Disclaimer: This fanfic is created solely for entertainment purposes for readers to enjoy. No characters belonging to existing franchises are mine, except for my original creations.
Without further ado, enjoy.
....
Underground Bunker - Training Room - 7:15 PM
The space was massive. Six-meter-high ceilings. Impact-absorbing reinforced metal walls. Equipment that looked built for super-soldiers rather than regular humans.
And right in the middle of it all, a man was pushing a machine further than anyone thought possible.
BEEP
The sound was sharp, almost pitiful. Like the machine was begging for mercy.
BEEP
BEEP
"Urgg—"
Jhon's face was set in a grimace. Not the expression he wore around Miriam, or his cousin, or even Lucía. That warmth—that soft humanity he now saved only for the people he loved—had vanished entirely.
This was something harder. The face of someone who'd decided he'd never be weak again.
The machine simulating a bench press—originally designed to handle a max of 1000 tons, though no one ever imagined anyone hitting even 100—trembled under the load he'd piled on. Weight plates were stacked obscenely high on both sides. The hydraulic mechanism groaned with every rep.
His arms drove upward. Quads tensed like steel cables. Biceps swelled. Sweat poured down his bare torso in rivers, soaking the padded seat beneath him.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
100 tons.
His teeth clenched. He pushed harder.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
150 tons.
Breathing came in controlled gasps. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like the knowledge he'd absorbed from Jason Todd had taught him.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
200 tons.
His muscles started screaming. Not pain exactly—his pain threshold had skyrocketed—but the sensation of fibers being forced beyond what biology was meant to handle.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
250 tons.
Micro-tears formed in the muscle fibers. In a normal person, that would've meant weeks of recovery.
But Jhon's regeneration kicked in instantly. He could feel it—that warm tingle spreading through his legs as cells divided at warp speed, repairing damage almost as fast as it happened.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
300 tons.
His whole body shook. Not from weakness, but from the sheer effort of moving a mass equal to several buses.
And then... the fatigue just vanished.
Regeneration finished its work. His muscles—now denser, stronger than moments ago thanks to the enhanced repair process—felt fresh again.
The 300 tons that had demanded everything seconds ago now felt... manageable. Not easy, but definitely within his range.
It was like Saiyan training from Dragon Ball, but real. Scientifically explainable through the upgraded biology he now possessed.
He cranked out ten more reps before finally releasing the machine. The weight plates crashed down with a massive metallic CLANG that echoed through the entire room.
---
He stood up slowly, muscles still buzzing faintly from the residual effort. He walked to the center of the room where three figures—perfect illusory copies of himself—kept drilling combat techniques.
They weren't just projections. Thanks to Loki's Asgardian magic at fifty percent assimilation, these clones had temporary solidity. They could hit and be hit. They could practice maneuvers that needed multiple participants.
"Return," he ordered, voice hoarse.
The three clones froze in unison. Then they dissolved—not dramatically, but like smoke gradually scattering until nothing remained.
And when they did, their experiences flowed back into him.
Memories. Sensations. Clone one had been working Muay Thai—phantom aches in his shins from blocking imaginary kicks. Clone two drilled Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu—knowledge of locks and chokes flooding his conscious mind. Clone three had perfected Krav Maga—brutal, efficient moves designed to end fights fast.
He pressed a hand to his temple, rubbing gently. A faint throb pulsed behind his eyes.
Normally this wouldn't bother him.
But the situation wasn't normal. While training physically, his mind had been elsewhere—or rather, in thousands of places at once.
Through Echoes, he'd maintained a link to every insect under his control. Thousands of tiny minds, all needing subtle direction. Like trying to conduct an orchestra where every musician was an idiot who only knew one note.
His brain—even enhanced—had gotten slightly overloaded.
He flexed his right hand, fingers spreading. Telekinesis flowed out, snagging several dumbbells scattered around the room. He lifted them all at once—each one a hundred kilos—making them float in a circular formation around him.
'Control's improved,' he noted with approval. 'Still not strong enough for serious combat, but it doesn't wobble as much.'
The dumbbells spun in their orbit like planets around a sun. He gradually ramped up the speed until they blurred.
Then he stopped them all instantly. Frozen in mid-air.
--
He walked the bunker's corridors, footsteps echoing off the metal. The basic AI system greeted him with its synthesized female voice—"Good evening, primary user"—but he ignored it.
Though he needed to head to the command center, he doubted a basic AI belonged in a base like the Mother Box.
After a moment.
He found what he was looking for in a side room the AI had labeled "temporary storage."
Two bodies lay in the center, suspended inside a translucent sphere created by Echoes. The barrier kept the temperature steady, preserving them perfectly. No decay. No smell. It was like they were just sleeping.
Uncle Jorge in his bloodied military uniform. Aunt Adriana in her favorite floral blouse, torn to shreds.
Jhon stared at them with a nostalgia that hurt physically—like someone was squeezing his heart with an icy fist.
