Chương 43: CHAPTER 42 – Dawn of Dusk

The light of dawn filtered weakly into the living room of the Ross villa. Resting on the small table, a suitcase of thick black metal, monogrammed "M. H.", caught the faint gleam of the morning. The brown sofa was occupied by a young boy, once again wrapped in bandages and healing compresses. Around him, seated on the kitchen chairs, were his companions.

"Why must I always be swathed in gauze... I doubt it does some kind of healing miracle." He murmured between one cough and the next. The two girls exchanged a glance for a moment before reprimanding him.

"After Lucas, Jeanne and I are the most qualified among the active members for first aid. We know what is best for you." Monica specified, addressing Maliard as well, attached to a nearly empty bag of violet liquid.

"I find myself wondering why Goghette is not in worse shape than I am…" Maliard murmured, staring at the mummy known as Lance.

"Jeanne does not use her abilities like someone with a death wish… And besides, I would be embarrassed on your behalf if a recruit were so physically superior to you." Maliard fixed Jeanne with the intensity of a seasoned collector.

"Her build does not give the impression of weakness, and her posture is commendable as well. She also seems more… Refined than Monica." Jeanne hid behind the sofa in embarrassment, while Monica's fingers introduced themselves into Maliard's pupils.

"AND WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" He exclaimed, her reddened eyes watering. Monica withdrew her hand from his face and raised two fingers.

"I understand stealing glances, but this is harassment, pure and simple. Besides, I am quite certain you were thinking something decidedly uncharitable about me." Monica turned her back on him, puffing out her cheeks.

"As if I care about women, and a mere supposition of yours is hardly a reasonable pretext for blinding me!" He answered, wiping the tears from his skin with his thumb.

"The first reason alone is more than sufficient to warrant hitting you! One does not bother a girl just come of age in such a manner!" A heated argument was on the verge of erupting between the two until a single thought crossed both their minds simultaneously.

"Hey, Lancy and Jeannette… You are of age, are you not?" Monica asked, drawing the attention of the two younger members. Maliard nodded, looking at Lance.

"Where does that question come from?" Lance asked, straightening himself to make room for Jeanne, who was still half-hidden behind the armrest of the sofa.

"There are no reliable documents on either of you. Everything we know is conjecture and scientific analysis." Maliard answered before being cut off by Monica.

"And besides, we have not had the chance to get to know one another properly amid all the emergencies. I only wanted to make sure I had not been discourteous." She smiled, still restraining Maliard with considerable force.

"I turned eighteen before my Awakening. The only date I remember is the seventh of June. I have never celebrated it, so I had no wish to bore anyone with something trivial." He answered, adjusting the bandages on his arm.

"You are young! You ought to think more about these things, especially someone like you who has lived so harshly. Stop putting others first when they do not even care." Monica chided him, then turned her attention to Jeanne.

"Actually, I am… A bit older than Lance." She murmured before diving back behind the sofa with a lightning-swift leap. Monica stared in bewilderment at the chestnut tuft behind the backrest, then at Lance.

"ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT LANCE IS THE YOUNGEST PERSON IN THE AGENCY?!" She exclaimed, stunned. From the very first time she had seen him, she had never doubted he was a young man, but a paranoia about early development had always led her to question her own judgement.

"Do not make a tragedy of it. Can you not see he is trying to hide under the bandages?" Maliard pointed this out, and his companion's face had gone pale and vacant.

"Furthermore, his file made it plausible he was around that age. I do not understand why you are so destabilised. You were even told when you brought him to us." He scolded her, scratching around the bruise on his wrist.

"This attitude of yours is the reason everyone at NOIR avoids you…" She sighed, moving away from Maliard. The boy stared at her, confused and embarrassed at once.

"You ought to socialise more! Even Arte says you frighten her!" Monica went to sit beside Lance, attempting to console him. Maliard stared into space for a moment, then allowed a sigh to escape.

