Chapter 3
Jack emerges from the shadows in a desolate place known as the Wreckage Lair. His appearance has transformed: he now dons a rugged brown jacket, a simple T-shirt, and blue jeans. The surroundings are filled with cages, metal chains, and weapons designed for various reaths.
Jack steps into the dim light, revealing himself to be the feared and revered figure known as Darkstar. Thousands of reaths, his devoted followers, chant his name in unison, the echo of "Darkstar - Darkstar ... Darkstar" reverberating through the air.
It is a scene reminiscent of a fervent cult, with Jack as their undisputed Master.
Darkstar punches the air, creating a mesmerizing Dark cloud that rains tiny dark stars. These stars act like a potent drug for the reaths, not only getting them high but also significantly boosting their powers.
The Dark cloud in the air shows that it is a specialty of Anti Atom Dark-I, while the sparkling dust in it is more of a Heal (The healer).
Darkstar relishes his role as the ruler of the Reaths, watching as they inhale the intoxicating energy, their eyes glowing with enhanced malevolence.
Meanwhile, deep in the heart of the DAB Organization, a different kind of evolution is taking place. The head of the organization steps into a dimly lit chamber, revealing himself as Project 333 - The Devil.
Project 333 possesses a terrifying ability: a single body that can divide into three separate entities, each wielding its own unique power.
Mirage, the master of illusions, weaves falsehoods so convincing they become indistinguishable from reality.
Sharr, the manipulator of emotions, amplifies fear and rage, controlling the minds of those who oppose him.
Makr, the unseen strategist, moves like a ghost, his intelligence a weapon as deadly as any blade.
Meanwhile, within the depths of Darkstar's lair, a masked woman moves with lethal grace, slipping past unsuspecting guards. She is skilled, but the drugged Reaths slow her advance, their unpredictable movements making every step a gamble.
The ground floor is a gauntlet of chaos, swarming with twisted beings—Jokers with grotesque smiles, Tricksters vanishing into shadows only to strike from unexpected angles, and Magicians who manipulate reality itself. She twists and turns, her body a blur, flipping over lunging claws, ducking under projectiles, and using the environment to her advantage.
She reaches the first floor, but the real challenge awaits. Here, the Reaths are no longer bound by fixed forms. Shapeshifters morph between monstrous shapes, their limbs extending like liquid shadow. Some grow in size, their bodies stretching into towering figures, while others shrink, slipping through cracks in reality itself. The Alkahest moves with precision, adapting to their transformations, striking weak points, and dodging fluid strikes that shift mid-motion. Her breath grows heavier with each encounter, but she refuses to yield.
The moment The Alkahest steps onto the second floor, the air itself changes. It's heavier, charged with an unnatural energy. Unlike the chaotic first floor, this space is eerily silent—controlled. Six figures stand in the dim light, positioned in a semi-circle. They do not attack immediately.
A voice breaks the silence.
"Welcome to the last threshold." It belongs to Vexis, her eerie smile gleaming through the shadows. "We are the gatekeepers. To pass, you must break through us."
She cocks her head, eyes flickering with amusement. "But first, we break you."
A blur of motion—
Zephyrion moves first.
Round 1: Zephyrion – The Stormblade Phantom
The Alkahest barely reacts in time. Zephyrion moves faster than thought, a silver afterimage flashing across the battlefield. The first slash nicks her mask, the second nearly takes her throat. Her reflexes save her, but only just.
She drops low, flicking a vial from her belt—a kinetic disruption bomb. It explodes midair, releasing a brief distortion field.
Zephyrion skids to a halt. A misstep. A fraction of a second where he has to regain balance. That's all she needs.
With a precise strike, she smashes a paralysis vial against his chest. The liquid seeps into his skin—his body seizes up. He drops, eyes darting wildly.
One down.
Round 2: Brontis – The Titan of Ruin
The ground trembles.
Brontis stomps forward, each step a miniature earthquake.
Before The Alkahest can recover, he swings a fist the size of a wrecking ball. She dodges, but the shockwave from his impact sends her flying.
Gritting her teeth, she flips midair, landing on a crumbling ledge. She needs a weakness.
Brontis moves like a walking landslide, but he's slow.
She pulls out a freezing agent and coats her daggers in it. When he throws his next punch, she sidesteps and slices through his knee. The cryogenic chemical hardens his movement joints, slowing him further.
He swings again—too slow this time. She launches onto his back, slamming a high-density explosive onto his spine.
BOOM.
Brontis crashes to the floor, unconscious.
Round 3: Vexis – The Marionette of Madness
A slow clap.
"Impressive," Vexis whispers, her voice now inside The Alkahest's head.
The world tilts.
Chains wrap around The Alkahest's arms. But they aren't real. Her own mind is betraying her. Vexis's psychic threads coil tighter, pulling her into a nightmare of her own making.
A whisper in her ear. "Drop your weapons, and I will make it painless."
But The Alkahest has faced mind control before.
She bites down—releasing a small neural shock capsule hidden in her mask. Electric pain surges through her brain, severing Vexis's hold.
The illusion collapses.
Vexis barely has time to react before The Alkahest hurls a glass vial at her face. The gas inside seeps into her skin—
a counter-neurotoxin.
Vexis staggers, her own powers rebounding against her. Her eyes roll back, and she drops unconscious.
Round 4: Umbraith – The Living Abyss
The shadows ripple.
Something hungry emerges.
Umbraith surges forward, his amorphous body expanding, stretching, a tide of black void devouring everything in its path.
The Alkahest leaps back, but the darkness follows. Anything it touches is consumed.
