Chapter-9 Old Detail

Sure! Here's the revised version, maintaining the format from the previous text:

Endo and Ivan sat on the floor, a large white sheet spread out before them. Ivan held a marker in his hand, his focus intense as he began to draw on the paper.

Ivan: Looking up at Endo "So, what's the better plan?"

Endo: Confused "Core members?"

Ivan: "Yeah," he says, tapping the marker against the paper "like a team of five or ten, something like that."

Endo: Still processing "So, what would that mean?"

Ivan: Without missing a beat "An elite squad of five to ten. And that'll include you."

Endo: Frowning "What? Me?"

Ivan: Assuring him with a confident nod "You'll make a fine decision as the first member of our team."

Endo: Reluctantly "That wouldn't really look cool... but okay, fine. But wouldn't I be… useless? I literally don't have much of an EVO score, and I'm not a good evolver...I rank low in my class."

Ivan paused, then stared at him with a serious look.

Ivan: "Why do you bury yourself in that nonsense, Endo? You have so much potential. You blabber about how weak you are compared to the others, but that's just a lie you tell yourself."

Ivan stood up and walked toward the window, his back straight and commanding.

Ivan: Turning back to Endo "You're young, I'm young. We're not all just sitting in our lousy chairs, waiting for things to happen. You've got untapped potential, Endo. You just need to trust me. There's a lot more to you than you think."

He stepped closer to Endo and extended his hand.

Ivan: "So, to the path of defiance"

Endo stared at Ivan's hand for a moment, considering. Then, with a deep breath, he grabbed it, but hesitated before speaking.

Endo: "To the path of defiance?"

Ivan's eyes locked onto Endo's, and just as the words left his mouth, something strange happened. Black blood began seeping from Ivan's hand, wrapping around Endo's own and spreading across his body like an insidious force.

Ivan: Murmuring as the black material enveloped Endo "This could take a while…"

He walked over to Endo's bed, gently laying him down. His eyes wandered to Endo's phone resting on the nightstand. Ivan couldn't resist. He picked it up and, with a swift motion, unlocked the phone.

Ivan: Smirking "Going for a date with Leonine, huh?" He scrolled through the chat logs briefly.

After a few moments of browsing, Ivan opened YouTube, his fingers tapping quickly on the screen.

Ivan: Quietly muttering to himself "Evolver Classification."

A familiar face appeared on the screen—Mr. Bio Tank.

Mr. Bio: "Good morning to you all! What's up, everybody? It's your boy, Mr. Bio tank, back again. Today, we're talking about Evolver Classification."

Ivan leaned forward, his attention completely consumed by the video

Mr. Bio: "Teleportation every five minutes within a radius of two kilometers. Psychic manipulation of materials. Increased strength and bulletproof skin. Molten fire hands capable of melting six inches of steel. These are just a few examples of what Evolvers are capable of." 

Ivan leaned forward, tapping his chin thoughtfully as he muttered, "Ah, the Washington Bank incident…"

Mr. Bio: "The Washington Bank incident. That was the first publicized appearance of Evolvers. Unfortunately, it left a bad impression on society. People feared those with powers, seeing them as threats rather than protectors. It set a grim tone for years to come."

The video continued, but Ivan paused it, shaking his head. "A bad start for something so extraordinary…" He resumed the video, listening closely.

Mr. Bio: "Now, let's dive into Evolver Classification. I'll explain the hero system and its ranks. Note: we'll cover the higher levels in the next episode, so stay tuned!"

Mr. Bio adjusted his glasses and pointed to a whiteboard.

Mr. Bio: "The Hero Division is still debated today. Is it efficient? Does it work? For now, it's what we've got. Let's start with the basics: local division heroes."

A diagram appeared on the screen.

Mr. Bio: "Local division heroes are entry-level. They've just completed their hero training and are assigned to small patrol areas, usually in teams of 50 or 60. Their powers are basic—lifting a few tons or running at speeds of 300 kilometers per hour. Almost everyone starts here, unless they're exceptional cases like the children of famous heroes or individuals honored for bravery."

Ivan sighed, muttering to himself, "Oh they were Local division?… I feel bad for them now"

Mr. Bio: "Next, we have sector security heroes. These are more advanced heroes, managing entire sectors. They command local heroes and step in for major threats. Their powers and abilities vary widely, but they're far superior to local heroes."

Ivan leaned back, pausing the video. "Enough for now. I'll finish this later." He glanced at Endo, who was still lying in bed, the black blood covering him slowly dissipating.

Ivan: "He's stable. Good. This little surprise will benefit him in the future… once his body adjusts."

Suddenly, Ivan heard a voice from the kitchen.

Trisha: "Oh, you're here. Where's Endo?"* She was busy stirring a pot on the stove.

Ivan: "He's resting."

Trisha: "Resting? Tired from what?"

Ivan: "Training."

Trisha raised an eyebrow as she added a final ingredient to the pot. "What kind of training?" she asked curiously.

Ivan: "To improve himself."

Trisha: "So, you're his mentor now?"

Ivan: "Something like that. He struggles, but he's evolving."

Trisha smirked, turning off the stove and pouring the soup into a bowl. "What about you?" she asked, handing him a spoon.

Ivan took the bowl, his movements a blur as he zipped back and forth, setting the table with uncanny speed.

Trisha: "Show-off." 

Ivan chuckled, removing his mask as he tasted the soup. *"Not bad. Thanks for this."*

Trisha: "It's my special recipe. So, what do you usually eat?"

Ivan: "Nothing, really. I generate energy from sunlight… and emotions."

Trisha: "Wait, are you saying you're a high-class Evolver?"

Ivan shrugged. "I guess. I'm still figuring it out."

