I sat in the center of my room, the sterile silence of my quarters shattered by the violent rhythm of the facility's collapse. The klaxon was a physical weight, an unbearable, screeching reminder that my sanctuary had turned back into a cage. But through the mechanical screaming, I heard something else—the heavy, rhythmic clashing of metal on metal and the guttural roars of things that weren't human. King Kaiju? Or maybe another Harbinger had decided to join the party. It didn't matter which one it was; any Harbinger presence was a death sentence for the surrounding zip code.
My eyes drifted to my backpack. It sat by the door, heavy with the few secrets I had left. Maybe I could help, the thought whispered in the back of my mind.
Then, reality slammed back into place. No.
I wanted a normal life. I wanted the silence. I wanted to be Kaleb Young, the kid who worried about math tests and homecoming dates, not the boy who carried the weight of septillion suns. But my ego—that restless, heroic itch I couldn't quite scratch off—got the best of me. I snagged the bag and bolted into the hall.
I followed the sound of the carnage. It led me toward the cafeteria, where the smell of stale coffee was being replaced by the acrid scent of ozone and blood. I peered through the small, reinforced window of the double doors. Inside, a nightmare was unfolding. Metahumans—Sentinel's "rehabilitated" assets—were throwing everything they had at a four-armed monstrosity with razor-sharp teeth and wings that beat with the sound of a small aircraft.
Tables were being tossed around the room like plastic toys. In the middle of the storm, I caught a glimpse of that kid from breakfast. Martin. I hadn't remembered his name then, but I never forget a face. He was fighting fearlessly, his hands crackling with arcs of blue electricity. His powers felt familiar—a jagged, high-frequency hum that reminded me of Aaliah, but wilder.
He was willing to die for this place. I looked away for a split second to check my flank, and when I looked back, a heavy dining table smashed through the double doors. I lunged out of the way, taking cover behind a structural pillar as the doors flew open. Martin was thrown out with them, skidding across the metallic floor. Then came the roar.
I need to use it, or everyone in this hall is dead.
I reached into my bag, my fingers brushing against the cold glass of the vial. Just as I did, a figure rounded the corner, blocking the light. King Kaiju. I remembered him from the attack near Atlanta—the man who treated cities like sandcastles.
He hoisted Martin against the wall by his throat, but the other metahumans from the cafe swarmed him, forcing him to release the kid. Kaiju skidded across the hall, his palms slamming into the floor. The ground didn't just shake; it groaned. For a heartbeat, there was absolute silence. Then, the ceiling and floor erupted. Two massive, chitinous centipedes tore through the facility, their segmented bodies filling the corridor. Kaiju chuckled, a low, wet sound, and ran down the hall, his hand dragging against the wall as if he were admiring his own destruction.
Everyone scattered. The centipedes were too massive, too alien to handle with simple brute force. I reached into my bag and checked my watch. A message from Maddie was waiting, flickering in the red emergency light.
Kaleb, the Harbingers are going for the Core.
Panic, cold and sharp, set in. I pulled it out. The vial. My original powers, stripped and bottled, sat in the palm of my hand like a dark promise. I didn't think about the consequences. I didn't think about Mom's warnings. I aligned the needle with my shoulder and struck.
The world tilted. I grabbed my bag and ran toward the Core sector. By the time I reached the access hall, it was a graveyard of tech and intent. Metahumans were locked in a losing battle with Kaiju's summons, and in the distance, I saw Apauex. He wasn't fighting with fists; he was weaving a grand equation in the air, his fingers tracing glowing blue lines that dismantled Sentinel's defenses with mathematical cruelty.
"Why are they here?"
I spun around. Martin was behind me, breathing hard, his uniform singed but his eyes bright.
"Oh, right. My name is Martin Reign," he said, extending a hand that still buzzed with static.
I knelt low, trying to steady my vision. "Martin, is it? How good are you with those powers?"
"Seasoned," he said, his jaw tightening.
"Can you surf power systems? Get inside the grid?"
He nodded.
"I need you to enter the outlet and travel to the Core console. Electrocute that man—the one with the equations. I need a distraction."
Martin didn't hesitate. He dissolved into a streak of pure current and vanished into the wall. I took the opening and bolted toward the Core. The heavy blast doors were already shredded, hanging off their hinges.
But I froze three steps inside. Standing in the center of the room, framed by the violet pulse of the Echelon Core, was he.
Mr. Magnetic.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice a calm, resonant bass that seemed to vibrate the very floor beneath me. "Is this who they send to stop me?"
I tried to move, but my muscles betrayed me. It wasn't fear—it was him. I felt the iron in my blood being tugged, my very skeleton locked in place by his invisible grip. He walked closer until we were barely ten feet apart.
Suddenly, Apauex entered the room. He was holding Martin by the collar with one hand, the kid's body limp and trailing sparks. He tossed him across the room like a piece of refuse.
"He thought he could catch me off guard," Apauex said, his voice flat. "I saw the probability of his attack long before he moved." He looked at Mr. Magnetic. "Your powers are strange, Apauex. Precise, but strange."