Her solution is risky. She uncaps her brightest alchemical flare, igniting it midair.
A blinding white explosion erupts in the darkness.
Umbraith shrieks, his form solidifying involuntarily in the harsh light. He struggles, exposed, his normally indestructible body now vulnerable.
One strike to the core. That's all it takes.
She lunges and drives a dagger through his crystallized center. He shudders—and collapses into dust.
Round 5: Pyrrhos – The Infernal Executioner
A slow, mocking chuckle.
Pyrrhos steps forward, fire flickering across his arms.
"Not bad. But let's turn up the heat."
He thrusts a hand forward—blue-black hellfire roars toward her.
The air scorches, the heat so intense it warps the walls.
The Alkahest barely dodges, rolling behind cover. But Pyrrhos doesn't stop. He sweeps his arms in a wide arc, setting the entire floor ablaze.
Smoke fills the air. The Alkahest's vision blurs.
Her mind races. His power feeds on fear.
She needs to trick him.
She throws a vial at her own feet, releasing a hallucinogenic mist. Pyrrhos's smirk fades as he sees multiple copies of The Alkahest surrounding him.
She uses his moment of doubt to strike—hurling a cryo-explosive at his chest.
The fire snuffs out in an instant, the extreme temperature shift sending Pyrrhos into shock. He collapses, his flames extinguished.
Final Round: Wraithborn – The Phantasmal Predator
Silence.
Then a whisper.
"You forgot one."
Cold claws take down The Alkahest's back.
Wraithborn steps through her body like a ghost, his form half in the astral plane.
She tries to stab—
her blade passes right through him.
A low chuckle. "You can't fight what isn't real."
But The Alkahest smirks.
"You're wrong."
She throws a vial of astral disruptor mist, filling the space between them.
For one second, Wraithborn is fully tangible.
One second is all she needs.
She lunges forward, stabbing a dagger into his spectral heart.
His form shatters.
As The Alkahest steadies herself, the air shifts.
The fallen warriors rise, their wounds knitting together unnaturally fast (Due to healer drug). They move in sync, no longer acting as separate threats but as a single, unstoppable force.
The Alkahest feels it—an overwhelming, crushing presence.
She has fought them one by one.
Now, she faces the Elite Six at full strength.
Phase 1: Phantom's Cage (Zephyrion + Wraithborn)
The first attack is so fast she doesn't even see it.
Zephyrion's afterimages weave around her, dozens of flashing silver blades slashing in all directions. At the same time, Wraithborn steps through the air itself, phasing in and out of reality to attack from impossible angles.
The Alkahest dodges the first three strikes—but the fourth and fifth tear through her cloak, slicing deep into her shoulder and ribs.
She tries to counter, but—
"Too slow."
A whisper in her ear—
Wraithborn grabs her wrist from behind, his ghostly grip paralyzing her for just a second—
A second is all Zephyrion needs.
A kick to her gut sends her crashing backward, straight into the real attack.
Phase 2: Ruinous Collapse (Brontis + Umbraith)
The floor shudders violently.
Before she can react, Brontis slams his fist into the ground, creating a localized gravity field. Everything pulls downward, her body sinking like she's trapped in quicksand.
Then, Umbraith strikes.
His abyssal form expands, swirling like a living black hole, engulfing everything in darkness.
Her limbs go numb.
Her vision blurs—the light in the room is devoured.
Her body is being pulled in, her very existence threatened by the void.
Phase 3: Infernal Mirage (Pyrrhos + Vexis + Zephyrion)
The Alkahest forces her mind to stay sharp—but she doesn't notice the moment Vexis slips into her head.
A whisper.
A whisper that turns into a scream.
The shadows around her twist into hallucinations. The walls melt, the very ground warps beneath her feet.
She sees dozens of Pyrrhos, surrounding her, all of them charging their hellfire.
But only one is real.
She doesn't know which one.
She makes a desperate gamble, lunging at the nearest figure—
Wrong.
The real Pyrrhos appears behind her.
A wave of blue-black fire erupts, consuming her back in a violent explosion.
Her mask cracks. Her cloak ignites.
She screams.
She hits the ground hard.
Phase 4: The Grand Execution (Elite Six United Attack)
She forces herself up. Blood drips from her lip, pain burns through every nerve.
The Elite Six do not stop.
For the first time in the battle, they move as one.
Brontis leaps into the air, a shockwave pulse charging beneath his feet.Zephyrion vanishes, reappearing in mid-air beside Brontis, his blade vibrating at impossible speed.Pyrrhos ignites both warriors in hellfire, turning them into living comets.Vexis weaves illusions around them, making their attack seem like it's coming from every direction at once.Umbraith floods the battlefield with shadows, turning The Alkahest's movements sluggish, draining her strength.Wraithborn phases through the ground, preparing for the finishing blow.
And then—
They strike.
The sky falls. The ground erupts. The void consumes.
There is no escape.
The Alkahest is hit.
The force tears through her body, her vision flickering, mind shattering.
She slams into the cold metal floor, motionless.
For the first time since she entered the lair, she has been defeated.
Cornered – The End?
The Elite Six surround her.
She coughs, struggling to lift herself up—but her body refuses to move.
Vexis kneels beside her, brushing a gloved hand over her fractured mask.
"You fought well," she whispers. "But no one fights the Elite Six alone and wins."
Brontis raises his foot, preparing to end it—
The Elite Six stand in formation, their combined attack having left The Alkahest struggling to stay on her feet.
The Alkahest grits her teeth. She has never faced opponents who coordinate this well.
