Half an Hour Earlier…

On the crest of the hill, overlooking the city, another trio materialized—a tableau of enigma against the backdrop of Amana. Their faces, veiled by shadows, hold secrets as tightly as a locked chest.

The first among them—a man with a smile that defies deciphering—raises both hands toward the city below. His voice carries weight, resonating with unseen forces: “It’s time.” From his palms, like a spectral tide, the fog surges forth, billowing and weaving, obscuring the city’s edges.

The other two descend, their movements fluid yet ominous. Midway down the slope, the fog-wielder turns to his descending companion. His smile widens, cryptic: “Be sure to follow orders, Nitro.” Then, softer, almost reverent: “For heaven’s always true.”

Nitro’s expression darkens, each step imprinting frost upon the earth. His power—icy and unyielding—reveals itself.

The third figure—an unsettling man with eyes aflame, red as embers. He laughs, taunting: “Hehehehehe, worry not, Svan. He has no choice.”

The Scene Shifts to Samantha…

Samantha, her small frame determined, walks the familiar path back home. But fate has other designs. An unknown man steps into her way—a narrow passage blocked by curiosity.

His smile is disarming. “Hello there, little girl!” he greets, his voice smooth. “Would you guide me to the Sanctuary, just as you guided that person earlier? You see… I’m in need of a registry.”

Samantha hesitates. She has never seen this man before. The city’s gates are guarded, its watchers vigilant. “Who is this man?” she wonders silently. Yet, instinct tugs at her, urging her to nod.

Just as she is about to reach for his hand, another voice pierces the air. “I’ll guide you!”

The man turns, his smile unwavering. “Oh dear. Much appreciated,” he replies.

Samantha’s eyes dart to the source of the voice. Luke! His presence brings a wave of reassurance.

Luke’s gaze meets hers, and he makes rapid finger gestures—coded messages only she understands. “Right from here, sir,” he conveys.

Once the two depart, Samantha’s heart pounds. Fear paints her face like a canvas. The stranger’s presence has shattered her sense of security, making the city feel like it is closing in on her.

Ever vigilant, Luke guides the unknowing man toward the tall edifice—the Sanctuary. The road stretches ahead, deceptively straightforward. Yet, it plays tricks on perception.

Every twenty meters, the road dips and splits into smaller lanes, leading to identical houses. The city’s layout is deliberate—a labyrinth of dense trees, secrets whispered among leaves, and short roads that twist, making you forget where you are. Despite the Sanctuary’s height, it remains hidden within this intricate network. The city has its rituals, its silent agreements with the unseen.

Luke and the stranger arrive at the Sanctuary, their steps measured and purposeful.

Ground Floor: An elegant lobby greets them, sunlight filtering through stained glass. A small, serene garden at its base holds flowers with petals like fragile promises.

Second Floor: Dimly lit, this room bears ornate picture frames. Each holds the portrait of a significant figure—a guardian, a healer, a forgotten hero. Their eyes follow visitors, as if whispering forgotten tales.

Third Floor: A grand library unfolds—a sanctuary of knowledge. Ancient books line the shelves, their spines worn by countless hands. Detailed maps, inked with forgotten routes, hang like tapestries.

Fifth Floor: Here, healing takes form. A hospital where people seek solace from both physical and emotional wounds. The walls absorb stories—the ache of lost love, the weight of memories.

But as they reach the fourth floor, the air shifts. Here, every newcomer is documented—a name etched into the city’s collective memory.

Luke glances at the man beside him. This is no ordinary stranger; his presence defies patterns, hinting at a deeper mystery.

“How did he breach the gateway?” Luke wonders silently. The city’s watchers and wards are meticulous. Yet, here he is, ascending with a smile that holds too many secrets. Luke’s instincts scream.

“Something’s wrong,” Luke thinks, his gaze fixed.

Luke stands at the registry table, its polished surface reflecting the dim light filtering through the Sanctuary’s tall windows. His fingers clench around the pen, anticipation humming in his veins. He is about to inscribe the stranger’s name—

“So,” Luke begins, his voice steady, “what is your name?”

The man’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and he breaks into a slight, enigmatic laughter. “Names, huh…” he muses, “Didn’t we discard those long ago?”

His hands move behind his back, assuming the Hands-Behind-the-Back Pose. Then he walks toward the enormous window, its panes revealing most of Amana—the city that clings to life despite its lack of supernatural abilities.

The man’s eyes bore into the heart of the city, and his smile turns bitter. “Oh my, oh my, a city with no powers,” he murmurs. “All we did, all that sacrificed—for that day! The day that supposedly blessed the world. Knowing that he is near!” His anger radiates, a storm gathering in his gaze.

Luke shifts uncomfortably. The stranger’s intensity unsettles him.

The man turns, locking eyes with Luke. His anger flares. “And you people call it a curse!?” He laughs, a jagged sound. “Hahahaha… It doesn’t matter anymore.”

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“Luke,” the man says, “come here. I want to show you something.”