Trisha's gaze grew sharp. "Wait… don't tell me you don't know about Evolver Classification?"

Ivan shook his head.

Trisha: "Weird, but fine. I'll explain."* She pulled out a small projector, and a hologram lit up the room.

Trisha: "There are four known classes of Evolvers. First, the Low-Class Evolvers. They have minimal abilities—enhanced immunity, basic strength, and endurance. Almost everyone starts here."

The hologram shifted to display a new diagram.

Trisha: "Second, Mid-Class Evolvers. They've trained and refined their abilities, specializing in a specific power set."

Trisha: "Third, High-Class Evolvers. These are the elite. They've mastered their abilities, often creating their own rules and gaining ability of energy absorption from sources like sunlight, electricity, and beyond. Their destructive potential is immense."*

Ivan nodded, intrigued. "And the fourth?" he asked.

Trisha hesitated, her tone lowering. "The Super Evolver."

Ivan leaned forward. "Go on."

Trisha: "Super Evolvers are… a mystery. Some say their power is limitless. Others thought they didn't exist until one appeared."

Ivan's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Trisha: "Others said Super Evolvers were nothing but a myth. But that changed when the first and only confirmed Super Evolver appeared."

Ivan leaned forward, his interest piqued. "What was their name?"

Trisha hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. "The name… no one knows for sure. Some called them 'The One,' others just referred to them as a force of nature. They vanished as mysteriously as they appeared."

Ivan frowned. "And their abilities?"

Trisha: "Limitless… or at least that's what people believe. Their power broke every known classification. Energy manipulation, reality warping… things we can't even begin to comprehend. But no one has seen them since."

Ivan leaned back, processing the information. His eyes flicked toward the window, where the fading sunlight cast long shadows.

A sly smirk crept across his face.

Trisha laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.

Trisha: "I mean, if you're dying to get ground into atoms, sure, go for it."

Ivan's smirk widened as he turned to look at her, his crimson eyes gleaming under his mask.

Ivan: "Hmm… who knows? Maybe a planet or two would implode in the process."

Trisha raised an eyebrow, still chuckling. "And people think I'm the crazy one around here."

The air between them lightened, but beneath Ivan's grin lay a hint of something deeper—curiosity, ambition, and perhaps the faintest glimmer of a challenge.

Trisha: "Well, if you ever do cross paths with 'The One,' let me know. I'll be sure to keep a safe distance… preferably on another planet."

Ivan: "Noted."

Trisha: "Other than that, we don't know much about 'The One.' He's a mystery to most people. A hero who's stayed independent from the government. His last appearance was in the year 2099, in Washington, where he fought and defeated the Freedom Brigade and Mr. Mine."

Ivan leaned back, resting his chin on his hand, deep in thought. After a moment, he stood up, brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket.

Ivan: "I think I'll be going out for a walk."

He turned and began heading for the door, his steps deliberate but unhurried.

Trisha: "So… where do you live again?"

Ivan paused mid-step, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He turned his head slightly, his mask obscuring his expression, but the hesitation in his movement was telling.

Ivan: "Ohhh, sorry, I didn't tell you, did I?" He turned fully now, the grin evident in his voice. "I'll be staying at your place for the time being."

Trisha, who was scrubbing a plate at the sink, froze mid-motion. Water dripped noisily from the faucet as the silence stretched.

Trisha: "Wait, what?"

Ivan gave a casual shrug, his demeanor calm as if announcing the most natural thing in the world.

Ivan: "Yeah, your place has a nice vibe. Don't worry, I'll keep out of the way."

Trisha spun around, her eyes narrowing, one hand gripping a soapy spoon like a weapon.

Trisha: "Hold up—who said you could just move in?"

Ivan tilted his head, his body language cool and nonchalant.

Ivan: "Well, technically, I never asked."

Trisha groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Unbelievable. You're lucky I didn't call the cops the moment you showed up here, and now you're saying you're staying indefinitely?"

Ivan: "Relax, it's just temporary. Besides, I'm excellent company."

Trisha: "More like a freeloading headache."

Ivan smirked under his mask and casually leaned against the doorframe.

Ivan: "You'll thank me later."

Trisha let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to the sink. "This is why I don't do favors for random masked weirdos. Fine, but you're doing the dishes next time."

Ivan chuckled as he opened the door.

Ivan: "Deal. Oh, and save me some of that soup for later."

Ivan speeds off with all the paper flying behind him

As the door clicked shut behind him, Trisha shook her head, muttering to herself.

Trisha: "The audacity… I swear, this guy's gonna be the death of me."

Trisha hummed softly to herself as she put the dishes away, carefully arranging each plate and utensil. Her hands moved rhythmically until something unusual caught her eye—an unfamiliar black glove resting on the counter.

She picked it up, turning it over in her hands, inspecting the material. It felt sturdy yet flexible, a hint of mystery clinging to it.

Trisha: "Hmm…"

She held it up to the light, narrowing her eyes as if the glove might reveal some hidden secret. After a moment, she glanced toward the door Ivan had left through.

Trisha: "Probably Ivan's…"

Her brow furrowed slightly as she pondered the situation. A quiet smirk played across her lips, and she lightly tossed the glove in her hand before slipping it into her pocket.

Trisha: "I'll keep this with me. Tehee."

Her giggle echoed softly through the room as she went back to tidying up, her mind briefly wandering to the enigmatic masked man who had barged into her life.

Trisha: "I guess it's gonna be a wild week."

She shook her head with a mix of amusement and resignation. Whatever chaos Ivan was about to bring, she knew one thing for certain—life was definitely not going to be boring.

Turning back to the dishes, she continued humming softly, the black glove resting lightly in her pocket like a small, silent promise of the days to come.