Chapter 28
When the second mass wave finally receded, the silence that followed was not peace, it was exhaustion made audible. Across the planet, rift signatures collapsed inward, Noid incursions withdrew through unstable portals, and the alien tower above the Pacific Ocean settled into a new, dormant configuration. Its surface no longer rippled violently,
but the altered geometry remained, a permanent reminder that the rules governing reality had been rewritten. The wave had lasted less than twenty-four hours at full intensity, yet its consequences would define generations. Nearly two billion lives, overwhelmingly non-Awakened, were lost across continents, cities erased faster than evacuation orders could be issued, rural populations consumed before help could arrive.
In the aftermath, emergency governance fractured. Traditional civilian authority proved insufficient in many regions, and operational control shifted almost entirely to hybrid structures led by the Cleaner Authority and the Crescent Guards. In devastated urban centers, Cleaners coordinated food distribution, triage zones, and rift suppression, while Crescent Guard units enforced perimeter stability and prevented secondary incursions. Survivors gathered in makeshift sanctuaries, subway systems, reinforced stadiums, partially intact industrial zones, where Awakened volunteers taught basic survival protocols: how to identify early rift distortions, how to avoid Noid behavioral traps, how to move as a group rather than scatter.
Recognition followed survival. World leaders, military coalitions, and Cleaner officials compiled lists of individuals whose actions had saved lives under impossible conditions. Those who had held evacuation corridors, stabilized collapsing zones, or maintained defensive formations long enough for civilians to escape were granted expedited commendations. Among them were several trainee candidates from the original trial, individuals who had entered the tower uncertain and afraid, and emerged hardened by attrition. Their losses were etched into them, but so was discipline.
Formal licensing ceremonies were held quietly, often within fortified facilities rather than public halls. There was no celebration, only acknowledgment. Alexa stood among the newly certified Cleaners, her presence unmistakable even without ceremony. Her healing record during the wave was unprecedented, thousands stabilized directly, tens of thousands indirectly through reinforced responders. Magnus stood beside her, officially recognized for strategic support and rift stabilization oversight, though the true extent of his intervention remained classified at the highest level. A handful of surviving trainees received their Cleaner licenses that same day, granted the right to operate independently, to earn, to join registered units, or to form response groups where the need was greatest.
Yet for Alexa and Magnus, the decision that followed carried a different weight.
With the immediate crisis stabilized, Nexus Tech's Rift Monitoring Division came back online. The corporate headquarters, once partially evacuated and retrofitted mid-crisis, was now fully operational, reinforced with layered shielding, autonomous defense systems, and independent energy redundancy in anticipation of future waves. The building no longer functioned merely as an office; it was a nerve center, linked directly to global rift sensors, Cleaner deployments, and united nations command nodes.
Returning there meant stepping back into a quieter role, no longer on the front lines, but watching everything at once.
Alexa struggled with the choice. The instinct to remain in the field, to continue healing directly, was strong. But Magnus understood what the next phase demanded. The second wave had proven that rift behavior was no longer localized or predictable. The planet needed foresight more than reaction. Patterns had to be tracked, escalation curves predicted, and response windows shortened before catastrophe could repeat itself. Nexus Tech was where that work would matter most.
So they returned, not as retreat, but as repositioning.
From within the reinforced monitoring halls, Alexa shifted her focus to support amplification: enhancing response teams remotely, stabilizing long-range medical fields, and training new Cleaners through controlled projection. Magnus resumed full-spectrum observation, dividing his awareness across feeds, models, and probability matrices. The tower over the Pacific remained under constant scrutiny. So did the undisclosed locations where twelve strongholds continued to rise in silence, built not as symbols of power, but as lifelines for whatever future humanity was being prepared to endure.
The world had survived the second mass wave, but survival had come at a cost too high to ignore. Those who lived carried scars, those who acted carried recognition, and those who watched understood one unshakable truth:
The email from Nexus Main Office had gone out less than a few days when the second wave ended and rehabilitation and rebuilding of lives and ruin structures commence. and after the licensing confirmations were finalized. It was short, precise, and deliberately calm, an invitation for all surviving personnel of the Rift Monitoring Branch to formally declare their post–Second Wave assignment. Field operations. Hybrid deployment. Or return to centralized monitoring and analysis. One by one, responses flooded in. Many chose the field, driven by anger, grief, or the need to do something with their hands. Others, exhausted beyond words, accepted monitoring roles without hesitation.
Alexa didn't respond immediately.
She sat on the small sofa in Magnus apartment, the city outside still dim, running on emergency grids. Magnus leaned back against the armrest, and without thinking, Alexa curled sideways into his lap, knees tucked close, her head resting against his chest. It wasn't a dramatic gesture. It was instinct, seeking warmth, grounding, something solid after days of loss. Magnus's arm came around her automatically, not restraining, just present.
"I don't know if I can sit behind a screen," she said quietly after a long silence. Her voice wasn't shaking, but it was thin, stretched tight. "Not after… seeing all of that."
Magnus didn't answer immediately. He let her speak first.
