We returned to the meeting place where Sir had once commanded his conjurer friend to construct a building long ago. It was supposed to be our fallback point where we would lure everyone after the beach incident. But with how things unfolded, we hadn’t been able to execute the plan perfectly. Still, we managed to draw a few people inland.

What greeted us was nothing but ruins.

The entire building had been reduced to dust and rubble.

“Hey, what happened here?” the weak-ass slasher asked, hands resting behind his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Our controller turned, her smile tight, masked menace behind it. “A lot of things, I’d imagine. Right, Momo? Mimi?”

The twins exchanged glances, unreadable.

They were nearly identical—squinting eyes, small noses, and pale, thin lips. Even their height and build were the same. They were barely the size of elementary students yet far more dangerous than they looked. If you didn’t know what they could do, you’d never suspect how lethal they were.

I caught the weak-ass slasher mumbling under his breath. He said the twins were the ones who pulverized the building.

Mimi stepped forward, lowering her head. “We’re sorry. We didn’t expect it to end like this and—”

“—we’re also sorry for letting them slip out of our hands,” Momo finished, her voice mirroring her sister’s.

The itch started again—that unbearable, crawling sensation.

I hoped Sir had left some people for me to burst.

This itch wasn’t physical. It was a habit—one I’d inherited from my father. I remembered it well from when I was a kid. The tension. The craving for release. He was one of the original thinkers tasked with eliminating the first subjects on this island, working alongside Sir and their conjurer friend, the very one who had built this now-ruined structure.

I could still hear his voice, describing each kill in sickening detail. The screams. The fear. The way their agony had fueled his satisfaction.

But the bastard died.

I’d been left orphaned. The family that took me in never loved me.

“Welcome, Young Bloods.”

The voice came from nowhere. No sound. No warning.

He simply appeared.

Well, not exactly nowhere. We’d been enveloped in a thought. He had warped in. But I couldn’t tell from where.

Without hesitation, we all dropped to our knees, bowing our heads in respect.

He was our mentor—one of the seven hands of Master.

And he was a warper.

His thought margin was orange, but he was still dangerous. Still lethal.

And he could kill without effort.

I’d figured out where he’d been. He must’ve followed the escapees. That explained his absence earlier.

With his thought, moving across the island was effortless. Hunting down each one wouldn’t take him long, especially since he knew this place well. He was one of the first generation of Young Bloods.

And because of that, he had earned our respect.

But also because he was my real father’s best friend.

The building, now a crumbled ruin, had once been our training ground. Every detail had been crafted with perfect precision, ensuring we mastered the spatial dimensions of the school we were set to infiltrate. And we had. Successfully.

The building’s primary purpose, though, had been surveillance—to monitor teacher Mary’s movements. But the conjurer who had built it died not long after we officially became Young Bloods, and the structure had slowly deteriorated ever since. Honestly, I was surprised it had lasted this long after his death.

Orange-margin thought abilities were still a mystery to me.

“What took you so long?” Sir’s calm, composed voice sent a chill down my spine. It was that icy control, even more unnerving than teacher Mary’s.

“Sir, sorry for the delay. Nevertheless, we completed our task,” the weak-ass slasher reported with his usual casual tone. What a gutsy idiot. Talking to Sir like that.

Sir’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that so? Because if you did fail and let someone escape…” His voice dropped, icy and sharp. “Master would not be pleased. And you all know that.”

We swallowed hard.

I had seen firsthand what happened when Master was displeased.

Sir led us deeper into the ruins. In the center, tied to a crumbling stone column, were two captives—a man and a woman. Ropes coiled around their torsos, binding them tightly to the pillar. Their mouths were sealed with duct tape, their wide, desperate eyes following our every move.

The woman’s gaze locked onto us, recognizing every one of us instantly.

The man grunted into the tape, eyes narrowed in defiant fury. His stare was sharp and daring. If only I had permission to burst him...

Our controller crouched in front of the woman, knees wide apart, mockery twisting her lips into a grin. “Hi there, cher. How did you like the betrayal setup I pulled? Perfect, wasn’t it?”