But beneath that nostalgia, something else burned. Something dark and dangerous.
Rage. Pure and concentrated like acid. Veins stood out on his neck, and his eyes flashed red, a sign of everything he'd been holding back so he wouldn't worry the others too much.
'The Reborn.'
The name rang in his mind like a funeral bell.
He took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Three times.
Controlling himself. Because if he didn't, if he let that rage loose now, without direction, without a plan...
He knew it wouldn't help. He had to control his emotions.
At that moment he felt a tug in his mind. Like someone had yanked a string wired straight to his brain.
He frowned, closing his eyes.
Echoes appeared behind him without needing a verbal summon. The Stand's hands—if you could call them hands—gently touched Jhon's temples.
His consciousness expanded.
Suddenly he was in thousands of places at once. Seeing through thousands of compound eyes. Feeling vibrations in the air through thousands of antennae.
The swarm he'd sent to find his grandparents was close. Very close. He could sense the human presences they carried—three of them. Two elderly, one metallic.
A smile touched his lips for the first time in hours. Genuine.
Then he shifted focus to the other group—the insects he'd sent toward the police station where Miriam's father worked.
They were close too. They'd located the Captain and were tailing him discreetly, ready to intervene if any threat got near.
'Everyone safe. Good, then I can focus on the plan.'
He opened his eyes, the connection snapping off like a yanked plug.
He strode toward the elevator with purposeful steps. He needed to reach the surface to greet his grandparents in person.
As he headed there, he started thinking about how to tell them. How to explain they'd lost another child. That the family, already so small, had shrunk even further.
What do I say?
"I'm sorry, I was too late"?
"I did what I could"?
Every word sounded hollow in his head. Inadequate.
There was no right way to say this. You just said it and dealt with whatever came next.
---
The bunker's main lobby was quieter now. Lights had auto-dimmed to night mode—bright enough to see but not harsh.
Jhon was heading for the elevator to the surface when he spotted Miriam.
She was sitting on one of the bunker's modular sofas—surprisingly comfy furniture for a military setup. Alanis slept soundly in her arms, the little girl's head resting against Miriam's chest.
And sprawled on the floor beside the sofa, looking utterly defeated, was the lion.
The massive animal—who could electrocute a man to death—looked completely spent. Eyes half-closed. Electric mane barely sparking. If lions could sigh from existential exhaustion, this one would've been sighing.
'Kids really do have energy,' Jhon thought with a smile.
He approached Miriam quietly, careful not to wake Alanis. When he was close enough, he leaned down and softly kissed her forehead.
"Go rest," he whispered.
Miriam looked up, her eyes meeting his. She smiled—tired but gentle—and nodded.
She stood carefully, shifting Alanis in her arms. The girl mumbled something incoherent in her sleep but didn't wake.
Jhon watched her disappear down the hallway toward the bedrooms. He noticed Sofia wasn't anywhere in sight.
So he figured Lucía had taken her to rest after everything.
The lion made a sound that might've been a relieved groan now that his torment was over. Jhon glanced at him with amusement.
"Good work, soldier," he murmured.
The lion looked at him with what could only be described as a plea. Can I rest now?
"Rest. You earned it."
The animal didn't need telling twice. It closed its eyes and apparently passed out on the spot, breathing turning deep and instant.
Jhon continued to the elevator, face serious again, but his thoughts already upstairs.
---
Meanwhile.
Somewhere in China - Dongcheng District - 7:45 PM (Local Time)
The house was solidly middle-class. Not rich, not poor. The kind of place where office workers lived and complained about traffic.
But on the second floor, in a room with the curtains drawn, something was happening that was definitely not middle-class.
Wang Chen—thirty-two years old, a hundred and thirty kilos, ex-programmer fired from three jobs for "attitude"—cackled maniacally in front of a six-monitor setup.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His laugh was high-pitched, almost unhinged. Tears streamed down his chubby cheeks as he watched the screens.
Each monitor showed something different. Collapsed hospitals with no power. Traffic lights glitching, causing pile-ups. Transportation systems completely down. People stranded in darkened subway tunnels.
All caused by him.
"I'll be the new God!" he shouted at the monitors, raising his pudgy arms. "With this power, I'll be like Accelerator! No, better than Accelerator! I'll be the King of Black Tech!"
He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, chewing noisily.
"I'll have all the beautiful women I want. Long legs. Tiny waists. They'll call me Emperor Wang!"
On one screen, a live feed showed a traffic accident. A kid—no more than eight—had tried to cross the street. The light was blinking randomly, colors changing without pattern.
A truck couldn't stop in time.
The sound was awful even through cheap computer speakers.
Wang Chen laughed harder. "That's what happens when you don't look! Natural selection! Darwin would be proud!"
He was so absorbed in his screens, so lost in his power fantasy, that he didn't notice the shadows shifting in the corner of his room.
Two purple eyes glowed in the dark. Watching. Assessing.