"I keep thinking," she continued, eyes unfocused, "if I was there, if I was closer, stronger ,maybe I could've saved more. Maybe that woman in São Paulo. Maybe the kids in Mumbai. Maybe—" Her breath caught, and she stopped herself, pressing her forehead lightly into his chest. "I know that's not how it works. I know I can't be everywhere. But knowing it doesn't make it easier."
Magnus rested his chin lightly against her hair. "You're right," he said calmly. "You can't be everywhere. And you weren't meant to be."
She looked up at him then, a flash of frustration in her eyes. "How can you say that after everything we saw?"
"Because I saw more," he replied, not cold, not distant, just honest. "And because I've seen what happens when people like you try to carry the weight of the entire world alone."
He shifted slightly so she was more comfortable, one hand absently tracing slow, grounding circles along her arm. "You didn't fail anyone, Alexa. You exceeded what any single person should be asked to do. The fact that it still wasn't enough doesn't mean you chose wrong, it means the scale of the disaster was beyond individual heroics."
She swallowed. "But more waves are coming. You feel it too. I know you do."
"Yes," Magnus said without hesitation. "They will come. Different forms. Different timings. Some slower. Some worse."
Her fingers tightened slightly in his shirt. "Then how do I sit still?"
"You don't," he answered gently. "You choose where you matter most."
She frowned, thinking. He continued, voice low and steady.
"In the field, you save dozens at a time, maybe hundreds on a good day. From monitoring, from coordination, from preparation, you save millions by making sure the next wave doesn't catch them blind." He paused, then added softly, "And you don't burn yourself out before the worst arrives."
Alexa leaned back into him again, eyes closed. "I hate that that makes sense."
A faint, almost sad smile touched his lips. "I know."
After a moment, she asked, quieter now, "And you? What are you choosing?"
Magnus looked past her, toward the darkened skyline, toward futures most people couldn't imagine. "The same place I've always been," he said. "Close enough to intervene. Far enough to see the whole board."
She nodded slowly. Her breathing evened out. The tension in her shoulders eased just a little.
"Okay," she said at last. "Monitoring. Nexus Tech. But" She tilted her head to look at him. "If it happens again, and they need us out there…"
"We go," Magnus said immediately.
That answer, simple, unqualified, finally loosened the knot in her chest. She shifted closer, tucking herself fully against him, and for the first time since the second wave ended, allowed her body to rest rather than brace.
Outside, the world was still rebuilding, sirens in the distance, construction lights burning through the night, emergency broadcasts cycling endlessly. Inside, two people who had seen too much chose not comfort, but endurance, together.
But Magnus understood something Alexa did not say out loud.
Unlike him, she could not step away from suffering without feeling it echo inside her. He could leave and reappear anywhere, at any time, untouched by distance or delay, his resolve fixed and unyielding. Alexa was different. She had been raised to notice pain—to feel the weight of it when it went unanswered. When people were hurt around her and she did nothing, even if the choice was logical, it stayed with her. It layered. It accumulated.
Her decision tonight was not final. Magnus knew that with quiet certainty.
Humans, especially ones like Alexa, were shaped by empathy as much as reason. Logic could guide them, but emotion could still pull them off course. When the next wave came—and it would—she would feel that pull again. The desire to be present, to touch wounds instead of watching numbers stabilize on a screen. To trade efficiency for immediacy. To stand where the pain was, not where it could be predicted.
Magnus tightened his hold on her just slightly, not to restrain, but to anchor. He would not stop her from choosing compassion, that would betray what made her human. Instead, he would be there to steady her when that compassion threatened to consume her, to make sure it did not turn into self-destruction.
For now, she slept, breathing slow and even, trusting that she was not alone in carrying what came next.
And Magnus watched the future unfold in quiet layers, already preparing, not to change her nature, but to protect it when the world tried to break it.
Morning arrived quietly, the way it did now, no birds, no distant traffic hum, just the low mechanical breath of a city still learning how to exist again.
Alexa stood near the doorway, tying her shoes with practiced calm. She had chosen something simple to wear: a jacket with reinforced lining, comfortable jeans, shoes meant for walking long distances if transit failed again. Old habits, sharpened by recent reality.
"I'll get groceries," she said lightly, as if it were an ordinary errand and not a small act of defiance against a world that had nearly collapsed. "The second-largest market should be open by now."
Magnus nodded from the counter, where he was checking a compact supply list, medical kits, energy stabilizers, portable rift sensors. Supplies he didn't need yet, but would soon.
"Be careful," he said, not as a warning, but as acknowledgment.
She smiled at him, soft and genuine. No fear there. No hesitation. Just trust.
When the door closed behind her, Magnus remained still for several seconds. He felt it—the subtle shift in probability, the quiet alignment of outcomes. This moment mattered. Not because it was dangerous, but because it was formative.
He knew her choice would come.
Not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but soon.
He also knew something else, something that made this harder than any battlefield: he had promised not to intervene. Not with force. Not with foresight. Not even with gentle redirection. Alexa's decision had to be hers, fully and freely, or it would mean nothing.
She loved him. That much was certain. Her loyalty had never wavered—not during the trials, not during the second wave, not when the world screamed and burned around them. Even when petrified, even when staring down the Noid with shaking hands and a steady spine, she never panicked. She never broke.
Humans mistook fearlessness for the absence of fear.