"Come now, Monica. Maliard is simply severe… I am fairly sure of it." Lance ventured, casting him a glance. Maliard fixed him with a sour look and rubbed his nose.

"If you are going to pay a compliment, at least be certain of what you are going to say…" He answered, piqued, pulling the syringe from his wrist and shifting the sofa with all its occupants. Jeanne had remained crouched in silence in that narrow space, groaning the moment the light hit her eyes.

"What do you say we think about a report before we set off toward that singularity?" He suggested, in a tone so dry it bordered on offensive. He took the chairs and retreated to the kitchen in silence.

"He will never change…" Monica lamented, sliding along the sofa until her knees rested on the floor. Jeanne pulled herself upright, rubbing her eyes.

"Lance… Why are you always wounded?" Jeanne murmured, perhaps seized by a violent bout of sleep deprivation. She slid along the edge of the sofa and leaned against Monica.

"I am curious as well. How is it that you are always on the verge of dying?" Monica joined Jeanne's plaintive enquiry, turning toward Lance.

"What if I told you I was simply unlucky?" He answered, loosening the bandages along his arms. Beneath the white layer, his skin had healed perfectly. Monica seized him by the cheeks and struck him with her forehead. Lance covered his face, complaining more than once.

"There is my answer. I will say it again. You are not a weapon, and you have every right to look after yourself during a mission." She rubbed her own skin, slightly flushed.

"I knew how complex this mission was, and yet I let you come. Do you know why?" She asked, rising from her place and stretching out her hands. Her blond hair was wrapped in the colours of the dawn.

"Because I also cannot bear to see that young man suffer…" Her smile illuminated her face more than the sun, before fading as she turned to head into the kitchen. Lance stared after her with surprise, smiling foolishly.

"Sometimes I forget she has almost a century behind her…" He rose slowly, proceeding to remove his bandages entirely. Jeanne was still anchored to the armrest, dozing in silence.

"I imagine she has not slept for some time, keeping up with all of us". He studied her sleeping face for a moment, lingering on her lips, their faint reddish colour, and her half-closed eyes. A dishevelled chestnut strand had fallen across her shoulder.

"Damn it, Lance! Do not sink so low!" He reprimanded himself, walking toward the kitchen, until something caught hold of his shirt. He stopped immediately and turned, almost mechanically.

"I am coming… too…" Jeanne whispered between yawns, rising slowly amid a series of small shudders. Lance tried to make her sit back down, but the girl stubbornly remained on her feet.

"You two!" A voice pulled them back from the living room into the kitchen. Maliard's black tuft appeared in the doorway, pointing at the motionless pair.

"Come now, if you want a cup of coffee." He concluded, gesturing toward the pot behind him. Lance nodded, dragging both his own weary body and the girl's along. The light in the kitchen was even brighter than in the living room, perhaps because of the windows positioned above most of the furniture. A cloud, however, caused it all to vanish, leaving them in the shadow of winter. Monica took the cup from Maliard with a nod. She then passed them cups of a faint white colour, coloured with perpendicular black stripes.

They were as tall as Lance's fist and considerably thick. Both of them took a sip in silence. Lance set his cup on the table and smiled until a hiss reached him from the side. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jeanne's face contracted in a grimace, her tongue slightly extended from her lips.

"Bitter…" She whispered faintly, as though the thought had escaped her on account of the disgust.

"She likes sweet things… Perhaps this coffee is a little much for her." He rose in silence, rummaging in the cabinet near the wall. His eyes moved between the wood and the numerous jars until he found a small box of white ceramic. He lifted the lid with care, smiling at the sight of the small crystalline cubes. He returned to the table with the same silence and offered the girl the sugar.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of those small cubes, and she proceeded to drop them into her cup in clusters, under the stunned gazes of Monica and Maliard.

"Lance drinks it black, and Jeanne with five lumps of sugar?!" Monica asked, looking desperately at Maliard, who was equally baffled.