Luke’s breath hitches. How does this stranger know his name? The room seems to close in on him.

Caution whispers in Luke’s ear, but curiosity tugs at his sleeve. He steps closer, eyes never leaving the stranger’s face.

The city beyond the window waits.

They stand side by side.

The man turns to face the window, his voice trembling. “Do you know why we pushed all those people to the edge back then?” Desperation carves lines into his face. “All those curses…” he pauses, “it was merely to harvest it, to use it against him…” Another pause. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“We had no choice.” Tears well up in his eyes. “Either that, or he wins.”

Luke’s face goes pale, his eyes widening in shock. “Heaven’s scum!” he thinks bitterly.

His hand tightens around the knives concealed in his jacket. He’s trained for this moment—the right strike, the decisive blow. But then a scream echoes from the streets below, and Luke’s concentration wavers.

He glances back at the window. The fog has devoured the city streets.

The man’s voice shatters the silence. “Only through death can one defeat Him,” he declares. His words hang heavily in the air. “And for you and all the people of this city to rebel against our only chance…” The man smiles wickedly, locking eyes with Luke. “This is revenge, you fool. You and all of you shall have a taste of what he is having.”

Determination flares within Luke. He won’t let Amana fall—not to this twisted fate, not to Heaven’s wrath.

But before Luke can react, the man draws a strange, otherworldly gun. The room blurs, and the world narrows to a single point—the barrel aimed directly at Luke’s head.

In that frozen moment, Luke’s thoughts race: Ah… huh… I wonder… Would they… forgive me?..

The man pulls the trigger.

The gunshot echoes through the room, and Luke’s head snaps back. He drops to the ground, lifeless.

The man retracts the gun and strides toward the entrance.

Suddenly, he senses a presence behind him. He spins around to see Luke standing up, the wound on his head crystallizing into a shimmering scar.

The man bursts into laughter. “HAHAAHAAHAHA, dear, dear powers, huh? All of you cling to it to the very end!” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Turning to the registry table, the man kicks it toward Luke with a forceful shove.

Luke’s hand shoots out, shattering the table into crystalline fragments. His entire body begins to transform, glistening with an eerie, crystalline sheen.

The man’s eyes widen, pupils dilating. His lips move, barely audible amidst the tension. “Anathema, huh?” he mutters, the syllables tasting bitter on his tongue. Then, with a twisted smile, he adds, “A chaos not even I can control.”

The man’s hand trembles as he draws forth a weapon—an archaic shotgun, its metal etched with cryptic symbols. He aims at Luke, who stands close to the window, and fires. The blast tears through Luke, shattering the window and sending him hurtling. Shards of glass and crystal trail behind him as he falls into the foggy abyss below.

The Scene Shifts To Samantha..

The gate looms ahead—wide open and unguarded. Its emptiness sends a chill down her spine, but she can’t afford to hesitate. She bursts through, stumbling outside, gasping for breath as the cold air hits her lungs.

As she straightens up, a familiar sound reaches her ears—the clash of powers. Samantha recognizes it instantly—the primal dance of abilities. Her eyes widen in recognition. “Rhys!” she shouts, her voice cutting through the thick fog. Without a moment’s pause, she sprints towards the training ground, her footsteps echoing against the cobblestones, her heart racing with urgency.

Rhys, Light, Cyrus, and Noah are all caught in the midst of training. “Rhys!” Samantha calls out as she arrives, her voice filled with desperation. Their faces turn toward her, concern etching deep lines into their features.

Rhys steps forward, her eyes filled with questions. “Samantha? What are you doing here?”

Breathless, Samantha tries to speak, her chest heaving with the effort. Rhys closes the distance between them, her hands gentle on Samantha’s shoulders. “Samantha, is something wrong?” Rhys’s worry is palpable, her voice trembling slightly.

Samantha pauses, trying to catch her breath. “Rhys… ah… int…” she pants, struggling to form the words. Rhys waits anxiously, her eyes filled with concern and fear.

Finally, Samantha manages to shout, “Intruders!!”

Rhys’s face and eyes widen in shock.

Suddenly, the air shifts.

From nowhere, Cyrus screams in agony, clutching his head, his teeth clenched so tightly that blood drips from his mouth. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” he screams, his voice filled with unbearable pain.

Everyone turns to him, alarmed by his sudden outburst.

“Cyrus?” Light calls out, his face a mask of shock, his voice trembling.

Rhys scans the area, her eyes darting around frantically. She spots someone not far away, holding his hand out towards them, as if emitting some kind of energy.

Without hesitation, Rhys springs into action. Using her powers, she runs towards the man. Midway, she jumps, using a burst of fire to propel herself higher and faster. She lands with a powerful impact near the man’s location.

The man quakes and collapses.

Before he can react, Rhys extends her arm and unleashes a torrent of fire, bathing the man in flames!

Screaming and laughing, the man says before he is consumed by the flames, “I did my part, now you do yours.”

