"Have you found him yet?"
"This is the location. He's somewhere around here."
"Sigh. Why did he have to chase him all the way out here?"
Joel, Mari, Luca, and Trev sat inside the car, driving near the edge of the slums. After losing the men that was chasing after them, they re-grouped and tried to find out what happened after Nova went after Cyrus.
But they hadn't been able to contact Nova, so they tried tracking his phone instead. The GPS signal wasn't precise and kept blinking in and out, leading them here—to the outskirts of the slums.
"We've been around this block three times already," Mari muttered.
"We should start checking some abandoned buildings," Luca suggested. "Maybe he locked Cyrus up somewhere, trying to extract information."
"All right, good idea. Mari, pull over here."
"We're walking?" Mari asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. It's faster if we spread out."
…..
"HAHAHA…cough..HAH-HA!"
Anybody who was near the area could hear the crazed laughter echoing through the cracked walls of the dilapidated building, a sharp scent of rust and damp metal also hung thick in the air. Followed by the outburst of a man having a fit.
"I won't… tell you. Hahaha"
"Fuck! FUCK!" Adrian stomped his feet hard against the concrete floor, his fingers twitching restlessly at his sides.
His chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths. Frustration and rage boiled beneath his skin.
He looked back at Nova, barely recognizable—battered from head to toe, blood trailing from his eyes and nose. The rope that once bound him tightly now hung loose around his broken left arm, slipping off like it, too, had given up.
Despite everything Adrian had done—every threat, every blow—Nova didn't break. He just started laughing, a hoarse sound that made Adrian flinch.
"Let… me… go…" Nova rasped, his voice raw like his throat had been scraped with gravel. "Or I release all the evidence I got…"
Even speaking clearly brought him pain, but he forced every word out, defiance burning in his broken form.
This was his final card.
The last desperate thread of hope he clung to. A bluff wrapped in bravado, hoping it would buy him time or maybe even a way out alive. He had no actual evidence, no informants, no documents hidden away. Just the truth he had pulled straight from Adrian using his ability.
But that was enough to make it believable.
"Think about what your father would do," Nova hissed, the pain in his throat twisting every word. "When he finds out all the shit you've pulled—rape, torture… innocent women buried like trash."
He coughed out blood between words, but the fire in his voice didn't fade. "All those sins are going to crawl back to you."
A vein throbbed violently at Adrian's temple. His pride screamed for retaliation, for blood, but his grip on control was already slipping. The possibility that Nova wasn't bluffing gnawed at the edges of his confidence.
If even a fraction of what he said reached his father's ears, it would all be over.
Adrian's options were running out fast, and desperation clawed at his composure. Like so many before him in a similar situation, he lashed out.
"YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he roared, his voice torn between fury and humiliation.
He swung his right arm up, aiming to strike Nova again, but something held him back. The violence that had come so easily before now felt useless.
His patience had been stretched to the breaking point, his skin crawling with a restless, dangerous energy. But he still had his reasons in place.
Suppressing the urge to unleash more fury, he instead pointed a trembling finger at one of the twins standing silently behind him. "You… give me your gun."
The man hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering with doubt, but when he saw his twin give a subtle nod, he gave in. With a resigned expression, he pulled the pistol from his side and handed it over to Adrian.
"See this?" Adrian said, voice trembling with rage.
Nova, slumped against the pole, forcing his eyes open—but all he could feel was pain.
Only his left eye managed to lift slightly. He didn't even realize the other one was swollen shut, too bruised to even flinch.
"TELL ME NOW! OR ELSE!" Adrian roared, jamming the cold barrel against Nova's forehead. "NOOOW!!"
Nova's one open eye drifted lazily toward the shaking figure in front of him. Adrian looked less like a threat and more like a child throwing a tantrum, a spoiled brat denied his toy—but this one had a gun in hand and blood on his shoes.
This must've been what Cyrus saw when he lashed out. What kind of poetic justice was this?
