chapter 19

The rest of the ride to the hidden base was painfully awkward for Issac. No matter what he did—whether he tried deep breathing, shifting in his seat, or distracting himself—he couldn't get his body to calm down. His "little guy" stubbornly refused to cooperate, leaving him flushed and frustrated. The others didn't comment, though Marcus's earlier teasing still hung in the air, making the silence feel heavier than it should have.

When they finally arrived at the base, the tension in the vehicle lifted as they spotted several cars already waiting—some civilian, others military. Alfred, still using Issac's powers to maintain the elaborate illusion that had thrown off any potential tails, immediately ceased the flow of power. The wind illusions dissolved, and Issac felt a sense of relief, though the embarrassing problem beneath his waistline still hadn't resolved.

The others wasted no time exiting the vehicle. Marcus and Jaren stepped out first, followed by General Zarek and his men. Issac remained behind, motioning for them to go on without him. He needed another minute.

He leaned back in his seat, taking several deep breaths and finally calming himself. After the awkward ordeal, Issac stepped out of the car, relieved that no one seemed to notice his delayed exit—at least, no one said anything.

Both teams gathered outside, and introductions began. General Zarek's team consisted of three people, all of whom had the hardened appearance of seasoned soldiers.

The first was a tall, broad-shouldered man named Captain Vance, with a chiseled jawline, short-cropped black hair, and intense blue eyes that seemed to scrutinize everything. His arms were corded with muscle, his posture rigid, radiating military discipline.

Next was Lieutenant Morgan, a wiry man with shaggy brown hair and sharp, calculating green eyes. He moved with a predator's grace, every step purposeful, as if he were always ready to strike. His quick, analytical gaze gave away that he was likely the brains of their operations.

Lastly, there was Sergeant Hallow, a sturdy woman with auburn hair tied in a tight bun and fierce brown eyes. She had a scar running down the side of her cheek, a testament to the battles she'd faced, and her demeanor was one of quiet authority.

On Marcus's side, there were seven members, each with a distinct look and energy about them.

First was Gregor, a stocky man with a shaved head and tattoos running up both arms. His eyes were dark and brooding, and his knuckles looked like they'd seen their fair share of fights. He had a gruff air, as if he didn't have time for pleasantries, and his presence alone screamed 'enforcer.'

Next was Dara, a lithe, agile woman with short, platinum-blonde hair and bright green eyes. She wore a sleek, form-fitting suit that highlighted her athletic build. A mischievous smirk danced on her lips, hinting that she enjoyed toying with her targets before taking them down.

Then there was Brody, a tall man with sandy blonde hair and a lean build. His gray eyes were calm, almost serene, though there was an edge to him, like the calm before a storm. His easygoing nature stood in contrast to the tension around him, making it clear he was the more laid-back member of the group.

Two others, Caleb and Owen, stood side by side, almost like twins with their matching brown hair and similar heights. Caleb was the quieter of the two, his expression serious, while Owen had a more relaxed demeanor, smiling faintly as he leaned against the car.

Rosa, a woman with wavy black hair and dark brown eyes, was next, her olive skin glowing under the late afternoon sun. She seemed more distant, her arms crossed and gaze sharp, as if sizing everyone up.

Finally, there was Nadia, a fiery redhead with electric blue eyes that lit up the moment she laid eyes on Issac. She bounced on the balls of her feet, unable to contain her excitement. "It's finally nice to meet you!" she said, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. Issac barely managed to muster a smile at her enthusiasm.

Before Issac could reply, one of Zarek's men, Captain Vance, sneered, crossing his arms and glancing between the group. "Why are we working with rogue Espers?" he asked, his voice thick with disdain. "We can provide support without them."

The words barely left Vance's mouth before Issac reacted. In a blur of movement, he closed the distance between them, using his wind powers to propel himself across several yards in the blink of an eye. One second he was standing far off, and the next, he was face to face with Vance, so close that Vance could feel the heat of Issac's breath on his skin.

A sharp, invisible wind blade hovered just inches from Vance's throat, humming with deadly energy. Vance froze, his eyes wide with shock. He could feel the slight pressure of the blade, its invisible edge cutting into the air just shy of his neck.