Wang kept ranting. "When China's on its knees, I'll reveal myself. I'll tell them—'I did this. I control the tech. Obey me or—'"
He froze completely.
Panic—primal terror—exploded in his eyes.
The purple eyes that had been meters away seconds ago were now right behind him. So close he could feel breath on his neck.
'How—? When—?'
Something cold touched his neck.
Then hot. Very hot.
Liquid ran down his chest. He looked down stupidly and saw red. So much red.
A silhouette materialized behind him—emerging from shadows like it had always been there. Black fitted suit. Mask covering the lower half of the face. Those purple eyes glowing with unnatural light.
And a dagger—dripping blood—in a gloved hand.
Wang tried to scream but only a wet gurgle came out. He tried to press his hands to the wound but blood poured between his chubby fingers.
Life drained from him like bathwater.
His last thought before darkness claimed him was absurdly mundane: 'I never tried the new Doritos flavor...'
---
The assassin wiped his dagger with a cloth pulled from his tactical belt. Then he activated the comm in his ear.
"Mission accomplished," he said in a deep voice, trying to sound like a thriller character.
"Stop trying to be cool like Sung Jinwoo and get back here fast." A female voice—clearly annoyed—crackled through the earpiece. "We need help coordinating civilian evacuations in the north sector."
The assassin's posture deflated instantly. All that dramatic seriousness evaporating.
"Hey! I just wanted to add some flair," he protested in a completely different tone—younger, whinier. "This asshole caused chaos across almost all of China. I deserve a little drama."
"Yeah, yeah. Very dramatic. Now move your ass. Lin Yue had another vision."
The assassin's eyes—which had been glowing purple—dimmed for a moment. When they reignited, they shone brighter than before.
"When?"
"Ten minutes ago. Wouldn't give details over radio. Says we have to hear it in person."
"Shit." The assassin glanced at Wang Chen's body—already cooling in his chair. "Anything I should worry about?"
"Everything should worry us now. The world's literally ending."
"Fair. On my way."
His purple eyes flared brighter. The shadows in the room writhed unnaturally.
And he vanished.
He didn't walk to the door. Didn't jump out the window. He simply ceased to be there—swallowed by shadows like he'd never existed.
Wang Chen—who hours earlier had terrorized an entire nation—died alone in his trash-filled room.
Like the idiot he'd always been.
---
Colombian Military Base - Medical Facility - 8:30 PM
Helena Krüger stared at herself in the full-length mirror in her recovery room.
Bandages wrapped her torso—white against pale skin. More bandages around her arms. Her face showed deep fatigue—dark circles, tension lines around her mouth.
But her eyes... her eyes still held that military seriousness. That hardness from seeing too much death.
"How I've changed..." she murmured, running a hand along her side.
Her body had transformed dramatically in recent years. The soft curves she'd once had—back when she was younger, before intense military service—had been replaced by dense muscle.
Not sensual muscle. Functional. Dangerous.
Her breasts—which in her base state without her power active were considerably large—would turn to pure muscle when she activated her amplification. Everything about her became a weapon.
Her gaze drifted to the shelf by her bed. A photo sat there—her with a man, both smiling genuinely. A German shepherd between them.
'Carlos.'
The pain was sharp, familiar. Like visiting an old wound that never healed right.
In the photo, she was smiling. Smiling. When was the last time she'd smiled like that?
She sighed deeply and turned the photo face-down.
'I can't think about that now.'
Her face shifted. Whatever little warmth there'd been vanished completely. But her eyes betrayed something else. Absence. The void that person had left.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Someone at her door.
Helena walked over with measured steps. She yanked it open.
A tiny nurse—no more than five feet tall—nearly jumped out of her skin. She had to crane her neck to meet Helena's eyes, who towered over her at nearly two meters.
"M-Major Krüger," the nurse stammered. "H-how are you feeling? Do you... need assistance with—?"
"I'm fine," Helena said, tone flat. "My body's healing properly."
She grabbed a jacket from the hook by the door and shrugged it on, hiding the bandages.
"But Major, you should—" the nurse started to protest.
Helena simply walked past her. Ignored her completely, footsteps echoing down the hall.
The nurse stood there, watching her go with an expression of total defeat.
---
The operations room was active even at this hour. Analysts working rotating shifts. Screens showing feeds from across Colombia. The constant murmur of radio chatter.
When Helena entered—hands in her jacket pockets, face stoic—everyone stiffened instantly.
It was that kind of presence. The kind that didn't need to shout to command a room.
Captain Méndez was hunched over a holographic table, reviewing tactical maps. He looked up when he sensed her.
"Major," he said, genuine relief in his voice. "How are you? Fully recovered?"
Helena just nodded, stepping up to the table.
Méndez knew better than to push when she was in this mode. He simply moved aside, giving her space.
Helena studied the maps for a long moment. Red markers indicated high-conflict zones. Blue showed military positions. Green marked civilian shelters.
"What am I looking at?" she finally asked.
