The nukes came a week after we returned, faster than anyone had dared to imagine. I had known—we had all known—this was a possibility when we killed that buffoon of a president. None of us thought the retaliation would come so quickly.

I stood on Paradise Beach, among hundreds of others, watching the night sky reflect off the sea, waiting for the missiles to arrive. In that moment, I wished more than anything that he was here. He always knew what to do. He always found a way, before… before.

As I scanned the horizon, a tall figure caught my gaze. His silhouette was hard to make out in the dark, his back thin and hunched, but the figure was unmistakable. He held a little girl’s hand, and for a moment, I froze. This was pointless, I realized. I ran toward him, shouting, “Sipho! Get me up there! Maybe we can stop them!”

When I reached him by the water, I grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face me. As the first rays of sunlight touched the sky, his gaze met mine, faintly illuminated in the soft light. He gave a sad smile, his voice weary. “There are hundreds of them. Thousands. Tens of thousands. What do you want me to do—throw a breeze at them?”

“Of course!” I shot back. How can we stand here waiting for death to catch us?

His mouth pressed into a thin line as he glanced down at his daughter before turning his eyes toward the horizon. When his gaze swept over the crowd, his jaw tightened. He took in the families around us—some clung to one another in desperation, others scrambled in panic, while a few sat silently in the sand, staring at the sea with resignation etched across their faces.

A long breath escaped him, and his expression softened slightly, though sadness lingered. He turned to his daughter again, her wide eyes locked on him like he was the only thing on this beach.

He knelt before her, cupping her face in his hands as if she were the last thing that mattered. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, the softness in his features betraying the resolve in his voice. “Just gotta stop those things real quick, okay?”

She nodded fiercely, her confidence in her father unwavering, like he could face all the danger on earth and still have time to play. His hands lingered on her for a moment before he seemed to force them away, straightening and turning toward me, tapping the tattoo on his left shoulder. "What are you waiting for?" he demanded, his brown eyes glinting with a challenge.

I took his hand, tapping my own left shoulder in return—the tattoo of a full set of knight’s armor. I focused my will, and the ink began to glow. From it, a black substance formed, wrapping around me until it hardened into armor, covering me from head to toe. I cut a slit for my eyes, but I thought about it, then decided to pull the armor back to leave only my face exposed—so he could hear me if needed.

As the armor settled, I felt the air surge around us, as though a storm was gathering beneath our feet. His power unfolded, and the wind seemed to bow to his every whim as we shot into the sky—faster than anything he'd ever done before, faster than I ever thought possible.

"You’ve been holding out on us!" I forced a smirk, trying to make him believe we could actually pull this off. Again, that sad smile spread across his face, like he knew what was coming—like he knew there was nothing we could do.

“You’re wrong. I won’t die today,” I told myself silently, letting the smirk fade.

River’s words echoed in my mind as we shot forward. There were at least ten thousand of them heading for Kaleidos. Maybe I could stop one.

“I will not die today!” I roared in my head, the thought almost convincing.

Half an hour later, we spotted them—specks in the distance. Specks that could wipe out five million people. We were still at least ten kilometers from the closest one.

Then five.

Soon, they were right on top of us.

“Get me close!” I screamed, barely heard over the wind.

Sipho met my eyes, nodded, and angled the wind down, bringing us directly in front of the nearest missile. The gust that had been at our backs now slammed into us from the front, halting us instantly. The impact hit me like a truck.

Then, just as quickly, we shot toward the beach, lining up with one of the missiles racing toward the island. We closed the gap, hovering just above it. The roar of its flight deafened me, drowning out everything else. Unyielding. Unstoppable. The pinnacle of humanity’s destruction, packed into a metal tube barely my height. What a joke.

I unwrapped my armor and shifted it around the missile, molding it to cover the metal, ensuring the usual grooves for my eyes vanished.

A piece of the armor at the top flickered from black to white, unleashing some of the energy I’d been holding in reserve, setting the nuke off. I felt the world lurch. Every fiber of me—from my fingernails to every strand of hair—vibrated with the force I kept contained. I stored it in the armor, trying to keep my face steady.

“One down!” Sipho’s voice crackled with disbelief, his astonishment clear. I couldn’t let myself feel proud—not yet. There were too many more to stop.

I covered myself in armor again while he angled us down toward the next missile. Only then did I let my face slip. I wasn’t sure I could do it again. The energy buzzed behind my eyes, but this time it wasn’t the calm, steady river it usually was. It was a raging ocean—roaring, thrashing with fury, desperate to break free, to swallow everything within its depths. And every attempt to hold it back was agony.