"What are you doing with him?" Apauex asked, gesturing to me.
"Oh, I just stopped him from sneaking up on me," Magnetic replied, turning back to the console. "Kill him, don't kill him. It doesn't matter right now."
The magnetic pressure vanished, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. Apauex began to walk toward me, his eyes glowing with that clinical, terrifying intelligence.
"It's pointless to go for the Nexus now," I blurted out, the lie tasting like copper in my mouth.
The room went still. Mr. Magnetic turned his head slowly. "What are you talking about?"
"He's lying," Apauex said, his eyes narrowing as if he could see the falsehood in my biology.
"Go ahead then," I challenged, forcing myself to look them in the eye. "Absorb the Nexus. I dare you. See what happens when you touch something that hasn't chosen you."
"How do we get access to it then?" Magnetic asked, his patience visibly fraying.
I stayed silent. Magnetic's expression shifted. He reached out, lifting the unconscious Martin off the floor with a flick of his wrist. He made a slow, clawing motion with his hand. Martin began to grunt in his sleep, his face contorting as if his internal organs were being rearranged.
"Tell me," Magnetic said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Or I kill him. You have five seconds."
"You need to be chosen!" I shouted. "Sentinel Solutions ran a thousand tests. Every host failed. They melted, Magnetic. Every single one."
The room went silent again. Magnetic rubbed his chin, pacing. "Apauex, we need a vessel. A stable one to contain this energy."
"Agreed," Apauex replied.
I leaned against the wall, my head spinning. The vial... something was wrong. My vision started to bleed into different shades—reds, greens, indigos—swirling together like a kaleidoscope. It was a strange, beautiful, and terrifying sight. My vision snapped back to normal just as King Kaiju entered the room.
"Brother, you guys sure like to show up unprepared," Kaiju said, tossing a heavy metallic device onto the floor.
"Shut up, you idiot," Apauex snapped. "Do you have the stabilizer?"
Kaiju scoffed. "You know, you guys should be nicer to your allies. It builds good relations."
Mr. Magnetic didn't even look at him. He raised a palm, and Kaiju was instantly hoisted into the air, frozen mid-sentence. "If you speak again, I will kill you." With his other hand, he wrenched the device from Kaiju's grip and tossed him back into the hall. "Keep the guards distracted."
I watched them, my body trembling. The heat under my skin was building, the vial's power fighting against my own biology. It wasn't meant to be used like this. I looked at Martin, still slumped against the wall, then at the Core beyond the glass.
"You said you need a vessel?" I asked, my voice shaky but loud. "You're doing it wrong. The Nexus doesn't pick randomly. It reacts to pressure. To stress."
Magnetic studied me. "And what would be enough stress to force a fusion?"
I hesitated for a heartbeat. "Me."
Apauex laughed, a cold, dry sound. "You expect us to believe you'd offer yourself?"
"I've already survived it once," I said, stepping forward even as my legs threatened to give out. "You want a vessel? You use the one that is already accepted. If you use anyone else, the Nexus will collapse. It'll disappear, and none of you get anything."
Magnetic didn't laugh. He was actually considering it. He stepped closer, and I could feel the subtle pull of his presence, like the metal in the room was breathing in sync with him.
"You're stalling," Apauex warned.
"Maybe," Magnetic replied. "But he's not wrong." He looked at the Core, then back at me. "Fine. We try it your way. Set it up."
Apauex moved to the console, his fingers flying across the keys, overriding Sentinel's lockouts. Sparks showered from the panels as the Core began to pulse—brighter, then dimmer, like a dying star.
"Stand there," Magnetic ordered, pointing to the central platform.
I walked forward, each step feeling like I was wading through deep water. The hum grew louder, but it wasn't coming from the room. It was coming from inside me. Faint. Broken. But there.
"Come on..." I whispered.
Apauex activated the sequence. Energy surged through the silver coils. The violet light flared violently, reacting to my proximity. Magnetic raised his hand, holding the stabilizer in place, forcing the energy to align.
"Now," he commanded.
The room vibrated with a frequency that threatened to shake my teeth loose. The Core flared—and for a split second, I felt it. Not the roaring god it used to be, but a whisper. A fading presence.
I'm here, I thought.
Nothing answered. The light flickered once more, then dropped. The entire chamber dimmed as the systems sparked out and died.
Apauex stepped back, his face unreadable. "It's not responding."
Magnetic's expression darkened into something lethal. I clenched my fists, my heart sinking. The hum was fading... almost gone. Then, I felt it. A tiny, microscopic pulse. Barely there, but real. It wasn't dead.
It was just dying.
Mr. Magnetic lowered his hand slowly. "This isn't over."
"We're leaving?" Apauex asked, irritated.
"For now," Magnetic replied. "We need a better approach. And you," he said, turning his cold gaze toward me, "are going to help us figure it out."
I didn't respond. I just stood there, staring at the dimming violet light. I wasn't thinking about the Harbingers taking me. I wasn't thinking about survival.
I was thinking about the timeline. If the Nexus dies, does the world I "fixed" to save my family die with it?
As they led me away, the silence of the room was the loudest thing I had ever heard.