In the refugee camp, hours after the attack by the "mutants," a boy with red hair and eyes sat comfortably in front of a warm campfire, enjoying a bowl of oatmeal.
"Nom…"
The few people who paid him any attention might describe him as a calm person, someone who hadn't been psychologically affected by any of the traumatic events that had recently taken place in Regulus City.
Those people…
"Nom…"
Couldn't be more wrong.
"Nom… those… nom nom… bastards… nom."
For this boy, who had witnessed the attack of the great serpent that devastated part of the superhuman sector, had wandered through the rubble for hours believing he had finally found a place to rest in the refugee camp, only to then witness the arrival of the heirs, a group he was very familiar with.
"It had to be a lie… nom… That bunch of lunatics wouldn't even lift a finger if a person's life depended on it. Or at least, not without demanding something in return."
The boy muttered, still with his mouth full, as his mind drowned in thoughts trying to unravel the question that tormented him from within.
—Why did they save us today, but didn't do it that time?
"Aaah… none of this makes any sense…"
With a sigh, the boy tried to stop tormenting his already battered mind with bad memories, but before he could even begin to relax…
"What doesn't make sense?"
"Eh…?"
He was startled by someone who, apparently, didn't understand personal space.
"¡Aaagh!… uh… who… you…"
The boy struggled to form a sentence, not out of shyness, but because having a girl's face just inches away from his left his mind completely blank.
"Who are you?"
He finally managed to ask, after putting a bit of distance between them.
"Mmm…"
But the intruder didn't answer. She simply stared at him for a while, stroking her own chin.
"Your voice…"
"What about my voice…?"
"Yes, there's no doubt about it. It was you."
"What…?"
"You know, the boy from earlier. That was you, right?"
"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Mmm… alright, I'll be more direct this time."
Faced with the boy's curt response, the girl chose silence. Without showing any discomfort, she moved closer again and sat in front of him with an almost unsettling calm.
At that distance, the young man took the opportunity to analyze the appearance of the intruder before his eyes.
She was a teenager, perhaps his age. Her deep, captivating violet eyes contrasted with the softness of her pale skin, while her platinum hair fell in delicate strands down her back, giving her an air that was as alluring as it was dangerous.
"I just want you to answer one thing…"
She leaned her body toward him, slowly drawing closer until she was dangerously near his face.
"W-what… what do you want to know?"
In a murmur so soft it could almost be mistaken for a passing breeze, she whispered into his ear:
"Are you a Sundrel?"
"...!"
That single question was enough to make the red-haired boy freeze in fear.
"I… uhh…"
"I'll take that as a yes."
Unlike him, the girl seemed quite pleased to have figured it out.
"Don't worry, I don't plan on revealing who you really are."
She said, hoping to calm the Sundrel boy, who was trembling so much he looked like a small child terrified by an earthquake or a lightning strike.
A Sundrel is, in essence, a superhuman capable of using magic, an extremely powerful energy generated within them, inside an organ known as the magic core. Thanks to that ability, Sundrel are considered the strongest race among all Terrans.
However, for some, being born into a powerful race doesn't mean being powerful from day one. Because of that, in order to protect themselves from the countless dangers of the world, the vast majority of Sundrel born outside of nobility and powerful families, with low-rank magic cores, choose to hide, live in the shadows, and keep a low profile until they gain enough strength to protect themselves.
"Thanks…"
"No problem."
"By the way, what gave me away?"
"Your voice."
"My voice?"
"Yes, your voice sounds just like the guy who interrupted the heirs and their pretentious speech."
Hearing her words made the Sundrel recall that moment when an unknown force had forced him into silence, and how, right after breaking free from those restraints with his magical reinforcement, he began to shout, releasing all the resentment and anger he had kept buried in his heart for years.
"I see, but even so, you figured out what I am just because I yelled?"
At his question, the girl shook her head before answering:
"Of course not, I'm not that naive. There was clearly some magic involved."
"Maybe a technique that blends with the air or something like that. Either way, only someone capable of using magic would be the first to break free from that technique."
