(POV – Victor Hale)
Even for Victor — soone who had faced every imaginable situation — he couldn’t find a way out of the nightmare he’d gotten himself into. Inside the cramped, poorly lit bathroom, he pressed his mouth shut with both hands, trying to hold back the slightest sound, even his breathing. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his heart pounded so hard it seed to echo off the tile.
Outside, strange and unsettling sounds echoed endlessly down the halls — a distorted mix of dragging footsteps, sharp cracks, and sothing that sounded like guttural whispers. Every new noise sent a shiver down his spine. Those sounds didn’t belong to anything human, and Victor knew that after this night, he’d be lucky to ever sleep again without waking up screaming.
So noises were relatively common — like tallic bangs or the distant echo of sothing hitting iron — but others were definitely weirder. At tis, you could hear wet, dragging footsteps, like soone continuously stepping in soaked water, dragging their feet with an almost ritualistic slowness.
There were also monts when no audible sound was made, an absolute silence took over. Still, sohow, it was possible to “feel” — with an eerie clarity — the presence of sothing walking outside, crossing the hallway with a disturbing calm, as if its existence was more manifested by the pressure in the air than by any noise.
Both Victor and Rupert remained completely silent. Not even their breathing could be heard — every inhale was held, asured with extre care. The feeling was clear: if they made any sound, even the slightest, sothing inevitable and terrifying would happen.
What exactly? Neither of them wanted to find out. Trapped in that suffocating tension, they managed to keep their sanity — at least for now — by ignoring whatever was crawling, lurking, or whispering outside. They pretended they weren’t there, that they were part of the surroundings: invisible, untouchable.
And for a while, it worked. The world outside seed to return their favor of indifference. Until two dry, deep knocks echoed against the bathroom’s tal door. The sound sliced through the silence like a blade. Not loud, but filled with a strange intent — as if soone knew exactly where they were.
Victor and Rupert held their breath again. Though the bathroom doors weren’t as sturdy as the ones keeping the anomalies confined, they were still reinforced enough to withstand even a concentrated explosion without major damage.
They clung to that fragile hope, trying to believe they’d be safe behind that temporary barrier. The silence between them was almost absolute, broken only by the muffled sound of their own heartbeats. However, the feeling of safety lasted only a mont.
Suddenly, with a dry, unnatural snap, a pale hand — thin, almost delicate but strangely rigid — pierced through the door as if the tal were made of wet paper. Right behind it, a figure slowly began to materialize, breaking through the barrier with absurd ease, as if the laws of physics didn’t apply to its existence.
But, contrary to what they imagined, it wasn’t a bloodthirsty, horrifying monster, nor a twisted ghost about to possess their bodies — quite the opposite. The entity before them could surprisingly be described as... cute.
Of course, neither of them would ever dare say that out loud, but considering the terrible creatures they expected to find, the [Angel of Death] looked more like a celestial being than sothing out of a nightmare.
In both their minds, the comparison was inevitable: that enigmatic figure, with delicate features and silent presence, was much closer to a true angel than to the horror they’d feared.
Victor stared at the [Angel of Death] for a few monts, eyes fixed on that enigmatic, silent presence. Then, without any warning, she simply vanished — as if dissolved into thin air — only to reappear seconds later in another spot, as ethereal as a ghost. The movent was as subtle as it was unsettling, almost illusory.
A vague but disturbing thought crossed his mind at that mont, like a subtle whisper: (I don’t rember her being able to do that before)
Both Victor and Rupert were intrigued but knew this wasn’t the ti to get lost in questions. Even though she was an anomaly amid the chaos, it beca clear to both that the [Angel of Death] was looking for them. In other words, there was a chance — as unlikely as it seed — that she was there to help.
Or at least, that was what both tried to believe, almost like a last thread of hope amid growing tension. However, it didn’t take long for their doubts to fade. A single gesture from her, a simple exchange of looks, made them realize their assumptions were about to be confird.
(Victor, Rupert, I will take you back to Emily and Laura) declared the anomaly, her voice echoing directly inside their minds like a whisper impossible to ignore. Her face, however, remained unreadable, completely devoid of any emotion, as if she didn’t even understand the aning of what she said.
Victor and Rupert exchanged glances the instant the voice softly echoed in their minds. As usual, the calming effect was almost supernatural — just one communication was enough to make all the anxiety that had consud them seconds before simply dissipate, like mist under the morning sun.
It was as if fear and tension had never existed. Curiously, or perhaps ironically, the very cause of Victor and Arthur’s unease was also responsible for silencing it completely, bringing an unexpected and almost unsettling peace.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
Honestly, it was such a huge relief to see Victor and Arthur safe and sound. Even though I’m pretty much indifferent to almost everything, I’d still have felt a bitter taste if anything had happened to them.
But putting those two aside — who, thankfully, were alive, which in itself was a comfort — my eyes locked onto the third person with them. It was impossible to ignore: there stood clearly the suspect responsible for all of this, a presence heavy with guilt and the answers we still needed.
