"What do you mean... level... zero?"
Nemor stammered the words, clenching his teeth hard enough to hurt. He stood right at the door, ready to leave and give his morning greetings to his parents.
But his fists closed, trembling with sudden and uncontrollable rage.
Level zero?
Reset for the second time?
This was too frustrating for his brain to process. Far beyond what he could bear.
Sasha tried to say something but was interrupted by the sound that echoed through the house. Knocking at the door. Soft, but it made Nemor's heart beat faster, pulling him from that spiral of rage.
Then the voice awakened, muffled by the wood:
"Son, are you still sleeping?"
Nemor responded abruptly, forcing his voice to come out normal:
"Ah, I'm not sleeping. I woke up a while ago."
Mrs. Wan's voice echoed from the other side of the door, arriving clear to his ears:
"Your father and I will be leaving for work." Brief pause. "We're waiting for you in the living room."
Nemor responded while holding the doorknob, saying calmly, containing all that frustration burning in his chest after Sasha's news. It was too frustrating, but he could control it—for now.
"Okay. I'll come down after I finish my shower."
Mrs. Wan said with that maternal tone he knew so well:
"Okay, just don't forget to wash your whole body, understand?"
Nemor responded, almost embarrassed:
"Okay, Mom..."
He released the doorknob and went to the bathroom in his room. When he arrived, he took a deep breath—exhausted, discouraged—and turned on the shower. The cold water hit his naked body, making him shiver slightly.
While showering, a voice echoed in his head. A feminine voice. Calm, sharp, and almost... perverse.
"If master wishes, I will wash your back."
Pause.
"Please, master. Allow me to do it."
Nemor widened his eyes, clenching his teeth even harder. He turned red—part frustration, part absolute discomfort with those words he had just heard coming from his own mind.
"Can you just be QUIET, please?!"
Sasha's voice emerged—different from the previous one, formal and neutral as always:
"As master asked me before not to say anything, I remained silent." Deliberate pause. "In summary: whatever master just heard, it wasn't me who said it."
Nemor, after the water ran completely over his body and washed him, turned off the shower. He grabbed the towel, covered himself, and left the bathroom still processing that.
"Are you suggesting I'm hearing voices in my head besides yours?"
"I'm not suggesting, master. Just speaking the truth." Tone maintaining that irritating calm. "I understand your frustration. When master was exactly where you wanted... and reset to zero? That's frustrating. Understandable."
Nemor took a deep breath, rubbing his face with the towel.
"See if you stay quiet, please."
"Of course, master."
Opening the wardrobe, he took out a simple white t-shirt and red sports pants. He dressed without hurry. He didn't bother organizing the total mess of the room—scattered papers, thrown clothes, stacked books. He just headed to the door.
When he held the doorknob, ready to open it, a voice echoed again:
"How elegant master looks."
Pause.
Nemor also stood still, fingers freezing on the doorknob.
The voice continued—that same almost perverse voice, full of uncontained excitement:
"Worthy of a creator."
Nemor shouted so loud his voice echoed off the walls:
"I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET!"
Sasha's voice immediately emerged, defensive tone:
"Exactly, master. I didn't say anything."
Nemor took a deep breath once more, exasperation weighing in every word:
"You never get tired of annoying me, do you?"
He opened the door abruptly and descended the wooden stairs, each step creaking under his feet, to the main room. Small. Modest. Home.
His parents were there.
Mrs. Wan wore clothes appropriate for work in the cultivation field—simple, practical, worn by use. A wide hat protected from the sun. Mr. Yeager was dressed the same way, hands already calloused even before starting the day.
When Nemor arrived, both smiled.
"You look elegant, baby."
Nemor turned red to his ears, looking away.
"It's nothing special. And you're running late."
Mr. Yeager crossed his arms, stubborn smile on his face:
"You know we're not going anywhere without your super hug, little son."
Mrs. Wan added, voice serene and full of love:
"Isn't your father right?"
Nemor raised his eyes to the ceiling. There was no way to resist. Every morning was like this—the same ritual before they finally left for heavy work.
He sighed, resigned:
"Get it over with already."
Mr. Yeager pulled him into a strong hug, almost suffocating. Mrs. Wan joined, wrapping both of them. For a few seconds, only that familiar warmth existed in the world.
When they finally released him, they said in chorus:
"We'll see you later. Take care, okay?"
When they tried to leave through the door, Mrs. Wan remembered something and stopped:
"By the way, could you take out the trash? I forgot to do it."
Nemor nodded:
"Okay. Go before you're more late."
When they left, Nemor followed them to the street. They took the taxi that was already waiting—even with so little money, it was necessary not to be late.
When the taxi accelerated, they waved at him through the window. Mr. Yeager shed dramatic tears, shouting:
"I miss my baby so much!"
Nemor slapped his hands on his own face, embarrassed. But the car was already too far away.
He went back inside the house, went to the kitchen, grabbed the trash bags and left. He crossed the street to the place where he would put the bags. He deposited the trash in the right place.
But when he turned to return, he stopped.
On the other side of the road, she was there.
Hana.
Dressed in black sports clothes, headphones in her ears. Beside her, a friend dressed the same way. They ran together, doing morning exercises to relieve mind and body.
They ran without looking to the sides, focused only on the rhythm.
Nemor looked at them, frowning:
"Hm... what's she doing here?"
But they were already farther away. Further ahead, a tall building cast a long shadow over the sidewalk.
When Nemor looked more carefully, focusing, he saw something that made his blood freeze.
A child. A little girl dressed in a red dress too big for her small body. She followed the two girls. Slowly. Persistently.
Nemor didn't care much at first. He took a step to leave the trash area.
