Three days later.
The gym on Base Level 4 was mostly empty. No one trained this early—except Eren. The heavy bag swung in front of him, already slick with sweat and the echo of every hit he landed.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud-thud.
His fists moved fast, knuckles bruised and wrapped.
He didn't know what he was punching. He didn't care.
He just wanted the image out of his head. That woman. That explosion. Her eyes locked on him. Not afraid. Not surprised. Like she knew him.
He exhaled sharply and went for another—
Blink.
The gym was gone.
His fists were frozen mid-air.
He stood in a vast, white space. The kind that didn't echo. Didn't breathe. Didn't exist.
"…Hello?"
His voice sounded like it was swallowed before it even left his mouth.
And then—
A girl appeared.
Long black hair spilled behind her like dripping ink. Her skin pale. Her expression… amused. Eyes sharp and wide, like they'd been staring at everything for far too long.
She tilted her head.
"You finally blinked."
Eren took a step back. "What is this? Where am I?"
"You're asleep," she smiled. "Sort of."
"I'm not—!"
"Shhh," she whispered, and the whole world hushed with her.
"I'm the part of you they forgot to warn you about," she said, walking in a circle around him. "The thing that shouldn't be here. The twin you devoured to be born."
She stopped in front of him.
"I'm your sister, Eren. You can call me Nothing."
His heart thudded.
"This isn't real."
She grinned.
"You wish it wasn't."
A pulse hit his chest, and suddenly his mind flooded with visions—warped memories, burning skies, blood spilling from invisible cuts. And in all of them, her voice, whispering like a sickness.
"You stole my body to live. But you can't keep me buried. Not forever."
Eren clutched his head. "STOP—!"
"Say my name," she whispered, brushing her finger along his jaw. "Say it, and I'll show you everything I can do."
The pressure built behind his eyes. His heart was racing, breath ragged.
"Eren—"
BAM.
He was back in the gym.
Flat on his back.
The heavy bag swayed above him like nothing had happened.
Except—he was shaking.
And his fists were glowing faintly. A soft shimmer of air swirling around them like razor-thin blades.
He sat up, panting.
His voice cracked.
"…Nothing."
Three Weeks Later
Level 3 – Warzone Drop Point Gamma
The dropship doors hissed open. The air was thick with dust, and the heat rolling off the cracked metal ground was alive. Screams echoed in the distance, the kind you didn't recover from.
Eren stepped out, boots slamming down hard. He wore a matte-black combat vest, an AR pistol strapped to his thigh, and three grenades clipped tight to his chest rig.
Beside him, fifty soldiers spread out across the ruin, all trained on one objective: Neutralize the rogue powerholder.
Class D.
Lighting-based.
Destructive and unstable.
But not bulletproof.
Command's words were cold and clean over comms:
"Shoot on sight. No hesitation."
But Eren didn't need the reminder.
He wanted this.
Something inside him itched—ever since he met her. Nothing.
He hadn't told anyone. Couldn't. The contract he signed still weighed on him. But her voice was louder now. Sometimes at night. Sometimes during training. Sometimes… even when he blinked.
He gripped his pistol tighter.
"Eyes open!" barked Sergeant Kael, a grizzled vet with half his face burned from a prior incident. "We're not here to play hero. You see sparks, you drop him."
The squad moved through the broken corridors of what used to be a trade hub. Wires dangled from the ceiling like nerves. Blood streaked the walls.
Eren passed a charred body slumped against a vending unit. Smoke still curled from its chest.
"Shit," muttered one soldier. "He's close."
A sharp CRACK split the air like a whip.
Then another. Louder.
Then—
BOOM!
Electricity exploded through the hallway ahead, arcing in brilliant, white-hot tendrils. Three men screamed as their bodies locked up, spasming violently before collapsing.
"CONTACT!" Kael shouted. "ENGAGE! ENGAGE!"
Gunfire erupted. Eren ducked low, hugging a support beam. He peeked out—
There he was.
The powerholder.
A man, shirtless and lean, veins glowing with lightning. His hands lit up with pure white current, eyes rolled back, face twisted in raw rage.
He lifted one hand.