"Pattern analysis of organized crime activity," Méndez replied, tapping controls that zoomed in on a specific map section. "Since the pulse, there's been a 340% spike in gang activity. But this..." He pointed to a particular cluster of red markers. "This is completely different."
"Different how?"
"Coordination. Discipline. They're not opportunists riding the chaos. They're an established organization expanding aggressively."
Helena frowned slightly. "Even after what I did in Medellín..." Her voice was more thoughtful than arrogant. "There are still people stupid enough to make noise."
"Apparently." Méndez tapped another control. A list appeared—names, locations, causes of death. "They've been targeting military and police specifically. And their families."
Helena's eyes locked in immediately. "Intimidation tactics."
"Effective. We've lost forty-three officers in five days. Another sixty reported missing."
"What do they call themselves?"
Méndez met her gaze. "The Reborn."
"How many deaths on their record? Total."
Méndez swallowed. "Confirmed count: two hundred thirty-eight civilians. Eighty-seven military and police personnel. One hundred twelve missing, presumed dead."
He pulled up the full list on screen. Names scrolled by—each one a life ended.
And there, about halfway down: Jorge Ariza Montoya - Retired Military - MISSING/PRESUMED DEAD
Next to it a note: Wife also missing. Five-year-old daughter unlocated.
Helena studied the list, expression unchanged. But Méndez knew her. He saw the almost imperceptible tightening around her jaw.
"Prep a helicopter," she said finally, straightening. "I'm going personally to dismantle this organization."
"Major, with all due respect—" Méndez began, concern clear. "You need more recovery time. X100 nearly killed you. Your body—"
"My body's fine," she cut him off. Her tone left no room for argument. "No time for rest. Not now."
But Méndez knew that look. He'd seen it before. When Carlos died. When she'd volunteered for the most dangerous missions because she secretly hoped she wouldn't come back.
"Major..." He tried again, softer. "You're invaluable to Colombia. Losing you now—"
"You won't lose me." But there was weariness in her eyes. Deep, rooted. The kind sleep doesn't fix.
Méndez sighed. "At least take backup. If you feel you need help—which I don't think you will," he added quickly when she opened her mouth, "call in the awakened categorization team. They're competent."
Helena considered for a moment. Then gave a minimal nod.
"Fine. It'll be done."
They stood in silence for a moment, staring at maps showing a nation on the brink of collapse.
Then they left the operations room together.
Helena toward the helipad.
Toward The Reborn.
Toward what would be, without her knowing yet, a collision with something far more dangerous than she expected.
Because somewhere in Bogotá, Jhon Ariza had The Reborn on his list too.
And he didn't plan to dismantle them.
He planned to erase them from existence.
---
Government Building - Beijing, China - 8:15 PM (Local Time)
The building rose against the night sky like a monolith of glass and steel. Officially, just another administrative structure in the Dongcheng district. Officially, the lights glowing on the tenth floor belonged to bureaucrats working overtime.
Officially, it was completely ordinary.
The reality was considerably more interesting.
Behind reinforced concrete walls that could withstand a missile strike, protected by security measures that would make most military installations blush, was a room official records flatly denied existed.
The Special Operations Room. Where China kept its most dangerous secrets.
Its most powerful Awakened.
The space was wide but austere. Functional furniture that prioritized practicality over aesthetics. Wall-embedded monitors constantly flickered with data—energy fluctuations, Aether patterns, paranormal incident reports.
And in the center of it all, on a leather sofa that had seen better days, a young woman shook violently like she was being electrocuted from the inside.
Lin Yue couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Slim, with black hair now soaked in sweat and plastered to her forehead. Her eyes—completely white, no visible pupils—stared at something no one else in the room could see.
Something in the future.
Her body jerked with uncontrollable spasms. Hands gripped the sofa cushions so hard her knuckles were white. Saliva trickled from the corner of her mouth. Tears—she probably didn't even know she was crying—rolled down her pale cheeks.
—Lin Yue, please... —Mei Chen's voice was soft but urgent as she held the seer, trying to steady her convulsing body—. Breathe. Breathe with me. In... out...
Mei Chen was around thirty, her black hair pulled into a tight bun. Worry lines etched her face as she rocked Lin Yue like a terrified child.
—You don't have to push anymore, —Mei continued, her own voice cracking slightly—. That's enough. Please, come back.
She ignored the involuntary blows from Lin's spasms. Small bruises were already forming on her arms, but she didn't budge an inch.
Across the room, near windows showing Beijing stretching to the horizon in a sea of lights, a man floated.
Chen Wei sat in perfect lotus position, suspended about five centimeters off the wooden floor. No supports. No tricks. Just... floating.
His face showed a serenity straight out of ancient paintings of Buddhist monks reaching enlightenment. Eyes closed. Breathing so slow it barely seemed he was breathing at all.
But the most striking thing was the energy.
Threads of purple light—visible even to non-powered people—flowed from the environment into his body. Entering through every pore in a hypnotic process the other Awakened in the room had learned to call "cultivation."