We hovered above another missile. I braced myself, even before I began wrapping my armor around it, making sure to cover every inch of the deadly metal. I released the energy, gritting my teeth, bracing for the calamity.

I couldn’t hold it—it was too much. I rocked back, nearly making Sipho lose his grip on me. Then, my stomach rebelled, and I vomited, bile splattering across his nice pants.

One of the missiles leapt past us, faster than anything we could hope to catch. We could only watch helplessly as it shrank into a speck, racing toward the distant beach—toward the Hadron Collider. Our powers—our only hope for the future—were doomed.

The missile skimmed low over the water, creating a violent wake behind it. Then it was over the beach, a harbinger of death.

As it flew over, a golden string shot up from the beach, snaring the missile in mid-flight. It wound around it, tight and unyielding, desperately fighting to slow it down. The missile thrashed, its fury clashing against the string, but the man holding it wasn’t letting go.

I knew the man with that string. I knew that he could do anything, how he had saved what remained of our army in the tower, against all the odds. He would die before he let go.

But this time, the odds beat him. The missile slipped free from the strands, streaking away at an angle, now heading straight for Paradise City. It zipped past the towering buildings and, in the blink of an eye, was gone—vanishing beyond the reach of even my blessed eyes. I prayed it had misfired, that it wouldn’t detonate, that something might stop it.

But that hope shattered quickly.

One moment, the city thrived—tall buildings, workers, families, children. I clung to the hope that they had evacuated, that they had found somewhere safe. And then, in the blink of an eye, that city of life was gone. A flash of light erupted from the middle of the city, swallowing everything in its path, dwarfing the pale dawn behind us. The night sky lit up with the fury of a thousand suns, devouring the skyscrapers we had spent years building, the homes we had made for the broken—gone, reduced to nothing in an instant.

My mind struggled to process the rising mushroom cloud. The sheer scale of it paralyzed me, yet one thought overpowered all others:

Why is it so quiet?

Then, the shockwave hit—an earth-shattering roar that tore through my armor and rattled my bones. I shoved my head into my shoulder, my hand slamming against the side of my helmet in a futile attempt to block it out. But there was no escaping that deafening sound.

The shockwave hurled us backward, hundreds of meters, the world spinning out of control. Sipho fought to steady us, struggling to keep us airborne as we plummeted toward the ocean. Meanwhile, the missiles kept going, relentless, unstoppable.

Finally, we found some semblance of stability. Sipho stared at the mushroom cloud, his ears bleeding, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. I grabbed his face, forcing him to meet my gaze. My voice came out as a raw scream: “Sipho, let’s keep going—come on!”

I willed him to move, pointing frantically at the fires racing toward the beach, desperate to make sure he could hear me, even though all I could hear was the ringing in my ears.

He looked at me, then at the missiles, his throat tight, as though he had swallowed a boulder. He nodded, and we shot forward again, faster than I thought possible. He outpaced nearly every missile, reaching the first one with terrifying speed.

We hovered above it, and I disconnected my armor once more, wrapping it around the missile, trying to contain it, trying to make it disappear. I released a fraction of that monstrous energy, desperate to hold back the coming storm, but it was too much. I felt my eyes bleed, my brain split in half and then... everything went black.

When I regained awareness, I felt disoriented, my legs sinking into sand. Slowly, I realized I was on my back, a man kneeling over me, holding me in his arms. A golden silhouette hovered above his head.

No—my vision sharpened, revealing a golden halo above a handsome face.

"Slava?" I rasped, my voice thick with the weight of the worst hangover I could imagine. I saw tears glistening in his eyes as he clutched me, trembling.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay," he whispered, his grip gentle but tight, as if I might break. "You did so well."

Why was he treating me like a child? I just had a hangover… and then the energy from my armor exploded in my skull—a vengeful god throwing everything it had at the back of my eyes, trying to escape. My body went slack, and I collapsed against Slava, almost slipping back into unconsciousness. But I couldn’t. I forced myself to stay awake, gripping onto my will, battling the energy behind my eyes, demanding it obey its new master.

Finally, I slowly pushed myself up, my eyes locking onto the specks in the distance. They seemed impossibly closer now. Then it hit me. 

We had failed.

We hadn’t stopped them. We hadn’t even slowed them down.

The missiles might’ve been a hundred kilometers away, but they felt like they were already above us. I did the math in my head, and I knew—minutes. Only minutes.

I glanced around, still struggling to regain my bearings, and saw hundreds of people scattered across the beach. Some were crying, others frantically shoved their families into cars, desperately believing they could escape. That somehow, they might outrun it, that there was somewhere safe to run to.

But not all.

