The world was slipping again.
The sounds became muffled — like I was underwater. Distant. Disconnected.
I could hear their voices — my friends — but they sounded like echoes from a dream.
"Anos, stay with us!"
"No, no, no—he's fading!"
"Get a medic now—!"
Their words became static, bleeding together with the wind, the crackle of flames, the thunder of collapsing debris.
I'm sorry…
That was the last coherent thought I had before everything turned black again.
...
It was the beeping that brought me back.
Rhythmic. Steady. Too clean. Too cold.
A hospital.
My body was heavy. Every breath scraped against my lungs like fire. I blinked, slowly, as fluorescent light stung my eyes.
The white ceiling above me was unfamiliar.
Sterile.
I tried to move my fingers. They twitched. Barely.
Then a voice spoke — low, tired, and laced with grief.
"You look like hell."
I turned my head — just enough to see the silhouette in the chair beside me.
Zane.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Dark circles under his eyes, blood crusted on his shirt, and his hand… his hand was clenched tightly around a file.
One I recognized.
I opened my mouth. "Zane…"
He looked up.
And I knew.
Something was wrong.
Really wrong.
"You were out for three days," he said quietly. "Barely stabilized on the second. Whatever was in that toxin… it wasn't meant for anyone to survive. Let alone absorb it with the Genesis Flame."
I swallowed. My throat was raw. "But I'm alive."
"For now."
The pause he took after that shook me more than the words.
Zane stood, walking to the window, looking out over what was left of Tokyo.
"The storms are gone. The Nomu have all been taken out. Most of the villains too. But the aftershocks…" He hesitated. "They haven't stopped."
I tried to sit up. Pain flared through every nerve.
"Zane, what's going on?"
He didn't turn.
Instead, he said, "Your body… it's not just breaking down, Anos. It's mutating. Evolving. Fighting. We don't know what it's becoming yet. But whatever it is…"
Finally, he turned back to me, eyes heavy with something I rarely saw in him — fear.
"…you're not entirely human anymore."
The words hit me harder than any villain ever had.
Not human?
I looked down at my arm, at the IV hooked into my veins. My skin looked pale, almost translucent. There were faint glowing lines under the surface — like circuitry made of light.
Zane walked over and placed the file on my lap.
"It's your test results. Scans. Bloodwork. Mutation logs."
"I don't need to see it."
"Yes, you do." His voice cracked for the first time. "Because if anyone's going to fight what's coming next… it's you. But you have to know what you're up against."
I didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Not when every part of me was screaming, This isn't over.
Not when I knew… something worse was coming.
Zane reached into his coat and placed a small device on the table beside my bed — a recorder.
He pressed play.
And the voice that came through the speaker wasn't his.
It was the scientist from my childhood. The one who created the Genesis Flame. A recording… from the past.
"If the subject ever absorbs the toxin, if Anos ever becomes the vessel… then pray. Pray his soul stays stronger than the fire. Because if it doesn't… the world won't burn. It'll end."
My heart sank.
Zane looked at me — not as a friend, not as a soldier — but as someone who had just handed me my fate.
"Whatever's happening to you now," he said softly, "is just the beginning."