The air around Chen Wei vibrated subtly, like heat over summer asphalt. There was an invisible weight radiating from him—not exactly threatening, but impossible to ignore.
Like being in the presence of something fundamentally superior.
—Is the drama over yet? —The voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a knife through butter.
Zhang Hao leaned against the opposite wall, impeccable in a three-piece black suit that probably cost more than a regular worker's monthly salary. Tie slightly loosened—the only concession to the late hour. Hair slicked back with gel.
His eyes, normally plain dark brown, glowed with a faint violet tint in the pupils.
—Because I'm hungry, —he continued, tone completely casual, checking his Rolex—. And there's a new place in Sanlitun with amazing Peking duck. Closes at midnight.
Lin Yue stopped shaking for exactly one second. Long enough to turn her head—eyes still white and unfocused—and glare at him with a look that could've melted steel.
Zhang Hao just stared back, bored.
He was the same man who, barely an hour earlier, had executed Wang Chen—the Awakened who tried to seize control of all Beijing's tech infrastructure.
And since then, he seemed more concerned with food than the consequences of killing someone.
—Zhang. —A deep voice rumbled from the other side of the room—. Shut the fuck up.
Wu Tian made the armchair he sat in look like doll furniture. Nearly two meters of pure dense muscle. Arms crossed over a chest carved from granite. Thick scar running from his left eyebrow to his chin—a gift from a battle no one dared mention.
—The girl's doing her best, —Wu continued, genuine irritation in his gravelly tone—. Something you clearly don't understand because you've never had to try at anything.
Zhang Hao pushed off the wall with lazy grace, walking toward the center of the room. His imported leather shoes made no sound on the floor.
"The girl," —he repeated with obvious disdain—. We all have talents, Wu. Hers is peeking at future tidbits. Mine is... —He smiled without humor—. Well, you saw it with that guy. And yours is being a very large, very annoying closet that breaks things when it gets mad.
Wu Tian stood up.
It wasn't a fast movement. It was deliberate. Like watching a mountain decide it had had enough and it was time to move.
The floor creaked under his weight as he approached Zhang Hao with steps that made the wall monitors vibrate.
When he was close enough—completely invading Zhang's personal space—he raised a hand the size of a frying pan and placed it on the smaller man's shoulder.
He didn't squeeze. He didn't need to.
The message was clear: I can crush you like a bug if I really want to.
Calm down, —Wu Tian said, but it wasn't a friendly suggestion. It was a direct order from someone used to being obeyed.
Zhang Hao's eyes narrowed dangerously.
The violet tint in his pupils intensified dramatically until his entire iris glowed with that unnatural color. Like neon in the dark.
He turned his head very slowly toward Wu Tian, and when he spoke, his voice had an echo that definitely shouldn't exist—like multiple versions of him speaking at slightly different frequencies.
"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do. Wu."
The words carried more than sound. An invisible psychic pressure that made several wall monitors flicker. A thin crack appeared in one of the windows.
Wu Tian narrowed his own eyes. And something extraordinary started to happen.
Scales.
They began emerging from his skin—first on his neck, then spreading fast across his massive arms and face. Dark jade in color, glinting subtly under the fluorescent lights. Each one coin-sized, overlapping in patterns both organic and geometric.
His hand on Zhang Hao's shoulder grew heavier, more lethal. Claws formed where human nails had been—curved, sharp, capable of shredding reinforced steel like paper.
His voice, when he spoke, had gained a guttural edge. Almost reptilian.
"Or what, Zhang? Gonna do the shadow trick again?" —Wu Tian leaned closer, and now his eyes had changed too—slit pupils, glowing golden irises—. "Because last time you tried something with me, you spent three days in the hospital."
The tension in the room turned almost physical.
Monitors sparked more violently. Another crack appeared in the window. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.
Lin Yue had stopped shaking entirely—not because she'd recovered, but because she was frozen in absolute terror at the display of power.
Mei Chen held her protectively, but her own face showed real worry. Her mental power could stop them, but the cost...
Zhang Hao opened his mouth—probably to say something incredibly stupid that would escalate things further—when Mei Chen finally acted.
"STOP!"
The shout wasn't just auditory.
It was a psychic command that slammed directly into everyone's minds. Like someone yelling inside your skull. A mental invasion that froze Zhang and Wu's thoughts dead—completely, instantly.
For a moment, both men stood frozen.
Their expressions went blank. Eyes unfocusing like someone had flipped a switch in their brains. Puppets with cut strings.
Zhang stopped glowing violet. Wu Tian's transformation halted—scales stopping halfway.
Then they blinked.
Consciousness returned like lights flicking on. Both staggered slightly, disoriented.
And when they realized what had happened—that Mei Chen had used her power to control them—their expressions turned annoyed. Not scared. Not grateful she'd stopped them from doing something stupid.
Annoyed.
