Zak peeked his head from behind the couch, his eye twitching wildly.
"You were set up? The corrupt governnt frad you?"
Suddenly, Zak’s expression shifted—from terror... to unnatural fascination and excitent!
He jumped out from behind the couch, completely forgetting the weapons pointed at him.
"I knew it! I swear by the Summons, I knew it!" Zak shouted excitedly, rushing toward the keyboard of his main computer.
"The intelligence agency is corrupt! I posted a theory on the dark web a month ago saying Alexander Vance was working with secret biological organizations—and now here’s the living proof in front of ! He turned you into scapegoats!"
Alpha Team and I exchanged stunned looks.
This lunatic forgot he might be killed and started celebrating that his conspiracy theories were right!
"You annoying idiot," Damian growled, stepping toward Zak.
"If you know all that, then use your damn systems to see what they’re saying about us now. How far has the news spread?"
"The news? Oh, man—you’re not just trending... you created a whole new planet of news!"
Zak slamd his fingers across the keyboard, and within seconds, every screen in the room switched to display the "X" platform and live news networks.
[Breaking News: Intelligence Director declares Alpha Team an S-Class terrorist organization led by the Black Joker!]
[50 million Eitra credit bounty for information leading to the elimination of rogue agent Valisera!]
I looked at the comnts and posts flooding the screens like a waterfall.
It was a mix of dark cody, fear, and social mockery.
[@ElysiumPatriot]: "Alpha Team are traitors?! I knew it! They always walked around like they owned the city! I hope the Kaiser Guard captures and executes them in the public square!"
[@CoffeeAddict_99]: "Valisera a terrorist? Honestly... not surprised. I saw her at Starbucks last week—she gave the barista a look that curdled the milk instantly. Didn’t even leave a tip! She’s a monster!"
[@ConspiracyKing]: "The Black Joker is the mastermind? Nonsense! The Black Joker is a hero! The governnt is saring him because he robs them! Alpha Team joined him to liberate Elysium! Long live the Joker!"
[@Hunter_Sigma]:
"Did you see that guy Aiden’s picture on the wanted list? Round glasses? He looks like a bullied school kid, not an S-Class terrorist! I could take him down with one hand!"
Aiden read the last post. His eyes widened, his jaw trembling.
"A bullied school kid?! I’m a professional! I’ve killed ghouls the size of trucks! How dare this nobody judge my appearance from a wanted photo?!"
Aiden shouted, then literally broke down crying, hugging his knees.
"My career is ruined—and now I’m being cyberbullied by civilians with no Eitra!"
"Shut up, Aiden!" Eva roared, though her own eyes were tearing up from humiliation and despair.
"We’re in a life-or-death situation and you’re crying over a tweet?!"
"Zak," I interrupted quickly, stopping this collective breakdown.
"We’re cornered. Caras from the Middle and Golden Sectors definitely tracked us heading this way. We need you to erase our digital trail."
Zak turned to , a wide grin of pride spreading across his face.
"Erase your trail? My friend—you’re talking to ’Zak.’ I’m not just a conspiracy theorist spectator."
He dropped into his torn leather chair and began typing at insane speed.
A faint blue Eitra aura—his B-rank specialization in networks and technological control—began glowing around his fingers and eyes.
"Street caras from Sector E to Sector G... breaching now," Zak muttered, green code reflecting across his face.
"I’m not deleting footage—that would raise suspicion. I’m ’looping’ it. The caras are now replaying the sa five minutes of calm over and over to central control. As far as the FBI knows—you never crossed this street. You’re digital ghosts."
Eva and Damian stared at Zak in genuine astonishnt.
"You’re... B-rank? And you can breach FBI security systems in two minutes?" Damian asked in disbelief.
"Then why live in this dump? You could be a cybersecurity director in any major guild!"
"Guilds create sheep, my armored handso friend," Zak said, spinning his chair toward us with a manic smile.
"I’m a free wolf. I watch them—I don’t work for them. And now... I see you need so dical attention. I’ve got an advanced dic kit—and I know how to stitch wounds."
Zak stood and walked to a wall-mounted dical cabinet, pulling out a bag filled with bandages, antibiotics, and Eitra surgical tools.
"You first, Sia—your shoulder wound looks infected," he said gently.
Sia nodded silently and sat down.
"And then..." Zak looked toward Valisera, who stood struggling in the center of the room.
"Commander. Your injuries... are catastrophic. I can see black smoke coming from your waist. I need to clean it and inject—"
"Don’t touch ."
The words ca from Valisera—cold, final, and so terrifying that Zak froze, dropping a roll of bandages from his hand.
Valisera stood there, blood pouring from her onto Zak’s wooden floor.