Magnus knew better.
Alexa felt fear deeply. She simply refused to let it decide for her.
He finished packing his supplies and stepped out moments after she did, locking the door behind him. To anyone watching, it looked like coincidence, two residents heading out on separate errands in a recovering city.
In truth, it was alignment.
Alexa walked toward the market, passing repair crews, aid stations, people lining up for ration confirmations. The second-largest grocery store in the district loomed ahead, its façade patched, its glass reinforced, banners hanging that read COMMUNITY FIRST and ESSENTIALS ONLY. Armed guards stood at the entrance, not soldiers, but licensed Cleaners, wearing neutral insignia.
She noticed them.
Not with fear. With recognition.
Inside, the store buzzed with low conversation and controlled movement. Shelves were stocked unevenly. Produce was scarce but present. Canned goods dominated entire aisles. People moved carefully, respectfully, like survivors sharing a fragile space.
That was when she heard it.
Not an alarm. Not a scream.
A voice.
"I, I can't stabilize him," a young Cleaner said near the back of the store, panic creeping into his tone. "The injury's spreading faster than I can suppress it."
A small crowd had formed near the emergency section. A man lay on the floor, mid-thirties, a civilian by the look of him. Rift-burn residue crawled faintly along his arm—delayed exposure, improperly treated. Dangerous.
Alexa stopped.
Her groceries were half a basket away.
She didn't move toward the scene immediately. She stood there, fingers tightening around the handle, heart slowing instead of racing. This was the moment Magnus had foreseen—not because it was dramatic, but because it was ordinary. A choice without spectacle. A need without orders.
Across the city, Magnus felt it too.
He paused on the sidewalk outside a supply depot, senses brushing against hers—not touching, not guiding. Just aware.
He could intervene.
He could resolve it in seconds.
He didn't.
Alexa set the basket down gently.
Then she walked forward.
Not as a hero. Not as a symbol.
Just as someone who could help, and chose to.
At the same time, Alexa raised her hands slowly, palms open, her posture relaxed but assured.
"It's okay," she said, voice steady, carrying farther than she intended. "I'm a licensed Cleaner. Healing-type. Let me through."
That single sentence changed everything.
The crowd parted almost instinctively. Fear didn't vanish, but it reorganized itself around her presence. The young Cleaner assisting the injured man looked up at her with visible relief, stepping aside without hesitation.
Alexa knelt beside the civilian. Her eyes scanned the rift-burn patterns along his arm, the discoloration, the unstable energy still crawling beneath the skin. She inhaled once, centered herself, and let her power flow.
White light bloomed from her fingertips, warm, controlled, precise.
It wasn't frantic healing. It was deliberate. She stabilized first, halting the spread, reinforcing tissue integrity, calming the man's nervous system. Only then did she begin restoring damaged cells, knitting flesh back together layer by layer. The man gasped once, then exhaled shakily as the pain ebbed.
"I've got you," she murmured. "Just breathe."
Word spread fast.
Others stepped forward, an elderly woman with cracked ribs from a collapse weeks ago, a child with untreated burns, a delivery worker whose leg never healed properly after the second wave. Alexa didn't hesitate. She moved from one to the next, pacing herself, regulating output the way Magnus had taught her.
Her aptitude had grown. That much was undeniable.
Rank B, officially, but anyone trained could see it: she was brushing against Rank A territory. Her control was too refined, her stamina too stable, her recovery curve too efficient. She wasn't just healing damage; she was preventing secondary collapse, reinforcing bodies against future stress.
What no one there knew, what only Magnus knew, was that her growth had not been accidental.
He had never given her power. He had simply adjusted the way her own responded to her will. Expanded its pathways. Taught it to listen.
Healing, yes.
But also structure.
When a tremor shook the store, subtle, wrong, Alexa felt it immediately. Her head snapped up just as the air near the ceiling folded inward.
A rift.
Small, unstable, but forming fast.
Gasps rippled through the store. Someone screamed. Shelves rattled.
Alexa didn't panic.
She stood.
Without thinking, she raised her arm, and a translucent barrier of white energy flared into existence between the forming rift and the civilians behind her. It wasn't perfect. It shimmered, strained, but it held.
She stared at her own hand, shocked for half a heartbeat.
Then understanding settled in.
So that's what he meant.
Awakened abilities varied wildly depending on the host, temperament, cognition, emotional resilience. Alexa's power had always been empathy-driven. Magnus had simply helped it evolve… sideways. Healing that could also protect. Restoration that could also endure.
Across the district, Magnus paused mid-purchase, a bundle of reinforced composite panels in his hands.
He felt the rift open.
He smiled faintly.
Back when they trained, he remembered hearing the ranking system explained C, B, A, S, SS, borrowed shamelessly from old fiction, simplified for public comfort. He had almost laughed then. Reducing existence to letters felt absurd.
Still… humans needed symbols. Frameworks. Something to point at and say this is what I understand.
He paid for the materials and walked away, already planning how he would discreetly reinforce Alexa's apartment. Not their apartment.
He knew this was the day.
Not because of the rift itself, but because Alexa was standing in front of it, shielding strangers without waiting for orders, recognition, or permission.
