"You can still stop this, Alex!" Psycore's voice cracked through the smoke. His purple armor was shattered along one side, blood seeping through the cracks. He staggered forward, holding his ribs. "Stop now—and we can still fix everything."
The man floating above him barely looked human anymore. His blue and white suit was torn, the great white star across his chest smeared with blood. His right arm hung limp, useless, while a jagged wound carved across his torso.
"Stop?" Alex's voice was calm, almost hollow. "It's already done, Psycore. I have no regrets—none for what I've done, and none for what comes next."
He raised his trembling hand. Blue light gathered around his fist, swelling, humming—then erupted toward the city below.
"No!" Psycore roared, diving after the falling beam, his body streaking through the sky like a comet.
"You can't save them, Psycore," Alex whispered, watching the explosion bloom beneath him. "You never could."
Then he turned and vanished into the clouds.
------
"I want that one, Mom—the chocolate parfait!"
The boy's eyes sparkled as he pointed at the street vendor's stand.
His mother sighed, smiling despite herself. "Too many sweets will rot your teeth, Tenor. This is the last one, okay?"
"The last one… for today," he thought with a grin, clutching the cold cup in both hands.
A breeze drifted through the street, carrying the smell of sugar and roasted nuts. For a heartbeat, everything felt perfect.
Then the world screamed.
The ground trembled. A deafening crack split the air.
"Mom?" Tenor's voice broke as the light around them turned white.
"Tenor—!"
The sound was swallowed by the roar of falling concrete. The street, the stalls, the laughter — gone in an instant.
_____
Silence followed. A silence too heavy for the world that remained.
My body… it's almost gone. Only my power's holding it together, Psycore thought, staggering amid the smoke and ruin.
He had stopped the building from falling—but too many were already dead.
Alex… no—Blue Patriot. Why? WHY!
A bitter metallic taste filled his mouth as rage burned through his fading strength. The city—the dream they'd both sworn to protect—lay in shambles. The "World's Hope," its savior, had become its executioner.
Six days. The battle had lasted six days that felt endless . Both had bled, broken, burned. Now Psycore stood on the edge of death, his powers barely knitting his body together.
In the end… I couldn't save them.
His gaze swept the wreckage—until he saw it. A boy, trapped beneath a slab of concrete. Half-buried, motionless.
"No…" Psycore whispered. His shattered hand trembled as violet energy rippled from his fingertips. Tendrils of light rose, snaking through the rubble, heaving the massive block aside.
The boy is dead…
Then—
Lup-dup.
A faint heartbeat echoed in his mind.
He's alive? A miracle… but not for long.
The child's body was mangled, crushed—almost as broken as Psycore himself. Patriot's words clawed back from memory:
"In the end, you saved no one."
"One last heroic act," Psycore murmured, kneeling beside the boy.
The purple tendrils wrapped around the child gently, their glow dimming as Psycore poured the last of his energy into healing him. His own wounds split further; his armor cracked like glass.
Just a little more… live, kid… live.
His light faded, the tendrils flickered—and Psycore's body finally gave in.
Silence settled over the ruins.
The boy's heartbeat continued.
----
"No, momm...."
Tenor jolted upright, chest heaving. Sweat clung to his skin.
—The same nightmare again?—
That voice. Always there. Always mocking.
"Shut up, Psycore," he muttered.
—Don't be so bitter in the morning, Tenor.— The tone was playful, teasing.
"All my mornings have been bitter since that day," he shot back. "Because of you—your voice stuck inside my body."
He glanced down. The light from the window caught the scars across his chest, his arms, his abdomen. A map of pain — and of vengeance.
—Your 'sister' will be here to wake you up any moment.—
A knock followed almost immediately.
"Come in," Tenor said, forcing his expression to soften. The bitterness vanished; in its place was a calm, gentle face.
—At least your acting's improved.—
"Shut up," he hissed under his breath.
The door swung open. A fiery-haired girl with twin tails peeked in, bright-eyed and full of energy.
"You ready for today, Tenor? Excited? I can't wait!"
"I'm… excited too, Elise," he replied, voice flat but kind.
"Party pooper! At least pretend to sound excited — it's our first day at the Unite Academy! Our first step to becoming heroes!"
"I'm happy you're excited," Tenor said with a small smile.
"Whatever! Just hurry up. Britta made breakfast — Mom had another early meeting at the Agency."
"Will do, Elise."
—At least try to look excited, boy.— Psycore's voice was dry. —And be thankful to Red Fury. She adopted you when no one else would.—
Tenor's expression hardened. "I'd be excited if it wasn't all a PR move. I hate how fake you heroes are."
—You talk like we're a bad breed. That's how the system works, boy. Popularity feeds the money. Still, the industry's changed in ten years. At least Elise truly thinks of you as family.—
"The girl's powerful," Tenor murmured, "but naïve."
—You brood too much. Maybe it's the hormones. But—listen.— Psycore's voice shifted, grave now. —The Academy… this is the first step. The truth about that incident lies there.—
"The Academy," Tenor echoed. He rose and faced the mirror.
A boy stared back — black hair streaked with white, one black eye and one glowing violet. The faint hum of energy pulsed beneath his skin.
Purple tendrils coiled across his hands as he flexed his fingers.
—Careful, boy. Don't push yourself. Your body still can't contain my power. Don't overdo it during the test.—
Tenor ignored him. His reflection stared back, eyes burning with rage.
"I'll find out the truth," he whispered, "and I'll end them all."