Darkstar watches from above, intrigued but impassive.
"This is why they are called the Elite Six," Tecton growls. "No one makes it past us."
The six advance, their synchronized power tightening the noose around her. The Alkahest's body burns, her muscles strain under the crushing weight, and her vision blurs from the mental onslaught. She reaches for a vial—but Mirage's illusion tricks her into grabbing air instead.
She's out of options.
"You can't win," Revenant's voice seeps into her mind. "Give in."
She stares at the syringe of E-Tox still in her grasp—the last resort. Her fingers tighten around it.
Then—Darkstar moves.
With a flicker of shadow, he appears behind the Elite Six.
"That's enough."
His voice alone halts them. The energy in the air shifts. The Six instinctively step back, lowering their powers, sensing his command wasn't a suggestion—it was law.
He crouches beside The Alkahest, gripping her wrist before she can inject herself. Their eyes meet, his dark and unreadable, hers sharp yet veiled.
"Reveal yourself."
She exhales heavily, her hood still concealing her identity. "You can call me The Alkahest."
Darkstar's grip tightens. "That's not what I asked."
But she doesn't flinch. Instead, she smirks. "And yet, that's all you're getting."
A pause. Then—before he can react—she moves. A hidden injector in her glove fires straight into his arm.
A serum. Not E-Tox. Something else.
Darkstar's expression remains impassive—at first. But then, his right arm begins shifting uncontrollably. The air crackles with unstable energy. The Elite Six tense, sensing something they don't understand.
Darkstar exhales slowly, then—without hesitation—he hurls The Alkahest back with a wave of force, sending her crashing through the window and out of the building.
But has he truly neutralized the serum?
As his arm continues shifting, as the Reaths below begin reacting to his uncontrollable energy—Darkstar realizes something.
This is only the beginning.
At first, he appears unaffected, his dark aura flaring to neutralize the unknown serum. But then—his right arm shifts uncontrollably.
It is no longer his alone.
The shifting forms of the Reaths he has imprisoned ripple through his limb, their personalities clawing for dominance.
Darkstar clenches his shifting right arm, feeling the unstable energy ripple through him. His body is caught between multiple forms—his arm changes unpredictably, fluctuating between weakness and overwhelming power.
He exhales sharply. He needs control.
But as he raises his hand to steady himself, he punches the air—and that's the mistake.
A pulse of Dark energy erupts from him, raining down like a storm. Tiny dark stars infused with anti-atomic energy scatter across the room, dissolving into the bodies of the Elite Six.
A moment of silence.
Then—the Six convulse.
Their bodies jerk as the overdose sets in, their forms warping with sheer uncontrollable power. Their eyes, once calculating and ruthless, now glow with mindless aggression. Coordination shatters. Logic dissolves.
They are no longer the Elite Six.
They are monsters.
The Elite Six convulse violently, their bodies warping, muscles bulging and twisting in grotesque shapes. Their minds, once sharp and disciplined, now drown beneath the overdose of Dark energy. Their eyes—once calculating—now glow with primal, uncontrolled hunger.
Darkstar grits his teeth.
He created this.
Now, he has to end it.
Darkstar clenches his shifting right arm, feeling the raw, unstable energy rippling through him. His form flickers—his body caught between multiple phases, his limbs distorting as if resisting their own existence.
Darkstar exhales. This isn't a fight. This is containment.
The moment shatters.
A blur of silver and shadow—Zephyrion vanishes and reappears mid-air, his speed now beyond human perception. He strikes a hundred times in the span of a breath, his blade leaving afterimages that cut through space itself. Each slash distorts reality, bending the battlefield into a fractured nightmare.
Darkstar dodges, his form flickering—left, right, then gone—only for Wraithborn to materialize inside his blind spot.
A whisper—cold fingers sliding through his ribs. A grip closing around his heart.
Pain. Pure, suffocating pain.
Darkstar's body jerks as his blood turns to ice. Wraithborn is no longer phasing between dimensions—he's dragging Darkstar with him, pulling his very existence into the void.
A sudden eruption of flames.
Darkstar rips himself free, but Pyrrhos is already waiting. Hellfire surges forward, burning blue-black, a sentient inferno with the hunger of a dying star. The heat bends steel, cracks the ground, turns oxygen into ash.
Then—the battlefield vanishes.
An illusion? No. A forced reality.
Vexis's voice seeps into Darkstar's mind, twisting his perception. Chains coil around his limbs—except they aren't real. He fights against nothing, his own body betraying him. His thoughts fragment. His senses split. He is trapped inside a thousand simultaneous illusions.
And that's when Brontis strikes.
A fist the size of a wrecking ball crashes down, the force splitting the entire platform in half. The impact alone bends space, sending out a gravitational shockwave so dense that Darkstar sinks into the ground. Every muscle locks up, his movements restricted, his breath heavy under the unbearable weight.
A second attack.
Darkstar doesn't have time to dodge.
A wave of abyssal darkness engulfs him.
Umbraith—no longer a mere shadow, but a living, breathing singularity—collapses reality itself around him. The void pulls at his essence, unraveling him thread by thread, like a body dissolving into pure nothingness.
Darkstar grits his teeth. He created this power. Now, it is being used against him.
A flicker of resistance—then his unstable arm reacts.
The dark stars in the air swirl and condense—forming into a spiraling vortex of anti-matter energy. A single punch forward and the air implodes.
The entire battlefield collapses in on itself.
The illusion shatters. The gravity field ruptures. The abyss recoils.