Because nobody likes being reminded someone else can switch off their free will like a light.
"Mei"—Zhang Hao muttered tensely, pressing a hand to his temple like he had a headache—. "You know I hate when you do that."
"Then stop acting like children"—Mei Chen snapped, though exhaustion was clear in her voice. Using her psychic power always took a toll—. "We're trying to prevent the end of the world, not deciding who's got the bigger dick."
Wu Tian stepped back, scales retracting under his skin with a subtle sound—like sandpaper on wood. His eyes returned to normal. Claws turning back to human nails.
Zhang Hao just walked away, adjusting his tie with precise movements. The violet glow in his eyes fading completely.
But they shot each other sidelong glances.
It wasn't over. Just paused.
They were about to resume their argument—wounded pride being a powerful motivator—when a completely calm voice cut through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds.
"Enough. Stop it."
Chen Wei had opened his eyes.
The purple energy around him dissipated like smoke in a strong wind. He descended gently—so smooth it made no sound—until his bare feet touched the wooden floor.
When he stood fully, there was a moment where everyone in the room felt something instinctive. Something primitive hardwired into human DNA that said without words: "You're in the presence of an apex predator."
It wasn't that Chen Wei was physically intimidating. Average height—maybe five foot nine. Lean build, almost fragile-looking. Features that could be described as completely ordinary.
But there was something else.
An invisible weight that pressed against everyone else. A presence that filled the space in a way impossible for one human.
Like reality itself bent slightly around him.
Zhang Hao and Wu Tian shut up immediately.
Not out of fear of physical retaliation—Chen Wei had never been violent with his own team. But out of a respect that bordered on reverence. The kind you give someone who could erase you with a thought but chooses not to.
Like an emperor had spoken.
Zhang Hao leaned toward Wu Tian, voice a conspiratorial whisper but loud enough for all to hear:
"Shit, man... why's that guy so cool?" —There was genuine admiration in his tone—. "Seriously, it's like he shits pure aura every time he breathes."
Wu Tian just ignored him, still annoyed, but a small nod indicated full agreement.
Chen Wei walked to the sofa where Lin Yue still trembled in Mei Chen's arms. His movements were fluid, precise—each step exactly the right length, weight perfectly distributed.
He knelt in front of Lin with a grace that spoke of years of martial discipline. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle—the contrast with his overwhelming presence almost jarring.
"Lin Yue,"—he said softly—. "What did you see?"
Lin took a deep breath. Once. Twice. Desperately trying to steady her traitorous body that still shook with residual tremors.
Mei Chen stroked her hair with maternal tenderness, murmuring encouragement the others couldn't hear.
Finally, stammering, Lin Yue began to speak:
"I saw..." —Her voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from the physical strain of the vision—. "I saw portals..."
"Portals?" —Chen Wei tilted his head slightly—. "Like the Aether accumulation points we've been monitoring?"
Lin shook her head violently.
"No. Worse. Much worse." —She swallowed painfully—. "They were... tears. In the air. Like someone had ripped reality itself. And coming out of them... things."
"What kind of things?" —Chen Wei asked, tone neutral, not pushing.
"Monsters." —The word came out like a sob—. "Creatures that should never exist. Hounds the size of buses with too many eyes. Giant insects straight out of Alien. Things with tentacles dragging people into the shadows and... and... —Her voice broke—. "Dragons. I saw dragons burning entire cities with a single breath."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Even Zhang Hao had lost his cultivated air of indifference. Wu Tian had gone rigid, muscles visibly tensing under his shirt.
"And the humans..." —Lin continued, tears rolling freely down her cheeks—. "They were hunted. Like livestock for slaughter. Dragged through the portals to... I don't know where. But I could feel their terror. Their desperation. It was like all of humanity was being harvested."
Chen Wei interlaced his fingers, expression thoughtful.
"These portals"—he said carefully—. "Do they form near where the Aether is pooling? The zones we've been tracking?"
Lin Yue nodded vigorously, almost frantically.
"Yes. Exactly there. Where the concentrations are highest. It's like... like something on the other side can sense the energy and uses it as a beacon. A signal to find us."
Chen Wei narrowed his eyes—a crease of worry appearing between his brows. The first genuine emotion he'd shown.
"Did you see if we could fight back?" —His next question was more direct, more urgent—. "If humans were able to resist?"
Lin trembled violently but nodded.
"We could... we could fight." —Her voice was barely audible—. "Awakened like us led the resistance. I saw... people with incredible powers. Someone controlling the weather. A woman who looked like a rabbit, leaping between buildings saving people. People moving faster than bullets."
A flicker of hope appeared on the faces around her.
"But..." —Lin added, and that "but" crushed any relief they'd felt.
"But what?" —Chen Wei pressed, his patience unshakable but interest clearly heightened.
Lin Yue shook her head violently, fresh tears starting.