"You are the one who brought them here, not I." He answered, taking another sip from his cup.

"I imagine we shall need to make some rather more thorough introductions after this mission…" Lance murmured, setting his coffee on the table as he massaged his neck.

"I understand what we need to discuss, but what is the urgency?" Lance asked, wiping the coffee from his lips with one of the bandages still stuck to his finger. Beside him, Jeanne seemed even sleepier than before, yet she managed to nod several times.

"A strategy is required immediately. The operation has exceeded its time limit. We were fortunate that he awoke inside the singularity rather than on the mountain. Otherwise, Sector II would be in a pitiful state." Maliard began, tossing one of his small Lambdite devices onto the table. Immediately, the card projected a map of Bayork. The entire area of the capital was bathed in a reddish light, with its epicentre on a small island off the coast.

"Is that where Dirac is?" Monica asked, sliding her finger along the hologram, almost distorting it. Maliard nodded, showing in real time several photographs taken from the ground.

"An old military base, used for numerous experiments during the war. It does not surprise me that the Institute knew of it." He explained, cycling through the various photographs of the storm with a series of flashes.

"The Demiurge is positioned above the island at an unknown altitude, but we know it is in constant motion. Grayson will be overloading it, but without the trigger, it will take some time." Everything went dark as Maliard rested his elbows on the table, waiting for another voice.

"The red area… Was that the possible damage radius for the capital?" At Lance's question, his companion nodded in silence, clicking his tongue. The boy's face went pale, forcing a sigh to escape him.

"Unfortunately, Grayson Dirac is beyond our capacity to help him." Monica began, adjusting the earring on her right ear. It was the first time Lance had noticed it.

"Operation Dawn has become an expedition to eliminate the Meta threatening the capital." Maliard looked in silence at the Commander, then at Lance and Jeanne.

"Is that all right with you?" He asked, addressing Lance in particular. The boy's face was wrapped in a rather depressing pallor. He licked his lip before answering.

"No…" He answered, holding something else back in his throat. Maliard looked at him and nodded, drew a breath, and opened his eyes.

"I expected as much, but at this point…" He tried to reason with him, but Lance's words shot from his lips so suddenly that they briefly stunned him.

"No… It's not right with me at all to leave him like that. However, if I were to follow that logic, many people would die, and I dare not imagine what the Alliance would do." Jeanne looked at him in silence, focusing on those sad and vacant eyes of his.

"I agree with Lance… That man made me feel pity. He is suffering a lot." Maliard, confronted by the two of them, ended up losing himself in thought.

"They do not truly want to do it… I understand them. I would not want to kill him either without at least attempting to help." He bit his lip, then looked at Monica in silence.

"There is a possibility that Grayson cannot simply be subdued by the four of us alone, given the presence of Changeant. Furthermore, it would be a shame to lose a resource of that calibre." He explained, casting a glance at the pair across from him, confused and animated at once.

"Are you asking me to summon more agents?" Maliard smiled at Monica's question and raised two fingers.

"I am requesting that Lautre Clerc be deployed as a field agent. Additionally, I would like to attempt to return NOIR's finest sniper to active service…" Monica's eyes went wide, and she rose sharply from her chair.

"I doubt he will agree. Everything has changed since then…" She answered, destabilised by his request. Maliard rested his hands on the table, smiling more than before.

"I only want him deployed for Dirac's capture if the circumstances allow for it. Besides, having Astrea hanging on the wall all this time strikes me as a waste." Monica relented, pointing to her watch.

"Considering that this will halt Malcolm's plan for a while, I don't think he will let go of such a good bargaining chip."

"I will summon Maverick… But I cannot guarantee he will take part in the plan. I will not force him to go back to pulling that trigger again." Monica concluded, heading toward the cabinets in search of something to eat.

"Better than nothing. Now those two are happy as well." Maliard smiled, pointing to Lance and Jeanne. The two allowed themselves a mutual smile.