A bolt snapped into a soldier's skull. The body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Eren's heart pounded.
Do it. Her voice. Calm and cruel. Let me out.
He grit his teeth. "SHUT UP!"
He leaned out and fired—three sharp bursts from his pistol.
The bullets nicked the man's shoulder. He flinched.
Not bulletproof.
"Throwing grenade!" Eren yelled, arming it fast and hurling it around the corner.
It exploded—flash, bang, smoke.
And Eren ran.
Through the chaos, past the dying screams and panicked yelling, straight toward the enemy.
The powerholder was dazed, off balance.
Eren slid across the floor, raised his pistol, and fired into the man's knee.
CRACK.
The guy howled, electricity bursting from his mouth like a scream turned solid.
Then something snapped inside Eren.
Everything slowed down.
The lights dimmed.
He could feel the air vibrate, like a frequency only he could hear.
And for one second… he blinked.
When he opened his eyes—
He was standing behind the powerholder.
No one saw him move. Not a single soldier noticed the shift, not even the ones closest. It was like he'd simply vanished from their line of sight. He didn't make a sound, didn't disturb the air. He just was.
The powerholder turned, confused, his body flickering with unstable energy.
Eren raised his pistol.
Pressed it to the back of his neck.
And pulled the trigger.
POP.
The lightning died with him. The powerholder crumpled, lifeless, to the floor.
The corridor went silent, save for the soft hum of burnt air and the occasional flicker of dying sparks.
Eren stood still, breathing hard. Fast. Too fast. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through his veins like fire. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his eyes never left the fallen body in front of him.
Level 4 – Military Base, Interrogation Room
The metal walls were gray and cold, humming faintly with the same sterile buzz that infected every inch of the base. The kind of place built to make you feel small. Disposable.
Eren sat alone at the metal table, fingers tapping restlessly. One-two-three. Pause. One-two-three. His leg bounced beneath him, a rhythm he couldn't kill.
The door opened with a hiss.
Two officers walked in. Commander Rhett—sharp suit, colder stare—and a woman Eren hadn't seen before. Lab coat. Tablet in hand. Analyst.
"Eren Morvain," Rhett started, voice flat, "You're not in trouble."
The woman sat across from him, already tapping into a holographic recording. The mission feed from Drop Point Gamma flickered in the air—static, gunfire, the flash of the lightning rogue—and then… nothing.
Just static.
Rhett folded his arms. "You see the issue?"
Eren didn't speak.
"You disappeared," the woman said, tone almost too polite. "Not from the radar. From sight. Our entire unit was engaged. Eyes everywhere. Comms live. And no one saw how you got behind him."
She leaned in slightly. "So how did you do it?"
Eren blinked. "I ran."
"Through the smoke, sure. But what happened in the smoke?"
"I just ran."
Rhett narrowed his eyes. "You're fast. I'll give you that. But not that fast. Did you use a stimulant? Cloak tech? A banned enhancer?"
Eren's voice was calm. "I used my legs."
A pause. Rhett sighed and leaned against the wall.
The woman kept pressing. "Look, if you've got something—some tactic—we can replicate it. Train others. This is a war. We need every edge."
Eren looked her straight in the eye. "Then train them to run better."
Another pause.
Rhett stepped forward, knuckles cracking. "You think this is funny?"
Eren didn't answer. He wasn't smiling.
For nearly an hour, they tried different angles. Body language tests. Sudden questions. Even showing him footage of other operatives in similar engagements. Nothing cracked him. And the truth was—they weren't even close.
Because there was no tactic.
No explanation he could give that wouldn't make them think he'd lost his mind.
Because what happened wasn't normal. He wasn't normal. Not anymore.
Finally, they backed off. The woman sighed and shut off her tablet. Rhett stared him down a second longer, then gave a curt nod.
"We'll be in touch," he muttered. "Dismissed."
The door shut behind them.
Eren leaned back in his chair, exhaling slow. He rubbed his temples, eyes closed. That buzzing in his head was back. Familiar.
Her voice whispered through the quiet:
Lying suits you, brother.
He didn't answer.
He just sat there, listening to the silence she left behind.