Zephyrion staggers—his afterimages scattering like broken glass.
Wraithborn falters—his incorporeal form flickering uncontrollably.
Brontis stumbles—his once-indestructible body cracking under the backlash.
Vexis gasps—her hold over reality slipping.
Umbraith convulses—the shadows retreating like a wounded beast.
Pyrrhos snarls—his flames sputtering in the void's wake.
For the first time since their transformation, the Elite Six hesitate.
Darkstar rises—his shifting arm now fully awakened.
He doesn't waste time.
In a flash of motion, he moves—not dodging, not evading—but diving straight into the storm.
His first target—Zephyrion.
The Stormblade Phantom moves to react, but Darkstar is faster. A single strike to the gut and Zephyrion is sent crashing through three reinforced steel walls.
Wraithborn appears behind him, phasing his hand through Darkstar's skull—except this time, Darkstar reaches back and grabs him.
Wraithborn's eyes widen.
Darkstar's shifting arm phases in sync, locking Wraithborn into physical form. A brutal backhand sends the phantasmal predator spiraling into Umbraith's swirling abyss.
Umbraith howls, his body fluctuating, but Darkstar clenches his fist—dragging every scrap of shadow toward his palm.
He absorbs the abyss into himself—turning it into fuel.
Brontis bellows, launching forward—but Darkstar meets his charge head-on. He grabs the Titan of Ruin by the throat, slamming him down with a force that detonates the entire floor beneath them. Brontis coughs blood, his body no longer unbreakable.
A scream—Vexis, desperate.
She weaves an illusion—thousands of mirrored realities collapsing in on Darkstar. He is drowning in echoes of himself, a maze with no exit.
But this time—Darkstar closes his eyes.
He doesn't fight the illusion. He becomes it.
A low whisper.
"You can't control me."
The moment Vexis's illusion falters—Darkstar's fingers snap.
A pulse of raw energy erupts—shattering every alternate reality in a violent cascade of broken dimensions.
Vexis screams, clutching her head. Blood drips from her nose. She falls—her mind unable to hold itself together.
Two remain.
Pyrrhos roars, his flames reigniting in a massive inferno. He launches forward, his entire body now a firestorm.
But Darkstar is done playing.
He raises his shifting arm—absorbing the flames into his own essence. The fire flickers out. Pyrrhos—once a blazing force of destruction—now stands powerless.
Darkstar buries his fist into Pyrrhos's chest, sending him crashing through the remains of the battlefield.
One left.
Brontis, bloody, broken, barely standing.
Darkstar walks toward him. No rush. No hesitation.
Brontis lifts his trembling fists, ready to fight—ready to die—
Then Darkstar places a single hand on his forehead.
"Sleep."
A single pulse.
Brontis collapses.
The battle is over.
Darkstar stands amid the wreckage, his breathing heavy, his shifting arm still unstable. The battlefield is silent, save for the flickering sparks of ruined metal and the slow, labored breaths of the defeated.
He looks at his hand.
The serum.
The Alkahest had done something to him—something irreversible. His arm, his power, the way he had absorbed the abilities of the Elite Six—it wasn't just an accident.
Seeking answers, he descends into the deepest prison of his lair.
The corridor tightens. The air grows heavy. The walls seem to pulse, alive with something unseen.
Within the shadows, Apino waits.
She doesn't move as he steps inside. She doesn't speak. But she notices.
His arm—shifting. Unstable.
A slow smirk curves her lips.
You're losing yourself, aren't you?
Darkstar's eyes narrow. His voice is cold, steady. "Tell me what she did to me."
Apino leans back, silent. But in her mind, the truth settles like dust on forgotten ruins.
Two years ago.
Healer tried to bring the Reaths back. Tried to make them human again. But to do that, he had to take their pain into himself. It nearly broke him.
Then came Alvis.
He took over Jack's body. Tried to fix what was broken. Juliya. Mr. Millian. He really thought he could help.
But then—it shifted.
It wasn't Jack. It wasn't Alvis.
It was Darkstar.
Darkstar looked down at his body. Something was shifting—inside and out.
In the void of his mind, chaos erupted.
Alvis. Jack. Flirty. Trickster. Beast.
Each of them lunged for the chair—the seat of control. They clawed, fought, demanded their place, desperate to seize his body.
But he wouldn't let them.
Dark energy surged through him, fused with Healer's power—a force neither light nor dark, but something beyond both.
He forced them back, locking them away.
The same cell where they had once imprisoned Dark-I now became their own. Except this time, Dark-I was not alone. He had merged with Healer. Their fusion amplified his strength—a balance of corruption and restoration, power and control.
The rebellion inside him collapsed.
Jack—**the last to resist—**struggled against the rising shadows. But Darkstar's aura wrapped around him, binding him in a cocoon of pure darkness. Jack screamed, his voice lost to the void.
Then—the throne changed.
It warped beneath him, shifting, growing. The chair was no longer a seat of struggle, no longer a battlefield for fractured minds.
It was his.
A massive black throne formed beneath him, its edges pulsing with shadows alive with his will.
For the first time, he was the only one in control.
In the physical world, Apino watched.
Confusion flickered across her face. She saw nothing—but she felt everything.
Then—Darkstar moved.
He punched the ground, his aura ripping downward, tunneling deeper. The lab shook. Shadows stretched outward, swallowing the space around them.
Before Apino could react, the same dark aura coiled around her.
A shift. A flicker of light.
Darkstar glanced at his fingers. Tiny golden sparks crackled at his fingertips—a remnant of Healer's power.
The energy pulsed, subtle yet powerful.