Nova let out a shaky breath, the irony settling in his chest heavier than the pain. He had once stood in Adrian's place, demanding answers, throwing kicks, thinking he held the power.
Now look at him—bloodied, broken, and cornered like a stray dog. Pathetic.
Maybe he deserved this… maybe the world just liked playing sick little games. A cruel reminder that this second life was never truly his. Just borrowed time, with his past actions replaying—a constant sign that everything was coming due.
"I WILL KILL YOU…"
Adrian's threats raged on, but Nova didn't even flinch anymore. His words fell on deaf ears.
Nova saw a man who thought he was in control, but that fury reeked of desperation. And desperation is what destroys people.
Nova slurred through bloodied lips, each syllable scraping painfully against his torn tongue. "Do your… worst… you piece... of shit."
His words were barely a whisper, but to Adrian, it thundered like a drumbeat in an empty cathedral, echoing in the hollow parts of his mind.
BANG! BANG!
…..
"Shhh. I heard gunshots," Joel said, pressing a finger gently against Mari's lips to quiet her.
Mari shot him a look of pure disdain and swatted his hand away. "What are you doing?"
Joel kept his voice low. "I heard it. You need to stay quiet."
"I wasn't even talking," Mari replied, confusion flickering across her face. "And I'm right here next to you, of course I heard it too."
Joel sighed, trying to stay focused. "Shhhh... so where exactly?"
Mari rolled her eyes. "Ugh, let's go, you pervert. It's in that building."
…..
'You don't read your past—you relive it.'
Nova always found himself drawn to that phrase whenever he used his ability. Reading stories, memories, experiences… it never felt like mere observation. It was immersion.
The scent, the sound, the instinctive pull of imagination—it all dragged him back, deeper, into the raw emotions of someone else's life.
Sometimes, it was pleasure.
Sometimes, pain.
But always vivid. Always alive.
And in those moments, it was easy to forget his own story—his own sins, regrets, and unfinished chapters.
But the thing about digging through the past, even when it belongs to others, is that it always stirs your own.
The past never forgets its way. You can outrun it for a while, but it always knows where to find you.
And Nova, who had spent so long trying to leave it behind, now felt the full weight of it crashing down.
He could feel death nearing again—but this time, he wasn't afraid. This time, he was ready to face it.
Facing the muzzle of the gun without fear, Nova figured this might be the last thing he'd ever do in this world.
A fearless last stand.
Fighting death… it's kind of noble, if you really think about it.
The first time he died and came back? Still a mystery. Maybe it was a miracle. Maybe he just had stupidly good genes.
Either way, the path that led him here felt eerily familiar.
You run. You fight. You struggle.
And then, like some twisted déjà vu… you get shot. Again.
The past really knows how to catch up—like it's hell-bent on making you relive it all over again.
Like a whisper in your ear saying: 'Stop. Pay attention. Learn. And don't you dare forget… ever.'
He never really made the most of the second chance he was given. Treated it like just another ordinary day.
Sure, there was fear—real trauma. He remembered the panic, the cold sweat, the screaming silence of dying.
But after that?
Nothing.
Life just… resumed. Like a walk in the park. A return to normalcy that felt almost insulting.
And now, here he was again.
Same situation.
Same ending.
Expecting the same miracle, like death was just a phase he could walk through again.
No…
The past was still there. Waiting. Watching.
So—No.
This time would be different.
He wouldn't welcome death.
Death would have to accept him.
And he'd reject it firmly, without hesitation.
…..
The ceiling of the dilapidated building where Nova was held had long surrendered to time—full of cracks and gaping holes that let the night sky peek through. Now, a few more holes joined the mess, fresh and jagged, revealing starlight that spilled like cold silver onto the ruined floor.
Adrian had pulled the trigger. But at the last second, he pulled away.