Without a second thought, Rhys turns around, ready to return to the others, when a voice behind her says, “It’s been a long time, Rhys.”

Right then, Rhys freezes, her eyes widening in shock and sadness as she turns to face the speaker. “Nitro!…” she whispers, her voice filled with a mix of emotions.

The ground beneath Nitro’s feet is covered in ice. He looks at Rhys and says, “Follow me, Rhys,” then adds, “or all this will come to ruin.” He circles his finger, indicating the entire city, and points at the sky, where dark clouds begin to gather, threatening rain!

Rhys’s face saddens as she watches Nitro walk away. Reluctantly, she follows him, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision.

The Scene Shifts Back To The Kids..

Cyrus’s screams of agony pierce the air as he clutches his head, writhing in pain. Noah, his heart pounding, steps forward to check on him. Just as Noah’s hand is about to reach Cyrus, blood spills from Cyrus’s mouth. His eyes turn a terrifying shade of red, and veins bulge on his forehead. He turns his face towards Noah, who freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

In that moment, Cyrus channels his powers through his hand, his fist glowing with a fierce, unearthly energy. With a roar, he punches Noah with a force that makes the ground tremble, sending Noah hurtling through the air.

Samantha and Light stand rooted to the spot, shock etched on their faces. Light’s voice breaks as he screams, “CYRUS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Cyrus turns to face Light, his eyes blazing with raw power. He begins to channel his energy again, the air crackling around him. Light knows what is coming. He quickly summons his own powers, electricity sparking from his hands as he creates a protective field.

Cyrus unleashes another meteor punch, the energy hurtling towards Light. The clash between the punch and the electric field is explosive. Light holds his ground, both hands outstretched, his face contorted with effort. But it isn’t enough. The electric field shatters with a deafening crack, sending Light flying. He lands hard, but the field has absorbed some of the impact, sparing him from serious injury.

From the dust that rises from the clash between the punch and the electric field, Samantha stands alone, shocked and afraid. Tears begin to fall from her eyes. Before her, with blood dripping from his mouth and an angry, vein-covered face, stands Cyrus. His eyes, now a terrifying red, lock onto her. He starts to walk towards her, each step heavy with menace.

Samantha trembles, her heart pounding in her chest. Cyrus now stands very close in front of her, towering over her. She tilts her head up, meeting his blazing red eyes. With a voice shaking with fear, she whispers, “Cyrus?..”

In that instant, Cyrus channels his power. His fist glows with a fierce energy. He screams in agony, his voice echoing through the air. Then, he begins to punch the ground with relentless fury. The force of his blows sends shockwaves rippling through the earth, throwing Samantha to the ground. She lies there, paralyzed by the impact. Cyrus continues his assault, each punch reverberating through her body, breaking bones and shattering limbs. The sound of cracking bones mingles with Samantha’s cries of pain, creating a symphony of horror. Her body is pinned to the ground, unable to escape the relentless onslaught.

Punch after punch, Cyrus continues his brutal assault. But then, he stops and turns. In that instant, a shockwave hits him from behind with tremendous force, breaking both his hands and sending him flying far away. The wave doesn’t dissipate until the ten-second mark, propelling him approximately two miles. As the dust settles, the figure who fired the shockwave comes into view.

“I’m sorry,” Fia says, her eyes filled with sadness as she gazes at the scene.

She looks up at the sky, her hand and eyes beginning to glow brightly. With a determined fist raised towards the sky, she unleashes a shockwave that shatters the sound barrier, piercing through the darkened clouds. The sky explodes with light, visible from miles away.

Without hesitation, Fia turns and sprints towards the city gate, disappearing into the mist door.

The Scene Shifts to the Seeker…

The fog still flows, the screams still loud, the voices of life being absorbed by death. The Seeker stands there, his heartbeat racing. He looks at his hand, as if he knew all along. His hand has transformed into a claw-like blade, and he is not confused at all.

Just then, a monstrous figure comes into view. The Seeker glances at it, the figure drawing closer.

The Seeker knows that to survive, he must use the power that has been dwelling within him.

As the figure closes the distance, the Seeker attacks, plunging his clawed hand into the monster’s belly.

For reasons unknown, the fog begins to dissipate, gradually unveiling the city.

Human remains are scattered all around, a grotesque testament to the chaos. Bodies lay everywhere, limbs torn apart, eyes barely hanging by veins from skulls. The cries and growls had been the mist’s doing, deceiving the city into chaos. They killed each other, turned on each other. The streets now bathed in blood.

“No, no, no, no, no,” the Seeker mutters, his voice trembling.

As the fog clears completely, the true horror becomes visible.

The Seeker stands there, shocked—not because of the scene, not because of the dead people around him, not because of the blood covering the entire city. No! He is shocked because of what he did.

Four blades pierce the abdomen. She gazes at him, blood sputtering from the lips, before collapsing to the ground. The Seeker stands motionless, his hand drenched in blood, eyes vacant. A solitary tear traces down beside his cheek.

THEN HE SMILES.