And then—he felt it.
A pull.
The Reaths in the area reacted instantly. Drawn to the energy, their bodies trembled, eyes glazed with a drug-like hunger.
Darkstar understood.
This wasn't just power. It was a control.
His smirk was cold.
A tool to rule. A drug to dominate.
And so—he built.
In the span of six months, the underground ruins became a fortress. A lair.
Three floors. A prison for any Reath who defied him.
And outside, those who once resisted now danced at his fingertips.
His influence spread like an infection, binding all who inhaled the dark stars.
But now—the balance was broken.
Alkahest.
A single name. A single disruption.
She had injected him with something. Something even he couldn't understand.
For the first time since taking the throne—
Darkstar felt uncertainty.
In DAB Organization, two years had passed. The DAB Organization had been watching. Learning. Waiting. Now, they had confirmation—Darkstar existed. And with him, a secret drug.
A drug that could make the Reaths stronger, more obedient—incapable of betrayal.
They needed it. To perfect it. To control it.
In a dimly lit conference room, a figure entered.
Mr. Fericul. Or rather—Project 333.
Shape-shifted. Disguised.
The meeting was set. The attendees—anonymous, but undeniably powerful.
Fericul moved to the center, expression unreadable. Without a word, he activated the screen behind him. The display flickered to life.
A lab.
Inside—a captured Reath.
The figure on-screen twitched, convulsed. His body cracked apart, breaking into pieces. His veins pulsed black, his skin crumbling into ash.
He coughed violently. Each breath released more of the dark aura.
The same anti-atom energy that had once belonged to Dark-I.
Now, it was killing him from the inside.
The room remained silent. Watching. Calculating.
Then—another video.
A moment from 2.5 years ago.
The footage showed Dark-I escaping.
The DAB's most advanced atomic shields and energy barriers—shattered.
Dark-I had used this very power to break free.
And now—Darkstar had refined it.
Turned it into a drug.
A tool of domination.
The realization settled. This wasn't just about harnessing energy.
This was about complete, irreversible control.
The File: Jack's Shifts
The next document appeared.
Jack.
A detailed file of his transformations.
Six shifts.
One missing.
Healer.
Fericul's voice cut through the room.
"We have studied his forms. But we believe there may be more. More than what we have seen."
A silent agreement.
Darkstar had changed too much in the past two years. Too fast.
They were missing something vital.
Another file. Two names.
Apino. Sapino.
Twin sisters—each taken by opposite sides of the war.
Sapino – The One Who Embraced Darkness.
The screen flickered.
A video.
Jack's Beast form.
A monstrous figure towering over Sapino, her snake-like form hissing in defiance.
The footage paused.
Then—it played.
Jack's beast hands grabbed her jaw.
A sickening crack echoed as he ripped it open—forcing it wide.
But he didn't kill her.
The screen shifted—Sapino in human form.
Her jaw—mangled. Broken.
Steel plates held it together.
The surgical threads crisscrossing her face made her even more horrifying.
Yet, she lived.
A pure E-Tox user who never hid her dark side.
Apino – The One Who Resisted Darkness.
Another video.
A chase.
Apino, running. Hunted.
Mr. Bulwark pursued her.
But she wasn't injected with E-Tox.
No.
She was injected with something else.
A Reath Extractor.
Instead of succumbing to darkness—she fought back.
Her power awakened—Mega energy blasts. Shields.
And in the chaos—she saved her father.
She escaped.
But her existence posed a problem.
A Reath Extractor who had always chosen the good side.
A direct counter to everything they were building.
The Three Key Pieces
The final files appeared.
To complete their research, they needed three subjects.
Jack – A Merge of E-Tox and Reath Extractor. An anomaly. His connection to both energies could be the key to perfecting the drug.
Sapino - Pure E-Tox User. One who never resisted her dark side. A living example of unfiltered transformation.
Apino - A Pure Reath Extractor. The counterforce. The one who had chosen the light.
Only one was in their grasp.
Sapino.
For now.
The meeting fell into silence.
The members of the DAB Organization exchanged knowing glances.
They knew what had to be done.
A figure from the meeting stood up.
His voice cut through the dimly lit chamber. "How do we know this information is accurate? How can we be sure about Darkstar?"
A moment of silence.
Then—Mr. Fericul smiled.
A slow, deliberate motion as he gestured toward the shadows.
"Allow me to introduce our best asset."
A figure stepped forward.
Alkahest.
She stood in the dim light, clad in her signature suit and mask. A presence both imposing and unreadable.
Fericul turned back to the others. His voice was steady, confident.
"She has infiltrated Darkstar's lair multiple times—undetected. But this time… she made contact. And she fulfilled her duty."
The screen flickered again—footage of Darkstar during their encounter.
Fericul's voice carried through the room.
"She weakened him."
Another shift in the display—the drug.
"The same drug we use in the DAB Institute. Designed to control new Reaths. To keep them obedient."
The seated figures remained silent, absorbing the weight of his words.
Then—Alkahest spoke.
"The drug worked," she confirmed. "But only partially."
She crossed her arms, her voice cold and precise.
"It's most effective on new Reaths—those who haven't fully developed their abilities. Their power is raw, unfocused. Easily broken down."
She paused, then continued.
"Darkstar is not a new Reath. He has grown alongside his powers. He evolved with them."
She tilted her head slightly, recalling the battle.
"The drug affected him—but only in parts."
The figures in the meeting exchanged glances.
Fericul leaned forward. "Explain."
Alkahest nodded once.
"His arm."