The rift at the grocery store stabilized under emergency containment minutes later. Cleaners arrived. Crescent Guard units sealed the perimeter. Reports were filed.
But the decision had already been made.
By the time Magnus returned home, supplies in hand, he knew Alexa wouldn't be staying there much longer.
Not because she loved him less.
But because she had finally chosen where she needed to stand.
And this time, he would not stop her.
He would simply make sure she survived what came next.
Inside the grocery store, the air shifted imperceptibly. Between the frozen goods aisle and the meat counter, a small rift hovered just a few inches above the floor. It was roughly two feet tall, two feet wide, a compact, almost innocuous portal, but it radiated a low hum that vibrated against the tiles. To anyone untrained, it could have been mistaken for smoke or a defective display, but the swirling, semi-translucent vortex was alive with fluctuating sparks of electricity. The small boy tugged at his mother's sleeve, eyes wide. He had seen something impossible: a vertical whirlpool of distorted space, faintly digital in appearance, flickering like a hologram, its edges bending light strangely.
The rift displayed information, hovering midair as if projected from some invisible screen. At first glance, a casual observer would see only the word "ACTIVE" in glowing, alien-scripted letters, accompanied by a level indicator: Level 1 , Rift #0247. Unlike the training rifts from the earlier trials, this one had no countdown timer. No temporal constraints were given. The system, Magnus knew, was signaling that these were fully active incursions: creatures from the other side could move through freely.
The holographic interface wasn't arbitrary. The alien tower's AI, a self-contained intelligence that had infiltrated the Earth's global networks, had studied human communication down to linguistic, cultural, and historical nuance. Every rift automatically adjusted its interface to be comprehensible to local observers: the same rift in Tokyo might flash kanji, while in Lagos it could appear in English or Yoruba, with symbols optimized to convey urgency and level. The AI cross-referenced billions of data points, detecting local languages and cultural comprehension thresholds, ensuring that anyone interacting with it could interpret the most crucial information: threat status, level, and required response.
The system operated on three primary markers:
Status: Active, Inactive, Stabilized, Contained. The grocery store rift was labeled ACTIVE, signaling no artificial restrictions, entities could emerge immediately.
Level & Number: Each rift carried a tiered threat classification, from Level 1 (minor, easily manageable incursions) to Level 5 (highly lethal, multiple entities, potential structural collapse). The numeric code allowed centralized tracking of every portal globally, linking them to the tower's overarching network, and the amount of enemies in side the rift.
Temporal Constraints: Training rifts during controlled trials had countdown timers, regulating exposure and giving Cleaners a predictable window for intervention. Active rifts, like the one at the grocery store, lacked timers, signifying that human operators had to respond in real time, without guidance, while the AI continued to feed dynamic behavioral predictions of creatures attempting to breach the rift.
From its vantage point, the tower's AI maintained a continuous global map of all rifts. Each portal was linked by a network protocol that combined quantum-level data transmission and holographic projection. The AI monitored energy signatures, ambient human density, and potential threat targets, calculating a survival index for each area. In essence, it wasn't just opening rifts—it was staging a planetary simulation of chaos, stress-testing humanity's adaptive capacity while letting fully autonomous entities interact with the real world.
Back in the store, the mother instinctively shielded her child, but Alexa had already arrived. Her eyes narrowed at the semi-transparent swirl, reading the holographic letters instinctively. She saw the active sign, felt the energy radiating outward, and immediately understood the implications: without a time limit, the creatures were no longer confined. Her pulse steadied. The training, the second wave, everything Magnus had prepared her for, this was it.
She raised a hand and let her energy bloom outward. It wasn't just healing, it was a localized barrier, a subtle lattice of kinetic resistance designed to buy civilians the seconds they would need to escape or regroup. Her fingers traced invisible paths along the floor, ceiling, and nearby shelving, creating zones of safety. Her aura, strong but controlled, amplified her own perception: she could sense the rift's fluctuations, the energy of potential entities waiting to emerge, and the structural weaknesses in the building.
Magnus, watching remotely through sensors, allowed her autonomy. He had promised never to intervene in her choices, no matter the scale. And here it was: her decision, in real time, to step into danger not as a reaction to fear but as a deliberate assertion of her new path as a licensed Cleaner. He could see it, analyze it, but he would not disrupt it. She had chosen.
The rift at the grocery store was the first of many: small, low-rank, but fully functional portals with no countdown, no imposed temporal limits, and fully active, and the number indicated was 200, with a level 2 creatures ready to breach Earth's space. The tower's system had evolved. Where once rifts were controlled tests, they were now unpredictable, self-regulating conduits for interdimensional threat. Humanity had a choice: adapt, survive, or fall, and the holographic interface, tailored for comprehension, was the tower's first message to them: your time is now.
The rift shimmered violently, the air around it crackling with energy. Before anyone could react, a quadrupedal Noid lunged forward, its four muscular limbs propelling it across the floor. Its eyeless head swung back and forth, but its motion and heat sensors made it a perfect predator in the chaos. Civilians screamed and scattered in every direction, shopping carts overturned, shelves rattled, and the scent of fear hung thick in the air.
