Midnight Awakening

 It was a bit of a long drive back home so Michael naturally had a lot of time to think about what that old geezer had said.

" You'll be in danger."

Yeah, right. Nicknamed Humanity's Last Line Of Defence, the highest Overseer Echelon, and with his own rank, Archon, how could Michael be in danger? After all, that was how he was praised and honored after his services in The War Of Silence between the Dwarfs and The Great Defence against Jolain. He skipped all the echelons of the Overseers, The weakest echelon, Initiate, with 152 Overseers who had 10- 30% energy utilization from the Shards, then Adept with 190 Overseers and 30- 50% energy utilization, after that, Veteran, with 85 Overseers and 50- 75% utilization, then Guardian, with 8 Overseers, collectively called The Arcanes, with 75%-90% utilization, and then finally, Archon, with 1 Overseer, with 90%- 100%+ utilization. Such people who had control over their Shard's energy also gained strange powers from them, allowing them to do things that surpassed human limitations.

He had little energy from the Shard, unlike the other Overseers, who relied primarily on power from it, yet he was stronger than them all. He possessed no power of any sort, just raw strength. That did strike him a bit strange. The public thought Michael had a 100% utilization from the Shard, but that was all a lie. The Shard's energy was intoxicating to him and no one knew about it except a few handful of people. Still, Michael didn't know where his power came from.

The Earth Overseer Council was founded before The Great Defense when some humans realized that they had awakened strange strengths and powers due to an imbalance of Shard distribution in human beings.

Either way, he didn't think he was too strong and important to be noticed by Jolain, the being who was hunting down The Brothers in lust for power. Johnson could've just lost his mind. Diseases these days were not a joke after all.

And what were his last words? Engage? Decimate? What was that supposed to mean? This was all a bit too much to handle.

Nonetheless, the road seemed to be empty. No single car on the road. It was probably due to the MMA clash today. But it had been 3 hours since he left. The clock read 11:56 pm. They should've left the arena by now. So what's the hold-up? 

Michael reached an intersection. He considered for a moment. Should he go back to the stadium to check up on them?

The lights were still bright so he supposed some speech or event must be in progress. Nothing that interested him.

He reached his penthouses and parked his car in the garage. He got out and headed towards the elevator, keys still in hand. He noticed that the lobby was empty too. Guess they all have nothing to do. He got in the elevator nudged the button for the 51st floor and began his irritated ascend over to his designated floor.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp ache in his right eye. He began sweating profusely. His heartbeats increased. This feeling…then it vanished. 

 His endurance was considered inhumane. So what was this just now? 

Moreover, the world began feeling a bit weird. The walls of the elevator looked pretty easy to break. He didn't know how but they gave off that sort of feeling. He felt something above. He felt something in the middle of the city. Something was amiss, but he couldn't quite place it. Something…he was familiar with, but couldn't quite place it. What just happened? What's happening?

As the elevator stopped at the 51st floor, he already knew something was lurking in there. This whole floor belonged to him. So how could have someone entered here? As the door opened, he smelt blood…and something he knew ever so much.

As soon as he stepped outside, something lunged at him from the ceiling. Anticipating it already, Michael sidestepped it and blew a punch straight through its guts with an uppercut.

"What are you doing here?"

 It was dark but Michael already realized what this was by the dense blood flowing down his arm.

The Corrupted Ones. 

And there were more of them. How were Jolain's puppets, these filthy pure darkness demons with winds, inside his home? Was that old man right? What were they doing here? The Earth Overseers Council usually detected their presence and The Corrupted Ones attacked from above, from the sky, never an ambush.

Nonetheless, He had to deal with them first. He removed the body of the creature that was on his arm and threw it aside. He looked across the hallway.

"What is this? I can detect your presence more easily?"

Interestingly, he could pinpoint every Corrupted One's location in his house using just his instincts for some reason. 

There's about 20 of them. They're all hiding on the ceiling in the lounge.

"Come out, cowards."

He whispered, but the words weighed heavy, sending a wave of fear across each of the creature's spine. 

Some lunged at him at once in the dark but Michael's vision had changed. He could see them as clearly, with ease, as they rushed through the hallway.

"Hmph. Idiots."

He ducked, took hold of the nearest one's head, twisted it, broke it off, and created some distance so that he could pick up his weapon, a rope dart, he had displayed in a frame on a wall in his house.

With precise aim, Michael launched the rope dart into the midst of the oncoming horde. The metal cable snaked through the darkness, entangling the Corrupted Ones in its deadly embrace. With a powerful yank, Michael pulled the rope dart tight, immobilizing the creatures with a swift jerk. Caught off guard by the sudden assault, the Corrupted Ones thrashed and writhed against their restraints. But Michael showed no mercy as he advanced, his movements fluid and controlled. With calculated precision, he closed the distance between himself and his trapped adversaries, his blade flashing in the dim light. With each strike, he delivered a decisive blow, severing limbs and rending flesh with ruthless efficiency.

"That is 10 of them."

