2025-03-10 13:38:16Noah couldn’t believe it.
“That’s impossible. Teacher Nana loves her students. She’s kind!”
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping back with a loud screech. His hands trembled, fists clenching as he glared across the table at Amber.
She didn’t flinch. Her arms crossed over her chest, expression cool as steel. “You shouldn’t judge people by appearances, Noah. They can fool you.”
Lynn’s gaze softened, but there was no hesitation in her voice as she added, “The White Cult has infiltrated the city. We can’t afford to trust blindly.”
Noah’s heart pounded like a war drum. His breath came fast.
“No,” he hissed. “You’re wrong.”
Amber gave a faint shrug, but her words hit like a hammer. “I hope I am.”
He was already moving.
Out of the café, into the street, feet pounding against concrete. He barely registered Lynn’s voice calling his name, or Amber’s hurried footfalls as they followed—then stopped. They knew there was no stopping him.
I need to see for myself.
The wind cut sharp across his face as he ran, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside him. Doubt clawed at him, relentless. It whispered Mio’s name. The girl he’d trusted, who’d smiled at him like a friend before she betrayed everything.
Faces can fool you. Amber’s warning echoed again. But Nana wasn’t Mio. She wasn’t.
His lungs burned by the time he reached the rooftop garden.
He shoved the door open and stumbled out, chest heaving.
“Teacher Nana!” he shouted.
His voice cracked on her name.
Silence.
No laughter. No soft encouragements as kids tended to plants. The wind was the only sound, whispering through trellises and dead vines.
He took a step forward.
That’s when he saw movement.
A man stepped out from behind a row of planter boxes. His white robe fluttered slightly as he moved, and his face twisted
in disgust when he saw Noah.
“You must be from the special force team or Dark organization, welll, it don’t really matter where you are from.” the man said. His tone was more pity than anger, which somehow made it worse. “So young… they use children as weapons here? Disgusting.”
Noah’s fingers curled, nails digging into his palms.
“Where’s Teacher Nana?”
The man tilted his head like a curious bird. “Ah. You know her by that name.” His lips stretched into a cruel smile. “She’s already gone. Took the children with her.”
“No…” Noah’s stomach churned.
“Yes,” the man said calmly. “Sister Nana is guiding them to salvation.”
He drew a pistol from his robe and aimed it at Noah. “And now I will offer you the same.”
The gun barked once.
Noah threw himself sideways, the bullet slicing through the space where his head had been a second before. He hit the ground hard, rolled, and scrambled behind a thick wooden planter.
More gunshots. Bullets smashed through clay pots and splintered wood, showering him with dirt and debris.
“Come out!” the man shouted. His voice echoed, full of fanatic zeal.
“You don’t need to suffer like those poor children. Let me free you from this impure world!”
Noah gritted his teeth. His mind raced.
Think, think!
He could vanish things. He’d done it instinctively before. But could he control it enough now?
He pressed his hand to the concrete beneath him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he pictured what he wanted.
Make the floor disappear—just under him. Only him.He heard the click of a reload. Seconds. That’s all he had.
He focused harder, narrowing his will like a blade.
And then…
The ground beneath the cultist collapsed with a sudden, sharp crack.
The man’s triumphant expression twisted into surprise as the floor gave way. He dropped like a stone through the hole Noah had created. A crash sounded below.
Noah didn’t wait. He vaulted over the ruined planter and jumped down after him.
The cultist lay sprawled on the next floor, coughing as he pushed himself up. Blood smeared his chin. His pistol had skittered away.
Noah landed hard, knees bending with the impact, and sprang forward. He grabbed the man by his collar and slammed him against the wall.
“Where is she?!” Noah shouted. His voice was raw, desperation and fury mingling in his throat.
The man bared his teeth in a bloody grin. “You’re too late. Purification has already begun.”
“WHERE?!”
The cultist laughed, a horrible, wheezing sound. “They’re gone. Gone to the sanctuary… gone to be cleansed. You can’t save them.”
Noah’s grip tightened. His hand itched with the urge to erase this man from existence. But if he did that, there’d be no answers.
He forced himself to let go— —just as the cultist’s hand darted inside his robe. Noah reacted instinctively, slamming his elbow into the man’s jaw and knocking him back. But not before he saw it.A trigger.
And in the man’s other hand—a small glowing crystal.
A bomb.
“Purify me,” the man whispered. And then he pressed the trigger.
Noah’s world slowed.
He reached out without thinking. His power flared in his hand, like liquid heat burning his skin.
He vanished the bomb.
One second it was there.
The next, it was gone.
The cultist’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No… no, that’s impossible…”
Noah didn’t let him finish.
He drove his fist into the man’s gut, then swung again, knocking him out cold with a brutal punch to the temple.
The man slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Noah staggered back, breathing hard, heart still pounding in his chest. His hands trembled from adrenaline and the lingering heat of his ability.He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and stared down at the man.
“You’re wrong,” Noah said quietly. His voice was rough, but steady now. “I’m not too late.”
He turned and started up the stairs again.
He wasn’t done.
Not yet.
He would find Teacher Nana. He would find the children.
And if Nana really had betrayed them—Noah clenched his fists tighter.
He would stop her.
No matter what it took.
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