Alexa immediately assessed the situation. Her healing energy, powerful and precise, was useless in this scenario. The creatures were too fast, their attacks too lethal for her to simply stabilize injuries after the fact. This was not a medical emergency anymore; this was combat. Her fingers brushed over the Springfield Hellcat at her hip, the extended magazine cold in her hand, and she drew it with precise efficiency.
"Clear the aisles!" she shouted, voice cutting through panic as she ran forward. A few license Cleaners and military personnel nearby had already drawn their weapons, but many civilians were still frozen in shock.
The first Noid lunged at a small child, its jaws snapping shut just inches from the boy's leg. Alexa's pulse spiked. She aimed and emptied a full magazine into the creature, bullets striking its limbs and body. Sparks flew where the rounds impacted, but the Noid's thick, heat-resistant hide absorbed much of the damage. It didn't falter entirely, it growled, a soundless vibration, and lunged again.
Instinctively, Alexa extended her hand. A translucent barrier erupted from her palm, expanding outward like a dome of shimmering energy. The barrier collided with the Noid's jaws as it snapped at the child. The creature's teeth slammed against the kinetic wall with a crunching, metallic sound, unable to pierce it. The child fell backward, protected entirely, while Alexa pulled him safely behind her.
Her mind raced. The barrier wasn't just a shield, it was a lattice of energy she could manipulate in real time. She compressed sections to block narrow corridors, expanded others to shield multiple civilians, and even directed small pulses to push back on the Noid's limbs. Bullets continued to strike the creatures, aided by the subtle resistance of her barrier, making them stagger in ways they wouldn't against a human alone.
Other quadrupedal Noid had begun swarming the store. Alexa's aura flared as she realized she could extend her barriers across larger zones, using them like temporary walls to herd the creatures away from civilians. One child ran across the frozen goods aisle, chased by a Noid, and she blasted her hand forward. A horizontal barrier shot up from the floor, cutting off the creature's path while Alexa's own rounds struck its flank. The beast twisted mid-leap, slamming into the wall of energy, teeth snapping at air as it skidded backward.
Her energy pulsed rhythmically, stabilizing the small fractures and burns of the few civilians caught by debris. Even as she fired, her aura acted subconsciously, creating protective zones over those she couldn't reach directly. She could feel the strain, the limits of her Rank B-A power, but adrenaline sharpened her control, allowing her to sustain multiple barriers at once.
Nearby, a military squad attempted to flank a Noid. Alexa's barrier redirected the creature's path toward them, giving the soldiers an opportunity to strike at weak points. The interplay between her energy shields and live fire created a fluid battlefield she could manipulate without physically touching the enemy. Each pulse, each barrier, was an extension of her will.
By the time Magnus arrived in the area, the situation was tense but under control. Alexa moved methodically, alternating between gunfire, barrier projection, and healing pulses to stabilize the most critical injuries. She saved three more civilians trapped beneath falling shelving by expanding a dome barrier over them, lifting the debris slightly with her kinetic energy as soldiers pulled them out.
It was the first time her Rank B-A ability had manifested in live combat outside training. Not just a measure of raw healing power, it was now a versatile tool, protective, adaptive, and offensive when paired with firearms. She could shield, redirect, and manipulate the battlefield while maintaining situational awareness.
The quadrupedal Noid began retreating back toward the rift after several sustained hits and the force of Alexa's barriers. Civilians and Cleaners alike paused to catch their breath, stunned by the combination of raw courage, skill, and energy manipulation. Alexa lowered her hand, sweat glistening on her brow, the child she had saved holding her jacket tightly.
"You… you saved us," the boy whispered.
Alexa knelt briefly, placing a hand on his shoulder, her voice steady but warm. "Stay behind me. You're safe now."
Magnus arrived beside her, silent but approving. He didn't need to speak—the display of control, strategy, and protection told him everything. She had chosen her path fully, and now, for the first time outside training, the world had witnessed the practical application of her abilities: not just healing, but protection, adaptation, and command over the battlefield.
The grocery store, though damaged, was secure for now. Alexa's barriers remained ready, shimmering faintly, a warning to any creature that might attempt a second assault. And in that moment, as civilians began to regroup and Cleaners coordinated the clearing of the rift, Alexa realized fully what it meant to be a licensed Cleaner: her choice was no longer theoretical, it was survival, responsibility, and the weight of lives in her hands.
As the people in side the Grocery store near the frozen meat section , were the meat counter was located , the place were the rift originated from , many erupted in cheers, the tension in the store finally began to ease. Civilians clutched one another, tears streaking faces, while the Horizon Guard member and the other non member Cleaners exchanged looks of exhausted relief. The counter had burst, signaling that the immediate threat from the Noid had been neutralized. Yet, confusion rippled through the group: the holographic number above the rift, the "threat count", remained stubbornly high at 170.
"It can't be," muttered Antonio Santiago, the vice leader of the ice-manipulating Cleaner squad. His icy aura still shimmered faintly in the air, frost clinging to his gloves as he surveyed the aftermath. "We only engaged a few. These numbers… it doesn't make sense."
