Nightmare (2)

"Ruby," I said, pointing toward the bookshelf, "bring me the recording device."

My gaze fixed on a black box resting on her bookshelf. It was the same device I gave her earlier, the one she installed before Glory barged into her office.

This will work as an evidence.

Ruby nodded as she retrieved the black box from her book self.

She placed the black box in my hands.

"Let's see."

I connected it to my wristband, and after tweaking it for a moment, a holographic screen flickered into existence, displaying the recorded footage.

It has recorded everything that had happened here.

The footage began with Ruby seating in her leather chair, her expression was as she flipped through the papers.

Then Glory stormed in, followed by their fight—a flurry brutal attacks from Glory's side and Ruby's desperate counters.

Then came my entry— more like Nightmare's entry.

I watched as the me in the footage, emerged from the shadows. The recording captured everything, my calculated strikes, the gruesome butchering of Glory, and finally, Glory's horrific end.

But then, the footage took a dangerous turn. It showed the moment when I took my Rank 1 Hero mark and placed it across my face. My real identity, as (Ex)Hope, exposed.

'Fuck my rotten luck, what was I thinking?'

I narrowed my eyes.

"This… can't be shown," I muttered.

I glanced at Ruby. She was busy snapping pictures of Glory's unrecognizable corpse, likely preparing the detailed report Markus had requested.

I need to erase this part of the clip, But erasing it conventionally was out of option; it would leave traces. And I don't want that. Markus wasn't a fool who missed details.

I need a cleaner solution.

I stared at the holographic screen, my mind was racing at its top gear.

And then, a crazy idea struck me.

Video recordings were nothing but photons particles of light captured by a device. If I could manipulate those photons and rewriting them at it's fundamental level…

'It's risky. But it's possible.'

Sigh

I exhaled, and completely focused my thoughts, I activated my skill:

"[Quantum Manipulation]."

The moment I mutter those words, the world around me shifted.

In an instant, my surroundings dissolved into a fabric of particles, waves, and strings of different lights, each connected by an invisible threads stretching infinitely into the sky. It felt like I'd stepped into the very creation of reality itself.

I could see everything, and I mean it—every atoms, every photons, every quark—vibrating in an unsynchronized, chaotic symphony.

But this wasn't just a vision.

I can control everything.

But then I noticed something unusual.

My body didn't move the way it normally would. Instead, I had to manipulate the particles that made my body in a subatomic level, commanding every atom, every cell, every tissues to move.

It was like being a puppet and pulling my own strings.

'Amazing. If this works… then…'

I concentrated my focus, directing my attention to the photons captured by the black box.

I concentrated on those photons from ten minutes ago, the very photons that emitted during my fight with Glory.

I was dumbfounded.

There it was.

I saw myself, standing over Glory, skinning him alive. The sight sent a chill down my spine. Watching myself from this perspective, it felt unreal—like I was watching someone else commit the act.

'This is insane,' I thought.

Using [Quantum Manipulation], I traced the photons movements backward, unraveling their path until I could rewrite them. It was a detailed process which required extreme precision, like threading a needle in a hurricane.

I rewrite the photon's wavelength with an altered version, one that omitted my identity entirely.

The process was overwhelming. The complexity of the quantum world defied all the logic, yet here I was, bending it to my will.

'Haah.. It's done.'

When I finally deactivated my skill, the world snapped back to normal.

And with it, an extreme exhaustion hit me, calculating every position of subatomic molecules wasn't easy.

My head was spinning from all the details, and I staggered, gripping the bookshelf for support.

My vision was blurry for a moment, and I muttered under my panting breath, "Damn… that's some crazy shit."

Ruby finally noticing, turned to me, concern spread across her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah… just exhausted, don't worry."

She didn't question it further.

'That was terrifying.'

I checked the altered recording, analyzing each and every frame.

It was flawless. The clip showed Glory's brutal defeat and death, but me taking out my Rank 1 Hero mask—was erased as if it never ever happened.

No evidence. No trace.

'Perfect.'

Satisfied, I created a copy of the altered footage and handed the black box to Ruby.

"Take this to Markus," With a smirk, I instructed. "Show him the recording. Let him see what happened to Glory."

Ruby's eyes widened, she nodded. "This will send a clear message, Pfttt— I'm having so much fun," she said, holding the box tightly.

"Isn't it?" I replied. "Markus needs to see what he's up against. Let him know that there's someone out there capable of tearing down single rankers with ease."

Ruby's lips curled into a small, wicked smile. "Understood."

I stepped back, signaling her the end of our conversation. "Finish the rest of your tasks from here. I'll handle the next phase. And…. Be careful, Bye!"

With that, I turned and walked out of the Nova Academy.

It was evening, the cool air greeted me as I stepped onto the streets.

I headed to a nearby alley, ensuring that no one's tailing me, I reversed back to my original appearance.

My crimson red hair faded, reverting to its natural black color. My Nightmare attire replaced by the uniform of Nova Academy. My appearance was no longer that of a fearsome vigilante but of an ordinary student.

From the alley, I made my way to the train station and boarded a train to Honeyford finding a seat by the window.

Leaning back against the seat, I tapped on my wristband, and uploaded the recording and sent it to Mia of the Mercenary Department.

Along with the recording, I typed a single message:

"Leak this. Every platform. Every News channel. Let the world see. A Nightmare has come."

I hit send.

Before long, the train reached Honeyford.

Stepping off the train, I made my way back to the place I called home—our family's café.

The soft glow of warm light scattering out from our café, and the familiar murmur of customers greeted me as I opened the door.

As I entered, my mother spotted me from behind the counter. Her face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, Zane, welcome back!" she said cheerfully. "You're just in time. I made your favorite dish tonight."

I couldn't help but smile back. "I'm hungry, Mom."

"Good!" she replied. "Go wash your hands and take a seat. I'll bring it out in a moment."

I nodded and headed to the sink in the corner, washing my hands as my mom instructed. When I returned to a table near the window, my mother had already set the food in front of me.

A bowl of chicken soup, a perfectly fried fish, a bowl of white rice, and—my favorite—honey potatoes.

This. This is what I wanted to protect. This simple, peaceful life. This warmth. This love.

And I would do anything to preserve it.

"Eat up, sweetheart," my mother said, before heading back to the counter.

I picked up my spoon, savoring the first bite of my honey potatoes. For a brief moment, I let myself relax.

But then the atmosphere shifted.

The TV screen projected on the wall flickered to a breaking news broadcast, and the room fell silent. All conversations halted.

Everyone's attention turned to the screen.

I also glanced up, though I already knew what they were about to see.

The news anchor's voice echoed through the café:

"This is a breaking news—The murder of a Rank 3 Hero, Glory, a shocking and gruesome video has surfaced, showing the brutal murder of Glory, one of the single ranker. Viewer caution is advised."

The footage began to play, and a collective gasp rippled through out the café.

On the screen, Glory's bloodied body was displayed in a horrifying detail. His exposed internal organs and his half-open skull were shown without any censorship. The scene shifted to a shadowy figure—me, as Nightmare—mercilessly butchering him off.

Some customers covered their mouths in shock. Others averted their eyes, unable to stomach this brutality. A few even bolted to the restroom.

I glanced at my mother, she was frozen, her hand clutching the edge of the counter for support. My father stood behind her, his expression was dark as he stared at the screen.

Whispers began to spread across the café.

"This is… this—"

"T–That was a Rank 3 Hero… that easily…"

But a single name lingered, on everyone's mouth.

"Nightmare?"

I on the other hand sat quietly at my table, savoring a bite of honey potato.

"Delicious."

End of Chapter.