The cold dungeon walls pressed in on Andrew like a vice, the silence was heavy and equally suffocating. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but the rage and helplessness kept him on edge. Andrew didn’t bother to lift his head, but the voice came anyway. –Master, there is more to this than you think.– Andrew’s jaw tightened. "What now? What could you possibly tell me that will make any of this make sense?" Valkyron’s soft blue glow pulsed. –I want to talk about the dream you’ve been having. The one with your parents... where they are still lying unconscious in the hospital.– Andrew’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat. His eyes bulged with disbelief. "How do you know about that dream?" –I know, Master, because everything that happens to you—your thoughts, your dreams, your fears—flows into me. I am your system. I am part of you.– Andrew’s breath grew shallow. The dream had haunted him for weeks, leaving him with a hollow ache every time he woke. His parents, still lifeless,
Andrew's mind spiraled with everything Valkyron had told him. The faint glow of the system flickered before him, calm and steady, an irritating contrast to the storm brewing inside his head. "You’ve been telling me about powers and keys," Andrew muttered, running a hand over his face, "but none of this makes any sense. How the hell am I supposed to unlock powers I don’t even know I have?" Valkyron’s screen shifted slightly, as if adjusting. –It will make sense soon, Master. But first, you must understand the potential that lies within you. Your abilities are waiting to awaken, and once they do, the world as you know it will change.– Andrew gave a bitter laugh. "Change how? You keep talking in circles. If I have this so-called power, why am I sitting in a dungeon, chained to the wall like a common prisoner?" Valkyron’s glow intensified slightly. –Because, Master, your powers are dormant. But once activated, you will not need these walls, nor these chains. Watch.– The screen
Andrew paced back and forth across the cold stone floor, his mind was racing with plans that didn’t make sense yet. He should’ve been locked in place by the heavy chains bolted to the ground, but they were slack around his ankles, loose from hours of fiddling and tugging. Sweat dripped down his temple as he tried to calculate his next move. "If I can just... get the hell out of here..." Andrew muttered under his breath, glancing at the rusted door to the dungeon. His heart pounded, hope flickering inside him for the first time in days. He needed to escape before Diego’s men realized anything was off. Just a little more time— Suddenly, the heavy metal door creaked open, and Andrew froze mid-step. The guard—a burly man with a crooked nose and a permanent sneer—stepped inside, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Andrew standing freely, unchained. “What the—” The guard’s gaze darted to the chains lying limply on the ground. “You’re supposed to be locked up, you rat!” Andrew’s sto
Andrew sat slumped against the cold wall, his bruised body aching with every shallow breath. His thoughts swirled in a heavy fog of exhaustion, pain, and frustration. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth, and his swollen eye throbbed. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, trying to block out everything—the darkness, the cold, and the endless despair. Then he heard her voice. "Andrew... Andrew." His eyes snapped open, and he stared at the iron bars of the dungeon gate, blinking rapidly. That voice—it couldn’t be real. It was Emilia’s voice, soft and trembling. "I’m losing it," Andrew muttered to himself, dragging his fingers through his tangled hair. "I’m hallucinating now." But the voice came again, clearer this time. "Andrew, please listen to me. I’m here." He forced himself to sit up, his heart racing as he squinted toward the entrance. There, in the dim light that bled through the cracks of the corridor, stood Emilia. She looked... different. Her usual poise an
The pain in Andrew's wrist returned like it had never left to begin with. But the pain had little effect on him. His mind was focused on things far bigger than the pain. He couldn't get his head off what Emilia told him yesterday and he couldn't wait for her to come to take him to where the Source of Diego's powers was. "So Diego had where he drew his powers from?" Andrew's brows contorted in shock as he said aloud. He never would have thought that Diego had a source from where he drew his power. And what kind of power did he suppose that Diego possessed. Andrew had succeeded in beating the hell out of him twice and only made a fail attempt on the third time but he knew that he could have taken Diego down easily if it had been a fair fight, but it wasn't and Andrew had been subdued by two other men while they held him down and let Diego beat him to a pulp. Andrew kept darting his eyes toward the gates, waiting to sense Emilia's presence. She hadn't promised him that she was going
Dusk had befallen the earth when Patrick forcefully came to terms that what he was dealing with something bigger that he realised. He stepped away from the box, and inspected it from where he stood. His eyes were still fixated on the rooftop of his house. His eyes darted to the box again. What the hell did this mean and what was he supposed to do with it. Was he supposed to take the box inside for further inspection or just leave it out here for whoever had thrown it down. But that was the lingering question on Patrick's mind? Where had the box come from or where had it fallen from and who had dropped it? The box couldn't have just fallen from the sky, that would have would been absurd, but what was more absurd was that, it seemed that the box had indeed fallen down from the sky. After a bout of conflicting thoughts, Patrick reached for the box slowly and yanked the box from the floor, waiting to see if anything was going to happen if he touched the box but disappointedly, nothing
What struck Andrew the most was the blackened, swollen bruise blooming under her left eye.Andrew reached out and gently tugged at the edge of Emilia’s shawl, trying to get a better look at her bruised face. "Stop," Emilia whispered, her hand weakly covering the fabric, but Andrew didn’t stop. He pulled it back completely, revealing the full extent of the swelling and discoloration around her eye. The bruise was worse than he imagined—deep, ugly shades of purple and blue, spreading down toward her cheek"What do you think you're doing?!" She yelled out nervously. “You,” Andrew muttered, more in disbelief than recognition. “Emilia... Who did this to you?” Andrew whispered, anger simmering under his voice. Suddenly, Emilia jerked away from him, her expression shifting from sadness to frustration. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, her voice sharp and defensive. She grabbed the shawl back from him and quickly tried to cover herself again, though her hands
"Tell me where it is so that we can go there." Andrew said with urgency in his voice. Emilia sighed and looked forward. She pointed toward the empty space in front of her. "Down that hall," she whispered, pointing toward a distant door with two faint silhouettes standing guard. "That’s where the source is. Two guards, always stationed there. We’ll have a small window between shifts, but it won’t be long." Andrew’s jaw clenched. "I can’t leave without getting into that room." Emilia turned toward him, her face pale under the dim light. "Andrew, this isn’t a game. If they catch us, Diego won’t just throw you back in the dungeon—he’ll kill us both." "I know the risks." Andrew’s eyes darkened with determination. "But I have to see it. If I don’t, Diego will always have the upper hand." Emilia shook her head, exhaling a shaky breath. "You’re so stubborn. I swear you’ll get yourself killed." Andrew’s lips curled into a grim smile. "Better to die trying than live as a pawn in hi