The black tentacle froze midair.
For one suspended second, it remained rigid like a sculpture carved from pure darkness. Then cracks rippled across its surface. Its solid form loosened, melting into liquid shadow before collapsing downward in a heavy splash of black mist that seeped into the earth.
The rest followed.
The writhing mass around Denver unraveled slowly, peeling away from her body in strips of fading darkness. The air lightened, the pressure dissolved, the field felt like a field again.
As the last of the shadows came undone, Denver's knees buckled, as she fell forward. But Kael was already there, he caught her before she hit the ground, one arm steady behind her back, the other beneath her legs. Without a word, he lifted her into his arms.
Her body felt light now and fragile.
The violent ache that had torn through her moments ago was gone, replaced by a strange warmth spreading gently through her chest. It was almost comforting.
Her eyelids fluttered.
She saw a blurred silhouette above her dark blue, sharp lines, steady presence. Her vision slowly adjusted, shapes sharpening, colors returning.
"Agent… Kael?" she murmured weakly.
He looked down at her, noticing she was conscious.
For a brief moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes, perhaps it was relief.
But he didn't respond, instead, he crouched carefully and lowered her to the ground, supporting her until she could sit on her own.
"T-thanks… what just happened?... I suddenly blacked out and woke up in pain." Her voice was hoarse, still weak.
The soft rustling of leaves brushed against the ground as Dr. Kiara approached, her boots cutting through the grass with slow, unhurried steps.
"Oh," she said lightly, almost cheerfully, "that's what we call a breakout."
Her eyes glinted with intellectual excitement.
Denver turned toward her. "Breakout? …What's that?" she asked, brows lifting despite her exhaustion.
Dr. Kiara folded her arms loosely.
"Basically, when a gift user or a cursed user's abilities become unstable, the power bursts out uncontrollably. Think of it as a pressure overload." She paused briefly, lifting a finger as if giving a lecture. "For gift users, it's rare. Most of them awaken with relatively stable control. But for cursed users…" She tilted her head slightly. "It's the opposite. Almost all of them are expected to experience a breakout at some point."
Denver's eyes widened.
"So… you expected this?" Her voice sharpened faintly. "You knew I might lose control and you didn't even bring a gift user to protect yourself?"
Her gaze shifted to Kael.
He looked battered, dirt clung to his uniform, a thin cut marked his cheek. His breathing, though steady, was heavier than usual.
Guilt twisted in her chest.
"I… I almost put you both in danger."
Dr. Kiara's expression softened slightly as she glanced at Kael.
"Don't underestimate Agent Kael," she said calmly. "Even if he's not a gift user, he's more than capable of handling a category 5 like you."
Denver blinked. "Category… 5?"
"Don't misinterpret," Kiara added smoothly. "Our agents aren't just your typical soldiers. They are trained specifically to handle anomalies like this. They are the best of the best."
Kael shifted his gaze away at that, jaw tightening faintly. He wasn't used being glazed and certainly not spoken so openly. Compliments didn't sit naturally with him.
He cleared his throat quietly, avoiding Denver's eyes.
But then something seemed to click in his mind.
He turned back to her, studying her more carefully this time not as a patient, not as a threat, but as if he were comparing pieces of a puzzle.
"Denver…" he began, hesitating.
She looked up at him.
"Your curse… it resembles the gift of one of the Masters of the Zen Clan."
The name made her uncomfortable.
'Zen Clan?'
A chill ran down her spine.
"What do you mean by that?" Her voice wavered slightly despite her attempt to sound composed.
Kael's gaze didn't waver. "Do you not remember?"
Dr. Kiara, who had been listening from the side, straightened. She crossed her arms and tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Now that you mention it…" she murmured. "It actually does resemble it. How did I not notice that sooner?"
Denver's pulse quickened.
"And who exactly are you talking about?" she demanded.
Dr. Kiara tapped her chin lightly. "If I recall correctly, he's the youngest master in their clan. Master Zen of the Zen Clan." She smiled faintly. "Quite a fitting name, wouldn't you say?"
"To put it simply, he was the one responsible for beating you up-"
She was about to continue but Kael moved instantly. His hand covered Dr. Kiara's mouth before she could finish the sentence.
The air shifted.
Too late.
Denver's fingers dug into the grass beneath her, clutching it so tightly that dirt gathered under her nails.
"That bastard…" she muttered, her voice low and trembling.
Her vision blurred not from weakness this time, but from memory. She remembered it clearly. The humiliation, the mocking tone in his voice, every strike and every word. The memory is burdened in his mind clearly.
Her jaw clenched hard enough to ache. The shadows at her feet flickered faintly, responding to the surge of emotion rising in her chest.
The youngest master of the Zen Clan. The one who crushed her and her brother like they were nothing and now, her curse resembled of that wretched bastard.
The thought alone made her stomach twist in disgust.
Denver pushed herself to her feet.
For a moment, the air around her felt tight again not with power this time, but with resolve. She stared at them with steady, determined eyes. There was no confusion left in her expression. Only focus.
"I see…" she said flatly.
'Just you wait bastard... I still have a debt to pay'
Agent Kael slowly lowered his hand, releasing Dr. Kiara. She adjusted her coat awkwardly, clearing her throat as if nothing significant had just been revealed.
"Hehe… so… anyway," she said with a forced brightness, "we'll end our observation for now. Today's data is more than enough."
The tension eased, but exhaustion settled in its place.
Kael stood quietly, his uniform torn in places, faint bruises forming beneath the fabric. His breathing was steady, but the fight had taken its toll.
Denver, on the other hand, wasn't physically drained, she was mentally spent.
The breakout, the memories, the name Zen Clan echoing in her mind it all weighed heavier than the blow she took. Her thoughts felt crowded, loud, and restless.
Dr. Kiara brushed the invisible dust from her sleeve. She hadn't fought, she hadn't even bled but her battlefield wasn't this field.
It was the laboratory.
And judging by the faint gleam in her eyes, today's "data" had given her far more than she expected.
***
Denver lay flat on her dorm bed, eyes locked on the ceiling.
The room was quiet, actually too quiet. The faint hum of the ventilation system filled the silence, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her head.
'Zen.'
The name itched at the back of her mind like a splinter she couldn't remove.
"Zen of the Zen Clan… huh?"
Her jaw tightened.
Suddenly, she jolted upright. Her gaze shifted to the small table beside her bed. A laptop rested there, screen dark, waiting.
She stared at it for a long moment, then she reached over and grabbed it.
"Let's see who you really are."
The screen flickered to life. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for only a second before she began typing:
[Master Zen of Zen Clan]
Search results flooded the screen there was articles, interviews, fan pages, forum discussions.
Then she clicked on the first link. Then a portrait loaded and then she blinked.
It was him.
Spiky hair, blue eyes, and a pale skin. The same arrogant expression she remembered so clearly. But the image wasn't formal and it wasn't ceremonial either.
It was just him shirtless. Posing.
Abs defined, muscles flexed, dramatic lighting. And that smirk that looked almost rehearsed.
She continued to scrolled, there weren't just one or two. There were dozens. No, hundreds.
"Dude… what is this crap?" she muttered, her voice thick with disbelief.
Her eyes darted to the title of the page.
[Hot & Spicy Photos of Master Zen]
She stared at the screen in stunned silence.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
For someone who had beaten her into the ground without mercy. He sure had a very different public image.