"I am doing it simply because his talent is outstanding. Do not get any strange ideas!" He reprimanded them sternly, turning now toward Monica, who had something strange and colourful in her mouth, resembling a sweet.

"And then she wonders why she appears to have gained weight…" He thought, sighing. The thought and its accompanying anxiety were meant to remain a secret, yet somehow, Jeanne grasped the origin of Maliard's discomfort.

"Monica… You really ought to eat fewer sweets…" Jeanne suggested timidly, finishing the last sip of coffee remaining in her cup. Monica's face turned red with embarrassment. She immediately moved to cover her abdomen, sitting down so rapidly that the chair rocked.

"I will not be told that by someone as fortunate as you!" She exclaimed, pointing her finger directly at the girl's chest. Jeanne was dismayed by the accusation, sobbing as she tried to murmur some apology." So it's fine to bicker between girls?" Lance thought, using Monica's tantrum as a distant melody.

"I find myself wondering how many more explanations it will take Lucas to make her understand that our bodies function differently…" Maliard lamented, covering his ears against the shouting at his side.

"Is it really so different?" Lance asked, catching his whispered complaints in passing. Maliard freed one earlobe to listen.

"Our bodies adapt to the Frequency, becoming unique to each individual. Lucas told me that your bone and muscle density are completely off the charts, and the same goes for your joints." He explained, running a finger along his shoulders, covered by a thick, dark teal jumper. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

"The same applies to me. The use of Farbern has allowed my eyes to minimise the data lost through reconstruction, and it has also made my body more malleable." He snapped the fastenings on his gauntlet, detaching it from his arm and setting it on the table.

"I can follow the scientific reasoning, but what does any of that have to do with Monica gaining weight?" Monica stopped throttling Jeanne, fixing on him with a dark look.

"I meant to say that nothing of the sort appears to be the case!" Lance added, waving both hands in front of his face. Monica held back her tears, releasing the girl from her grip.

"Indeed, it has absolutely nothing to do with it. She simply suffers from needless paranoia." Maliard specified, catching in mid-air the violent slap that had been about to send him flying from the table.

"Rather than playing the wit, would it not be better to discuss how to counter that scientist?" She smiled sourly, cracking her hand.

"The problem is that theories are scarce, and the only person to have had prolonged contact with him was Lance. We know nothing of what happened in there…" He rested his head on the table, massaging his temples.

"Unfortunately, my memories are entirely disjointed. Beyond the flames, the smoke, and that terrible smell, I remember very little." Lance answered, tapping his forehead with his knuckle.

"Judging by the attack before his disappearance, Dirac appears to be an Änderung. I was unable to track the Frequency around him." He specified, recalling the gravitational well and the strange cube he had conjured.

"But did Lance not say that Grayson had been shot in the head twice?" Monica asked, miming a shot with her finger against her own temple. Lance nodded, confirming.

"This is very far from good…" Maliard began to look more afflicted and stressed than usual.

"What is so grave about it? Well, I understand it's a bad thing and all..." Jeanne asked, massaging her neck, reddened from the Commander's grip.

"You see, Jeanne... Metas are always changing, but broadly speaking, it is possible to catalogue them within those five categories. Unfortunately, those categories can evolve as well." She gave Maliard a nod, who promptly reactivated his device.

"A skilled Stärken can manipulate the Frequency within their own body without necessarily using their ability. These are known as evolved Stärken. You and Noel are a fair example." He pointed to Lance, who looked at his own hands for a moment before returning his attention to the discussion.

"However, you and Noel technically have unique lines of development. He is incapable of harmonising his enhancement, while you cannot modulate your organism according to necessity." He took Jeanne's cup and his own, pouring water into them.

"The container is identical for the same liquid, and yet if you were to taste them, you would notice differences because of their different owners." Monica smiled, throwing the cups into the sink and shattering them, under Maliard's indignant stare.