"I can't. I can't say." —Her voice broke completely—. "If I do, if I reveal too much, the future might change. The visions are already... uncertain. Fragile as glass. One wrong detail and everything could collapse differently. Saying more could make none of what I saw come true. Or worse..."
"Worse how?" —Zhang Hao asked, all casual attitude gone.
"It could make the bad outcome inevitable. It could close off paths that are still open." —Lin looked pleadingly at Chen Wei—. "Please understand. Every time I reveal specific details, the future... solidifies. It becomes harder to change."
Mei Chen hugged her tighter, her own expression showing painful understanding.
"It's okay," —she said softly—. "You don't have to say anything you don't want to."
But Lin shook her head again, looking straight at Chen Wei with eyes begging forgiveness.
"I can... I can say this:" —She took a shaky breath—. "One country will be wiped out. Completely. Erased from the map like it never existed."
"What?" —Wu Tian stepped forward—. "What country?"
"I can't say. But I saw its cities turned to ash. Its people..." —Her voice cracked—. "No one left. Not a single survivor. Millions of lives just... ended."
The silence that fell over the room was so thick it was hard to breathe.
Wu Tian paled—impressive given his size and usual composure. Zhang Hao, for the first time since entering, looked genuinely disturbed. Mei Chen closed her eyes like she was praying.
The scale of what Lin had said was too big to process right away. An entire nation. All its millions of people. Infrastructure. History. Culture. Just... gone.
The heaviness in the air was almost suffocating—an invisible weight pressing on their chests, making breathing difficult.
But then, something completely unexpected happened.
Lin Yue smiled.
It wasn't a big smile. Not particularly happy. But there was warmth in it. And something deeper: genuine hope.
"But it's okay," —she said, voice still weak but with a conviction that hadn't been there before—. "Even with all that... he can save us."
Everyone in the room turned to look at her, confusion clear on their faces.
Lin raised a trembling hand and pointed straight at Chen Wei. And in her eyes was something bordering on adoration—the look of someone who'd lost all hope and suddenly, miraculously, found it again.
The others followed her finger, eyebrows raised in visible skepticism.
Chen Wei, for his part, just tilted his head, equally confused.
"Me?" —he asked, and for the first time, there was genuine uncertainty in his voice.
Lin looked at him a moment longer. Then shook her head slowly, her smile widening slightly.
"No," —she said simply—. "It's not you."
The confusion multiplied instantly.
Zhang Hao was the first to voice what everyone was thinking, tone incredulous:
"Wait, what? There's someone stronger than Chen Wei?"
The very idea seemed absurd. Chen Wei was the most powerful Awakened China had produced. The man who could level cities. Who had single-handedly stopped a near-massive animal invasion. Whose cultivation had taken him to power levels they thought bordered on divine.
Wu Tian nodded, seconding the question wordlessly. Mei Chen watched Lin with renewed intensity, trying to read between the lines.
Lin just nodded, and her smile turned radiant despite her obvious physical exhaustion.
"Yes," —she whispered, voice trembling not with fear but with something like reverent awe—. "Much stronger."
Lin's mind plunged back into the vision involuntarily—like being pulled by an invisible current. The present faded, replaced by images of the future as clear as crystal and terrifying in their intensity.
---
The city was London. Or what was left of it.
Iconic buildings that once stood proud now lay in smoking ruins. Big Ben—split in half—leaned at an impossible angle before finally collapsing in a massive cloud of dust and debris. London Bridge was completely gone, its remains sinking into a Thames boiling with sickly green energy that made the water bubble and steam with toxic vapor.
The sky was dark—not with normal clouds but with an unnatural darkness that seemed to swallow light itself. Like night had decided to arrive early and stay forever.
Debris covered every street. Overturned cars. Shattered buses. Bodies—Lin looked away from those.
And flying above all this apocalyptic chaos, with a grace that completely defied physics, was him.
The suit caught her eye first. Deep blue—like the ocean at its darkest, where sunlight no longer reaches. But running through it were orange lines in complex geometric patterns, almost hypnotic. They seemed to pulse with their own light, like living energy circuits flowing through the material.
The design was sleek but clearly functional—fitting perfectly to an athletic body without being flashy or restrictive.
But it was the chest that Lin couldn't stop staring at.
There, glowing in intense orange like liquid fire, were two letters: PA
The man floated with arms slightly outstretched, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His black hair was tousled by winds howling around him, framing a face with sharp features and a strong jaw.
But it was his eyes that captured her completely.
Blue. Bright. The color of a perfect summer sky. But with an intensity that seemed to see through everything—through buildings, through people, through time itself.
In his right hand, held almost casually like it weighed nothing, was a head.
Not a human head.
It was the size of a small car, covered in crimson scales that still glowed with residual heat—so hot the air around it distorted visibly. Massive horns curved backward from the skull like twisted spears. Its jaws were locked in a permanently silenced roar, revealing teeth the size of short swords.
It was a dragon's head.
Lin let her vision drop, and her breath caught painfully in her throat.