Issac didn't need to say a word. The cold, hardened look in his eyes—eyes that had seen countless battles, betrayals, and deaths—said it all. Vance recognized that look immediately. It was the look of a man who had fought in the depths of war and survived. It was a look that demanded respect, and more importantly, fear.

Vance's bravado faltered, and though he didn't move, the tension in his body shifted from arrogance to caution. Without Issac uttering a single syllable, Vance took an imperceptible step back, his sneer gone, replaced with something much more humble.

Issac held his gaze for a moment longer before letting the wind blade dissipate. He stepped back just as quickly as he'd arrived, returning to his spot as if nothing had happened.

The group remained silent, tension crackling in the air. General Zarek watched the entire exchange with raised eyebrows but didn't intervene. Marcus, on the other hand, grinned, shaking his head slightly.

"Well," Marcus drawled, his tone laced with amusement, "I guess that settles that."

Vance, now clearly understanding that Issac wasn't someone to be trifled with, said nothing more, his eyes glued to the ground in silent submission.

Issac crossed his arms and looked out over the gathered teams, the air around him still crackling with residual energy. He had made his point. And for the first time in a long while, it felt good to remind everyone exactly who he was.

---

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Issac and Jaren were both drained from using their powers throughout the ride. They exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them to postpone any discussions about training. It could wait—right now, rest was a priority.

After the tension-filled drive and the encounter with General Zarek's team, the base felt like a haven. The group made their way through the dimly lit halls, their footsteps echoing softly. General Zarek's team dispersed quickly, heading to their respective quarters, while Marcus and his group lingered briefly for final instructions. Issac, exhausted and feeling off-kilter, could barely process the details being given to him.

Finally, they were each assigned rooms. Issac, dragging his feet, made his way to his quarters. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the exhaustion hit him in full force. Without even bothering to glance around the room, he flopped onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft mattress.

But the moment his head hit the pillow, his face flushed bright red. He had managed to calm down physically during the meeting of teams, but now that he was alone, that strange, underlying pleasure resurfaced. It was subtle but constant, like a low hum in his veins—a residual effect of Jaren's guiding powers still lingering in his body. Issac cursed under his breath, feeling the heat rising again despite his best efforts to control it.

Earlier, it had taken everything in him not to acknowledge the sensation, especially with everyone around him. He had focused all his energy on keeping his mind sharp and his body under control, but now that he was alone—finally alone—it was different. The room was quiet, and there was no one watching him. He had sent Alfred away with a wave of his hand, too embarrassed to have the cat see him like this.

The pleasure intensified as if it had been waiting for this moment, and his body responded without him even willing it. His skin tingled, and warmth spread through him, his breath catching as the sensation became more pronounced. His face burned as the heat surged within him, his heart pounding in his chest. Issac clenched his fists, trying to will the feeling away, but it only seemed to grow stronger the more he resisted.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself, his voice thick with frustration and something else he didn't want to name.

It was maddening, this loss of control over his own body. The pleasure coursing through him wasn't something he could just ignore, not now that he was alone with no distractions. It was like a residue of Jaren's power, still flowing through his veins, amplifying everything he felt. And the worst part was that it felt... good. Too good.

Issac buried his face in the pillow, groaning softly as his body heated up even more. It was a strange, confusing mix of emotions—frustration, embarrassment, and something dangerously close to surrender. He had spent lifetimes avoiding touch, distancing himself from anything that could make him feel vulnerable. And yet here he was, his body betraying him in the most humiliating way possible.

He knew he couldn't stay like this forever, but for now, all he could do was ride it out, hoping that eventually, the sensation would fade and let him rest. But even as he lay there, face burning and heart racing, he couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the result of Jaren's powers—and how much was his own response to the man who had unknowingly pushed him past his limits.

After a huge sigh, Issac gives up trying to calm down. The pleasure was too much. Hesitation stayed his hands a moment longer at his waistband before pushing his pants down. His body is now so sensitive that the fabric going across his legs sent pleasurable tingles up his spine and he hissed out a curse. Lifting up his shirt quickly to stuff his mouth full and keep himself quiet, his entire body jolts again from the shirt going over his nipples and just from that he cums. Moaning and twitching, Issac covered his mouth even more to keep himself quiet as his cum paints his torso.