She exhaled, recalling the moment she locked eyes with him as his body flickered through different phases.
"There were seven visible shifts."
A file appeared on the screen—detailed sketches of his changing arm.
A wild, hairy form with claws. Uncontrolled, savage. (Beast)One emitting pure light. The original. The core. (Jack)A frail, almost skeletal form. Weak, fragile, yet still present. (Alvis)A form of brute strength, with defined muscle. Force-driven. (Flirty)A hand with long, grey-painted nails. Trickster's signature touch. (Trickster)A hand wreathed in complete darkness. Pure destruction. (Dark-I)A hand flickering with white sparks. The remnants of something... healing. (Healer)
Her gaze sharpened.
"I observed them carefully. Every shift. Every movement."
A pause.
"But we should assume there are more."
The tension in the room thickened.
"Only one was in control," she added.
The masked figures in the meeting remained still.
They understood the weight of those words.
One shift was in control now.
But what happens when another takes over?
Alkahest let her words settle before she spoke again.
"This is the moment."
Her voice cut through the silence, unwavering.
"Darkstar is at his weakest."
She stepped forward, tapping the screen as it changed to new footage—the wreckage of the Elite Six.
"They are gone."
The room stirred.
She continued.
"His unstable arm makes him weaker in combat. He cannot use his full strength without losing control. That instability is his greatest weakness."
A new image flickered onto the screen—Darkstar's shifting arm, still flickering between phases.
"He is strong, but not invincible. Not now."
Her masked gaze turned toward the council.
"If we want him—this is the time to take him."
The room fell into silence.
Then—a single nod from Mr. Fericul.
The decision was made.
Darkstar's reign was coming to an end.
Inside the void of Darkstar's mind, chaos raged.
Each trapped consciousness—Alvis, Jack, Flirty, Trickster, Beast, Dark-I, Healer—was forced through a relentless cycle.
Their bodies twisted, their forms shifting uncontrollably.
A wild clawed hand.
A frail, skeletal limb.
A muscular grip.
Flickering light.
Overwhelming darkness.
Nails painted gray.
White sparks flickering on the fingertips.
They swapped their arms endlessly, painfully.
None of them controlled it. None of them could stop it.
The pain never ceased. The void echoed with their screams.
From above, Darkstar watched.
Expression cold. Unforgiving.
He understood now.
There was only one way to end this.
They had to die.
The cycle wouldn't stop until every last one of them was erased from existence.
But there was a problem.
Here, in the void, he could hurt them. He could make them suffer, make them bleed.
But he couldn't kill them.
If he wanted to end them—truly erase them—he would need an external force.
A force powerful enough to destroy what should not exist.
A force he had seen before.
The same power that took the lives of Mr. Millian and Juliya.
His fingers clenched. He could have killed Apino long ago. It would have been easy. But he didn't. Not because he was merciful. Not because she was valuable.
But because she was the key.
The only one with the energy to restart the machine.
The same machine that had already taken two lives.
The same machine that could finally erase the ones trapped inside him.
That's why he kept her prisoner instead of killing her.
And soon—he would use her.
The dark aura surrounding Apino was more than just a prison.
It was a cage.
A force carefully woven around her, binding her powers, suffocating them.
She could feel it—her energy surging beneath the surface, restless, desperate to break free.
But the aura crushed it, swallowing it whole before it could manifest.
She had tried. Again and again.
Had the aura not been there, had she been free—Jack would have returned a long time ago.
She knew it.
And so did Darkstar.
That's why he kept her bound.
Not just to control her.
But to prevent her from undoing what he had built.
Jack was still inside.
Still buried beneath the darkness.
And if given the chance—she would bring him back.
But as long as this aura held her…
She was powerless.
And Darkstar remained in control.
Darkstar strode into the underground lab, his presence alone commanding silence.
The scientist Reaths flinched as he approached, their bodies tense under his gaze.
"Status?" His voice was sharp, impatient.
One of the lead scientists hesitated before stepping forward.
"We are close," he admitted, adjusting his shaking hands. "But we need a specific key to complete it."
Darkstar's eyes narrowed. "What key?"
The scientist swallowed hard.
"Project 333."
A flicker of interest—but mostly irritation.
"And where is he?"
Silence.
The scientist lowered his head. "We... don't know."
Darkstar's expression darkened.
The screen behind them flickered, revealing classified data—everything they had on Project 333.
Project 333 – The Devil's Threefold Power
A man with three shadows.
A being that could divide himself into three distinct entities.
Each with their own name, their own ability, their own purpose.
Mirage – The Master of Illusions
Mirage could craft illusions so real they blurred the line between reality and deception. His enemies couldn't trust their own eyes. Defense, attack, escape—everything bent to his control.Sharr – The Puppeteer of Emotion
Sharr could reach into the hearts of others, twisting their darkest emotions—anger, fear, hatred. He could manipulate minds without a single touch, turning allies into enemies, soldiers into traitors.Makr – The Unseen Strategist
Makr didn't just blend into the world—he became part of it. A ghost in plain sight, gathering secrets, unraveling conspiracies. Some even believed his power went deeper—into visions, an eerie sense of future events before they happened.
Each of them was a weapon on their own.
Together—they were an unstoppable force.
But Darkstar didn't care about their abilities.
He wanted only one thing.
The power to divide.
If he could understand it, he could become seven.
Each version of him—a force of its own, free to act without limit.
But the moment the scientist uttered those words, he realized his mistake.
Darkstar's hand closed around the scientist's throat. A violent grip. Crushing. His eyes burned with pure fury.