Around him, his team moved quickly, tending to civilians and checking equipment. There was Rina Kuroda, a telekinetic who could manipulate small objects to be used to disarm wound enemies Jared Li, a sharpshooter specializing in non-lethal suppression rounds; and Marta Veyra, a defensive strategist capable of deploying fire balls in conjunction with the team's elemental powers. All eyes kept flicking to Alexa, whose glowing aura still radiated faintly from her earlier exertions.
The team gathered around her, hesitant but deliberate. Antonio spoke first, his voice calm but commanding. "You saved everyone here. Every civilian, every child. That barrier you cast… it wasn't just reactive, it was strategic. We need someone like you."
Rina stepped forward, her tone more personal. "Your ability to combine healing with protection in real-time… it's exactly what our team needs. You're not just strong, you see the battlefield in a way most can't."
Marta added, "We're building a unit that can respond faster than the Feral Guards, focusing on precision and support. We'd like you to join us, if you'll have us."
Alexa hesitated for a moment, thinking of Magnus, the ongoing global crisis, and the weight of her choice. She glanced toward the rift, still faintly swirling, before noticing the number above it drop sharply, from 176 straight down to zero.
The team blinked, startled. "It… it's gone?" Jared whispered.
Magnus, still in route from his trip to Home Depot with reinforcement materials, allowed himself a quiet, almost imperceptible smile. While physically distant, he had consciously intervened from afar, using precise kinetic and destructive energy to eliminate every remaining creature within the rift. What the Cleaners inside the store had thought was a near-endless swarm were actually scouts and isolated threats; Magnus' subtle hand had cleared the rift entirely, though no one inside had realized it.
Inside the grocery store, the chaos was slowly easing. Civilians clutched one another, some trembling, others silently crying in relief. The frozen meat counter had burst, signaling that the immediate threat had been neutralized. Alexa stood among them, her barrier energy fading but still faintly glowing from her earlier exertions. She scanned the crowd, ensuring everyone was safe, her heart pounding but steady.
Antonio Santiago, the vice leader of the ice-manipulating Cleaner squad, approached her with measured steps. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, his sharp brown eyes focused, and faint frost crystals shimmered along the edges of his jacket from residual energy. "You saved everyone here," he said, his frost-tinted aura still lingering faintly in the air. "Your barrier, your timing… it wasn't just reactive, it was strategy in motion. Everyone saw it. We want you on our team, but take your time to think it over. We want you to see the value of your abilities, the real impact you can have."
Around Antonio, the rest of his squad nodded in agreement. Rina Kuroda, a lithe Japanese woman with jet-black hair tied back into a tight ponytail, eyes sharp with calculation, flexed her fingers as if she could lift objects without touching them. Her telekinetic abilities made her movements precise and fluid, able to control small to medium objects with exacting detail.
Jared Li, a tall, lean Chinese man with short-cropped hair and a calm, intense gaze, held his rifle casually across his chest. Every movement suggested that he had already calculated trajectories for dozens of potential targets; his sharpshooting instincts were honed from years of field operations.
Marta Veyra, with sun-kissed Spanish skin and flowing chestnut hair pulled back into a practical braid, moved deliberately, scanning the perimeter even in the aftermath. Her focus on barriers and tactical positioning made her the steady backbone of the team during chaotic engagements.
All three of them had witnessed Alexa's precision, her calm under pressure, the way she had protected civilians while maintaining her own control. Every aspect of her Rank B-A ability had been on display, barriers, tactical decision-making, and the first full use of her powers in live combat outside training.
Meanwhile, back at their base of operations, three additional team members were preparing for potential future rifts:
Nikolai Petrov | 35 | Russian | Thermal Vision | Rank D , A broad-shouldered man with a shaved head and icy blue eyes, his thermal vision allowed him to detect hidden enemies and environmental hazards. A former reconnaissance officer, he was a scout who could move unseen and predict ambushes with near-perfect accuracy.
Aisha Mahmud | 26 | Egyptian | Healing Energy | Rank D , A petite woman with deep brown skin and tightly coiled hair, Aisha's focus was on stabilizing minor injuries and boosting stamina. Though her healing ability had not yet reached Alexa's level, she was already a dependable support presence in field operations.
Luca Romano | 29 | Italian | Enhanced Reflexes | Rank D , With tousled dark hair, olive skin, and a wiry frame, Luca's exceptional speed and reaction times made him a master of close-quarters combat. Agile and aggressive, he often led flank maneuvers when the squad deployed in hostile zones.
Additionally, the base roster included:
Selene Dubois | 31 | French | Light Manipulation | Rank D , Blonde, tall, and elegant, capable of creating blinding flashes and minor illusions, ideal for distraction and escape.
Mateo Alvarez | 25 | Colombian | Sonic Resonance | Rank D , Dark-haired, muscular, and energetic, he could generate concussive sound waves to disorient enemies.
Hana Kim | 24 | Korean | Minor Gravity Control | Rank D , Slender and focused, she could subtly alter the weight and movement of objects or opponents to gain an edge in combat.
These group formed a balanced and specialized squad, each bringing unique skills and expertise. They all recognized Alexa's potential, not only as a healer but now as a tactical asset capable of defending and saving civilians in high-stress combat situations. Antonio's calm, encouraging presence left space for Alexa to weigh her decision without pressure, while the team silently acknowledged her impact on the grocery store incident.