The woman didn’t flinch but kept glaring through her panic.

“Oh, you managed to slip out of my thought, didn’t you? Impressive. But now you’re right back here where you belong, so no need to stress too much. Sir, may I break her a bit? She might spill where the others are hiding.”

“No need,” a voice cut in.

It was the weak-ass slasher again, flashing that cocky grin. “Sir already knows where they are. Isn’t that right, Sir?”

I clenched my fists. The nerve of this piece of trash. If only I were authorized to burst him...

Sir exhaled a long, tired breath, brushing dust off his dark slacks before sitting on a large slab of broken stone. The dim light cast harsh shadows across his crew-cut hair and deep brown skin, his presence alone enough to make anyone think twice about challenging him.

Without a word, he removed his fogged glasses, folded them neatly on his lap, and retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket. The flick of his lighter echoed. Smoke drifted from his lips as he exhaled slowly.

“Would you like to go there and handle it yourself?”

The weak-ass slasher just smirked, giving a lazy shrug. “Dunno. Maybe if he goes with me.”

He pointed directly at me.

I scowled, my blood boiling.

“Don’t talk to Sir like that,” I snapped, my voice tight with anger. “Sir, please—let me kill this weak-ass already.”

“Oops,” he mocked, raising his hands in a half-hearted surrender. “Didn’t mean to offend, y’know?”

I gritted my teeth. One day—one fucking day—I’d make him pay.

"Enough, both of you." Sir's voice cut through the tension like a blade. His gaze shifted to our controller, who trembled in the corner. "What about the rest of the blue team? Were you able to wipe them all out?"

Her face flushed as she answered. "Not all, Sir. Teacher Jelly escaped—with help from a crew member on the barge."

I stiffened as Sir turned toward me, expecting to be questioned next. I respected him deeply. He was the second person I would give my life for, next to Master.

But he only sighed. "Okay, everyone. Huddle up."

That was it? No questions? No concern if I was hurt?

The itch burned stronger, crawling under my skin. I needed to burst someone—now. The dampness in my pants had dried. I needed it wet again.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Sir exhaled smoke from his nostrils. "Here's the thing. It's simple. Real simple. I expect every single one of you to complete the task. I'll be warping here and there if you need help, but honestly, you shouldn't."

"Sir," I said, "no need for that. We'll finish everything before they can blink. Why not just send me alone? They’ll just slow me down." The itch twisted deeper, almost painful now.

"Oh? Getting cocky again, are we?" The weak-ass slasher grinned, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You really think I couldn't slice you open right now? Next time you act like that, you better run. Consider yourself warned."

I snapped.

My thought shot out, and I tackled him, pinning him hard against the ground. He winced then unleashed his own thought—slashing upward in a blur. I twisted my head just in time, but the air blade still grazed my cheek.

Blood dripped down my face.

With a push, he rolled away, clutching his neck and glaring. "Damn your reflexes."

He wasn’t smiling anymore. Good. I liked it better that way.

I wiped the blood with the back of my hand then licked it clean, letting the sharp tang fuel the heat surging in my veins. My thought flared again. I lunged, closing the gap between us faster than he expected. I was already reaching for his skin when—

Everything stopped.

My muscles locked as a slicing pressure teased my elbow, just shy of cutting into it.

Shit.

Our controller stood across from us. Her thought was active. She was furious.

"Why," she hissed through clenched teeth, "must you always be so hot-headed? Can you calm down for once?"

She was trying to stay composed. Sir's disappointment scared her.

But before either of us could move, an overwhelming surge of thought crushed down on us, stronger than all of ours combined.

Sir warped between the narrow gap separating me from the weak-ass slasher. His hands snapped out, grabbing fistfuls of our hair and yanking our faces within inches of his.

"Are you listening?" he whispered, his voice deadly calm.

It was a threat.

The weak-ass slasher shot me a smug look. I returned it with a promise of violence.

We both backed off and dropped onto the stone slab, still glaring as Sir warped back to his seat with a faint poof.