"Not seven. Six." His voice was low, seething. "Healer stays with me."
His fingers tightened. "Or you don't get your drug."
The scientist's face contorted—not from fear, but from desperate hunger.
Darkstar noticed.
The drug had taken hold.
The need for another dose was already corrupting their minds.
Darkstar sneered. Pathetic.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the scientist against the wall.
A small vial of the dark drug rolled across the floor.
The scientist, gasping for air, lunged for it.
Darkstar watched as he shook, his body reacting immediately.
The drug pulsed through him.
His brain swelled, adapting, evolving.
And just like that—he stopped shaking.
His hands moved with newfound precision. His mind is already spinning at impossible speeds.
He had everything he needed to work faster.
Darkstar turned away.
His mind is already moving to the next step.
Project 333 had to be found.
But there was just one problem.
He had no idea who he really was.
Twin sister of Apino. But nothing like her. Sapino had no one. Her mother? Dead—by her own hands.
She hadn't meant to kill her. Not at first.
But when she lost control of her Reath form—**a monstrous white snake—**she hadn't stopped.
She didn't feel guilt.
She didn't feel anything.
Now, she was the lead of the testing group at the DAB Institute.
Her job? Breaking new Reaths.
Turning wild, unpredictable creatures into loyal weapons.
The institute worked hard to reshape and control them.
But Sapino worked harder.
She enjoyed watching them break.
But there was one exception.
Mr. Lucan.
An instructor at the DAB Institute.
Sapino had watched him closely.
She had seen his darkness.
He didn't just follow orders—he relished them.
One day, she had watched him kill a strong Reath for disobedience.
Effortlessly. Coldly.
And that was when she knew.
There was something inside him.
Not power. Not Reath abilities.
But something else.
He was also the one who had performed her surgery.
The day after Jack's Beast form tore her apart.
At first, she had hated her reflection.
The threads on her face. The plates holding her jaw together.
But Lucan… he had changed that.
He had calmed her rage.
Had shown her that she looked more beautiful now than ever before.
He wasn't just an instructor.
He was the only one who understood.
Mr. Lucan had no Reath powers.
The E-Tox injections had failed.
No transformation. No abilities. Nothing.
A weakness in the eyes of the DAB Organization.
But Sapino understood.
She could feel his struggle—his isolation.
She had spent her whole life as the outcast.
Her parents favored Apino.
Her own mother called her a brat.
And so—in two years, they had gotten closer.
Too close.
Mr. Fericul had been watching.
And he had seen enough.
Lucan was expendable.
So he gave the order.
Kill him.
But when **Sapino found out—**she threatened him.
No one touched Lucan.
Not unless they wanted to die screaming.
Mr. Fericul, despite his power, hesitated.
He could not afford to lose Sapino.
She was the only key he had.
So instead—he took Lucan as a prisoner.
Alive. For now.
Sapino met Lucan every time she was free.
She wasn't supposed to.
She didn't care.
For the first time, a Reath desired someone.
Not for power. Not for survival. For something else.
She would sit with him, talk with him, listen to his voice.
Lucan never spoke about himself much.
But he would listen to her.
To the rage she held.
To the resentment toward Mr. Fericul.
To the emptiness she felt.
But Lucan was afraid.
Not for himself.
For her.
"They will find out," he had said one night. His voice wasn't sharp like usual. It was tired. Heavy. "You don't understand, Sapino… If they learn the truth, they will kill you."
But she didn't listen.
She was the strongest Reath in the Institute.
What could they do to her?
But Lucan knew better.
He had killed too many Reaths himself.
For less.
And that's why, one night—he took his own life in front of her.
Blood splattered across the floor. His knife fell.
She didn't scream.
She didn't cry.
She stood there, frozen.
His last words—a promise.
"Stay by Mr. Fericul's side."
Her fingers trembled.
She hated him.
She hated Fericul.
But she couldn't break the last wish of the only one she had ever loved.
So she did what she had never done before.
She obeyed.
The rage inside her turned cold.
She became what they always wanted.
A machine.
Loyal. Ruthless. Empty.
The Truth in the Dark Room
In the depths of the DAB Institute, within the dark room of Mr. Fericul, shadows flickered.
And there, sitting across from him—
Lucan.
Alive.
His eyes were calm. Unshaken.
"It's done," he said.
Mr. Fericul leaned back, pleased.
They had won.
Sapino was now fully theirs.
Fericul extended his hand.
Lucan reached out—
And in an instant, their bodies merged.
Lucan was never real. There was never a Mr. Lucan. Only a fragment of Project 333. A piece of Mirage's power in play. And now, the mission was complete.
Sapino had become the perfect weapon.
Just as they planned.
Darkstar's Unstable Power – The Ripple Effect
The constant shift of Darkstar's arm was causing more than just internal struggle.
Its unstable dark aura—once controlled—was now affecting both the void and the real world.
In the Void: The aura wrapped tighter around Jack, suffocating his presence. But he was no longer passive. He could feel a shift—an opportunity. Using what remained of his own energy, he pushed back.In the Real World: The same aura bound Apino, suppressing her power. But now, cracks formed in its grip. She could feel her abilities returning. Bit by bit, she was regaining her strength.
Darkstar was losing control over them both.
And they knew it.
The Machine – Near Completion
Meanwhile, in the underground lab, the scientists worked frantically.
The machine—the key to erasing the void entities—was almost ready.
With each passing hour, they moved closer to unlocking its full potential.
But Darkstar was still missing one piece.
Project 333.
But Fericul wasn't the only one moving in the shadows.