He darted towards the main hall and immediately eradicated the remaining 10 in a flash as he jerked them down with the rope dart and finished them off with his bare hands. Their faces with big round fierce eyes and a large mischievous smile with sharp teeth made him satisfied when he killed them.

"What is up with me?" He asked himself, genuinely confused, "I have gotten stronger, in 3 hours."

It dawned on him: his impending 21st birthday heralded a shift, granting him abilities beyond comprehension. Johnson's warning now made sense.

"You're about to turn 21 in an hour. As soon as that happens, you'll be exposed to more dangers than ever."

So that's what Johnson was warning him about. He didn't talk about this power thing. It was 12 am already.

Just then, he smelt blood more strongly.

"Blood?" He realized and walked over to the other room.

There on the ground, in pools of blood, lay his assistant, Gerim, with several bodies of The Corrupted Ones on the ground beside him.

"Are you alright?" Asked Michael, calmly turning on the lights.

"I-my a-arm is injured." He stuttered through gritted teeth. His eyes were swollen as if he were crying, "Thank you, Sir. You saved my l-life!"

Michael picked up a handkerchief from the table and threw it over to Gerim on the ground. 

"Quit being dramatic. Here I thought you'd manage against these creatures at the very least. That is a shallow wound on your arm. You could have prevented this much blood loss if you covered it properly. Do not waste your time crying over this. Pain is temporary. Regret is permanent. Get up and fix yourself."

Gerim gave an irritated look as he lazily got up and tied the handkerchief strongly around his wound.

"Here," Michael tossed the pills from the Doctor towards Gerim, "My medicine."

"Only 2 pills?" Asked Gerim.

"He gave me 6. I have the other 4 with me, just in case." Michael said as he turned towards the door.

"Gerim. There is another being here. Where is it?"

The color from his face drained away. " A-Another?"

"Yes. The blood around you is partially fresh. I only got here 5 minutes ago."

Gerim looked dumbfounded.

Michael grunted and walked back to the lounge and into another room. He turned on the light and, as expected, there was an angelic being, clad in icy blue armor with a helmet, icy blue skin with wings that were spread out in a graceful arc beside him, lying on the floor on its back. Its hair was long and spread out with the same color as the rest of it, but a bit darker in contrast. The angel seemed to be alive.

Michael walked over to it and kneeled towards it. He slapped its face.

" Wake up."

The angelic being sprang to life as it immediately got to its feet. Confused and dizzy.

"Looking for this?" asked Michael, gripping the creature's sword with his index and thumb.

The creature began shivering and trembling as soon as it looked at Michael. The creature immediately backed up and covered its face as if begging for mercy.

" Don't kill me, PLEASE. I BEG YOU!"

Michael tilted his head in confusion, " You speak my language. What is up with you?" He got up and thought for a moment, trying to take advantage of the situation, "Alright, I will let you live if you answer my questions. Who are you? What are you doing here? Why did The Corrupted Ones attack my house and my assistant?"

The creature uneasily began, "I-I'm one of the messengers and fighters for the Brothers or Gods or whatever you call them. We are the sole method of communication between them. I have come here to retrieve you. You're The One Who Wields. You possess it. You possess The Regal Eye. I do not doubt it. Your right eye is purple, and that pupil is…strange, along with that immense aura. That is why The Corrupted Ones came after you as well. Jolain knows about you. And he will come to retrieve this Eye. That is why the brothers, too, are keen for your protection and role in battle. If you fall under Jolain's control, we're done for. I-"

Michael waved his hand at the angel as if shooing him, "Alright, Alright. That is enough. Gerim!" He called out. A moment later, His assistant reached the door, his arm covered in a bandage. " You and this…creature. Clean the house. I have to finish The Corrupted Ones in the stadium."

Michael dropped the sword on the ground.

"Did you protect this person?" asked Michael, pointing at Gerim.

"Yes…But that's beside the point. You need to come with me to Lord Hamlinzok!"

"I have some business to take care of. You will clean the house as I said. It should be spotless."

"BUT-"

He went out of the room and began his way toward the hallway. 

"Master!" Gerim called out, " Your right eye…why is it glowing purple? Is it the Regal Eye? The eye that was destined to arise at the end of times, if my memory serves me correctly." 

"I will see to it later." He replied briefly as he straightened the frame of the place where he kept the rope dart. The memories of his past battles flooded his mind. He hadn't touched it for years, yet he knew his skills with it hadn't changed.

"They seem better than they were in the previous battles! You may need the help of the other Overseers. How will you defeat them alone?!"

Michael, turned around, his gaze unwavering as he took a decisive step forward. The rope dart coiled by his side, a silent promise of impending action.

"Don't tell me…MASTER NO-"

Before Gerim could finish his plea, Michael was already in motion. With a swift movement, he launched himself forward, his body propelled through the hallway with immense speed. Without hesitation, he crashed through the windows of the lounge, the glass shattering around him as he jumped from the 51st floor.

"I will," he declared to himself, his voice lost to the roar of the wind. "Because I'm even better."