"Now, now," he said, brushing dust from his slacks, perfectly composed again. "As I was saying, all of you will go there and kill the targets. Quickly. Except for one. We've thinned their numbers enough, and I'm certain she will inherit Maximus’ realm soon.”

He adjusted his fogged glasses, which must have slipped off during his warp, and slipped them back on.

"That's it. By the way, where's that auditor?"

The weak-ass slasher raised his hand. "Uh... I killed him. Wasn't that the plan? Silence him since he wasn't part of us?"

Sir blinked, then he nodded. "Well, yes. Though I thought you might’ve kept him alive. Master could've tested him. Maybe even turned him into a Young Blood. No matter."

He stood, brushing off his hands. "I'll return to Master. These two will go with me. Marcus can erase their memories and rewrite them."

I tensed.

"They're pothinks," he added simply.

Of course.

It had to be that cursed item.

Master gave Sir two cursed items for this mission. One was a glove—its power let him identify a pothink just by touching them.

The other cursed item had a power similar to a linker. A warper could normally only transport themselves, and beginner warpers often couldn’t even carry their clothes when they warped. Sir, however, had already mastered carrying his. But even for him, bringing anything beyond his own clothing, like another person, was impossible.

This item changed that.

I knew he’d use it to deliver the prisoners to Master. I felt the itch worsen—not just from wanting to burst someone but from envy. Sir could see Master whenever he pleased. How convenient.

“Mimi, if you would, please,” Sir said.

Mimi stood, her face expressionless as always, and approached the bound prisoners. She initiated a thought, pressing her hand against them. Her thought radius was massive, engulfing us all in its range and stretching meters into the air.

In seconds, the prisoners shrank down to the size of her palm.

Mimi was a sizer and could alter the size of anything within her thought. Though twins, Mimi and Momo had developed separate thought abilities when classified. Both, however, shared enormous thought sizes, making them dangerous alone and nearly unstoppable when they combined their powers.

Sir crouched and picked up the tiny, shrunken captives, slipping them into a cigarette case. It had to be the cursed item. He slid it into his breast pocket like they were nothing more than spare change.

"Alright," he said, straightening and adjusting his fogged glasses. "I'll leave the rest to you all."

His voice dropped to a calm.

"And please, no children's quarrels."

It was a warning.

With a flicker of thought, he vanished.

I stared at his empty spot, wondering if the prisoners would return to their original size outside Mimi’s thought. Orange-margin thinkers were so full of mysteries.

"So?" weak-ass slasher said. He finally broke the silence. His voice grated on my nerves; every word was like nails in my skull. If only he’d stop breathing.

"Of course, we’ll go now. The sooner, the better," I said, the itch nearly unbearable.

"Nah, you’re just chasing Master’s approval, huh?" he mocked, his voice smug.

I clenched my fists, ready to break his face, but our controller cut between us before the tension could boil over again.

"I'm not even going to bother reminding you two what you should be doing." She exhaled sharply and turned to the twins instead.

"Before we head out, I packed something for you, Mimi and Momo." She gestured toward a backpack tucked at the base of a coconut-looking tree. "I didn’t mention it earlier because I wanted Sir to see how thoughtful I am when giving it to you both in front of him. But... Since he already left, I’ll just give it to you now."

I almost rolled my eyes. She had a huge crush on Sir. It was obvious—the way she used to get in trouble back at school, always finding excuses to hover near him.

Well, her adviser wouldn’t be a problem anymore. He was on his way to Master now.

The twins exchanged glances, then they rushed to the bag. They unzipped it and flipped it over, shaking its contents onto the ground.

A few small objects fell out with soft thuds.

“Boring,” weak-ass slasher muttered.

Severed limbs from the passengers and crew we had slaughtered littered the grass; some were still dripping blood. The twins, overjoyed, hopped around the body parts as if performing some ancient dance ritual.

I stepped cautiously toward our controller and lowered my voice. “Hey, it’s unnecessary for them to make an army to kill the remaining subjects. I can just—”

“Enough with that. You always insist on handling things alone. Why don’t you rely on us more? You’re not the only Young Blood here.”