"I will overlook your barbaric methods… But you are not insinuating that Dirac is an evolved Änderung from the very moment of his Awakening?!" He asked, staring at her in anticipation of an answer. Monica gave him a nod.

"Given that Änderung manipulates external Frequency in a complex manner, it is nearly impossible for them to heal themselves using their ability or a neutral flow. Lautre, for all his strength, cannot regenerate beyond the limit conceded by his own body." Jeanne and Lance both thought of their confrontation at the Child estate, wondering whether the man had any weaknesses." I don't think he needs to heal at all if he is that powerful..."

"An evolved Änderung is extraordinarily rare. The only one that comes to mind would be…" The sound of footsteps forced everyone to turn toward the figure in the kitchen doorway. A tall, slender man, wrapped in a coat of bluish lines and a heavy iron mask over his face.

"That would be me… I'm glad to see you are all well." Lucas began, releasing a sigh of relief through the mask's filter. Everyone stared at him in silence for a moment, completely stunned.

"LUCAS?!" Monica and Maliard exclaimed together, while Lance and Jeanne remained watchful regarding the appearance of the man who had materialised from nowhere. The scientist set his bags on the floor and adjusted his coat.

"I came to bring you the materials required for the mission. Maverick had already overheard the call." He answered, taking a seat beside Lance and crossing his legs.

"You two certainly work quickly…" Maliard remarked, pointing to the enormous pile of cases left on the floor. Lucas let a laugh escape through his iron lips, tapping the table with his finger.

"Approaching that island by air would be suicide. The core that allows the singularity to screen the vessel would be worn through in two or three seconds." He moved to take the water bottle on the table, immediately changing his mind.

"What is in there then?" Lance asked, studying the luggage with curiosity. It was completely ordinary, nothing traceable to the agency he worked for. Lucas studied them for a moment, counting on his fingers to be sure.

"A vessel modified for the operation, and some equipment…" He indicated with satisfaction, turning toward the group. Strangely, Monica and Maliard were simply pleased, while Lance and Jeanne stared in confusion at Lucas and then at the black cases.

"A vessel?" Jeanne asked, rubbing her eyes again and again. Lucas nodded in response to each rub, clearing his throat.

"A Lambdite frame joined to an engine of the same material, both compressed through Hoku's ability." He rose again, freeing the space for Lance. He seized one of the bags and brought it to the table. Onto the surface fell a silver cube, with a vial of reddish liquid attached.

"Once the vial is broken, the entire structure will unfold within a matter of seconds. Do it in deep water, and you will have no complications." He explained, closing the cube back into the case. He pointed toward the rest of the things behind him without shifting his gaze.

"There are new uniforms and a new Supplicium. Maverick said that if you should break another one, the next thing you will need to requisition from the armoury will be prosthetics." He addressed Lance directly. The boy went pale almost immediately.

"It would be a genuinely laborious business, fitting them... So do try to be careful." He answered, emanating a warm and gentle aura. His tone, distorted by the mask, made it difficult to read his emotions or intentions, but that benevolent air was more than convincing for all present.

"In any case, how did you get in, Lukky?" Monica asked with a smile, clipping him on the shoulder. She had to rise on her toes to land a decent blow.

"I meant to knock, but you were all so immersed in conversation that I decided to come through the wall." Lucas announced his methods with perfect simplicity, under the stunned gazes of those present.

"Through the wall?" Jeanne asked again, rubbing her eyes with yet more intensity. Lucas replied again with his rapid, small nods.

"I modified the structure of the door, converting it from wood to oxygen, then reconstituted it as wood…" He explained, moving his fingers as though performing an incantation.

"When I find the limit of your ability, I shall be able to retire…" Maliard remarked, shaking his head in something resembling resignation. Lucas let out a distorted laugh through the filter, then pointed directly at Lance. He extended his hand and began drawing him toward himself. Lance pointed at his own face, to which Lucas replied with a slower nod. Lance rose quickly, following Lucas out.

