” he muttered. “I know you probably didn’t catch my name when I was beating the shit out of you.”

The old man’s gaze flicked down to Zabo’s incapacitated body, then back to Noah. Noah merely shrugged in response, an almost playful glint in his eyes.

Reaching into his pocket, Noah pulled out a small key and unlocked the cell door, swinging it open with ease. He stepped inside, heading straight toward Zabo.

Sabir saw his chance. Without thinking, he bolted for the door, hoping to slip past them in the confusion. But as soon as he reached the threshold, the old man was there, blocking his path. A sharp gleam caught Sabir’s eye, a knife, expertly brandished by the old man.

The old man tutted softly, shaking his head. “Going somewhere, boy?”

Sabir cursed under his breath, backing away and returning to his place in the cell. He sat down, his heart pounding with frustration and fear.

Zabo, still pinned beneath the chains, let out a resigned sigh. “So, what’s the plan here? You came to kill me, right? Can’t say I’m surprised, though I was really hoping I’d live a bit longer.”

Noah grinned, kneeling down beside Zabo. “Oh, you’re going to live, Zabo. Just a little longer.”

He held up the dark orb in his hand, letting the dim light glint off its surface. Zabo’s eyes widened in panic, his breath catching in his throat.

“Why… why did you bring that?” Zabo stammered.

Noah’s smirk widened. “Zabo Kiakor. Living in Rustblock. Attending The Regalis Hunter Academy. Possesses the abilities of super strength.” He paused, watching Zabo’s reaction. “He exhibits very passive behavior. Quiet in class, and does not stand out much in practical work. From what we’ve seen, he’ll likely be a run-of-the-mill hunter when he graduates.”

Noah’s tone shifted, becoming darker as he leaned closer to Zabo, his voice a near whisper. “I did my homework, Zabo. Your teachers at the academy don’t think highly of you. You’re hiding something. You’re hiding your true abilities. And I want to know why.”

Zabo’s face drained of color, his gaze locked on the orb in Noah’s hand. Panic washed over him, his body trembling despite the chains holding him down.

Sabir watched, his own heart racing, unsure of what the orb was, but knowing, deep down, that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.