The air inside the ruined building felt wrong.
Too still.
Too heavy.
Like the walls themselves already knew how this would end.
No one spoke.
They had all learned the same truth.
Not everyone could be saved.
"Arga."
Lila's voice came through the comms.
Sharp. Controlled. Urgent.
"…we found another one."
Arga didn't move.
"…status?"
A pause.
Then—
"…conversion stage."
Silence swallowed the room.
Bimo looked down first.
"…then we're already late."
Sinta said nothing.
But her jaw tightened.
Because they all knew what those words meant now.
No return.
No miracle.
No second chance.
They moved immediately.
Fast. Clean. Silent.
Even so—
the moment they arrived, it already felt too late.
The building had been torn apart from the inside.
Concrete split open.
Doors bent off their hinges.
Glass scattered across the floor like ice.
And in the center of it all—
someone stood waiting.
A boy.
Their age.
Hands at his sides.
Back straight.
Breathing steady.
Perfect balance.
Perfect control.
Perfectly wrong.
His eyes lifted.
Empty.
No fear.
No confusion.
No self.
"…target confirmed."
His voice was flat.
Mechanical.
"…eliminate interference."
Bimo took one slow step back.
"…yeah. Nope. I hate this one."
Sinta shifted into stance.
"…he's gone."
Arga stared at the boy.
Something inside his chest tightened.
"…no."
Everyone turned.
Arga stepped forward.
"…we don't know that yet."
Even he heard it.
The lie in his own voice.
The boy vanished.
BOOM!
Arga barely blocked in time.
The impact sent him sliding backward across broken concrete.
His arms burned.
"…stronger than before," he muttered.
No rage.
No wasted motion.
No instability.
This enemy wasn't broken.
He was optimized.
Sinta moved next.
Fast. Clean. Sharp.
She struck high—
missed.
The boy had already shifted.
Bimo came from the side.
"He's open—!"
Too late.
The boy turned—
THUD!
Bimo crashed into a wall hard enough to crack it.
"…I hate being right!"
He was reading them.
Every angle.
Every rhythm.
Every pattern.
Like he already knew what they would do before they moved.
Arga charged again.
Harder.
Faster.
Their fists collided—
BOOM!
The floor split beneath them.
The ceiling groaned overhead.
Dust rained down.
"ARGA!"
Sinta's voice cut through the chaos.
"Focus!"
But Arga's breathing had changed.
Shorter.
Sharper.
The energy inside him was rising.
Too fast.
Too high.
Too close to that edge.
Not again.
The boy rushed forward.
No hesitation.
No emotion.
Arga met him head-on.
Strike after strike after strike.
Each one heavier.
Each one colder.
Until the whole building shook with every exchange.
"THIS PLACE IS COMING DOWN!" Bimo shouted.
Chunks of ceiling crashed beside them.
Steel screamed.
The walls bent inward.
Sinta jumped between them.
"STOP!"
Arga froze for half a second.
"…what?"
Her eyes locked onto his.
And for the first time—
there was fear in them.
Not fear of the enemy.
Fear of him.
"You're not trying to save him."
Silence.
"You're trying to prove you still can."
The words hit harder than any punch.
Arga looked past her.
At the boy.
Still moving.
Still attacking.
Still empty.
Still gone.
"…no."
But something inside him already knew the truth.
The boy lunged.
Full speed.
Straight for Sinta.
No time left.
One second.
If Arga hesitates—
she gets hit.
If he acts—
there's no going back.
The world narrowed.
One breath.
One step.
One choice.
Arga moved.
Not faster.
Not louder.
Not stronger.
Certain.
THUD.
Everything stopped.
The boy stood frozen inches away.
Arga's hand buried cleanly into his chest.
The energy around them vanished.
The dust settled.
The room went silent.
The boy's empty eyes flickered.
Once.
A crack in the machine.
A trace of the child still inside.
"…help…"
Then—
his body collapsed.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Bimo stared at the floor.
Unable to look.
Sinta slowly lowered her hands.
Too late to stop anything now.
Arga stood over the body.
Still.
Calm.
Unshaken.
That was what terrified them most.
He looked at his own hand.
No trembling.
No instability.
No regret.
Only control.
Perfect control.
"…I did it right."
His voice was quiet.
Flat.
"…so why does it feel worse?"
No one answered.
Because no one could.
Far away—
in a dark room lit by screens—
the man in the hat watched everything.
The hesitation.
The choice.
The kill.
He smiled.
Slowly.
Satisfied.
"…there you are."
A pause.
"…the one I was waiting for."
Back in the ruins—
Arga slowly clenched his fist.
The energy responded instantly.
Calm.
Sharp.
Obedient.
He closed his eyes.
Then opened them again.
Different.
"…next time…"
A pause.
His voice was colder than the room around him.
"…I won't hesitate."
Silence followed.
But this time—
it wasn't grief.
It was distance.
Because something had died in that building.
Not just the boy.
The part of Arga—
that still wanted to be saved.