LAND OF SNOW
CORE steps away from the window. His eyes burned with a certain desire. It was sort of unsettling, you couldn't explain the feeling but you could see it in his eyes.
He stepped into a room bathed in chandelier light. The walls were lined with black-and-white checkered paintings, abstract and disorienting.
In the center: a long, elegant table, flanked by three high-backed chairs carved from obsidian and bone. Surrounding them were mannequins. These were people, painted head to toe in muted colors, posed as motionless animals. One had feather patterns, another fur, one bore the skin-tone of a rhinoceros.
CORE took a seat without a word. His fingers tapped once on the armrest.
Then one of the mannequins moved. A girl, painted in soft brown tones, with antlers sculpted onto her head, stepped forward silently. She poured a glass of wine, her hands shaking just enough to make the liquid ripple. When she was done, she stood in front of him, her head bowed.
She was barely trembling. Then CORE tilted his head, watching her in silence.
Then he frowned.
"…Why are you scared?"
The girl swallowed hard. "I… I am not, Father."
Her voice cracked and her knees wobbled.
CORE's face remained blank, almost bored.
"Why would you lie?"
He lifted the wine to his lips and took a calm sip. Then, voice still low and casual, he added:
"There's no need for fear… when you know the master of the wind."
The girl didn't answer. But her jaw clenched. Behind her forced smile, her teeth were grinding.
CORE barely glanced at her his eyes glared for a singular second. Then her body exploded.
Like glass under pressure. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, painting the walls, the paintings, the checkered floor. Even CORE's robes caught some of it.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Sighed.
"Such a waste," he murmured, brushing a speck of red from his collar. "Fear makes people ugly."
NARRATOR
CORE's Absolute Presence is a crushing force that targets the mind, spirit, and body all at once. It overwhelms anyone whose strength, energy, or emotional stability falls beneath his own.
The catch? He must know at least two truths about his target. Personal, factual, or emotional. Once he does, resistance becomes nearly impossible.
INT. RESISTANCE SAFEHOUSE — LOUNGE
The room was tense. All eyes flicked between the news replaying on the screen.
"You think this is funny?" Micheal snapped, standing up so fast his chair screeched back. "Shirley and Tucker are out there getting hunted by every guard in Choreees, and you're laughing?"
Madison leaned against the wall, arms crossed, with that same annoyed expression "What?" she said flatly. "I'm not allowed to laugh anymore?"
"This isn't a damn joke!" Micheal's voice cracked. "They could be thrown in prison. Or worse, killed. And you're over here acting like it's some comedy skit?!"
Madison scoffed. "If you're that worried, why don't you get off your high horse and actually help them? Instead of pacing around like some pink-haired drama queen with a stick up his ass. Oh I forgot, you're already a pink-haired drama queen with a stick up his ass."
Micheal's fists clenched. For a second, he looked like he might explode.
ZE210 quickly stepped between them. "Alright, hey, yer guys cool it," he said, raising his hands. "Y'all both care. That's good. But snapping at each other ain't gonna fix none."
He turned to the room. "We get them out by being smart. Calm and collected. Not by starting a rumble in here."
Then, from the corner, Sage's voice cut through the moment.
"I see this as an opportunity."
Everyone turned to face him. Sage leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out, arms folded. His tone was calm.
"With Cael and Asura occupied, most of CORE's attention is focused on them. The castle's wide open. The guards are scattered. We could strike now, while they're exposed."
Doug raised a brow. "Strike? We don't even know what the inside looks like. And most of us don't even know what he looks like."
Micheal stepped forward, visibly shaking with frustration. "You're talking about an ambush while two of our own are fighting for their lives?! They need backup. They're kids!"
Sage didn't flinch. "How do you propose we help them? March into a trap? Get more of us killed? Think, Micheal. Use your head. If they die, their sacrifice might still mean something if we take CORE out now."
Micheal's jaw tightened. "You talk like they're already dead."
Sage just stared at him. "They will be if we hesitate."
Silence fell again, Doug ran a hand down his face. "They're not gonna survive if we keep fighting each other."
Madison looked away, arms still folded with that annoyed expression.
Sage sighed. "So what's it gonna be?"
Micheal didn't answer. But then he sighed and said, "You're all disgusting. I can't believe you would even let kids die just like that. Weirdos." And then he stormed out the room and eventually, out of the Resistance safe house.
UNDERPASS — AFTER THE BATTLE
Shirley stumbled toward Tucker, his breath shaky but filled with awe.
"Holy crap, Tucker!" he gasped, staring at the crater left behind. "You sent him flying! That was insane!"
Tucker was slumped against the ground, barely conscious, chest heaving from the effort of his final strike. Shirley laughed weakly, still buzzing with adrenaline.
Then a shadow fell over them, and Cael descended from the sky like a falling feather. His shoes hit the ground with a light tap, but his presence was heavy. He surveyed the wreckage, then without a word, raised his sword… and pointed it directly at Tucker.
Shirley's eyes widened. "H-Hey, wait—what are you doing?! You were just on our side!"
Cael didn't move. His voice came cold and flat. "Was I?"
He turned his gaze toward Shirley. "I warned you, child, leave Choreees. Don't ever return. Go back to your life. Forget about this. Did I not?"
Shirley's bravado cracked. He lowered his head. "You didn't listen," Cael continued. "And now you'll understand the weight of defiance."
With a swift movement, Cael flicked his sword forward, its blade grazing Shirley's neck. A thin red line appeared, blood trickling down his skin. Shirley gasped.
Cael tilted the blade upward, dragging it just enough to draw more blood.
"You thought this was a game," Cael whispered. "But there's no saving people who keep choosing death."
He leaned in slightly. "I forgive—"
Then the wall behind them exploded in a violent burst of dust and debris.
Asura burst through the crumbled stone, steam hissing from his chest where Tucker had struck him earlier. His skin was scorched, his face twisted with fury.
Before Cael could react, Asura lunged at him with a savage roar, aiming to tackle him to the ground.
Cael spun on instinct, blade rising just in time to deflect the strike.
The collision released a concussive blast that shook the underpass.
Tucker and Shirley were flung backwards like ragdolls, crashing into rubble, dust, and broken stone.
The war between monsters wasn't over.
It had just shifted into round two.