Huic iterum?-LXXXI

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DATE:16th of August, the 70th year after the Coronation

LOCATION: Concord Metropolis

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Alice surprised me when she joined me for a morning run. She had a spring in her step, her energy infectious, and for a moment, I let myself relax.

I kept thinking about yesterday.

Was I being unfair to her? Maybe. I guess I was just tired—tired of everything. But I shouldn't judge her so harshly. She's been through enough already.

When we got home, she set up her desk while I changed and prepared to leave for the HQ. Today, I'd finally finish the last of the paperwork. Emily had already done most of the work, but I still needed to upload the files and destroy the physical copies.

As I rode the bus, Emily updated me on the news coverage surrounding SuperiorWoman's retirement. Public reactions ranged from shock to cautious optimism. Apparently, people were hopeful for my "rule."

Quite popular, am I not?

Still, something about all of this felt off. The nightmares, the vault, the strange photos—I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something important. I needed to dig deeper, to go to the source and find answers.

My thoughts were interrupted when a slim hand slid under my shirt.

Instinct took over. I spun around, swinging the briefcase that held my suit. The target ducked, avoiding the strike, and stepped closer, grabbing my chin.

I froze—not out of fear, but confusion. It was Alice.

No, it wasn't Alice.

She leaned in, her lips dangerously close to mine, and whispered, "What's wrong? Don't recognize your girlfriend?"

I dropped the briefcase and grabbed her by the neck, squeezing hard enough to make my knuckles ache. But as much force as I applied, I didn't feel the bone snap beneath my grip. Instead, she chuckled.

A dark smile spread across her face. "Oh, come on. Would you really be so violent with Alice?"

I let her go, and she staggered back, laughing softly as her skin shimmered, shifting ever so slightly. The illusion broke.

"Sophie," I said flatly.

She gave me a mock pout. "Aww, you figured it out. I almost had you this time."

"What do you want?"

She wagged her finger playfully. "Careful. Civilians are watching. Can't have me changing faces out here, can we?"

Her teasing tone grated on me, but I didn't rise to the bait. "Why are you still here?" I asked. "You got your revenge on the Donn. You could've left."

Her smile widened, but there was something hollow behind it. "Oh, I could've. I even thought about it—a quiet little monastery in the middle of nowhere. Peaceful, boring... utterly pointless." She tilted her head, studying me. "And then I thought, why leave when you're still here? You're far more interesting."

"Not interested," I said curtly, picking up my briefcase.

"Come on, don't be like that," she cooed, falling into step beside me as I walked toward the HQ. "You've got this whole leader thing going on now. Taking the bus, no less. Very humble of you." So she still kept an eye on me.

I didn't dignify her with a response.

It was strange, seeing her wearing Alice's face. The resemblance was uncanny, but the longer she lingered, the more the differences became apparent. The way she moved, the way she spoke—it was like watching a shadow trying too hard to mimic a person.

She followed me for a few more blocks, teasing and laughing as if it were all a game. But even as I brushed her off, an uncomfortable thought gnawed at the back of my mind.

What interest does she have in me?

The morning light filtered through the facade of the HQ's lobby windows as Sophie followed me, her presence already grating on my nerves.

What interest does she have in me?

No matter how much I think about it, I can't come up with a satisfying answer. Sure, back when we dealt with the Donn, she needed my help. But now? What is this about? "I'm more interesting?" Who even says that?

Does she not have anything else to live for?

I considered stopping her at the entrance, but what would be the point? If she can shapeshift into anyone, she could just return later. Actually... how does her transformation even work? Does she need genetic material, or does she just decide who to turn into?

It didn't matter.

"I strictly prohibit you from entering the HQ as Alice," I said flatly as we neared an empty hallway.

She shrugged, and started convulsing while I looked away before shifting into a new shape. Her hair grew longer, falling in loose curls around her shoulders, and her cat-like features sharpened into something more angular, more chiseled.

"There," she said with a faint smirk, making a heart with her fingers and feigning a kiss. "Better?"

I slapped her across the face, the sound echoing in the empty hallway.

"Follow me," I said curtly, ignoring the smug look she gave me. At the office, I introduced her to the guards as a journalist and quickly ushered her inside.

Once we were alone, she grabbed the chair with wheels and spun herself in circles like a child, laughing softly. "You know," she said, her voice light with amusement, "this position suits you."

"It doesn't," I replied without looking up from the monitor.

Her spinning slowed, and I felt her gaze on me. "Then why are you doing it?"

I didn't answer. Raising my eyes from the screen, I gave her a pointed look. "Why are you watching me so closely?"

She waved her hand dismissively, leaning back in the chair as if I'd asked a ridiculous question. "I'm not. I've been away from Concord, actually. Only got back when I heard the news about you. Imagine my surprise when I learned you, of all people, were chosen to lead."

