An automated voice broke through the room.
“Congratulations, you have reached Level 16; you have unlocked the Phantom Zone.”
Jude’s heart skipped. He felt a cold rush along his spine, an almost electric sensation that made his skin prickle. He stared down at the tablet, its screen now displaying a glowing map, new areas highlighted. This wasn’t just another level—it was a doorway, an invitation to a new world he hadn’t expected to unlock so soon.
Around him, the others went suddenly quiet. Even Lucy’s eyes drifted from the cartoon to look at him.
“What... just happened?”
Thiago slid the tablet from Jude’s hands, his gaze flicking back to the screen as he casually continued, “You unlocked the map, that’s all. Level 16 lets you move freely through cells now. You could keep going, reach Level 99 if you’re into that kind of grind…” He shrugged, dismissing the idea with a slight wave of his hand. “But we’re on the clock here. The truth is, none of us knows how much time we actually have.”
Thiago leaned back, gripping the tablet with a tension that betrayed his true feelings. He tossed it onto the table, barely sparing it an eye as it skidded across. "Honestly," he began, voice gruff, "I could sit here and break down the whole mess—what's going on here, on Earth and everywhere else. But let's get one thing clear: I wasn’t exactly thrilled to have you show up here again, Jude of James."
He paused, studying Jude with a blunt, unflinching look. “In fact, I told Bart to take care of it, to end things the minute you set foot in the SiC—bang bang. Not that I wanted you dead—just… removed from the equation.” He tilted his head, eyebrows raised. "Nothing against you, really. It’s just... how things are. The first time you fucked everything in the last minute, and to be honest with you, Jude, I have no patience for repeats."
“The first time?”
“You know what I mean…”
Jude’s curiosity crept in as he replied, “I get it. I’d have done the same if I were in your shoes.” He leaned forward, fingers drumming lightly on the edge of the table. “But tell me,” he continued, intrigued, “how did you know who I was? Or what I was, for that matter?”
There was a trace of disdain in Thiago's eyes and words, a slightly sour and foul taste as he looked at Jude from head to toe.
"The moment your chip kicked in, it linked us up—Saints get the full download. It’s like one big, digital family. We see it all: how you look, your age, your job, UGS files—anything they’ve tracked, stored, recorded. And… Len.” Thiago paused, his mouth twitching in a subtle smirk. “But Paris? He pulled the brakes. Said he wanted you... suited up. You were one of a kind. But we can’t work with ‘one of a kind’ who changes their mind at the last minute.”
Thiago’s gaze swept over him, eyes narrowing as if appraising a tool that might snap under pressure. “Nothing in my experience and your records says you’re fit for this,” he said with a slight curl of contempt edging his words. “A waste of resources, really. And time?” He shook his head, almost as if the concept itself slipped away from him. “That’s one thing we’re running damn short on.”
Teresa leaned forward, an eyebrow raised as she met Thiago’s eyes. “Three of them—down in one go,” she said as if daring him to question it. “Took them out like it was nothing.”
"Empty shells—anyone can pull a trigger on them. What matters isn’t the kill," he said. "It’s control. Mastery." He rubbed a hand over his jaw, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read every layer of Jude's expression.
"But Paris... he thinks you’re worth it. He’s betting everything on you." He paused, his fingers tapping against the table in a steady, almost ominous rhythm. "I still think you are a lost gamble," he murmured, his lips pulling into a faint, humourless smile. "After all, fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me..."
His gaze didn’t waver as he looked directly into Jude's eyes. His tone edged with something darker, as if he was challenging Jude to read his mind. "Just don’t live up again to your name for all the wrong reasons, Saint Jude of James."
----------------------------------------
The cold air bit at Jude’s skin as he shifted uncomfortably in the helicopter’s back seat, pulling a blanket over Lucy’s legs. She nestled closer, her breath fogging up the small window as she stared outside. The hum of the rotors filled the cabin with a rhythmic thrum that masked any other noise.
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Fatima, seated at the controls, flipped a few switches controlling the flight. Teresa slid into the co-pilot’s seat beside her, adjusting her headset, but her eyes briefly flicked back to Jude.
Jude glanced over his shoulder, catching a last glimpse of Thiago standing on the edge of the rooftop. The distance between them seemed greater than just a few meters separating the helicopter from the ground.
"Why’s he staying behind?" Jude asked, cutting through the hum.
Teresa didn’t turn fully, her head angled just enough to catch his gaze. "You really don’t get it, do you?"
Jude frowned, shaking his head slightly. "What?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of Teresa’s lips, "The dude can’t stand you." The words hung in the air, heavy but blunt, as the helicopter lifted off, leaving Thiago behind—a silent, looming figure fading into the distance. What did he mean by ‘again’?