I spotted Sipho—so brave just moments ago, one of the proudest warriors of Kaleidos, a man who had saved thousands. He could’ve probably escaped if he'd taken his daughter earlier. Instead, he sat in the sand, playing with her. And somehow, despite it all, she was smiling. Happy, even.

It felt so out of place. How could there be laughter when a city we had worked so hard to build had just vanished in a ball of fire—destroyed because some men in suits, halfway around the world, had pushed a button?

I stood up then, feeling the weight of it all. It was so unfair. We had fought so hard, for so many. We had changed the world, and this was our reward? Our thanks?

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Slava stood up next to me, his gaze fixed on the sunrise. “Well, I guess this isn't the worst way to go. No pain, no fear… just there one moment—gone the next.”

I looked down, feeling like an utter failure, powerless to do anything. Then I glanced at him and saw that he was weeping softly, the tears falling freely, unimpeded. He didn’t even raise his hand to wipe them away. Without thinking, I reached for his hand, grasping it in mine, trying to offer some small comfort in this last, fleeting moment.

I turned back toward the horizon. After a long pause, I whispered, “The sunrise is nice, at least.”

Slava let out a quiet laugh at first, then it grew, becoming something deeper, almost manic, as he doubled over like he’d heard the funniest thing in the world. “Sure, yeah,” he said, straightening up, giving me a smile worth more than any dawn, “At least the sunrise is...”

And then he froze.

His eyes widened to saucers, his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, I thought death itself had come for him. The way his laughter stopped cold, the way his body went rigid—it was like he was staring directly into the abyss.

I turned around, following his gaze—and then I saw him.

It was as if the beach itself froze, the world holding its breath to acknowledge the impossible. A man walked past us, heading toward the water, his every step cutting through the chaos like a ghost's whisper. A ribbon was tied around his eyes, and his beard was ragged as if torn out at some places. His clothes—barely hanging together—clung to his frame, tattered and shredded, as though he'd fought his way through a thicket of thorns.

The people who saw him froze. Some lowered their eyes, others stepped aside as though a sea was parting before a storm. I had stopped breathing, my chest tight as I watched him move down the beach. I'd seen him create the greatest army ever known, seen him make impossible beasts bow before his will... and now, limping slightly, he strolled casually, as though he had all the time in the world.

The stench that followed him—putrid, like something long dead—was enough to make the people he passed gag. I wrenched my hand from Slava's, my body moving before I could think. I couldn’t stay still. I had to follow him.

“Alex!” I called out, my voice desperate, breaking.

“Alexander, please!” I reached him, grabbing his shoulder, trying to make him acknowledge me.

“Hello? Who’s there?” His voice was distant, like he was swatting at an annoying fly.

“Where have yo…” My words faltered as it became clear—he wasn’t even registering me. He dismissed me, turning away and walking toward the water.

“Alex, please.” My voice cracked, raw with emotion. I was crying now, my heart pounding in desperation. I needed him to snap out of it. He had to have a plan, a way out—he always did.

I grabbed his shoulder again, pulling him hard, trying to make him stop. But he just kept moving, his head swiveling like he was looking for something, as if his eyes might work, if only he searched long enough.

“What seems to be the matter, Lolo?” His voice was calm, almost too calm, like it had been when I was a little girl, coming to him with one of my small problems.

“There’s… there’s something coming toward us. We can't stop it. Maybe if I cover you with my armor, you’ll be safe,” I said, my voice trembling, my tears threatening to spill over. “Please just stay still, okay? Please, just stay right there.”

Maybe if he lived, he’d… he’d figure it out. I didn’t know. My gaze never left his face, desperate for some sign of the man I knew, but all I saw was confusion—like he was a million miles away.

No. I knew he was still in there. He would find a way back. He would fight his way out of whatever this was. He would kill every single one of those little men who thought they were equal to their betters. He would avenge us. He would avenge Paradise.

“What’s coming toward us?” His voice boomed, carrying the weight of a king from a distant era. He stood tall, like the Alex who had once led armies into the tower, who had held the impossible at bay.

“There are nukes coming toward us! They’ve turned Paradise City to ash! Please, Alex, you have to live. You can avenge us! You can kill those cowards!” I knew it was hopeless, but I couldn’t stop myself from pleading, from clinging to the possibility that he could still make it right.

But his attention drifted again, his head turning as though he had completely lost track of me. His hands began to move, slow and deliberate, like he was conducting some invisible orchestra. His right hand rose, a slight turn of the wrist, as if he were adjusting something only he could perceive. A soft smile curled at the corners of his lips. He seemed so far away, in a place just beyond my reach.