The boy was amazed by all the deductions the girl had made. After all, for a normal superhuman, it is extremely difficult to detect magic as refined as the one the heirs had used. Even if they perceive or see something unusual, in most cases their brains tend to automatically ignore that kind of detail.
The only way a superhuman, or even a fragile human, could notice every one of those details and events caused by magic designed to go unnoticed would be to have previously witnessed a technique powerful enough for their mind to adapt to the existence of such things.
"Wow… you're incredible."
"Haha, no, I just pay a lot of attention to details."
"Even so, that doesn't make you any less incredible. By the way, what's your name?"
"My name is Olivia. What's yours?"
"Dran. Nice to meet you, Olivia."
"Likewise, Dran."
They shook hands with a strength capable of tearing a human in half, exchanging names in a gesture strangely comforting for a night in which all kinds of madness had taken place.
"So… why were you looking for me?"
Dran asked, still uncertain about the girl's intentions.
"For everything, really. I thought it'd be good to be with someone who, you know, knows the truth."
"I see, but that means you haven't told anyone about… the heirs."
"No, people are already too shaken by the whole mutant situation. Telling them they were under the influence of an unknown technique would only scare them even more."
"Ah… yeah, that makes sense."
As he spoke with Olivia, Dran began to think more deeply about the incident, but the more he did, the stranger the whole situation seemed.
—The refugee camp was supposed to be guarded by heroes strategically positioned along the park's perimeter. They should have been protecting people from possible monster attacks or other threats, and yet the heirs, a sect whose members are on the Defense League's most wanted list, managed to get through without a single hero noticing… No, that can't be right. It was impossible, even if they used magic to hide their presence. A hero should be able to detect the traces it leaves behind… right?
"Hey, Dran…"
"—?!"
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Olivia, who was looking at him with concern.
"Uh… sorry, was I acting weird?"
Dran quickly apologized, but Olivia simply shook her head.
"No, actually… I think we're both thinking the same thing."
"…"
Dran didn't know how to respond, so he decided to listen.
"None of what's happened in this park makes sense, and I don't just mean the sudden appearance of the heirs. No, I mean that, to begin with, I can't even remember how I got to this shelter."
Olivia's words carried a mix of fear and anxiety, something Dran noticed immediately.
"You don't remember…"
Dran said, forcing his mind to recall how he arrived at the shelter, but nothing came.
"You don't remember either…"
Olivia didn't say it as a question. Dran's expression alone was enough.
"And what about that bowl?"
This time, Olivia pointed at the bowl Dran was holding.
"Bowl?… you mean my oatmeal?"
"Yes, your bowl of… oatmeal? You call that oatmeal?"
"I like calling it oatmeal…"
"Well, the thing is… do you remember where you got it?"
"Mmm… I… think it was… at a store…"
Dran replied, confusion evident in his voice. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember which store had been handing out food.
"There were a couple of soldiers… they were the ones giving out food… and I think they were also handing out coats and blankets to protect people from the cold."
"And where are they?"
Confused, Dran looked around, noticing how there were other people eating bowls like his, and some sleeping wrapped in the same kind of blankets he had seen at the store.
"Hey, you, where did you get that bowl?"
Dran asked a random person.
"Eh…? I… don't remember."
"Ah… okay, thanks…"
Without a clear answer, Dran turned back to Olivia, who looked at him with concern.
"Mmm… now that I think about it, I haven't seen any soldiers for almost an hour."
Olivia fell silent for a few seconds, glancing around to make sure no one was watching or listening.
"There's something else I need to tell you."
Then she began to speak in a low voice.
"When the crowd started running toward the mutants, I got pushed along, and when I finally broke free, I was just a few meters away from the store where they were hiding."
"You… managed to see them?"
Dran asked, highly interested.
"No. When I got there, there was nothing but chunks of ground meat."
"But…"
Olivia paused before continuing. She wasn't sure if what she had heard was real, but at the same time, she wanted to share it.
"Before I reached the store… someone stopped me… that person also knew the heirs had been using magic."
"Really?"
Dran asked, surprised.
"Do you think that person… is like me?"
"Maybe… I don't know."
"What did he look like?"
"Well…"
"Did he have some kind of scar?"
Olivia shook her head almost immediately.