At the floating man's feet—crashed into the ruins of what had once been the British Parliament—lay the dragon's body.
It was absolutely colossal. Maybe 70 meters long from the neck stump to the tip of its spiky tail. Wings spanning entire city blocks—each one the size of an apartment building, with torn membranes still smoking.
Its scarlet skin was punctured in dozens of places. Dark golden blood oozed from wounds that bubbled and steamed, melting the concrete below. The smell—even in the vision, Lin could smell it—was sulfur and charred flesh.
But what truly struck Lin wasn't the destruction. Not the dead dragon. Not even the mysterious man with the glowing PA on his chest.
It was what was behind him.
Thousands—no, tens of thousands—of translucent bubbles floated in the air like giant fireflies. Each one held people.
Men in business suits. Women in evening dresses. Kids clutching toys. Elderly with expressions of shock frozen on their faces.
All suspended in a state that seemed both asleep and awake. Conscious but protected. The bubbles glowed with soft blue light, shielding them from the scorching heat radiating from the dragon's corpse. From falling debris. From the collateral damage of a battle between titans.
The man had saved them. All of them.
While fighting a creature that could raze cities with one breath of fire, he'd found the time—the focus, the absolute power—to protect every innocent person in the blast radius.
And then, the man who'd been staring at some distant point on the horizon—maybe looking for the next threat—turned his head.
Lin felt her heart literally stop.
'It shouldn't be possible. It was a vision. A glimpse of the future.' She was just a bodiless observer, invisible, intangible. There was no way he could...
But he was looking at her.
Directly at her.
His blue eyes locked onto hers across time and space and the very laws of reality, and Lin felt like she was being seen—truly seen—for the first time in her entire life.
Not just surface-level. But understood. Known on a level even she didn't know herself. Like every secret, every fear, every hope she'd ever had was being read like an open book.
It should've been terrifying.
This man had killed a building-sized dragon with his bare hands. Floated over an apocalyptic city like a god among mortals. The power radiating from him made even Chen Wei seem... lesser. Not because Chen Wei was weak, but because this man seemed stronger.
But when his lips curved into a smile—genuine, warm, incredibly confident—when he winked at her with casual assurance... Lin didn't feel fear.
She felt hope.
Pure, bright, overwhelming hope that filled every empty corner of her soul the terror of the vision had left.
---
The vision faded like dispersing smoke, and Lin found herself back in the government building's room.
Her heart was still pounding—she could feel it hammering against her ribs like it wanted out. Her cheeks were inexplicably hot, burning with a blush that had nothing to do with the physical strain of the vision.
There was something about that wink. That smile. The way he'd looked at her across time itself.
Something devastatingly attractive.
Zhang Hao broke the silence first, impatience winning over any lingering caution:
"And? Who is he? Where is he?" —He stepped closer to the sofa—. "How do we find him? Is he Chinese? Please tell me he's Chinese."
Wu Tian nodded, arms crossed but posture significantly less relaxed:
"Is he one of us? An Awakened from another country?" —His brow furrowed deeply—. "Why haven't we heard of him if he's that powerful?"
Mei Chen, always the most perceptive in the group, noticed the blush on Lin's cheeks and smiled slightly—a maternal expression with understanding and a touch of amusement.
"Seems he left quite the... impression, huh?"
Lin looked away, blush deepening.
Even Chen Wei had leaned forward—his usual impenetrable composure giving way to genuine interest he rarely showed.
"What exactly is his power?" —he asked, tone measured—. "What makes him so special? What did I see in the vision that makes you believe he can save us all?"
Questions bombarded from all sides, but Lin wasn't really hearing them.
Her mind was still in that apocalyptic London. With that man floating against a darkened sky. Those two letters—PA—glowing on his chest like a beacon of hope in absolute darkness.
Her gaze drifted into the distance, looking through the building's walls, through Beijing stretching in all directions, toward a future only she had seen.
Toward a man who didn't yet know the fate of the world would rest on his shoulders.
When she spoke, her voice was soft—almost reverent—laden with a certainty that made everyone present realize instantly that, whoever this man was, he had changed something fundamental in Lin Yue.
Something that would probably never be the same again.
"I only heard one thing"—she whispered like it was sacred, and it rang in the room like a bell, like a promise, like the start of a legend—. "His name."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then, almost simultaneously, every person in that room had the same thought. The same question that would echo in their minds in the days to come as the world hurtled toward an uncertain fate.
Who?, they all said.
And Lin just looked up.
"Paragon"
-------
Hi, here's Chapter 9 as promised! Another one's coming tomorrow, and one more on Monday.
I introduced some new characters, and we're getting close to the part where Jhon gets his face smash— I mean, where Jhon smashes faces.
If there are any mistakes, feel free to point them out and I'll fix them.
Lastly, please leave a comment, even if you've never done it before — drop a gif at least! I love seeing that lots of people are reading this.
Give me power stones so it can reach more people.
[JhonDaosit]
Have a great rest of your day!