Joseph, the weak-ass slasher, smirked. “Let him be, Priscilla. It’s not like he’d actually disobey Sir after that warning. Or would you?”

“I know, Joseph. He just needs to be reminded over and over for it to sink in.”

I grimaced, struggling to keep calm. “Let’s go. We can’t waste any more time here.”

“Wait,” Mimi said. “We’re going to—”

“—try one first,” Momo finished.

Before I could turn, she had already initiated a thought.

Momo knelt, grasping a severed limb from the blood-soaked ground. It was a thin arm, pale, with a gold wristwatch. Teacher Blanch’s. I was sure of it.

Holding the arm firmly, she whispered gibberish words under her breath. I never liked summoners—too much dramatics. The chanting, the exaggerated theatrics—watching them felt like something straight out of a cheesy wizard tale.

She opened her eyes wide, face emotionless, and flung the limb into the air.

A glowing magical circle burst into existence overhead, devouring the limb. Another circle appeared at the ground where, in a flash of energy, teacher Blanch reappeared—whole and intact.

Only now, a strange mark marred her skin. It was a single eye, etched into her left arm, resembling an Illuminati symbol but slightly altered. It signified true flesh—the part used to summon her. Summoners could only summon living beings by using a piece of their body, provided it wasn’t hair or bodily fluids. The larger the part, the faster and more complete the summoning.

And then it got crazier.

Mimi stepped in.

Without a word, she activated her thought and pressed her palm lightly against Blanch’s shoulder.

The teacher grew.

She expanded slowly, swelling upward like a balloon, towering higher and higher until her head nearly brushed the top of Mimi’s thought range.

She became a giant.

I could only imagine the chaos they could unleash if they summoned the rest of the limbs scattered around us and created a whole army of giants. That was what made the twins so terrifying.

But I knew their limits.

Maintaining one of these abominations drained them. If teacher Blanch remained inside their thoughts, she wouldn’t shrink back or vanish—but the effort required would exhaust them for days. Five, at least.

“Whoa,” Joseph muttered, eyes wide with awe. “That’s insane. Could you handle all the limbs in the bag like this?”

“Not without Marjorie, but—”

“—we’ll manage somehow.”

Before they could finish, something else happened.

Teacher Blanch didn’t fade. She dissolved into mist.

The twins’ thoughts were still active, yet their summoned giant had vanished completely.

There was only one explanation.

The twins’ faces twisted in irritation, their narrowed eyes snapping toward a figure emerging from the undergrowth.

It was him.

I hadn’t even sensed his thought overlapping theirs.

"Well, look who decided to show up," Joseph sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Finlay stepped into view, his face tense.

Priscilla’s eyes narrowed. "Oh, finally. Did you kill them?"

Finlay hesitated.

"No, he didn’t—"

"—in fact, he helped them."

Priscilla’s glare sharpened. "I could have killed them myself back then. I thought you were keeping your cover when you silenced me. I won’t forget it, Finlay. Remember that."

Finlay averted his gaze. “I’m linked.”

There was a long silence.

Then, Joseph burst into laughter, loud and mocking.

Priscilla stifled a chuckle. The twins collapsed to the ground, clutching their stomachs as they cackled.

I didn’t laugh.

Finlay flushed red and slumped onto the grass. He told us he had escaped from the north hillside of the Silent Falls.

That confirmed their location. They had likely reached the hotel by now.

The others kept chatting, their voices blending into pointless noise. I tuned them out, pacing toward the stone slab where Sir had been sitting earlier.

A cigarette lay there.

I picked it up and pulled my lighter from my pocket. Marlboro wasn’t my favorite, but since it was Sir’s, I could make an exception. I lit the cigarette, drew a slow puff, and let the smoke linger before exhaling.

My thoughts drifted to my uncle.

He was the only blood relative who had stayed in touch after I’d been orphaned and adopted. He was a loving, sincere man, even if he was a lazy bum. It never bothered me.

But for Master...

He needed to die.