“Please,” I whispered, the word a last plea, as if the sound of it might pierce the veil that had settled over him. Somewhere in there, I hoped, Alex could hear me, could return and make all of this disappear.

All I could do was pray that he could hear me, that he would find the strength to make them pay for everything. I stood and glanced back at Slava. The people who had watched Alex’s arrival in stunned silence had returned to their panic. Slava was seated in the sand, staring at the sunrise, his expression soft, tears still falling down his face.

Then, without warning, Alex spun on his heel, marching back up the beach. He didn’t stop, even as he walked directly into one of the men who had been watching the sunrise. His head shook in frustration, like it used to when he heard something that angered him. I followed, not knowing what else to do, only hoping that he’d stay still long enough for me to shield him in my armor.

I was trying to calculate how long I could keep my armor around him when my very bones were disintegrating, but my thoughts were interrupted.

“Lolo. Come stand behind me,” Alex’s voice rang out, light and teasing, as though he’d told a joke, echoing across the beach.

I spun around, my heart sinking as I saw the missiles, almost upon us. I could hear the roaring now, growing closer. Panic rose in my chest as I turned back to Alex. His head was fixed in their direction, his hand resting on his shoulder, the tattoo of a clock visible beneath his touch.

I bolted toward him, my feet tearing through the sand. If he activated his ability now, he'd only end up hurting himself—and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I pushed my Blessed legs to their limit, racing up the dune.

I rounded the small embankment, reaching for him once more—until I saw it. The clock, hovering before his face, began ticking faster than my eyes could follow.

The missiles were closing in, almost above the beach now, their wakes rippling over the water. I watched, heart pounding, as both hands of the clock struck twelve. I’d never seen his watch do that before, and I’d fought by his side for what felt like a lifetime.

He raised his hand, just like he had earlier by the water—but this time, I realized he wasn’t pretending to be a conductor. He was simply turning his wrist, as if he were adjusting the hands of a broken clock.

Everything in front of him slowed. The people scrambling to flee. The ones staring at the sunrise. The missiles creeping over the sand—all frozen in place. Yet the waves still crashed against the shore, their endless rhythm undisturbed. The wind still howled, shifting the sand beneath unmoving feet.

But everything else… stopped.

It was like a scene ripped straight from a bad horror movie: everyone frozen, completely still. Unmoving. Even Sipho, that sad smile on his face, arms wrapped around his little girl, stood staring at the missiles, not more than fifty meters away.

He’d done it. Just like he had a thousand times before. He had saved us.

“Yes!” I screamed, the word bursting from me, pure adulation and adrenaline flooding through my veins.

I stood behind him, throwing my arms around his back in a tight hug, overwhelmed. “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

At some point, Slava must have walked up behind us.

“You see!” I screamed, turning to face him, my voice sharp with exhilaration. “Did you see that? He did it! He saved us!”

A woman walked up beside Slava, her brunette hair swept back, a sharp suit hugging her frame. Her eyes were wide, like she'd just witnessed her worst nightmare unfold. I recognized her—one of those American CIA traitors. She stood frozen, staring at the beach, at Sipho, her gaze locked as though she couldn't look away. A sob escaped her, raw and involuntary, before her hands shot to her hair, pulling at it desperately. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the sand, eyes wide with disbelief and horror.

She didn't matter. None of it mattered. He saved us.

Slava stood frozen, mouth tight with horror, his eyes wide. Even the halo above his head seemed to dim.

“Llorona,” I heard from behind me. My heart leapt at the sound of his voice. I turned around, ready to throw myself into his arms, to finally be with him. But the cheer died in my throat when I saw him.

Tears streamed down his face, dripping from the empty sockets where his eyes should have been, the ribbon drifting down the beach behind him. His sobs mingled with the cries of the American woman, turning into a raw, incoherent mess. He reached up, pressing his hand to my hair, holding my cheek.

He had risen to his full height, towering over me now.

“How could you?” he choked out, his voice thick with pain. His empty sockets seemed to stare beyond me. “Why… why will you do that?”

Something was wrong. His hand on my hair felt wrong. I looked down, my breath catching as I saw the strands of hair beneath his fingers turning grey. The skin beneath his palm felt... thin. Like parchment.

No. Nothing was wrong. I’d waited so long for this moment. This was everything I’d ever wanted. He saved us. He wouldn’t hurt me. Not him.

He stood over me, his empty eye sockets staring directly into mine. I didn’t understand.

So, I gave him my sweetest smile, the one I’d always used to get my way as a child, hoping it would fix whatever was wrong. “What do you—”

From behind me, I heard the click of a trigger being squeezed, followed by a gunshot.