"What is it…?" Lance asked, unnerved, leaning against the wardrobe in his room. Lucas blocked the entrance, keeping an eye out in case of any disturbance.

"Nothing grave. I only wished to give you a piece of interesting information…" He answered, drawing from his pocket the same notebook Lance had seen in Grayson Dirac's room. Lucas leafed through it in silence, stopping near the middle.

"Is that your birthday notebook?!" Lance asked, relieved by the innocence of the object in his hands.

"I should be grateful for the maiden that this is not another one of those artificial relics..."

"It is not only for that, but yes, it is my notebook. In any case, I told a small untruth before…" He extended the small notebook toward him while polishing the visor of his mask with a handkerchief.

"I was listening to the conversation from the moment you entered the house…" He whispered those words, perhaps slightly embarrassed by his own behaviour. He quickly recovered his mature composure, clearing his throat.

"It is no biggie! I imagine you enjoyed yourself." Lance smiled faintly. He looked down at the page until he noticed a series of dates and circles. The name at the top of the sheet was that of his companion. Numerous dates were associated with the month of October, yet only one was circled with a red round symbol.

"Jeanne's birthday is the tenth of October?!" Lance asked, confused and curious at once. Lucas returned the notebook, pointing to the page beside it. Lance read the small lines, astonished.

"Most likely hypothesis: 10 October — Particular wishes: A cake with cream — to understand Lance better — to be useful — Remember to give Lance this page!"

"Before you form any strange ideas about me. I heard her murmuring these things after she had fainted from yet another blood transfusion. Do not make a monster of me in your mind, please…" He said gently, glancing briefly outside the room with a swift gesture.

"I would not attempt to do that… But why?" This time, Lucas accepted the notebook with pleasure, sliding it carefully into the inner pocket of his coat.

"She is, in the most unjust way, a victim of fate. She is an exceptionally good girl, and she genuinely cares about you. I only want her to feel at home." He answered, gradually lowering his voice. Lance pressed the small sheet of paper between his hands and tucked it into his pocket.

"Do not feel obligated, I know that you are occupied with this case. If it is a problem, I can arrange something else…" He answered, losing his mature and adult tone entirely, becoming considerably more sentimental. Lance grazed his shoulder with a touch, smiling.

"Know that it is exceedingly embarrassing, but I will do my best!" He opened the door, inviting him out with a gentle gesture. Lucas adjusted his mask and went quickly down the stairs.

"What did you two talk about?" Monica asked immediately as they entered the kitchen, smiling as was her habit.

"Maverick's directives regarding the maintenance of Lance's Supplicium." The scientist answered, dry and swift, taking a seat beside Maliard this time. Monica nodded, returning to her place beside Jeanne.

"I imagine you would all like to hear my research on Grayson Dirac?" He announced, producing his characteristic rectangular, gleaming device. A light constructed a shape in the air, displaying an extraordinarily long series of data and formulae.

"From the account you gave me, what you faced was an extremely complex form of space manipulation. Normally, a Meta would collapse simply attempting to produce it…" He explained, simulating a scene involving the gravitational well.

"He was a physicist. If we follow classical logic, his power might be a direct manipulation of his accumulated knowledge of physics." He continued, listing the numerous theories held by the Institute, from gravity to complex mathematical sequences.

"The way you speak makes it sound as though he is an impossible genius to stop…" Maliard specified, studying the data with a mixture of hatred and admiration. Lucas nodded in silence.

"However…" He scrolled through the hologram, showing a simulated analysis of his body. As it progressed, the brain grew increasingly red.

"His compatibility is extraordinary, yet he cannot regenerate continuously and produce large-scale phenomena at the same time. It will be a battle of endurance, and the only ones suited to sustain it are the three of you." He pointed to Monica, Lance, and Maliard, all three wrapped in an aura of dense seriousness.

