CHAPTER FIVE: THE WEIGHT OF SURVIVAL
Morning came quietly, almost cruelly serene.
Victoria woke with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright as if yanked from a nightmare. Every muscle ached. Her chest felt like it had been caged in iron. Her limbs were leaden, heavy, unresponsive. Her head throbbed like a drumbeat inside her skull. For a brief, fragile second, she allowed herself to hope.
Maybe it was all a dream.
The room, however, was too clean.
No blood on the floor.
No broken furniture.
No bodies.
Her breath hitched.
Her parents were gone.
Victor was gone.
Reality slammed into her chest with the force of a tidal wave. Her stomach churned. Panic clashed violently with rage. She tried to move, to leap from the bed, to fight—but her body betrayed her. A haze of dizziness blurred her vision. Every joint screamed. Every limb refused.
Why… why can't I move?
And then she saw him.
X.
Standing silently by the window, gas mask in place, watching the quiet city outside. His posture was relaxed. Calm. Detached. Like a man who had already won before the fight even began.
Him.
Her nails dug into her palms. Her chest heaved. Lightning danced faintly beneath her skin, her resonance stirring instinctively, but the serum coursing through her veins kept it dormant, her power suppressed.
No… I can't…
X spoke, voice cold and even.
"I wouldn't recommend that."
Victoria tried to crawl toward him. Her fingers scrabbled across the floorboards, leaving faint scratches. Her legs buckled. Her vision swirled. She collapsed back, gasping for air. Rage and despair mixed, a storm inside her chest.
X began to walk toward her, slow, deliberate, like a predator pacing wounded prey. Each step was calm. Measured. Terrifying.
"I injected you while you were unconscious," he said casually. "A temporary suppressor. Makes the body sluggish, weak. Wakes you up just in time to feel your helplessness."
Hatred boiled in Victoria's chest.
"You… monster…" she croaked.
X tilted his head slightly, the curve of his mask catching the morning light.
"Accurate."
He crouched near her. The air around him seemed heavier, darker, the tension bending it, warping it.
"Your parents are gone. Your brother is gone," he continued, his voice flat, unnerving in its calm. "I disposed of the bodies. Efficiently."
Tears streamed down Victoria's cheeks. Her fists clenched, shaking.
"If you disobey me," X added smoothly, "you will join them."
She wanted to scream. To lunge. To end him. Every cell screamed it.
"Why…? Why us?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Your fight is with the government… what did my family do to you?"
X stopped for a moment. There was a flicker of… thought, though it did not soften the terrifying calm in his tone.
"The world is rotten," he said. "It preaches order, justice… but it rewards cruelty. It smiles at lies, devours innocence, laughs at weakness. I was born into it. It spat me out. It broke me. And it will not survive my return."
Victoria's tears fell faster.
"I will make the world tremble," he continued, voice lowering, deliberate, cutting through her chest. "I will carve my name into history. Every soul that pretends righteousness will know fear. And when they kneel, I will decide who lives… who dies… who deserves mercy."
His masked head tilted slightly.
"You will help me do that. Obey, or perish."
Her chest heaved. The room seemed to shrink, darken, and close in. His words hit every nerve, every instinct.
And then, for a moment, his eyes—the ones behind the mask—caught something distant. A memory:
Little X laughing under a sun-drenched sky, chasing Paul in the yard, teasing Aria, outsmarting Leviathan in a game. Their parents smiled, warm, joyful. Life was… simple. Bright. Innocent.
Then came the black car. Its doors slammed. A hand gripped him roughly, pulling him away from the yard, from laughter, from warmth.
"Let me go!" he screamed. "Please! Don't take me!"
His parents looked on briefly. Their eyes betraying sorrow. Then they turned away, stepping inside the house. His siblings—Paul, Aria, Leviathan, James, Mary, Sophia—watched him with disgust, indifference, as if he were a stranger.
No one came for me. No one cared.
That memory started with sadness, then twisted into rage, into cold calculation, into the X standing before Victoria.
