Meanwhile…
Hamman's fingers trembled slightly as he ended the call.
For a moment, silence reigned on his side.
He lived in a high-tech presidential suite built into a tall tower overlooking a cybernetic jungle-city. The walls were smooth silver, glowing faintly with embedded circuits. The room was wide and circular, with a large glass window showing the skyline where airships passed, and satellites were visible in the upper atmosphere.
He stood in front of a Holo-Caster: a flat, floating disk projecting his full 3D image above it, bright and sharp. Behind him was a polished black desk with a national crest carved into it. His apartment had minimal furniture. Everything sleek, quiet, and efficient—just like the man himself.
After ending the call, unlike the somewhat nervous and pensive expression he had on his face toward the end of his and Haki's conversation, his face returned to absolute calm—scary calm.
"My son seems to have become more of a monster. I should have told you to ask him how he got so strong being only a Primal Ascendant… but then again, I'm sure he'd just reply with another '100 pushups, 100 squats…'"
The voice came from behind Hamman. It sounded soft—too soft even. The kind that slides into your ear like cotton buds but coils in your mind like a serpent.
It had the warmth of a loving mother, but laced beneath was an eerie resonance, like an ancient choir humming just beneath her words—except the choir was composed of her and herself.
To be able to do these kinds of "witch-crafty" things in this era, one had to be an Augmental—beings who advance by integrating tech, AI, genetic edits, quantum limbs, and consciousness-linked enhancements. They saw evolution as a merger of flesh and machine, but she seemed to lean more toward genetic edits.
She had seen Haki through the call and had already judged his level of power.
She was seated on the black desk behind Hamman—legs crossed, head wrapped in a shawl of flickering black strings. Hamman's mother—Nyserith.
She was tall, dressed in silky black fabrics that shimmered like anti-matter. Her hair was an arrangement of sentient locks that judged everything they saw. One of them hissed at Hamman.
Hamman didn't turn around to look at her. He could already see her, he too was an Augmental.
"That's right, Mom. David seems to have been integrating more and more draconic bloodlines recently. Do you think he can still be considered a Primal Ascendant? He must be hiding a secret…" Hamman's face suddenly changed into a menacing smile as he turned his head toward Haki's mother.
His mother had a smile slowly creeping on her face as she saw Hamman's head turn slowly toward her—effortlessly—by 180 degrees.
"Hmm? Ha-ha! That look on your face, just like your father. Anyways, let's get on with this act. We have only a few nanoseconds left before he arrives. Stay in position."
Hamman obliged, and waited a few more nanoseconds.
All of a sudden, Nyserith smiled, but not just any smile. A full, unhinged, face-splitting grin—like something ancient had crawled out of her and worn her face as a mask.
"Aw, little lad," she said sweetly. "Did you really think the two of you could blink at each other in some kind of Morse code and I wouldn't notice? Tsk. You're adorable when you scheme."
Hamman's stomach sank, his entire body tensed.
But it was already too late.
Then, a soft rustle—barely perceptible, like a whisper from the shadows.
Hamman turned instinctively—too slow, she was already behind him.
Like a blur of black silk and raw terror, her hands moved like slingshots—fast. Unimaginably so. One gripped Hamman's shoulder like a vice, the other raised a black dagger—curved, humming, its edge swirling with an animated black hole that devoured light itself.
The blade hissed toward his neck. No time to scream. No time to resist.
Only—
Tap.
A single finger touched the blade's vertex.
The point of contact between the knife and the finger created zero sparks and not a single depression could be seen on the finger—like the effect of spring breeze passing by. Then…
CRACK.
Everything started vibrating like it had a really bad fever, and by "everything" I mean Time. In this enclosed space, Time didn't just shudder—it stopped.
The black hole dagger was flung backward, then eviscerated. Atom. By. Atom. Hamman felt the momentum vanish around him, the killer's grip torn from his shoulder.
She was thrown—slammed back across the room, carving a long gouge in the reinforced floor and for the first time in decades, her eyes went wide as saucers.
Then rushed the roaring sound of air from space being torn apart.
Rrrrrrrrip—
Space-time split behind Hamman like paper, and a glowing crack widened in the air, dripping with VOID STATIC. From it stepped a silhouette—calm, composed, whatever was needed for a proper aura-farming appearance.
Haki.
But not the Haki we knew.
He looked like a celestial warrior from another universe—part angel, part dragon, part demon prince.
His skin was covered in black and teal tattoos that glowed faintly like starlight. They looked alive, curling and moving slightly—like magic was flowing through his veins.
He had massive white wings with shiny black and green feathers near the edges—strong enough to knock down multiple planets. His chest was bare, showing off ripped muscles and a strange glowing gem in the center—like it was powering him from the inside.
From his head grew sharp black horns, curving up like a dark crown. His hair was black, messy, and wild, but it somehow made him look even more royal. His eyes were bright blue, glowing like ice or lightning—the kind of eyes that didn't blink, just judged.
He wore a white robe hanging off his shoulders, like he didn't care about clothes—only strength. He looked calm, dangerous, and completely in control. Or so it seemed…
As he stepped fully through the crack, it closed behind him with a 'sigh' sound.
Hamman, whose back was drenched in sweat, turned, his throat dry. "...David? But how?"
Haki didn't answer.
He walked toward their mother—still recovering, eyes narrowing now in recognition, in rage. She had miscalculated.
"Who the fuck are you? My son? Why do you look like this?" Nyserith asked through gritted teeth. But Haki simply looked at her.
Then he said it.
"If you touch my brother again… I will dismantle your concept of self this time around." Haki said with a faint, fake smile on his face.
His words boomed in her ears as she bled from every orifice… Yes, every orifice. And yes, I do mean all of them… you perv.
Her lips curled. "So, you finally grew teeth and thought you could talk back to your mother. Kneel down, raise up your hands, and close your eyes."
Haki's gaze didn't shift. "I don't have time for this."
"What time is this?" his mother, still on the floor, asked.
And he replied:
"The 387th time."
Then he went in for the kill.
It seemed he had killed her more than once.