This should be good enough Issac thought groggily. He tries to grab the blanket over himself for just in case someone comes in while he is passed out.

As if playing a joke. The pleasure returns like a freight train with even more intensity. Making each cell of his body feeling like it's vibrating. Then the pleasure travels to a focus point in his abdomen and dissipates.

"What the fuck?" Issac gasped.

As the sensation in his abdomen dulled to a faint throb, Issac shot out of bed, his heart pounding. He rushed into the adjoining bathroom, frantically splashing water on his face and wiping his body clean, as if trying to wash away the lingering effects of whatever had just happened to him. After a few minutes, he emerged, still shaken but composed enough to dress in the clothes he found neatly folded in the dresser. With urgency in his voice, he shouted for Alfred.

Moments passed, and just as Issac started to pace, a shimmer of light flickered at the end of the bed. Alfred materialized, his kaleidoscope purple eyes wide in shock, his face taut with restraint. He struggled to keep his mouth shut, fighting the urge to blurt out what was clearly racing through his mind. Issac could sense his hesitancy and pressed him, voice tense.

"Do you know what just happened to me?"

Alfred's eyes darted nervously, and after a brief, agonizing pause, he nodded. "Yes... but it's better if we go to General Zarek's room before I explain everything. Trust me."

Issac, not in the mood for more mysteries, clenched his jaw but complied, marching down the hallway to General Zarek's quarters. He knocked on the door with purpose. Zarek opened the door, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in Issac's rattled state.

"I need help," Issac said, his voice strained. "Something happened, and Alfred won't say a word."

Zarek frowned but didn't press for details. Instead, he quickly turned to the intercom set in his room and called Marcus. "Bring Rosa with you," Zarek commanded. "We need a healer to scan Issac. Something's off."

Marcus's reply came swiftly. "Rosa will be with you soon." Afterward, Zarek called for Jaren.

When Rosa arrived with Marcus, she barely had time to assess the situation before she recoiled violently, yanking her hand away from Issac's abdomen as though burned. Her eyes widened, her face draining of color.

Alfred immediately interjected, his voice firm. "Don't say anything yet."

Jaren, standing nearby with his arms crossed, looked at Alfred with an expression of growing irritation. "Stop being cryptic and just tell us what's going on!" he snapped, his patience fraying.

Alfred, his expression hardening, glared at Jaren. "Don't get your panties in a wad, cupcake."

Jaren's face darkened, ready to fire back, but before he could, Issac spoke sharply, cutting through the tension. "Jaren, sit down."

Jaren turned to Issac in shock, his annoyance momentarily replaced with surprise. Issac had never spoken to him with such force before, and the shift in tone made the air in the room even heavier.

Alfred cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. His expression was serious now, the teasing dropped. "Issac just experienced another evolution," he said, his voice measured. "And he's evolving faster than he should be."

Issac's brow furrowed in confusion. "What? Evolving? That's something that only happens to monsters. What the hell does that mean for me?"

Alfred sighed, glancing briefly at Rosa, whose face was still frozen in disbelief. "I had the healer scan you because I needed to confirm where the sensation you felt was focused... and where it dissipated."

Issac blinked, growing more frustrated. "It was in my abdomen. What does that matter?"

"It matters a lot, actually," Alfred replied, his tone grim. "And it's a good thing you're sitting down because the event you just went through... was you growing a uterus."

The room fell deathly silent. The shock was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. Issac's face drained of color as his mind tried to process the words. "What the fucking hell?!" he finally shouted, panic rising in his voice. "That's never happened before! WHAT CHANGED NOW? And since when does evolution affect people?"

Alfred took a deep breath, struggling to maintain his composure. "I can't give you every detail, but there are certain... conditions that must be met for you to evolve. And in this timeline, something was different. This time, you had Jaren guide you."

Issac stared at him, his face going pale. "Guide me?" he repeated, the realization dawning on him. "No... no, that's never happened before. In my first life, I didn't need any guidance. I was a C-class and I managed fine on my own." His eyes flicked toward Jaren, confusion and fear swirling in his gaze. "And in all the other lives... I never let Jaren touch me."