Nova was at his breaking point, dangling by a thread. Just a little more pressure and Adrian could finally taste the twisted satisfaction of shattering him completely. Yet, something stopped him. Maybe doubt. Maybe fear. Maybe pride.
In that final second, instead of finishing the job, Adrian jerked the gun upward and shot it into the ceiling.
The shots echoed like thunder in the hollow corpse of the building.
Crrreeeeeaaaak...
A door somewhere in the building groaned open, followed by the faint murmur of hushed voices.
Adrian and the twins froze, eyes snapping toward the sound.
"Check it out," Adrian ordered, his voice low but sharp.
"We'll handle it, young master," the twins replied calmly. The two moved forward, inching in closer.
But just as they reached a couple of steps away…
A sudden clatter echoed from outside the building.
Adrian flinched, turning his head slightly. "What was that?"
The twins didn't answer. They just vanished into a dark corner, swallowed by the silence.
And for a moment, Adrian was alone.
That's when Nova saw his back.
He didn't know why or how—but the twins were nowhere near him.
The echo of the gunshots still rang in his ears, a cruel reminder that his life wasn't his own. Not anymore. Not unless he took it back.
So, he did.
With a grunt of pain, Nova pushed himself up on his elbows. His vision swam, and his blood-soaked clothes clung to him like dead weight. The rope that had bound him now hung uselessly at his broken left arm.
Adrian still hadn't noticed. His focus was on the chaos unfolding at the far end of the room.
Nova's gaze locked on him. His breathing ragged, vision blurred, but he was determined.
He launched himself forward—every nerve in his broken body screamed, but his mind shouted louder.
His shoulder slammed into Adrian's back, sending both of them crashing to the ground.
Adrian gasped, clearly caught off guard.
Nova didn't hesitate. Gritting his teeth, he shoved Adrian hard into the ground, driving him down further.
"What the fuck! Get off me!" Adrian bellowed, voice cracking with shock and fury.
But Nova wasn't stopping. Rage and sheer will poured out with every strike.
He punched hard—harder than before.
THUD.
"Get off me!"
THUD.
"You—"
THUD. THUD.
"Arrgh, fuck!"
THUD. THUD.
His strength waning, Adrian's voice cracked into something desperate.
"I...m...sorry..."
THUD. THUD. THUD.
"…he-lpp…"
When the twins finally sensed something was wrong, they appeared back into the room—Only to be greeted by the sight of Nova pinned atop Adrian, hammering blows into his bloodied, battered face without mercy.
Even his broken left arm swung forward with reckless determination, Nova drove the assault relentlessly—hellbent on crushing any chance Adrian had to catch his breath.
The twins froze for just a breath, stunned by the sheer violence of it.
Then they moved like shadows slicing through the night, sprinting back to their young master's side.
THUD… THUD…
Nova slowed his punches, eyes dropping to Adrian's shattered face—so mangled it was almost unrecognizable. One eye had popped out, hanging grotesquely, his mouth a caved-in mess of blood and teeth.
And still, a wicked grin crept across Nova's face.
Even if none of this changed a damn thing… even if death was certain…
Something in him felt alive. He felt the struggle fade, only silence and surrender remained.
And yet, in that surrender, he felt free.
He forced himself to stand, his breath ragged and his limbs trembled. Then he looked down—
Blood. Spilling from his chest.
There was a hole. A fresh one. A gunshot wound.
He wondered. When?
He hadn't heard it. Hadn't felt it either.
All he knew was the strange calm that had replaced the chaos, the kind that came not with victory…
…but with the quiet satisfaction of choosing your own end.
He closed his eyes with a sigh.
Then, his body gave out.
Thud.
"This is how it ends… again."
Lying on the cold floor, staring through the shattered roof at the stars above, he asked himself—
Was it worth it
"...No. It wasn't.
Not even close."
His vision blurred. The sounds around him faded into a dull, distant hum.
For the second time in his life, he felt small.
Heh. The past really was a bitch.