I returned to the files, trying to ignore her, but she rolled the chair closer, pointing at the screen with a faux pout. "Aren't you going to ask what I was doing while I was gone?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I care?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard. For a moment, her usual confidence faltered. She fiddled with her thumbs, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"Well... we're pretty close, aren't we?" she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

"No, we're not," I replied firmly, turning back to the monitor.

Her laugh was quiet, almost hollow. "You're so cold, you know that?"

Thankfully, I was done. I unplugged Emily from the computer, closed the files, and stood up, ready to leave.

Sophie reached for my hand as I walked toward the door, but I shoved her away without hesitation.

"Don't touch me," I said, not bothering to look back as I stepped out of the room.

Emily buzzed in my ear, reminding me of the calls I should've returned and the strategy meeting I'd already postponed. I had forgotten, but she was answering my messages and Calles with an impersonation of my voice. I appreciate her effort. I certainly couldn't care less about doing paperwork.

I had other priorities.

First, I needed to get this Bitch off my back.

Sophie kept pestering me to hang out, her persistence wearing down my already thin patience. After a long sigh, I finally gave in.

"What do you want to do?" I asked flatly.

She smiled brightly, as if I'd just handed her the moon. "Ice cream," she said.

Fine. The closest ice cream shop was 5 kilometers away. Five long, frustrating kilometers.

I changed back into civilian clothes and walked with her to the nearest bus stop. Emily guided me through the lines, her voice clipped and professional, but I could practically hear the amusement she was trying to mask.

By the time we arrived, the shop was bustling. Teenagers crowded the tables, their laughter echoing against the pastel walls.

Sophie ordered a giant six-scoop sundae loaded with fruit and syrup, while I picked a simple vanilla cone. She looked ecstatic as she dug in, a wide grin stretched across her face.

Why was she so happy? I didn't get it.

Halfway through the ice cream, I couldn't hold back any longer. "What do you want from me?" I asked bluntly.

She laughed lightly, brushing it off.

I didn't let her. "What. Do. You. Want?" I repeated, my tone flat and cold.

For a moment, her confidence faltered. Her cheerful exterior cracked, and she hesitated, her spoon hovering midair.

Did she forget what happened last time she acted this way? Did she forget how I left her bleeding and crying? Who does she think she is?

A pathetic whore.

The thought made my blood boil. What was wrong with me these days?

It wasn't Sophie I was angry at. No, it was something deeper.

As I ate my ice cream, the truth gnawed at me. It wasn't her clinginess or her games that had me fuming—it was the Syndicate.

They had played me like a fiddle. For years, I'd unknowingly been their weapon, their "inventory piece." Mission after mission, I'd followed orders, never questioning the bigger picture. A product. That is who I was.

Who the hell were they to treat me like this?

The shop was too loud—teenagers laughing and chattering, their voices grating on my nerves.

I heard the familiar chime of a bell as the door opened. At first, I didn't bother looking, assuming it was just another customer.

But then I felt it.

The air shifted, tension creeping down my spine like a cold finger tracing my back. My instincts screamed at me, a gut-deep certainty that danger had entered the room.

Slowly, I turned toward the door.

A man stood there, wearing a navy blue coat.

No.

It was him.

Before I could move, he unsheathed his sword, the motion so smooth it was almost imperceptible. The five people standing closest to him didn't even have time to react.

They dropped to the ground, their bodies falling apart like pieces of a broken doll. Blood pooled beneath them, vivid and stark against the shop's pastel colors.

He hadn't even taken a step.

The drug was already spreading through my system when Emily noticed my heightened anxiety. Her voice buzzed in my ear, calm and controlled. "Breathe. Drop your head. Now."

I followed her just in time, ducking as the sword sliced through the air where my neck had been.

I scrambled backward, clutching the briefcase, and leapt away from the swordsman. My hands fumbled to open the case, my fingers shaking as I struggled to equip the flak armor.

Even as I moved, I could see flashes of carnage. The man in the navy blue coat cut through the room like a force of nature, his blade carving arcs through the air. Bodies collapsed around him, blood pooling on the pastel floor tiles.

Was he trying to leave no witnesses?

"Emily," I hissed, my voice tight, "do you have eyes on him?"

She answered quickly. "Negative. He disabled the cameras when he entered. I can only see what your helmet feed picks up."

I barely managed to connect the exoskeleton when a sudden strike slammed into my chest. The force sent me sprawling, the blade leaving a visible cut across the metal plate.

Even slowed by the armor, this man was impossibly fast.

He wasn't like Blazer—he didn't have superspeed. His movements weren't superhuman, just ruthlessly efficient. Each strike was so precise it felt like time was warping around him.

How could someone move like that? How was he called human?