Yet, Jude knew what it was to be disliked; he just didn't feel it in this world until meeting Thiago.
Jude sank deeper into his seat, his shoulders slumping. His gaze dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. The hum of the helicopter seemed louder now, a backdrop to the silence stretching between him and all the others.
He exhaled, the breath catching slightly in his throat. "What the hell did I do?" he muttered, almost to himself, although he knew the answer.
Teresa, half-turned in her seat, glanced back at him with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Besides being born?" she quipped.
From the high altitude of the helicopter, the terrain below unfolded like a surreal patchwork. The vast desert stretched outward, its golden dunes forming a perfect circular boundary. Beyond the sand, a lush expanse of green emerged as if nature had drawn a soft breath, reclaiming the barren land inch by inch.
The greenery began to merge with metallic structures, their lines and geometric shapes cutting through the organic landscape. The contrast was striking—nature's soft curves interwoven with the edges of human design.
All of it converged toward a single point: the arena.
Jude had always seen the SiC map as a chessboard, each cell a calculated move, every decision a strategic gamble. Yet, as he stared out at the horizon, the world stretched before him revealed a depth he hadn’t anticipated. The landscape wasn’t just a simulation or game; it was alive.
The expanse beyond the helicopter's window unfolded like a revelation. The boundless sky met the distant curve of the planet, a vastness that seemed to invite each breath, filling his lungs with a clarity he hadn’t known in years.
In this world, even the so-called enemies weren’t monsters but broken machines—constructs not of malice but of malfunction. They didn’t need to be destroyed, only fixed, reset, and reprogrammed.
This wasn’t just another simulation or battlefield. It was a world offering a chance to rebuild, to repair more than just machinery—it offered the possibility of mending the fractured connections between all who lived here. And those who would come.
For all the signs, all the evidence laid bare before him, something inside resisted. He was a Watcher. His thoughts drifted to Marta, to the child they were expecting. The pull of that life was strong, a gravity that refused to let him fully embrace this new existence.
Why couldn’t he see Nirvana as the future? The proof was there—in the thriving world below, in Lucy’s journey, in the camaraderie he’d started to form. Yet, every breath he took here felt borrowed. The lines between duty and belonging blurred, leaving him questioning where his true allegiance lay.
Nirvana was a promise of survival, a new beginning. But to Jude, it still felt like a place he wasn’t meant to claim.
The helicopter's rotors slowed as it touched down, kicking up a swirl of dust and gravel. Without hesitation, Lucy leapt out, her feet hitting the ground with a light bounce. The wind tousled her hair, and her gaze swept the scene with a spark of energy that hadn't been there for a while.
Jude hopped out next to the helicopter, his boots crunching against the gravel as he landed. Teresa and Fatima were already moving ahead, but Jude lingered for a moment, his eyes sweeping over the vast, hollow expanse of the arena.
Fatima waved them forward, "Control station on the second floor. This way."
Jude’s footsteps turned to follow her, his gaze drifting until it caught on something hanging from the walls. He slowed, his eyes narrowing at the sight of three towering faded banners draped high above the arena floor. Each bore a face, staring down.
The first was Len, her expression as enigmatic as ever, seemingly piercing through the fabric itself. Next to her, Lazaro. But it was the third banner that stopped Jude in his tracks. Teresa’s face stared back at him, yet it wasn’t the Teresa he had come to know.
Her hair was cropped short, her eyes stern, her expression devoid of the casual smirks and sharp wit he was used to. This version of her looked older, harder—like someone who had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and had no room left.
For a moment, Jude barely recognized her.
"Fuck, I was so young," Teresa said behind him.
Jude, still staring at the stern figure on the banner, attempted a light tone. "And serious. What happened to the smirks?"
A faint chuckle escaped her, more a breath than laughter. "They don’t show those in war propaganda."
"What’s with all the banners? There’s none from their side."
"Branding," Teresa replied with a wry smile, her eyes fixed on the distant banners. "Our war cry, our symbol. Like we’re some K-pop stars, selling hope and fresh mint toothpaste."
Jude blinked, momentarily thrown off. "K-pop stars?"
Teresa shook her head. "Damn, I forget how young you are," she teased, but with an edge of disbelief. "You really don’t know what K-pop is?"
"Should I?"
Rolling her eyes, Teresa waved him along. "Never mind. Just follow me. You're making me feel old. I can feel the pain in my lower back." She started down the corridor, her pace brisk, leaving Jude scrambling to catch up, the echo of her laughter trailing behind.