2025-03-10 13:22:19Outside of New Silicon Valley, in the ruins of what was once the European countryside, stood a temple untouched by time and war. A sanctuary for those who despised the existence of ability users. They called themselves the White Cult.
Inside the grand, candlelit chamber, robed figures knelt in silence. At the altar, a young woman in pristine white vestments stood, hands delicately clasped as if in prayer. Her silver hair shimmered under the soft glow of flickering flames, and her blue eyes held an ethereal serenity. This was White—their revered leader, the chosen voice of their so-called divinity.
Yet, beneath the gentle facade, something flickered.
A kneeling disciple, drenched in sweat, trembled before her. “The operation in New Silicon Valley… it has failed. The ability user was captured.”
White’s expression did not falter. She exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “Is that so?” Her voice, gentle and measured, was like the whisper of a mother singing a lullaby. “Perhaps this is merely a trial from the heavens. A lesson in patience, do you not agree?”
The disciple nodded frantically, as if his very life depended on his agreement.
White closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence stretch before speaking again. “It is unfortunate, but hardly unexpected. The hands of the unworthy always falter. That man was nothing more than a means to an end. But we mustn’t despair.” She raised her hand, and the gathered worshipers listened with rapt attention. “That trash is so useless.”
Then, as the room grew silent, she turned slightly away, her lips barely parting as she whispered, “Shit… That trash is so useless.”
A single follower heard it.
His breath caught in his throat. His wide eyes filled with something between horror and revelation. “M-Mother White…?” His voice wavered.
White did not turn to face him. A quiet sigh escaped her lips before she turned back, hands clasped in feigned holiness. “What did you hear, dear one?”
The disciple swallowed hard. “N-Nothing, Mother White.”
White’s serene smile widened. “Lying is a sin, you know.” Her voice was soft, almost musical. “And sinners… sinners go to hell.”
The follower's breath hitched. He tried to steady himself, his lips parting to protest, but White tilted her head and asked again, “Now, what did you hear?”
The robed man’s knees trembled. “It must have been my imagination… Saint White would never—”
“Ahh, that’s right!” She clapped her hands together, laughing. “I am the purest human in the world.” A melodious giggle spilled from her lips, growing louder, more manic. “Hahahahahaha!~”
Snap.
A sickening crunch echoed through the chamber. The disciple’s body convulsed violently, limbs twisting in unnatural angles as an invisible force crushed him like an insect. His gurgled screams were cut short, and within moments, he was nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes.
No one moved. No one questioned it.
White brushed nonexistent dust from her pristine robes, her tranquil smile returning as she turned back to her followers. “Faith is delicate,” she murmured. “Do not let doubt poison it.”
She stepped toward a golden communicator placed on a pedestal beside her and pressed a single button.
Across the ocean, in the heart of New Silicon Valley, a teacher’s phone vibrated in her pocket.
Nana sat at her desk, the soft hum of classroom lights above her. The school had long since emptied, leaving only the faint scribbles of chalk on the board and the distant laughter of students heading home.
She glanced at her phone. The notification glowed ominously on the screen:
[White: Begin the purification.]
Her heart did not skip a beat. She had been waiting.
With a practiced hand, she typed a single word in response.
“Understood.”
Nana pocketed her phone and rose from her chair, smoothing the wrinkles from her teacher’s uniform. In the classroom's reflection, she saw herself smile—sweet, warm, maternal.
The same smile she would wear when she walked into the children’s ward tomorrow morning.
…
Back at the Flare headquarters, the underground base was unusually lively. The team had gathered in the common room, a spacious area cluttered with tactical maps, old couches, and a giant screen flashing news reports of the failed terrorist attack. But none of them were watching the news.
Everyone was talking about Noah.
“He was amazing,” Luna said, practically bouncing on the couch. Her pale purple hair swayed as she hugged her knees. “Did you see how he erased that entire robot? It was poof, gone! Like magic. Well, I guess it’s not magic, but you know what I mean.”
Sion, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, gave a curt nod. “He kept his head in a live combat situation. Didn't freeze up even once.” Her gaze flicked to Amber. “You’ve picked a good one.”
Amber sat in her usual spot, legs crossed on the long couch’s armrest. She was typing something on her tablet but paused when she felt all eyes on her. “I picked nothing,” she said flatly, brushing a stray strand of fiery red hair from her face. “Noah’s useful, sure. He still owes me debt, remember?”
Luna snickered, kicking her legs back and forth. “Suuure. But you seem awfully invested in that debt of his.” She winked. “You think he’s cute, right?”
Amber’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
“Blushing,” Luna whispered loudly, covering her mouth in mock shock.
“I am not blushing,” Amber hissed, sitting up straighter, but a faint flush did color her cheeks.
Sion smirked, pushing off from the wall and walking closer. “You have to admit, though. Noah’s ability is a game-changer.” Her tone shifted into something more professional. “If we play this right, Flare’s going to rise up the Dark Agent rankings. We’ll get bigger missions. Higher pay.”
“And more dangerous enemies,” Amber said quietly, tapping her stylus against the tablet screen.
Sion shrugged. “That’s the job.”
Luna chimed in again, her voice playful but edged with sincerity. “Still, we’re lucky he ended up with us and not one of the other groups. Imagine if Exodus or Night Fang had gotten their hands on someone like him.”
Amber stared at her screen for a long moment, not really seeing it. The words scrolled past her eyes like static.
Noah.
The idiot hadn’t hesitated today. He didn’t panic when things went south, and he didn’t show an ounce of fear using World Rejecter in real combat. She could still picture him standing there, his hand outstretched, as lightning bolts and energy blasts vanished like smoke. No fear. Just determination.
Amber clicked the tablet off and set it on the table with a loud clack.
“…I’ll give him a reward next time,” she said under her breath.
Luna leaned in closer, eyes bright. “A reward? What kind of reward? Are we talking a kiss? A date? A night in your room, maybe?”
Amber scowled. “Nothing dirty like in your mind…”
That took Luna off guard. “Wait, what?”
Amber stood, brushing imaginary dust off her uniform. “I’m going to make him strawberry cake. He mentioned it once, said his ex used to make it for him.”
Sion raised a brow. “You cooking?”
Amber shot her a look. “Shut it.”
But her words lingered.
Noah had talked about Mio before, in little pieces between missions and training. Amber wasn’t sure why she remembered such a small thing—how his voice softened when he said Mio’s name, how his hand unconsciously touched his chest like he was still carrying a wound there. And yet, he never let it slow him down.
Maybe that was why she wanted to do something for him. Something small. Something… normal.
“I’ll reward him, bake him a strawberry cake that will heal his wounds.” Amber repeated, her voice quieter now. “Next time.”
Luna and Sion exchanged glances but said nothing more.
Previous Chapter
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