Alexa exhaled slowly, her mind still racing from the adrenaline. The chaos, the fear, the lives saved—everything pressed heavily on her heart. But for the first time since the second wave, she felt a small measure of agency. She could return to the Nexus Tech monitoring team, resume a safer, more controlled life, observing rifts from behind reinforced walls, managing data, and avoiding the direct horrors of the field. Many of her colleagues had chosen that path, valuing stability and survival over exposure to danger.
Or… she could take the new path Antonio had offered. To join his squad meant stepping fully into the field, using her healing and barrier abilities actively where civilians and lower-ranked Cleaners were at risk. It meant facing the unknown head-on, putting herself in harm's way to protect others, but also growing stronger, sharper, and more in tune with her powers. Her Rank B-A ability, tested today in live combat, had proven that she was capable, that she could make a tangible difference in life-or-death situations.
The weight of choice pressed on her chest, but for the first time, fear was tempered by resolve. Either path required commitment, but only one aligned with the part of her that could not ignore suffering. The part of her that had run toward chaos, not away from it. She glanced around at the civilians still being assisted, at the small group of Cleaners she could potentially work alongside, and a quiet certainty began to form. This wasn't just about survival, it was about purpose. And for Alexa, purpose had a name: helping those who could not protect themselves.
Antonio stepped back slightly, giving her space while his tone remained gentle but firm. "We don't need an answer now," he said. "But know this, what you did today, the control you showed, the lives you saved… it's extraordinary. We want you to see it too, and to see what you could do with us. Take your time, Alexa. Think it over. We'll be here."
Alexa nodded, letting the weight of the decision settle. Around her, the Cleaners continued helping civilians evacuate safely, guiding them past the collapsed shelves and shattered glass, while sparks of frost shimmered faintly from Antonio's team as they secured the area. Though the immediate danger had passed, the memory of the rift, the creatures, and the panic lingered. She knew that wherever she chose to go, her abilities had already made a difference, and that the choice she made next could shape the survival of many more.
For the first time, she allowed herself a moment of clarity. The decision was hers, and she would make it knowing the full scope of what she could do.
Alexa moved quickly, her senses sharp, alert to every sound around her. The streets were gradually filling with reporters and bystanders, drawn to the chaos that had erupted at the grocery store. Cameras flashed, microphones were thrust toward those still on site, and drones hovered above, capturing live footage. But she didn't stop. She was faster than ordinary people now, her Awakened reflexes carrying her through the crowd with minimal disturbance. Even so, her heart raced, not from exertion, but from the weight of the decision she had yet to voice.
By the time she reached her small, renovated apartment building, her pulse had steadied just enough for her to focus. She fumbled briefly at the door before stepping inside. And there, in the half-light of her newly retrofitted living room, she froze for a moment. Magnus was crouched beside the window, fitting reinforced bars with careful precision, his hands moving like a sculptor shaping metal. The air carried the faint scent of steel and oil, and a soft hum of energy radiated from the minor modifications he had already completed.
Alexa blinked, startled. "Magnus… you're here?" Her voice was quiet, almost unsure, but there was warmth in it.
Magnus didn't look up immediately. He tightened the final bolt, then straightened and glanced at her casually. "I thought I'd help with some… upgrades," he said, almost nonchalantly, as if the dangerous rift and the chaos outside were a distant memory. His tone, calm and grounded, belied the careful precision of his actions. "You'll need these if you're going to stay safe."
Alexa's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. Her heartbeat eased slightly, though the weight on her shoulders remained. "Thank you," she murmured, voice soft but sincere. "Really."
Magnus tilted his head, pretending to inspect a window hinge. "What happened out there? Did everything go… okay?" His words were casual, but she could feel the undercurrent of awareness, the knowledge that he already knew more than he let on.
She hesitated. For a moment, she simply looked at him, taking in the reassurance in his presence, the quiet strength that had always steadied her. She wondered if confessing her decision—her desire to fully embrace her life as a Cleaner, would hurt him, or if it would change what they had. Magnus, she knew, would never pressure her, but he would notice every shift in tone, every hesitation.
Finally, she took a slow breath, straightening her shoulders. "Magnus… I…" Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the nerves she tried to hide. "I think… I want to become a Cleaner. Not just observe. I want to go out there, use my abilities on the field, help people directly."
Magnus' hands froze briefly as he tightened the final screw. Then he leaned back against the window frame, crossing his arms and meeting her gaze. His expression was calm, but there was an almost imperceptible warmth in his eyes. "You do?"
Alexa nodded, slowly but firmly, the conviction building in her chest. "I've seen too much… and I can't just sit behind monitors anymore. I can't ignore it. If there's a chance I can save lives, I want to take it. Even if it's dangerous. Even if it's… scary."
Magnus smiled faintly, a mixture of pride and something softer, almost like relief. He stepped closer, tilting his head in his quiet, measured way. "Alexa… I knew this day would come. I don't need to hear the rest to know your heart is in the right place. You've always had that instinct. You don't hesitate where others might freeze, and you care too much to turn away. That's who you are."