"He… looked relatively normal. A boy with black hair, unnaturally pale skin, and a terrifying gaze…"
"Black hair… that…"
"He told me something…"
"…?"
Olivia looked into Dran's eyes with worry.
"He said the mutants weren't mutants… they were people… controlled with magic…"
"...Th-that…"
Once again, Dran struggled to form a sentence, but this time it was because he genuinely didn't know how to respond.
"Do you think… the heirs… why would they do that?"
"I don't know yet, but I started thinking… what if this place, this shelter, is actually a prison?"
"A prison? No, how…? Why?"
"…"
Olivia took a moment to realize she was worrying her new friend too much. Deep down, she had only wanted someone to listen and tell her how ridiculous it all sounded. But apparently, there was some logic to it.
"Huh… I… didn't mean to…"
"Aaaah… I'm sorry, Dran. I shouldn't have said all that crazy stuff."
"Don't mind me, I haven't been thinking very rationally lately… maybe it's the lack of sleep, don't you think?"
Olivia received no response. Suddenly, an unsettling silence fell between them.
"…Dran?"
When Olivia looked up to meet his eyes, he wasn't looking at her, but past her, with a terrifying expression.
"…?"
She turned instantly, but froze the moment she locked eyes with a blood-covered man staring at her from a distance.
"…what the hell?"
Tap… tap…
Their fear only grew as the man began walking toward them.
Tap… tap…
"…!?"
"H-hey, you… are you okay?"
His advance was stopped by someone who genuinely seemed concerned about his condition.
"You're bleeding."
In response, the bloodied man stared at him in silence, his gaze completely empty.
"Hey… MMmkk—!?"
Without warning, he grabbed the man's face with deadly force and lifted him off the ground.
"MMGgg—!"
CRACK.
No one reacted in time. Only after hearing the sickening sound of the victim's skull fracturing did the crowd understand the severity.
BOOM.
The bloodied man slammed the body into the ground, causing a tremor.
THOOM.
And he didn't stop. He pounced on the already broken body and unleashed a rain of punches.
THOOM.
It was horrifying—watching a man covered in blood mercilessly beat someone whose only mistake was showing concern. It looked like something out of a horror movie.
"HEY!"
A group approached, shouting angrily.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
But they made a fatal mistake.
Tap… tap…
They were so focused on him, they didn't notice the expressionless woman behind them.
"Hey—!"
BOOM.
Their voices were silenced by a blow from behind.
THOOM.
CRACK.
BOOM.
Suddenly, tremors erupted across the park, marking the beginning of a brutal free-for-all within the refugee camp.
THOOM.
A battle where every participant had the power to cause catastrophe with their blows.
***
"Eeeeeh…"
Meanwhile, outside, one of the red-accented heroes stood motionless.
"So boring…"
He sighed.
The hero wore a simple gray suit with red lines across his chest and shoulders, along with gloves, boots, and a black mask.
"I wonder how the others are doing…"
Fiiiiuuuussh.
Another hero dropped from the sky.
"Wow, what a surprise."
"Hello, what brings you—"
"Shut up."
"…?"
"Answer me, idiot. Is your earpiece on?"
"Uh…"
"Check it!"
"…Yeah, it's on."
"Damn it…"
"I've tried contacting everyone. No one responds."
"Signal issue?"
"No… something else."
"…?"
"My instincts."
"…Do you feel anything?"
"…The air's weird… like there's an invisible barrier…"
"…A specialist?"
"No."
"…I'm going in."
Fiiiiuuuussh.
He shot toward the park—
POP.
—and reappeared.
"…That's not good."
THOOOOM.
A massive quake shook everything.
"…Shit."
"Yeah…"
***
"Uuugh…"
[Are you alright?]
"Yeah… just a chill."
[Are you scared, Mr. Robert?]
"I don't think so… how's the sync?"
[…]
[All good.]
"Great."
With some effort, I made it back to the office, avoiding all the "obstacles" in the hallway.
I also retrieved the revolver I had lost earlier.
"Alright…"
I stood before the stairs leading to the mission I had suffered so much for.
—I can do this.
"Here we go."
I said, as I began to climb.