Nullus had barely recovered from the shock of facing the Thought Killer when those dark moments that haunted him at every corner of his existence struck him once more. His heart pounded with a mixture of anger, fear, and curiosity, realizing now that the world around him was merciless and that the new abilities he had gained had made him a target for ruthless watchers.
He rushed out of his apartment, gasping for breath in the corridors of the impoverished district he had lived in for some time, his mind racing with the realization that the recent events were not mere coincidences but had been meticulously orchestrated by the Organization. Iggy had yet to wake up. The Organization had managed to track the flow of primordial energy in his room the previous night. He knew—if not with certainty, then with strong suspicion—that Selene, the one they had been monitoring and gathering information on, was likely another of their targets.
That thought alone sent a chilling sense of terror through him. He realized that the ability he was beginning to develop had made him a global threat, and the forces that ruled this world had exploited his only weakness to limit his influence.
With no other choice, he headed toward Selene's residence—the only person he felt carried a sliver of hope, even if that hope was laced with secrecy and fear. His hesitant steps led him through the narrow streets of the district, where alleys intertwined, and shadows merged with the dim moonlight. He finally arrived at Selene's house, a building that looked worn down by time. But the front door was wide open, as if someone had entered and never returned.
His heart hesitated for a moment, and anxiety consumed him, but he couldn't stop now. He quickly stepped inside, trying to scan the interior, wondering: Had Selene left the place? Or was something more sinister at play?
As he ventured deeper into the house, everything seemed abandoned. No sound reached his ears, no movement—only a heavy silence carrying secrets the walls refused to reveal. He wandered through the winding corridors, and with each step, his uncertainty grew. He stopped at a small room he assumed was the living room, but what greeted him was fear itself.
The emptiness of the room was larger than it should have been.
He began searching carefully, touching the dust-covered furniture, peering behind the tattered curtains, until he spotted something half-buried beneath layers of dust on the floor. Something out of place in this abandoned house—something tragic.
A severed hand.
The hand, which was undoubtedly part of Selene's body, lay on the ground in a horrifying manner. The fingers were detached from the palm, and the blood had dried on its surface as if time had frozen in that moment.
Nullus couldn't believe his eyes. He felt as if everything around him had collapsed, and this outcome was no mere accident.
Thoughts stormed through his mind like raging currents. Was this proof that the Organization had pinpointed his location the night before when he had begun to understand himself more? Had they been watching him by every possible means, even detecting the distortion in the primordial energy flow within his room?
His heart grew heavier with sorrow and regret.
A deep sadness overtook him, as if the entire world had betrayed his existence. It was not just about losing power or the unexpected attack; it was the loss of trust—the loss of the self he once believed controlled his fate.
The sight of Selene's severed hand became a symbol of a betrayal he could not ignore. How could a being striving to reclaim its strength and dominance allow itself to be entangled in such complexities? His heart wavered between longing for the past and a thirst for revenge, but he quickly realized that neither would bring him anything but more darkness.
He had to leave. He had to find out if Selene was still alive. If she was in danger. He had to be sure. Even if it meant exposing himself.
With lethal urgency, Nullus fled the house, heading toward the place where employees gathered after work. His heart pounded, but within him, a temporary calm settled, as if he was trying to process the pain and shock of that catastrophic scene.
As he ran, he couldn't stop thinking about this night—about how everything had changed because of his power, and how the Organization had targeted every weakness he had. That severed hand reminded him that there were those seeking to cripple his strength, that they had exploited his growing self-awareness to strike him with a symbol meant to confirm his vulnerability.
When he arrived at his workplace, he was overwhelmed with emotions. He couldn't shake the feeling that every moment of these events was part of a greater test—a test not just of his ability to amplify, but of his deeper understanding of existence itself.
He knew he had to meet Selene. He had to see if she was safe. He had to reclaim some part of the trust he had lost.
And at that moment, all surrounding sounds faded, and time seemed to freeze.
He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed her number, but before the call could connect, a powerful voice echoed within him:
"You must understand that every step you take ripples through the universe. If you wish to assert your strength, you must put an end to your weakness. Do not let them see you waver."
Those words were both a call to reclaim control and a painful reminder that the world would not spare those who exposed their vulnerabilities.
He hesitated for a moment.
Then, he made his decision.
Selene was the only hope he had left in this dark world. Perhaps she could help him rebuild what had been shattered.
Later that night, Nullus sat on his worn-out bed, surrounded by the heavy silence of the night, holding the black card that the man named Kiel had given him. The card bore a phone number and the name "Assassins' Agency", a silent invitation to a path that could change his life forever.
He stared at the card slowly, as images of that fateful encounter played in his mind.
That moment forced him to pause and confront the contradiction he had lived in.
Before, he hadn't cared when he witnessed innocent people being killed in front of him—as if it was just another fleeting phenomenon in an indifferent world. But now, after gaining new strength and a deeper conceptual understanding of himself and the world, he felt the weight of those actions in a personal way.
When someone he loved was kidnapped or killed, he felt drawn to the pain, as if the suffering caused by death touched the very core of his existence.
"How can I remain indifferent?"
He asked himself, his heartbeat quickening with each thought.
"I used to think that killing was merely an act—just another part of a world that never stops changing. But now, when the one I love is taken from me, the pain becomes personal. How can I remain detached in a reality that weighs so heavily on my heart?"
Conflicting voices clashed within him.
One part of him whispered that there was no difference between an unnoticed death and a meaningless life, that pain meant nothing in a world devoid of meaning.
But another part—deeper, more human—called out:
"I have feelings, but I refused to acknowledge them. Perhaps because I feared they would become my only weaknesses."
He felt a strange sense of incompleteness, as if the world had found a way to show him that no one could escape the truth.
He looked at the card once more, now seeing it as a silent challenge: "Assassins' Agency."
That name was both a promise of newfound power and a curse reminding him that, in his pursuit of strength, he might lose the last fragments of his humanity.
As he contemplated this contradiction, heavy words formed in his weary heart:
"Perhaps true strength does not come from denying pain, but from facing it and reshaping it. Destroying those I love might prove my power, but it will grant me nothing but emptiness. On the other hand, acknowledging pain and regret may be the only thing that restores a piece of my humanity."
The card shimmered faintly in his fingers, a silent reminder of the path ahead.
A path filled with choices.
And consequences.