Time crawled, every second dragging like I was caught in a waking nightmare. A red mist exploded from the back of his head, painting the air in a gruesome haze. His body slumped against me, heavy and lifeless, the weight pulling me down as if the earth itself wanted to claim us both. I felt the warmth leave him, replaced by a cold emptiness that seeped into my skin, chilling me to the core. And then something inside me started screaming.

I tried to hold him up, to keep him with me. My throat tightened around the words I wanted to say—“Alex.” But then the blood surged, pouring down my face in hot, sticky rivulets. It clung to my skin, trickling into the corner of my mouth and mingling with my saliva. The taste was sharp and metallic, bitter, wrong.

I blinked once, twice, as if somehow, if I blinked hard enough, he’d be standing, holding my cheek again.

He dropped from me with a sickening thump, landing hard against the sand. My knees buckled, and I crumpled down next to him. My stomach churned, and I leaned away, vomiting whatever was left inside me, as far from him as I could manage.

He can’t be gone. He couldn’t be gone. Not after everything. Not after all this.

I stared at him, pouring every ounce of will, every last shred of power I had into him, willing him to move, to get up. Any second now. Any second, he’d be on his feet.

But he didn’t. He just lay there, unmoving, tears still rolling down his hollowed, aged eye socket. Dead.

No, no. He wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be. He was going to reverse it, to get up any second. He was... How could he...

Something inside me snapped. A heat surged through every inch of my body. I scrambled to my feet, barely aware of my movements, but I was already rushing toward the woman.

“You bastard!” she screamed, her voice a twisted shriek. “You old, crazy bastard! You killed my baby! You killed my Sipho!” Her foot aimed at his body, but I caught her by the ponytail, yanking her away from him.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” I roared into her face.

“He killed my baby! You killed my baby! My Sipho!” she babbled, pointing at the now frozen man. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her words tumbling out in a frantic, incoherent mess. Her trembling hand moved to raise the pistol toward my head slowly, weakly. The stupid powerless girl.

Her wrist shattered in my grip, the gun slipping free before she could even scream. My hand tightened in her ponytail as I lifted her off the ground, her feet kicking helplessly in the air.

“She’s just frozen! He could’ve undone it!” I bellowed, my voice raw and cracking as I violently brought her face closer. “Now we’re all going to die!” The words ripped out of me, echoing over the beach like thunder. I thrust my hand toward the water, toward the missiles that hung motionless in the sky. “The whole island will die now you stupid yank!”

“Good! Then I’ll die with them!” she screeched, her voice cracking, her hands clawing at me—not to escape, but as if trying to drag me down with her.

I glanced up at the missiles, bracing myself, waiting for them to lurch forward. Ready to pour everything into my armor. But they didn’t move. They just hung there, frozen, unmoving, taunting me.

My chest heaved with shallow, frantic breaths. My heart pounded, desperate to escape my ribcage. How could she?

I glanced back at him again. He still just lay there. Why wouldn’t he get up? 

I couldn’t stop shaking. The rage burned hotter, a searing fire consuming everything inside me. My grip on the gun tightened, and I put the gun into her crying mouth, shoving it deep enough to choke her. Her breath hitched, a wet, stuttering sound, tears streaking her face.

“You took him from me! You took everything from me!” My voice sounded like a wounded animal, alien, demented. 

I pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed across the beach like a thunderclap. Her body jerked, the bullet tearing through her throat and exiting somewhere low in her back. She sagged, lifeless, and I hurled her away, disgust boiling in my chest.

I spun on Slava, my blood roaring in my ears. “Why didn’t you stop her? Why did you let her do that?” I shouted.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. His wide, horrified eyes were fixed on the beach. On Sipho.

“Look at me!” I screamed, my voice raw and trembling, and brought the butt of the gun down against his face. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as his head turned, his shattered eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment. They were hollow, broken, like the man himself had crumbled under the weight of it all. Then, without a word, his gaze drifted back to the beach, his whole body radiating nothing but stunned, paralyzing horror.

“You let him die! How could you do this to me?” I sobbed, turning around and my eyes fixing on her lifeless body, sitting in the sand a little ways away from him.

A howl ripped from my throat, guttural and broken, as disbelief crashed over me. I ran at her, kicking her with all the strength I had left, her body tumbling lifeless down the beach. “You bitch!” I screamed. “He saved us! After everything he’s done for us! Was this his reward? Was this what he deserved for all the sacrifices he made?”

I turned back to the water, my chest heaving, my vision blurred with tears.

“I will kill you all! I will burn your cities! Every last American I can get my hands on! You will all die!” I roared at the now silent beach, the waves lapping softly against the sand.