* * *
The hallways buzzed with uneasy tension. Paul leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. Leviathan tapped a pen against the desk. Mary stared out the window, silent. Jameswas obviously lost in thought. Aria , kept glancing around like she felt something bad could happen anytime.
A classmate appeared suddenly.
"Guys… gather around, you need to hear this," the student whispered.
Chairs scraped the floor as student rushed to meet the bearer of the news.
"So, get this. Turns out my house is close to the organization that the members were ended overnight" he started. "After a lot of research and enquiries, I found out that this place isn't even meant to exist. It was an organization, yes. But, that was until last year"
He finally paused, letting the puzzled faces around him digest what he was saying.
"What I'm trying to say is, of this organization was operating in secrecy, it simply means that what they were doing was terrible. And unfortunately for them now, they were killed by what they were keeping contained in there. And it's out for something. It looks...personal"
Aria's hands trembled on the desk. The government hasn't acted on this… not yet. And all we can do is watch?
Mary's lips pressed tight. This isn't random. This is intentional. Cold. Calculated. I can't cope with this a second time
Paul's jaw clenched. "They'll move. They have to—"
"They won't catch him," Leviathan interrupted. "Not with what we're seeing. He's smarter than anyone here. Faster than any force trying to stop him."
Across the room, Lydia leaned toward Christoff. "Do you think it's another resonance user?"
Christoff shook his head. "No. This isn't sloppy. This is… precision. Like he planned every second."
Aria shivered. This is personal. Too personal…
Dave sat in the armored SUV. Silence stretched over the vehicle like a tense fog. The tires crunched on gravel as they sped through empty streets, the air heavy with lingering rain and burnt oil.
Government operatives sat behind him, whispering. Some checked weapons, others reviewed maps.
"He won't get away" one agent whispered nervously.
"Let's just hope he doesn't" another replied
"According to the reports we've seen, his resonance seems to be based on blood. Maybe he can turn his blood into weapons"
"I'm not sure about that. The organization members were said to be drained of blood and their blood was in the ground. Too arranged. Maybe he can manipulate people's blood.
"Or maybe...it's both"
Dave didn't respond. He pressed a hand to his forehead as his resonance stirred. A faint mark glowed.
I will see him. I will find him.
The driver swerved slightly. Rain tapped against the windshield.
"Do you think he'll fight?" a younger agent asked.
Dave's hand flexed slightly. "Maybe. Maybe not. It really doesn't matter to me. My job is to find him for you and yours is to bring him in alive. But, I'll give you one little tip."
Everywhere became silent.
Dave continued "If it comes to a massive fight and you all realize that he's stronger and has more harmonics than you, just forget about bringing him alive and make sure you kill him"
The SUV hit a bump. The city outside seemed washed-out, gray. The tension inside the cabin thickened, as if the air itself was anticipating the confrontation.
The doors creaked open, echoing through the hollow, ruined structure.
The headquarters was a graveyard of chaos. Desks overturned. Monitors shattered. Walls scorched. Bloodstains faintly darkened the floors, dried and stiff. Dust floated in beams of light. Every corner hid shadows. Every step echoed against broken concrete.
Dave inhaled sharply. He closed his eyes, focusing. The faint mark on his forehead pulsed.
Images cascaded into his mind. Screaming, running, dying. Panic, terror, despair. Every worker's final second replayed in sharp clarity.
And then—him.
A figure in a gas mask. Standing. Calm. Menacing. Calculated. Every step, every subtle gesture burned into Dave's mind. Not the face—but enough. Enough to track.
The resonance expanded. Shadows danced unnaturally across walls. Dust swirled, disturbed by some invisible weight. The building groaned as if alive, haunted by the lingering presence of X.
Dave staggered slightly, gripping the wall for support. A bead of sweat slid down his temple.
This is him. This is the man we hunt.
He turned to the operatives behind him. Pale faces, taut jaws, eyes wide with disbelief and fear.
"I've found him," Dave said, voice steady. "Let's move."
The room fell silent for a heartbeat before the sound of boots echoed against broken tiles. Only one sentence was said repeatedly in the minds of the operatives.
We will end this.
Outside, rain began to tap lightly against shattered windows, carrying the scent of ozone and smoke.