Her face was pale as death, her breathing uneven—but her crimson eyes rejected all help, all pity—even dical logic itself.
"Ma’am," Damian stepped forward, pleading.
"Please. Your spatial wound hasn’t closed. Corrosive Eitra is eating your internal tissue. If we don’t let him clean it and stop the bleeding—you’ll die within hours."
"I. Said. Don’t touch ."
Valisera turned her back on us.
She walked slowly, heavily, toward a dim corner of the apartnt—away from the lights and screens.
She leaned her back against the cold wall.
Slowly, with a trembling hand, she removed her torn, blood-soaked white coat and dropped it to the floor without care.
She remained in her black silk shirt, torn at the waist and shoulder.
The sight was nightmarish.
The wound in her waist wasn’t just bleeding—it was bleeding void.
Black distortions leaked from the open flesh, devouring the edges and preventing regeneration.
All of us—, Damian, Eva, Sia, Aiden, and Zak—stood in complete silence, watching what this mad demon would do.
Valisera closed her eyes.
She raised her good hand... and placed it directly over the open wound in her waist.
She didn’t use a healing spell.
She didn’t possess healing magic.
She controlled gravity and space-ti.
"What... what is she doing?" Eva whispered in horror.
Shzzzzzz!
A violent dark purple light erupted beneath Valisera’s palm.
"AAAAAAAGH!"
Valisera let out a muffled, savage groan, biting her lips until they bled.
Veins bulged across her face and neck.
She did sothing no human mind should comprehend—nor endure.
She wasn’t stitching the wound... she was "folding space" inside her own body!
She used crushing gravity to force the torn, burned flesh—corroded by Eitra—into rging violently!
She crushed dead and corrupted cells, forcing living cells to fuse under pressure equivalent to the ocean floor!
The sound of grinding flesh, of tissue colliding under magical force, was so grotesque that Aiden turned away and vomited into a nearby bin.
Zak dropped to his knees, clutching his head in horror.
Valisera was healing herself by "rewriting the reality" of her own body.
A process accompanied by pain equal to a thousand surgeries without anesthesia.
Real tears—born of pure biological pain—flowed from her closed eyes... but she did not stop.
It hurts, doesn’t it?
The entity’s voice echoed in the depths of Valisera.
You’re destroying your nerves just to appear strong before these insects. You’re pathetic. Surrender, and let take control... I’ll heal you in a second, and we’ll devour them all.
"Shut up... you parasite..." Valisera whispered through broken teeth, tightening her grip over her wound.
"I... am the queen here. My body... my decision."
BOOM!
A burst of purple Eitra exploded from the wound—erasing the corrosive black smoke entirely.
Valisera opened her eyes.
The wound was gone.
In its place remained a grotesque, twisted scar—as if the flesh had been welded together with a searing iron.
Her hand moved imdiately to her shoulder.
She repeated the sa process—forcing the burned bullet out with gravity, letting it fall to the ground, then crushing and fusing the torn flesh.
She took a long, deep, uneven breath.
Her body was drenched in cold sweat.
Her crimson eyes were dim with exhaustion... but she stood upright.
She didn’t ask for a chair.
She didn’t collapse.
She slowly turned toward us.
Blood covered her hands and shirt, her pale face bearing the marks of certain death—overco by sheer force.
We stood in silence.
The silence of reverence before an unstoppable monster.
She looked at us, one by one. Then her gaze fell on Zak, trembling on the floor.
"Zak, was it?" Valisera said in a calm, exhausted voice—yet still carrying overwhelming authority.
"Y-yes, ma’am—commander!" Zak stamred, scrambling to his feet and giving a shaky salute.
"You’ve proven your usefulness by hiding our trail," she said, wiping blood from her chin with the back of her hand.
"But we’re not here just to hide. Alexander Vance and the Volders think they’ve cornered us. They think we’ll hide and wait for death."
She stepped forward.
The demonic, sadistic, and insane gleam returned to her crimson eyes.
"We are Alpha Team. We are not hunted."
She smiled—and that smile terrified more than the slaughterhouse nightmare.
"Prepare your weapons. Treat your trivial wounds. We have only 48 hours. We won’t hide in this dump for long. Tomorrow... we will ambush the hunting dogs they sent after us. And we will make the streets of Sector G swim in their blood—before we move to burn Saint Hilarious Hospital over the heads of those inside."
At that mont, in that chaotic, dark apartnt... I realized we were no longer just a rogue intelligence unit.
We had beco an execution squad—led by a broken demon who refused to fall...
And a recruit who pretended weakness while hiding a monster in his shadow.
And Elysium...
Was about to witness its worst nightmare.
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