"Steal?"
Adyr repeated the word slowly, almost tasting it. A subtle darkness passed through his expression, his gaze hardening as sothing unexplainable twisted inside him.
He didn’t know what triggered it—there was no clear reason, no obvious target—but a silent storm had begun to rise in him, raw and instinctive. A word like that... it felt too familiar, too close to a wound that had never fully closed. Sowhere in the back of his mind, he wanted to curse whatever force had made that word matter.
Without realizing it, a thin veil of black smoke—the manifestation of Malice—began to creep along the surface of his skin, coiling around his body like a living shadow.
And then it spread.
His Presence burst outward in a sudden wave, not just spiritual but physical. The wooden platform beneath him groaned, deep cracks splitting through it under the pressure.
He wasn’t thinking. He was rembering.
His father’s lifeless eyes.
His mother’s trembling voice.
His sister’s fading warmth.
All stolen.
But it wasn’t just his family that felt stolen. There was sothing else—sothing deeper, naless—stirring a cold, immovable rage within him. A fury not directed at any person he knew, but at so unknown presence, so unseen force he couldn’t define, yet instinctively despised.
The rage boiled over, consuming thought, feeding on loss. It didn’t matter who was in front of him anymore. All that mattered was the sense that sothing had been taken—and that soone needed to pay.
A shrill noise snapped him out of it.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
He blinked, disoriented, then looked up.
All twelve City Managers were in visible distress. Faces drained of color, so clutching their chests, others frozen in wide-eyed horror. A few had gone limp in their wheelchairs, eyes rolled back, their life support systems blaring with ergency alerts.
Adyr exhaled through his nose and offered a faint, almost sheepish smile.
"...That wasn’t intentional."
He retracted his Presence and withdrew Malice instantly. In its place, he let Grace flow—soft, divine energy that shimred like golden light, cascading gently over the elderly figures in front of him.
It washed over them like a healing mist.
Within monts, color returned to their cheeks. The ones who had collapsed began to stir. Their breaths deepened, eyes focusing, and skin regaining its tone. Where death had taken root just seconds ago, life blood once more.
One of them—Shelter City 9’s Manager—slowly raised a trembling hand to wipe the saliva from his chin. His voice was hoarse as he spoke.
"That was close..."
The shift in their condition was undeniable. Grace didn’t just restore their stability—it invigorated them. The pain dulled to silence. Limbs felt lighter. Hearts steadied.
Several among them realized they hadn’t felt this way in years.
Their skin felt tighter, their breathing smoother, and their minds clearer—as if age had montarily loosened its grip. The emotional whiplash of moving from the edge of death to a surge of vitality left all of them shaken, speechless, and more aware than ever of the power radiating from the boy casually sitting before them.
"It reminded of those old days—when I was a child on a rollercoaster," one of the City Managers murmured with a faint chuckle, as if he’d already forgotten how close to death he’d been just monts ago.
"Indeed," another added with a quiet laugh, the amusent in his voice shared by the others, none of them showing the slightest trace of resentnt for what had just occurred.
"Have you ever heard of Chinese or Latin languages?" Adyr asked, cutting through their conversation without hesitation.
Ever since he discovered that this world contained ancient relics—like the Mayan temples identical to those from his other Earth—the appearance of old Earth languages no longer felt strange. But what unsettled him was their presence in the other world. That was the part he needed to understand.
The City Managers, however, appeared completely unaware.
"Are those the languages from the other world—the ones you submitted samples of?" one of them asked.
Adyr didn’t respond. He drifted into silence, his thoughts folding inward.
It was obvious now. These languages had vanished from this world entirely—most likely erased during one of the past cycles. But if that was the case, then how were they still intact in the other world? Was it connected to the way each cycle seed to wipe away entire portions of the Earth?
"You said there are recurring cycles that reset the world," he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. "Was the last nuclear war one of them?"
"Yes, we believe it was," one of them answered. "The Mad Scientist confird it in one of our etings."
Adyr’s expression shifted.
"But this ti, even though the world suffered and the social order collapsed, it wasn’t a full reset, was it?" he asked. "What’s the explanation for that?"
According to what they had told him earlier, every ti a cycle occurred, it didn’t just cause devastation—it completely erased civilization. Humanity was forced to start over from scratch, as if nothing had ever existed before.
But this ti was different.
Even though the land was poisoned and the nuclear war had brought near-total ruin, humanity hadn’t been entirely wiped out. Thanks to the intervention of the twelve City Managers, people still retained enough technology, knowledge, and infrastructure to rebuild. And that was what made this cycle unusual.
"Indeed, this one was different from the previous ones," one of them said. "We think the Mad Scientist may have intervened sohow. Or maybe the cycle hit off its usual timing—either too early or too late. That could have changed the outco. But we can’t say for certain."
Sothing about this cycle hadn’t gone according to plan. That much was clear. But even the City Managers didn’t seem to know exactly what had gone wrong. All they knew was that this ti, the impact had been weaker, less destructive. The reset had failed to finish its job.
There are still too many pieces missing, Adyr thought, narrowing his eyes.
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