053 THE PSYCHIC ENERGY IS EVERYWHERE
"There's no need to be anxious," Lord Nicaesa said suddenly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Your growth is extraordinary, but not impossible—especially when you carry the genes of the twin superheroes of Fortress Myrone."
"So, it's because of my genes?" Damen asked.
Deep down, he felt a wave of relief." Perfect," he thought. "That's the best possible explanation. No one will ever question my rapid progress if they know my lineage."
"Yes," Nicaesa said. "Your genetics determine much of your meta development, but external factors matter too—training, medicine, environment. With proper support, you could one day inherit your parents' legacy and become the new protector of Myrone."
Damen looked thoughtful. "Uncle Nicaesa, is that why you called me here? Just to tell me about my parents?"
Nicaesa chuckled softly. "That... and to extend an invitation. I'd like you to join our fortress defense force. We have the best resources here—everything you'd need to rise through the ranks. Perhaps even reach Rank S one day. I'm getting old, Damen. Myrone will need someone to defend it in the future."
Damen smiled faintly. "You're still young, Uncle. It's too early to talk about retirement."
Nicaesa laughed. "Perhaps. You should finish your education first—experience life as much as you can. Then, when you're ready, Myrone will always be a home for you."
Damen nodded.
Then Nicaesa gestured toward a nearby tray. On it lay a neatly packed, dark-hued suit of armor.
"What's this?" Damen asked.
"This," Nicaesa said, lifting it carefully, "is a special body armor reserved for our elite operatives. I'm giving it to you—for your protection. It might save your life one day."
Damen's eyes widened. "This is... a Rank C body armor?"
He recognized the markings immediately.
"Would I really need this kind of protection?" he asked cautiously.
Nicaesa's expression turned grave. "If we know you're Black and Violet's heir, others with darker motives might know too. This is just a precaution."
Damen nodded slowly, accepting the armor. The body armor Zairgid had given him was destroyed in the caverns—this would be a perfect replacement.
And it was Rank C.
"There's one more thing," Lord Nicaesa said, his tone shifting.
Damen looked up. "What is it, Uncle Nicaesa?"
"We've completed your body scan. You show no signs of psychic ability... yet there's a powerful psychic force around you. Perhaps even emanating from you. I can't quite explain it." Nicaesa's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you know why that might be?"
"Damn it," Damen thought, his pulse quickening. "Is he going to mention the phone?"
He forced a casual shrug. "Erm... I don't know. Maybe some residual energy from training?..."
Nicaesa stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's possible you have dormant psychic potential. Or perhaps it's something inherited. Your mother—Violet—was one of the strongest psychic users in her time."
"My mother... was a psychic?" Damen asked, genuinely surprised.
"Yes," Nicaesa said. "Psychic energy is still largely a mystery to us. Even now, no one truly understands its limits. It's possible she left something behind—a psychic imprint, a charm of sorts—to protect you when you're in danger."
Damen nodded slowly, hiding the spark of relief that lit up inside him.
"That's perfect," he thought.
"If anyone senses psychic activity around me again, I can just blame it on her legacy. A perfect cover for using the phone."
Then he asked, "About my mother being a psychic… aren't psychics banned…how did she become a Superhero?"
Lord Nicaesa smiled before replying, "It's a long story. Before she married your father, she was a member of the Alliance of Evolution."
Damen was shocked. "My mother is a rebel?"
"That was before…", Nicaesa added.
Then Damen hesitated before asking the real question, "How did they die?"
Lord Nicaesa frowned, "I couldn't tell you that because its classified information. Suffice to say they died protecting the people of our world."
They chatted briefly after that, but Damen's mind was elsewhere. When Lord Nicaesa was called away on duty, Damen excused himself and returned to his bunker.
As the door sealed behind him, he exhaled deeply. "I have a lot of planning to do," he muttered.
-----
Damen arrived at the Materials Department of the fortress, the hum of machinery and the scent of metal thick in the air. Lord Nicaesa had given him a special access token—one reserved for high-ranking operatives and research staff.
He approached the reception desk and showed the token to the attendant, a young woman who looked startled as the holographic seal flared to life.
"What can I do for you, sir?" she asked politely, then hesitated. "But... this department doesn't issue weapons or armor. We only handle raw materials."
"I know, I'm not looking for a weapon," Damen said calmly. "I'm looking for a special kind of leather—something that can block psychic energy."
Her brows furrowed. "Psychic-resistant leather?" she repeated, puzzled. "One moment, please." She hurried to the back, whispering to someone out of sight.
A few moments later, another woman emerged, older and dressed in a technician's coat. "You requested materials that block psychic energy?" she asked.
"Yes. Leather and... if possible, reinforced glass with similar properties," Damen replied.
She studied him curiously. The special token gleaming in his hand told her enough—this was an authorized request, possibly for a classified project.
It wasn't her place to ask questions.
"Understood. We'll prepare the materials for you," she said. "Do you have specific measurements?"
"No," Damen said. "But I'd like to borrow the prototype maker."
Her expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of respect in her eyes. "Follow me."
A few minutes later, Damen was led into a small fabrication room. The prototype machine stood in the center—a gleaming hybrid of forger and assembler, surrounded by containment fields and robotic arms.
He inserted his datapad into the terminal. A schematic appeared on the screen, lines of code and blueprint layers unfolding.
The materials—psychic-resistant leather and treated glass—were fed into the machine's intake slot.
With a soft chime, the machine whirred to life. Energy beams sliced with surgical precision as robotic arms worked seamlessly in the anti-gravity chamber, assembling the design according to Damen's specifications.
When the process finished, the chamber lowered a sleek object into his waiting hands.
Damen turned it over, admiring the craftsmanship. The dark leather shimmered faintly under the light, the glass surface humming with faint psionic insulation fields.
"Perfect," he murmured. "This is the ideal phone cover—reinforced, shielded, and a strap for combat use. No more dropping it mid-battle."
He slipped it onto his device and smiled. "Now, let's see how you perform in the testing field."
Damen returned to the training center, moving quickly through the empty corridors until he reached the equipment testing room. The air inside was cold and still. A faint hum came from a machine in the corner—a rarely used device meant to measure residual psychic wave emissions from objects.
He powered it on, its interface flickering to life with old calibration data.
"Let's see how good this new cover really is," Damen muttered, placing his phone—now wrapped in psychic-resistant cover—into the scanner's chamber.
The machine began its analysis, emitting a soft pulse every few seconds.
Psychic energy reading: 0.00%... 0.01%... 0.005%
Damen's eyes narrowed.
"Damn it, it's rising, don't tell me this is not working?" he hissed under his breath, watching the meter climb.