She gripped her forehead as a sharp pain burst behind her eyes. Damn it, she cursed silently. Since her eyes had turned golden, since whatever this was inside her awakened—everything had been unraveling. Her temper, her thoughts, herself.
But if this was the only way to push them away... then maybe that was for the best.
No.
No, a voice inside her whispered. Don’t beco that person.
And then, silence.
The air cooled. The noise faded. The storm passed.
Her mother stepped forward, placing the children gently on a bed in the corner. She tucked them under a blanket, careful and soft, as if afraid the wrong touch might shatter them.
Then she turned to Es.
"I know you’re in pain," she said, her voice steady, eyes cool. "I know you’re scared. You think this might be the worst of it. But Es—this isn’t how you speak to your children."
She placed a hand on Es’s shoulder. It was a brief, cold gesture—but it lingered in aning.
"I hope you understand one day... Anger always destroys more than it protects."
After what felt like twenty long, silent minutes, Es sat at the large table surrounded by the others. The room still carried the faint tension of the earlier outburst, like static clinging to the air.
Her father, without a word, passed her a glass of water. His expression was stern, as always, a mask of disapproval etched deep into the lines of his face. But beneath that—Es could see it. The worry. The helplessness. He knew his daughter was in pain. And yet, like always, he didn’t know how to ease it.
He settled beside her, his voice cutting through the stillness in a serious, low tone.
"It will take about a month to finish them completely."
Her mother leaned forward, fingers steepled, her gaze sharp.
"What if we strike from all directions at once?" she suggested.
Es shook her head. "That’s not possible. If we go for a full surround, they’ll sense it. One of us will get exposed—and then everything falls apart."
Ray, Jay, Kai, and Ryan remained quiet. Their silence was louder than any words. They sat on the other side of the table, watching—waiting—listening. Es glanced at them again, but this ti she didn’t hold their gaze.
She couldn’t.
Not anymore.
The faces she once relied on, the ones that were her anchors, her lifelines... now they blurred. Not because of sight. But because if she looked too long—if she let herself feel—she might lose the little strength she had left.
She lowered her head, the ache in her chest creeping in again, and then looked up at her father.
"I think..." she began slowly, voice steadier than before, "you, mom, and I should take on the three strongest."
She picked up a pen and dragged a sheet of paper toward her, sketching a quick diagram. Four circles. Four labels.
"The Doc, the Strategist, the Planner, and the Activator," she said.
Her pen hovered over the first circle. She scribbled in bold strokes: The Doc.
"This one... this one’s a key player," she said. "If we cut him out first, their chain of command will start to collapse."
She paused and looked up, eting their eyes briefly .
Es’s mother leaned forward, her fingers curling around the pen beside her. "I don’t think the Doc can be easily taken down," she said, voice low but certain. She took the pen from Es’s hand and scribbled sothing beside the diagram. With a swift motion, she circled the Strategist instead.
"You see," she said, glancing at her daughter, "the Doc is the strongest of them. But right after cos the Strategist. As for the Planner and the Activator... they’re not much of a threat on their own. They might be powerful in theory, but once we drag them out from their fortified cells—" her voice dipped—"they’re nothing."
Es narrowed her eyes. "Electricity?" she asked, her tone more curious than skeptical.
Her mother smiled faintly. "I an their real strength—technology. Both the Planner and the Activator are deeply embedded in it. That’s where they thrive. But if we sever the connection between all four—cut off the systems that tie them together—then the entire structure weakens."
She turned the paper so it faced them all, tapping on the center circle.
"The Doc is the string holding all these beads together. If we cut that string... the beads scatter. Simple as that."
But her father’s voice broke through, stern and unwavering. "No. That’s where you’re wrong."
He leaned in, folding his arms across his chest. "The problem is, the Doc isn’t soone you can just kill."
Es looked at him sharply. Her father’s face was shadowed, solemn.
"It’s not a person. It’s a position," he said.
His words echoed through the room.
"The Doc. The Strategist. The Activator. The Planner. These are roles, not individuals. Like a minister—one rises, holds the seat, then another takes their place. The one who holds the Doc’s title now is just the current strongest among them. And the others—trusted elites. Even if you manage to eliminate one, the seat doesn’t disappear. Soone else will rise to fill it."
A heavy silence settled for a mont. Then he continued, slower this ti.
"If we truly want to destroy this organization... we have to take all four out at the sa ti. Then destroy the core. The power source that holds their system together. Only then will it collapse."
He looked at Es, his voice dropping into sothing more bitter, more ancient.
"But even then, as long as the Divine Beast still exists in this world... this organization will rise again. Like a weed. You can cut it a thousand tis, and it’ll still find a way to grow back."
Es frowned deeply, her brows drawing together as her gaze flicked between her mother and father. "So you’re saying... as long as the Divine Beasts exist, this organization can’t be destroyed?"
Her voice trembled at the edge—equal parts disbelief and frustration.
Reviews
All reviews (0)