But honestly... was the suspect actually unconscious? I an, what kind of logic is there in going through all that effort, all that chaos, just to pass out right afterward? It makes no sense at all. Getting caught in your own crossfire is, at the very least, absurd — even from my cynical point of view.
Sure, maybe he’s one of those crazies who don’t care about their own life, the type that seems to dive headfirst into danger on purpose. But honestly, just the fact that he’s unconscious makes doubt that theory. It feels more like a mystery than a suicidal move.
Anyway, while I was watching him closely, sothing strange caught my attention — right on his stomach. There was an unusual internal movent, like sothing was pulsing or writhing inside, quietly and disturbingly.
The scene was so bizarre that I blinked quickly, then shut my eyes for a mont, trying to process what I was seeing. When I opened them again, I noticed my eyes starting to glow with a faint light, reflecting shades of distant, almost unreal colors, like my vision had expanded beyond the ordinary.
I focused back on the suspect’s stomach and then clearly saw a tiny shape moving inside. It was sothing small, smaller than my pinky finger, a creature slowly shifting side to side with a sinuous movent, like a worm crawling beneath the skin.
But what really caught my attention was the fact that thing was glowing. Not that it was totally unheard of — humans and animals also give off a subtle glow — but there was sothing different about this.
Sohow, I could clearly tell what was natural and what wasn’t. Watching that entity writhing inside the suspect’s stomach, I beca certain: this wasn’t normal, it was definitely an anomaly.
Was this what was causing all the chaos? I found myself wondering, half in disbelief, how that had ended up in the suspect’s stomach — a question as absurd as it was impossible to answer. But in the end, it didn’t really matter.
Even if there were ways to get it out of him, the truth was that the procedure would probably kill him. Not that I cared that much, but I didn’t want to turn this scene into a massacre in front of Victor and Rupert. As strange as it sounds, I do value — a lot — how others see .
At least for those I care about, even if only to a certain extent, I want to co off as harmless — even friendly. Of course, that’s relative, because when I compare how much I care about Emily, Laura, Victor, Rupert, and even Arthur, the difference is huge compared to my sisters.
There’s an invisible chasm, a distance so wide it only becos clear when I’m with them. It’s only then that I realize: actually, I don’t truly care about any of them. Or, looking at it another way, the level of care I feel for Nyara, Althea, and Nekra is absolute — 100%.
anwhile, with Emily, Laura, Victor, Rupert, and Arthur, that feeling barely breaks 5%. It might seem low, almost insignificant, but compared to any other human — who probably wouldn’t even reach 1% — it’s a lot. And to , that ans a lot.
So in the end, the outco was inevitably the sa: just take him back to Emily and Laura. With that thought firmly in mind, the shadows beneath my feet began to move, slowly stretching forward like dark, silent fingers.
In the next mont, they surged toward the suspect, taking shape. Two sinuous tentacles made of thick, smoky vapor erged from the shadows, wrapping his body in a cold, firm grip. The man was lifted off the ground, suspended in the air as if held by invisible chains.
As I watched that silent and imposing scene, a thought quietly crossed my mind: (Well, that solves the transportation problem)
Next, I glanced over at Victor and Rupert. Both stood tall, with firm postures and eyes fixed on the surroundings, ready to act at any mont. The tension between them was still noticeable, but compared to the obvious nervousness I felt when entering the bathroom, they now seed more controlled.
It was no longer that palpable, almost suffocating apprehension; instead, their faces showed sharp focus, as if every movent and sound demanded full alertness. It was like they’d swapped anxiety for a keen calm, ready to warn them at any sign of danger.
The next mont, we left the room and returned to the facility’s main hallway. Nyara was already waiting outside, standing silently. But as soon as I crossed the door, I noticed sothing strange: her gaze was fixed on the tal floor, with a tense, concentrated expression.
For a mont, I was confused, not understanding the reason for such intense focus. But instinctively, my eyes also went to the floor — and that’s when I understood.
Behind , Victor and Rupert appeared right after. They exchanged a quick look, visibly puzzled by our reaction, but chose not to say anything. Their silence only deepened the feeling that sothing was off.
Sure, my reaction might have seed strange, even over the top, but there was a very clear reason for it. While they couldn’t feel anything at all, I could sense with precision — it was like an invisible, dense, living energy touching my skin directly, seeping in through every pore.
It ca from deep down, from the depths, carrying a power beyond ordinary understanding. It was a raw, overwhelming force, like the planet’s very core was about to awaken. If I had to compare it to anything, honestly, it would be almost impossible — no storm, explosion, or natural disaster even ca close.
I had absolutely no idea what that thing was, nor why it was even there. But one thing was clear as day: if that thing—whatever it was—got out of control or collapsed, the outco wouldn’t just be destructive… it would be apocalyptic.
The impact would be massive—so devastating that almost nothing would be left. Entire cities would be wiped off the map in seconds. The sky would go black, the Earth would shake to its core, and life—all life—would be teetering on the edge of extinction.
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