Her throat tightened, a lump forming as relief and fear collided inside her. "I… I didn't want this to affect us," she admitted. "I didn't want my choice to… I don't know… make you feel like you have to"
Magnus shook his head, cutting her off gently. "Alexa, this doesn't change anything between us. I don't need to be out there beside you every step of the way. I know your heart, your intentions, and your strength. All I ask is honesty. Tell me the truth, always, and remember… our feelings are real, and they've never been one-sided."
She exhaled, finally allowing herself to lean against him. Her hands rested briefly on his chest as if grounding herself, and for the first time since the second wave, she allowed herself a moment of calm. "I promise," she whispered. "I'll be careful… and I'll always come back."
Magnus' hands rested lightly on her shoulders, steady, reassuring. "I know you will. And I'll always support you, Alexa. No matter what path you choose, I'll be here, quietly, always."
For a long moment, they simply stood together, the soft hum of the apartment and the faint glow of reinforced bars surrounding them. Alexa felt the weight of her decision settle into her chest—not as fear, but as purpose. She had chosen the path of action, of responsibility, of risking herself for others. And Magnus, as always, would be the calm presence behind her, watching, protecting in ways she couldn't always see, letting her grow, and never taking the choice from her.
And with that, she finally let herself smile.
Her journey as a licensed Cleaner, fully engaged in the field, was about to begin.
The morning sun filtered through the blinds of her apartment, soft light falling across the small living room where Alexa had spent the night thinking through her decision. Magnus sat quietly beside her on the couch, his hands folded loosely on his lap, eyes calm but attentive. There was no rush in the air, no tension, just the quiet space they shared as she prepared to take the next step in her life.
"Good morning," Magnus said softly, tilting his head as she reached for her tablet.
"Morning," Alexa replied, her voice still hushed, almost intimate in the silence. She paused, glancing at him, a smile flickering across her lips. "Thank you for… being here last night. It helped more than I can say."
Magnus' lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "I'll always be here, Alexa. Even if it's just quiet support."
She hesitated a moment, then picked up the tablet and dialed the contact for the Horizon Guard group, the specialized Cleaner squad led by Antonio Santiago. Her fingers trembled slightly as she spoke, excitement and nerves mingling.
"Antonio? This is Alexa… I'd like to… yes, I'd like to join your team," she said, her voice steadying as she explained her abilities, her recent live-field experience, and her training. She answered questions, outlined her Rank B-A healing and barrier capabilities, and listened as Antonio expressed approval and excitement.
Before ending the call, she asked tentatively, "Would it be… okay if Magnus joined too? He's… capable, and, well, I thought it might make sense if we worked together."
There was a brief silence on the other end. Magnus, standing slightly behind her, didn't interrupt immediately, but Alexa could feel his calm presence. When she ended the call, she looked at him, hopeful, expecting agreement.
"Excuse me… can you wait for a moment?" Alexa pressed the hold button and covered the mouthpiece of her phone, her voice dropping to a whisper as she turned toward Magnus.
Instead of stepping aside, Magnus crossed his arms, his expression calm but measured. "Alexa… I won't be joining you."
She blinked, startled, the words hanging in the air. "You… you're not?" Her hand tightened around the phone, uncertainty creeping in. "I thought, I assumed… I mean, I thought it made sense for us to go together."
Magnus shook his head slowly, his gaze steady. "I understand why you assumed that. And it would make sense… in theory. But you're not thinking about yourself fully if I go with you. Inside the rift, your focus would split—between your own decisions, your own instincts, and making sure I'm safe or close by. You can't operate at your full potential if part of your mind is on me."
Alexa's chest tightened, her heart quickening. "So… it's not that you don't want to be there with me?"
He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. "No. It's quite the opposite. I want you to grow, to fully claim your abilities, and your role as a Cleaner. That requires independence. My presence—even if meant to help, would tether you, make you second-guess, make you hesitate. I can't let that happen."
She bit her lip, processing the logic, the truth in his words. "I… I just wanted us to face it together. I thought it would be easier… safer."
Magnus' expression softened, a faint warmth crossing his otherwise stoic features. "Alexa, you're not leaving me. Not at all. What we have, what we mean to each other, that doesn't change. I'm not asking you to do this alone in life, just in the field. I'll wait for you, I'll support you, and I'll be here when you return. That's all I ask: trust me, be honest, and never forget that our feelings are mutual."
She exhaled slowly, relief and affection mingling in her chest. "So… you're saying you're letting me do this, fully… without holding back?"
"Yes," he said softly, tilting his head. "This is your path, Alexa. Inside the rift, in the chaos, in every life you choose to save, you have to own it. I'll support you from the sidelines, but this is your moment. Claim it."
Her fingers relaxed around the phone, her shoulders easing as the tension melted away. "Okay… I think I understand. I… I want to do this. I want to be a Cleaner, Magnus. And I'll do it knowing you'll be there, even if not by my side."
Magnus gave her a small, approving nod, the faintest of smiles touching his lips. "That's all I need to hear. Now finish your call, and go make your mark. I'll be here when you return, just like I promised."
Alexa's chest swelled with both courage and gratitude. She pressed the phone back to her ear and resumed her conversation with Antonio Santiago, feeling the weight of her decision settle into something solid, empowering, and entirely her own.