The steel shackles gripped Kael's wrists as if they wanted to crush not just his bones—but his soul.
They dragged him through an underground hallway with no windows, no sounds, except the echo of his own footsteps. Four government agents, heavily armed, escorted him in complete silence.
"Don't try anything," one of them said without looking at him. "This facility was built to hold bioweapons. Not even a bomb can scratch it."
Kael didn't reply. His gaze was hollow, buried deep inside himself. The place didn't smell like damp stone or confinement.
It smelled like control. Like calculated fear.
Eventually, they shoved him into a cell with obsidian-black walls and a metal floor. No windows. Just a single camera in the corner and a white light stabbed into the ceiling—never flickering, never turning off.
"Secure him."
Two guards slammed him against the wall while the other two locked reinforced chains around his ankles, wrists, and neck. The metal hummed—magnetic activation.
"Now you're right where you belong, monster," one muttered before leaving.
The door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Elsewhere in the city…
Sara moved through the streets of San Boreal, hood up, breathing fast and anxious.
The city wasn't how she remembered it. Checkpoints on every corner. Surveillance. Soldiers. Cameras rotating atop every pole.
She stopped near a guarded entrance. Two soldiers spotted her from a distance. One raised his hand.
"Stop right there. ID."
Sara pulled out her identification. One of the men scanned it.
"Name: Sara Elowen… Class: One."
The other guard raised an eyebrow when he saw the number etched into her right forearm—a "1."
"What's a One doing here?"
"I'm looking for my cousin," she said without hesitation. "He lives in this zone. He messaged me—he's sick."
The guard stared at her.
"What kind of sickness?"
Sara swallowed.
"Lung problems. He can't go out. I brought medicine."
One of the soldiers approached and scanned her with a handheld reader. A dull alarm buzzed: Restricted zone for Class-One citizens.
"You need to turn back. This area is off-limits for your level."
"Please… It'll just take a moment. He's in danger."
The soldiers exchanged glances. One lowered his voice.
"What's your real name?"
"Sara. Just Sara. Please… if I don't go in, he might die. I have no one else."
The guard sighed, clearly uncomfortable. Then turned to his partner.
"Give her thirty minutes. After that, we pull her out."
The other grumbled but nodded.
Sara dipped her head in gratitude.
"Thank you… really."
And without wasting another second, she slipped past.
I don't have a cousin.
I don't have medicine.
I only have fear.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Kael had no idea how much time had passed.
The light never turned off.
No clocks.
No sounds.
No signals from the outside world.
Only chains.
Metal.
Silence.
Until the door opened.
Three people entered.
Gray suits. Clipboards. Emotionless faces.
One wore glasses. The other two recorded everything.
"Kael Grayson," the first one said. "Born in High Sky. ID: 00001-14. Class: One. Possible unregistered genetic anomaly. Primary suspect in the death of Governor Tarek Hill."
Kael didn't look up.
"Do you know where you are?"
Silence.
"Do you know what day it is?"
More silence.
"He's not going to talk," one of them muttered, noting it down.
The man in the middle stepped forward, voice low—mocking.
"Look at me when I speak to you. You're not a god, Grayson."
Kael met his eyes for a second. No hatred. No expression.
As if seeing another human being meant nothing anymore.
The man stepped back, visibly unnerved.
"It's like staring at a walking corpse," he murmured.
"Log it," the leader ordered. "Minimal emotional response. Passive resistance. Arrange transfer to Sector 9 for full analysis."
They left without another word.
Kael lowered his head again.
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Sara knew her permit was paper-thin. Thirty minutes.
That's all they'd given her.
And it had been… at least forty.
She stopped in front of a closed pharmacy, pretending to dig through her bag. Eyes flicked to the side.
Two soldiers crossed the street.
One glanced at her.
Not suspicious… not yet.
She kept walking.
She'd asked around—a bakery, a back alley, even a kid sweeping the steps of a warehouse.
No one knew.
Or no one dared say.
Still, she didn't give up.
Until she heard a metallic click behind her.
"Stop."
Sara turned around. A drone hovered above her, shining a beam of light onto her face.
"Citizen, your authorized time in this area has expired. Present your code."
Sara raised her hands slowly.
"I got lost. I can't find the exit."
"Don't lie. You've been asking about Kael Grayson."
Sara opened her mouth—but no words came.
Two soldiers approached.
"What's your relation to him?"
"I'm no one," she whispered. "I just… wanted to know if he's okay."
One of the soldiers grabbed her arms and restrained her.
"Let's see what the commander thinks about that."
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
Two levels below, in a gray room, Commander Lorne studied the report on his tablet.
"A girl. Class One. Alone. Trying to locate the prisoner."
Another officer approached.
"Do we eliminate her?"
Lorne shook his head.
"No. I have a better idea."
"What is it?"
"We use her. The subject regenerates, right? And we've made no progress with blades or chemical agents. So…"
He looked at the screen, where Sara appeared in handcuffs.
"Direct threat. If he doesn't cooperate, she pays the price.
Or maybe… she tells us how his power works."
The other officer raised a brow.
"You think she knows anything?"
"Maybe not. But he won't know that."
For the first time in days, Lorne smiled.
"A man can endure pain.
But watching someone he cares about suffer…
That breaks him faster."
⋆⭒✧༺༻✧⭒⋆
The cell door opened again.
Kael didn't move.
This time, it wasn't the usual guards.
They were technicians. And behind them, a floating monitor flickered on.
On the screen: Sara.
Hair disheveled. Dried blood on her brow. Breathing heavy.
She was sitting in a room with no windows.
Handcuffed.
A soldier pointing a gun at her.
Kael slowly sat up.
"What is this?"
Commander Lorne appeared on the screen next to her.
"She caught your attention, didn't she?
Well… now she's our guest."
Kael said nothing.
"You're going to cooperate. Let us study your regeneration—without using it. Or tell us how it works.
If not…"
Lorne gestured. The soldier raised the weapon toward Sara.
Kael clenched his jaw.
"You're not getting anything from me."
"Not even for her?"
Kael lowered his head.
Silence.
Then—one sentence:
"If I do, will you let her go?"
Lorne smiled.
"That's up to you."
The screen went dark.