I reached for the SmartGun, loading smaller-caliber bullets for speed. I fired the first shot, but he stepped aside like it was nothing, dodging the round with infuriating ease. My next two shots followed him as he ducked behind the cashier's counter.

I adjusted my aim, readying another shot, when I saw it—the metallic cylinder flying through the air. My stomach dropped.

A stun grenade.

It detonated before I had time to react. A deafening crack filled the room, and the shockwave forced the breath from my lungs. The entire shop shook violently, the ringing in my ears drowning out everything else.

Time resumed, and Emily's voice cut through the haze. "Duck. Now!"

I dropped instinctively, and a blade whistled past where my head had been a moment ago. My vision blurred as I struggled to regain my bearings.

When my sight cleared, I saw her.

Sophie.

She stood between me and the swordsman, twin blades gleaming in her hands. My mind raced—where the hell had she been hiding those?

She moved quickly, meeting the swordsman's strikes with surprising skill. Their blades clashed, sparks flying with each impact. For a moment, she seemed to hold her ground, her fluid movements matching his precision.

But it didn't last.

He caught her with a kick, the force sending her crashing across the room. She hit the wall hard, slumping to the ground with a pained gasp.

I scanned the room, my chest tightening at the sight. Everyone else was dead. Three dozen people. Cut down in mere seconds.

The swordsman turned back to me, his mustache twitching slightly as he raised his blade.

I steadied my aim and pointed the SmartGun at his chest. My voice was cold, steady.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled. The sound was low, almost amused. Then we stood still, each of us weary of the opponent's moves

The man in the navy blue coat tilted his head, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "So, you're Aionis… or perhaps, The Nameless."

I froze, my grip tightening on the knife in my hand.

"I was sent to finally put down the Syndicate's weapon," he continued, his grin wide and wolfish.

Weapon.

I clenched my jaw. "I don't care about the Syndicate," I shot back.

He ignored me. His blade shimmered as he dashed forward, his movements fluid, almost lazy. I aimed my SmartGun, firing twice, but he bent his body unnaturally, sidestepping each shot as if he knew where they'd land.

He wasn't faster than a human, but it was like he perceived time differently. His precision defied logic.

His blade lunged toward my neck, and I barely raised my arm to block, but Sophie was faster. Her twin blades intercepted his strike, redirecting it upward. It scraped against my mask, chipping the paint but sparing me.

The swordsman didn't pause. His free hand shot forward, punching me in the neck with brutal force. Pain shot through my body, and my vision blurred as nausea gripped me.

He moved like a hurricane, dodging Sophie's counterstrike with ease before driving his knee into my chestplate. The impact rattled my bones, and my SmartGun clattered to the ground.

I stumbled, gasping for air, but he grabbed my collar, holding me upright. His grin widened as he pulled me closer, his mustache twitching slightly.

"How dare you call yourself 'Eternal?'" he sneered.

I saw his blade rise, its edge gleaming in the fluorescent light. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Breathing in sharply, I reached for the dagger on my hip and thrust it toward his neck. But as the blade neared, I saw something impossible: his neck twisted, the muscles bending unnaturally to avoid the strike. My knife scraped his skin but missed the vital arteries.

What the hell was he?

Before I could recover, his blade came down. I barely deflected it, but his grip on my collar held firm.

"Sophie!" I shouted, my voice hoarse.

She was already moving. Her twin blades pierced through the skin of his right arm, sinking deep enough to make him drop his sword. But instead of recoiling, he twisted his arm with inhuman flexibility, forcing Sophie to abandon her weapons.

Seeing my moment, I drove my dagger into his thigh, targeting the femoral artery. This time, I didn't miss. The blade sank deep, cutting through muscle and severing the artery with a sickening squelch.

His teeth clenched, but he didn't scream. Instead, he kicked the dropped sword into the air with his foot, catching it in his good hand as he stumbled back. Blood streamed down his leg, pooling at his feet.

I didn't give him time to recover. Reaching for my belt, I grabbed an impact grenade and lobbed it at him.

It detonated just as it reached him, the blast shattering the air and throwing debris across the room. Even then, he moved, raising his arm to shield his torso. The force mangled his left hand, but he sacrificed it without hesitation, sprinting through the smoke toward the exit.

By the time the dust settled, he was gone. The room was silent except for the ringing in my ears. Corpses littered the floor, their blood streaking the walls. Three dozen people. Dead in seconds.

I stared at the carnage, chest heaving, before turning to Sophie. She was slumped against the wall, her breathing labored but steady.

"You shouldn't be here when the Civil Militia arrives," I said flatly.

She nodded weakly, pushing herself to her feet.

My gaze shifted to the table where my ice cream sat, now melted into a sticky, unappetizing puddle.

"What misery," I muttered, sighing.-*-*-*-*-*