But then he saw.
The marks on the little girl's forehead.
Red crosses. Many. Too many.
Nemor widened his eyes, stammering:
"This girl is—"
Sasha finished the sentence for him:
"Yes, master. She is an Into."
The girl followed right behind Hana and her friend, small but constant steps.
They ran without looking back, completely oblivious.
In tense silence, Hana's friend—short black hair—cut the silence, breathless voice:
"We've been running too much. Don't you think we should stop for a few minutes? I'm exhausted."
Hana responded, still maintaining the pace:
"Just a little more. We'll stop right next to the building ahead."
The friend responded breathlessly:
"I can't continue anymore..."
"Just a little left."
They ran to the side of the building, where the shadow formed refuge from the sun. They stopped there, panting, breathing deeply. Sweat dripped from their faces.
Hana and her friend opened their water bottles, drinking avidly and pouring the rest on their heads to relieve the suffocating heat.
The friend—Mei—said, smiling:
"Ah, you still haven't finished telling me about the people you said you saw with superpowers."
Hana rolled her eyes:
"I already told you I wasn't lying."
Mei laughed:
"Hey, I didn't even say you were lying. But girl, you should make a story with these fantasies."
Hana tried to respond but felt something.
Her arm was being held. A small and soft arm.
She got scared, turning her head abruptly to see who was holding her right arm.
When she saw, she was completely paralyzed. Trembling.
Mei asked, confused:
"Girl, do you know this little girl?"
Hana stared fixedly at the child.
Innocent face. Large and expressive eyes. But on her forehead...
Red crosses. Eleven of them. And a symbol that made her heart stop: infinity—lying on its side, without beginning or end.
Memory hit her like a slap.
The men in suits who had attacked her. Once. Twice. The marks on their foreheads too.
Her heart accelerated violently.
"Who... who are you, girl?"
The little girl responded calmly, voice thin and so soft it seemed like a lullaby:
"My... name..."
Each word seemed to come out with a thirty-second interval before the next.
"...is Yuna. I... came here... to take you... miss."
Hana's heart hammered against her ribs.
Mei approached, still not understanding:
"Hey girl, are you looking for your mother?"
Yuna didn't care about the question. Total focus on Hana.
Hana tried to break free, voice trembling:
"You can let me go now."
Yuna simply responded:
"I... can't. He... told me... when you hold something important... you can't let go."
Mei frowned:
"Girl, this is getting really weird."
She approached to grab the girl's arm and remove it from Hana's arm.
But when she tried to approach, Yuna's eyes stared at her. Strongly.
She raised her left arm—the one not holding Hana—in Mei's direction.
She said with a still calm voice, but loaded with something disturbing:
"I'm sorry... miss. But you... are not important... to him."
In that instant, she rotated her index finger to the left side.
Mei felt her heart race.
Then the impact hit her.
Invisible force threw her violently against the post that was on the left side of the street. Her body collided with a nauseating sound—bones breaking, air being expelled from lungs.
The pain was so unbearable that she coughed blood before fainting, body collapsing on the ground like a broken doll.
Hana witnessed that up close. Fear paralyzed her completely, muscles locking.
Yuna turned her gaze to her, innocence still stamped on her face:
"We... can go now."
VROOMM.
In that moment, the air vibrated violently.
Red rays covered the location, exploding in blinding light.
When they dissipated, Yuna realized she was no longer holding Hana.
Looking forward, she saw Nemor.
He held Hana by the arms, having pulled her at superhuman speed. He placed her on the ground carefully.
He said calmly, but with urgency:
"Take your friend away from here. Now."
Hana trembled, processing all that. She said nothing—just ran to Mei.
Yuna took small steps toward Nemor, voice maintaining that disturbing calm:
"Oh... mister. Could you... not go so far?" She tilted her head slightly. "It's just... he said... that running after someone... isn't good... for a child."
Nemor felt something strange. The child didn't seem to care about him at all. As if he were just... inconvenient.
When he tried to say a word, he discovered he couldn't.
His voice died in his throat.
A chill ran through his entire body.
Then he felt it—his abdomen being hit by a devastating blow.
The impact launched him brutally. His body flew through the air before smashing against the building wall with enough force to create a deep crack. His body literally marked itself on the concrete.
He stood up staggering, feeling sharp pain explode in every nerve.
But when he looked at the girl, she was still in the same place. Without having moved an inch.
He said breathlessly, incredulous:
"What... was that?"
Sasha's voice emerged:
"Master, do you wish me to deal with the girl?"
Nemor, still feeling the pain in his abdomen, said calmly—but with bitter irony:
"You idiot, do you want to fight a child?"
But he held his abdomen, pain pulsing.
He continued:
"You know what? If it's just to teach her a lesson, you can deal with her."
The girl approached slowly, small and innocent steps.
Sasha responded:
"Impossible, master."
Nemor frowned:
"What? What's impossible?"
"Impossible to teach her a lesson, master."
"What do you mean it's impossible?!"
"If I deal with the girl, I have a seventy percent chance of losing."
Nemor widened his eyes intensely, processing that while seeing the girl approaching closer and closer.
He stammered:
"What... what's her level?"
Sasha responded, and for the first time, there was something in her voice. It wasn't fear—divinities didn't feel fear.
It was recognition.
"Her level is uncountable. Infinite." Heavy pause. "Comparing her strength..."
Another pause.
"Basically, she would equal an archangel-level divinity."
The world seemed to decelerate.
Yuna continued approaching, red dress swaying slightly, innocent face masking incomprehensible power.
And Nemor was there, level zero, without choices.
Without exit.
**END OF CHAPTER 8**