Torvin, the bulky Kinetic Faction member, had been smoldering with frustration at Zane's complete lack of reaction. Zane's silence, his absolute stillness, was an immediate defeat for their plan. Torvin's face was a mottled mask of rage, his kinetically-braced arms vibrating slightly beneath his tunic. He felt exposed by Zane's calm, and the need to break that stillness, to drag the "monster" back to the surface, became paramount.
He shot to his feet, ignoring the procedural rules and the sharp glare from the Psionic leader. He didn't slam his hand on the table this time; he advanced, taking two menacing steps away from the council table and directly toward Zane.
"Silence won't save you, boy!" Torvin roared, his voice a gravelly bellow that stripped the fragile composure from the room. "You can stand there like a statue, but we know what you are! We saw you! You're a Project Chimera failure! A ticking bomb fueled by the same filth that built the Facility!"
He stopped just short of Zane's personal space, his imposing frame towering over him, radiating palpable, aggressive kinetic energy. His eyes were wide and manic, staring directly into Zane's.
"You want to talk about terror?" Torvin spat, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper intended to wound. "We know why you lost control! You can't stand to see a little girl hurt because you know what it feels like to be nothing more than a lab rat! You're nothing without that demon blood of yours! You're a child, and when the pain comes, the child cries, and the monster eats the world!"
Zane's body, despite his iron will, registered the proximity and the aggression. The blood energy within him surged violently, a hot, metallic wave crashing against the inner walls of his control. Torvin's words were a calculated strike, aiming not at his power, but at the deepest shame of his past: his helplessness, his experimentation, the horrifying realization that he was engineered.
The pressure was immense. The air was thick with expectation and volatile kinetic force. Lyra's hands, unseen by the council, clenched tightly beneath the table, her entire being radiating focused calm toward Zane.
Zane felt the breaking point approach, the razor's edge where he would either surrender to the crimson rage or achieve true, lasting mastery. He did not flinch. He did not look away from Torvin's manic gaze.
Then, he spoke. His voice was not the flat, controlled monotone he had used moments ago. It was quiet, steady, and infused with a chilling, undeniable moral authority that cut through the physical aggression
"You speak as if you weren't a scared kid before," Zane stated, his words landing with the precision of a scalpel. He didn't engage with the insults; he engaged with the hypocrisy. "Taken away from family. Abused, manipulated. If this Sanctuary is meant to protect and be a safe space for the people that were hurt by the Facility, then why is it that hurting a scared child isn't against the rules?"
He held Torvin's gaze, the sheer volume of his emotionless observation forcing Torvin to feel the weight of his own actions.
"If you're all okay with that," Zane continued, his voice remaining level, "then you're no better than the people who did this to us, that experimented on us, used us for their own personal gain."
His final statement—"If that's how this Sanctuary is, then it's more of a prison than anything"—landed in the vast, silent hall with the concussive force of a kinetic blast. It was a complete reframing of the entire debate, shifting the focus from Zane's lack of control to the Sanctuary's fundamental moral failure.
Torvin, who had expected either a furious outburst or a terrified retreat, was utterly paralyzed by the unexpected, quiet blow. The question didn't invite debate; it issued a damning verdict on the Kinetic Faction's principles and, by extension, on every person in the room who prioritized order over compassion. Torvin's manic eyes flickered, the aggressive light in them faltering as the raw, unaddressed shame of his own past—the helplessness of being experimented on—was forced to the surface by Zane's scalpel-like precision.
The powerful kinetic energy that had been radiating from Torvin instantly collapsed inward, leaving him looking suddenly diminished, his immense physical presence shrinking under the weight of Zane's moral authority. He had come to inflict shame; he left exposed to his own.
The silence that followed was deeper, heavier than any before. The murmuring crowd was utterly silenced, the observers exchanging tense, uncertain glances. Zane's stillness hadn't just survived the attack; it had redirected and weaponized the force of the attack itself.
At the council table, the Psionic leader and the other faction heads looked visibly shaken. Zane had forced them to look beyond the immediate fight and confront the agonizing hypocrisy of their own refuge. If they allowed the abuse of the weak, how were they different from the Facility that created them?
Lyra, unseen by the council, let out a slow, silent breath of pure relief. Zane hadn't just held the line; he had advanced it. His control, fueled not by absence of emotion but by a higher, channeled moral outrage, had given him mastery.
Torvin finally stumbled back, his retreat an admission of utter defeat. His throat worked, but no sound came out; his usual bellow was trapped by the sudden, crushing weight of his own faction's exposed cruelty. He sank back into his seat, his massive hands trembling, no longer from kinetic force, but from shock.
The Psionic leader cleared her throat, her amplified voice wavering slightly—a sign that even her psychic composure had been momentarily fractured. "The... the matter of the Sanctuary's ethical charter is an item for future discussion," she announced, trying to regain control. "Let us return to the Breach of Sanctuary Order."
Pierce, seeing his entire political attack disintegrate, slammed his fist on the table. "No! We can't let him get away with this sentimental manipulation! He's deflecting! He attacked Xavier with lethal force, and he needs to be held accountable!" His voice was high-pitched, desperate, betraying the severe crack in their carefully constructed strategy. The collective silence that followed his outburst only served to amplify the sheer damage Zane's words had inflicted on the Kinetic Faction's moral standing.
Zane remained an unmoving pillar. He did not look at Pierce. He did not move a muscle. He simply held the stillness, allowing the quiet, damning weight of his previous statement to continue crushing the argument. He was a stone wall against Pierce's raging current.
The Psionic leader, her pale eyes darting between the enraged Pierce and the utterly calm Zane, knew the entire process had been derailed. The council was not discussing Zane's blood-fueled rampage anymore; they were questioning the Sanctuary's soul.
"Mr. Pierce," the leader cut in, her amplified voice gaining a cold, procedural edge designed to assert control, "Mr. Zane's statement, while rhetorical, addresses a key issue of Sanctuary governance. The Breach of Sanctuary Order explicitly states that lethal force is only justifiable in the defense of life from an immediate, unprovoked threat." She paused, her gaze sweeping the room. "The unprovoked aggression from Xavier's faction toward Elias, a minor and a protected member, is now the central issue."
The tide had officially turned. Lyra's tiny, grateful smile widened, but she instantly clamped down on the emotion. The ethical battle was won, but the political fallout was only just beginning.