"Describe your abilities in detail and devise a strategy… Not you, Monica. It is better if his power remains unknown in your vicinity. It could impair its use if you are nearby." He closed the hologram and rested his hands on the table. He pointed at Lance with one finger, who promptly cleared his throat.

"My ability draws and distorts the flow of anyone I damage… Or so I believe. When I strike, I feel stronger…" He murmured distractedly, avoiding the disappointed gazes of Monica and Maliard.

"I imagine my ability is already known to the rest of the team; however, I should note that I would prefer to avoid using my Gauntlet at night. The light and smoke I produce are reinforced by light and shadow, and even I cannot control them well enough." Maliard explained, instinctively checking the fastenings of his gauntlet.

"And you, Jeanne?" At Monica's question, Lance and Maliard both got startled for a moment. The girl began to tremble, shaking even her chair in the process.

"You know that whitish substance…" Lance asked, smiling weakly through his trembling lips. Monica nodded several times, confused.

"Well, that is her ability…" He answered, gesturing desperately in an attempt to recover some minimum of composure.

"She can do other things as well, but it is better not to go into detail. In any case, it is useful for immobilising, stunning, and causing damage at almost any range." Maliard took the discourse from the boy, attempting to help him in that desperate bid to forget the experience of that night.

"Good. Lance will form the offensive, while you two support him, alternating positions at fixed intervals." Lucas concluded, rising from his chair swiftly.

"Why precisely him as vanguard?" Monica asked with scepticism, scrutinising him with concern. Lucas turned, pointing to the bracelet on Lance's arm.

"Even though he cannot use it, the relic is always fused with him. The only way to exhaust Dirac is to wear him down, and Lachesi can do that." Monica allowed a sigh to escape, accepting Lucas's idea.

"I will also communicate your request to Lautre and Maverick and attempt to persuade them myself." He announced before disappearing in a bluish light after crossing the threshold of the kitchen.

"That ability gives me shivers…" Lance thought, recalling every time Lucas had startled him. Maliard rose sharply, seizing the cases and setting them in the living room.

"We will depart before dusk. Rest in the meantime, especially you, Lance." He said, vanishing up the stairs. The trio looked at one another for a moment before saying their goodbyes and going their separate ways. Lance waited for the others to enter their rooms before sliding to the floor. An extraordinary anxiety took hold of his flesh, making him gasp.

"I have to stop him? Me?" He thought, squeezing his own cheeks with force. He tried to stop his trembling hands. His breath got laboured in his solitude. A deep nausea passed through him before a cloud made the morning light disappear. Far from the coast, among the ruins of the old military township on the island, a figure was working at an enormous black shard. The glass cylinder, worn and filled with white light, swayed in the air like a pendulum.

"With this… I will open the road to the definitive research." The man rose to his feet, studying his own face reflected in the glass. It was consumed, pale, stained with blood, and macabre with cicatrices and horns.

"A small price to pay, and even if this body is on the verge of collapse… I will let it fall together with this world!" He smiled, sweeping away all the remains of the buildings to his right, leaving only an enormous cloud of dust and debris. He fixed his palm with a smile — before feeling a drop of water scatter across his hand.

"Is it raining?" He looked up at the sky, continuing to feel something running along his skin. It was only then that he realised the sky above him was completely dry. He slid a finger beneath his eyes, wiping away tears.

"Why am I crying?" He fixed that moisture on his index finger intently, unable to stop his eyes.

"This is the right thing to do… I am certain of it." The salty taste of tears grazed his lips, leaving him momentarily disoriented. He fixed the machinery at his back, reaching his arm toward it, then stopping himself with the other hand.

"Not much longer now… I will endure this for a little while more…" He settled onto the ground, staring at his reflection in a puddle of greenish, dirty water.

"Monster…" He smiled, making the puddle vanish with a snap of his fingers.