For one year, The Alkahest had worked within the DAB Organization. But her mission wasn't what they believed.
She wasn't just one of them.
She was working for Project 3.
The Gathering of Three – The Perfect Trap
The dimly lit chamber of the DAB Organization remained silent, save for the three figures seated at a round table.
They were alone.
No soldiers. No Reaths. No Alkahest. No Sapino.
Only them.
Themselves.
Project 333.
Mr. Fericul divides at the center, his form flickering subtly as three distinct presences surround him.
To his right—Mirage. The Weaver of Illusions.
To his left—Sharr. The Master of Manipulation.
And before him—Makr. The Shadow Strategist.
Makr spoke first. His tone was calm, methodical.
"The time has come. Darkstar is at his weakest. His mind is unstable. His body is betraying him. We will move now—before he recovers."
Mirage leaned forward, his fingers interlocking. "Explain the plan."
Makr gave a small nod.
"I will infiltrate Darkstar's lair. He is unpredictable. But I am the best ghost there is. No scent, no sound, no presence. Since I was only involved in phase 1 I've already mapped his territory, his scientists, and his assets."
He placed a single folder on the table.
Inside was everything—detailed layouts of Darkstar's lair, the unfinished machine, Apino's captivity, and the scientists' progress.
He tapped his finger on a specific section of the map.
"The machine is nearly complete. But they are missing a key. Project 333. That is where we begin."
Sharr leaned back, crossing his arms. "Darkstar will not be an easy fool to bait."
Makr smirked slightly.
"That's why we don't lure him. We confuse him."
Makr's fingers drummed against the table.
"Sharr, this is where you come in."
Sharr listened, his eyes narrowed.
"You will manipulate Darkstar into believing he has found what he needs—Project 333. But in reality, you will describe someone else."
Mirage's eyebrow twitched. "Who?"
Makr's smirk deepened.
"Project 3. Oham."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Mirage's form flickered for a second before he spoke again.
"Why Oham?"
Makr leaned forward.
"Because we don't just need Project 333's strength. We need Oham's too."
He tapped the folder again, this time pulling up a holographic image of Oham.
"The pacifist mistake. The hero is made of pure goodness. A weapon designed to fight Reaths but too pure to ever attack them."
Sharr nodded slowly.
"If we can trick Darkstar into hunting Oham, he will do half the work for us."
Makr confirmed.
"Exactly. He will chase what he thinks is Project 333—but in reality, he will bring us to Oham. Once we have them both, we will extract their strengths."
Mirage finally spoke again.
"Once Darkstar reaches Oham, what happens next?"
Makr didn't hesitate. "You will strike next, Mirage."
Mirage listened, waiting.
"You will make Darkstar see his void forms in the real world. Jack, Alvis, Trickster, Beast, Flirty—all of them. They will appear, taunt him, fight him."
He paused before adding, "Even Healer". A small chuckle escaped Mirage's lips. "You want him to fight himself?"
Makr nodded.
"He's already unstable. His shifting arm is throwing off his control. If he starts to see them outside the void, he will not know what is real and what isn't."
Sharr smirked. "He will lose his mind before he realizes it's an illusion." Makr confirmed, "And that is when we strike physically."
Makr turned the page of the folder, revealing two images.
Alkahest and Sapino.
"This is where they come in."
Mirage's smirk deepened. "The poison and the chemist."
Makr nodded.
"Alkahest will use her chemist knowledge to inject a formula that disrupts his shifting. This will lock him in a single state, preventing him from escaping."
"And Sapino?" Sharr asked.
Makr's gaze darkened.
"She will inject her venom, paralyzing him completely. No movement, no escape. He will be helpless."
A beat of silence.
"And then?" Mirage asked.
Makr tapped the final image.
"The very machine he built to erase his void personalities…"
A slow smirk.
"…we will use it against him."
Phase Five – The Machine's True Purpose
Makr let the silence hang for a moment before he spoke again.
"We will extract Healer from him. He is the key."
Sharr raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
Makr leaned back.
"The drug. The drug that keeps Reaths under control. We need Healer's ability to create a perfected formula."
He let the thought sink in before adding:
"More importantly, we will use Healer's very presence to create fear."
Sharr's smirk returned. "Turning Reaths back into humans?"
Makr confirmed, "Exactly."
"This isn't just about taking Darkstar down."
"It's about reshaping the world."
Final Obstacle – The Wild Card
For the first time, Sharr's smirk faded.
"There's a flaw in your plan, Makr."
Makr raised an eyebrow.
Sharr continued.
"Apino."
Makr didn't deny it.
"She is regaining power as Darkstar weakens."
"She is still in his lair."
"If she breaks free at the wrong moment, she could ruin everything."
A moment passed.
Makr's expression remained unreadable.
Then he said:
"Sapino will stay behind."
Mirage chuckled. "Sister against sister."
Makr nodded.
"If Apino tries to interfere, Sapino will make sure she doesn't leave alive."
Two years ago.
When Darkstar destroyed the lab, his power sent shockwaves across the world.
A presence felt it.
Project 3.
He wasn't created like the others.
He was made to fight against Reaths.
To be the perfect warrior of justice.
To be unstoppable… and good.
But his perfection became his flaw.
He couldn't harm anyone.He didn't distinguish between good and evil.Whenever he was sent to fight, he refused to attack.
Project 3 became useless to those who made him.
But he still existed. Watching. Waiting.
And when Darkstar's destruction shook the earth, he arrived at the ruins.
There, in the concrete debris, he saw something moving.
A hand—twisting, twitching—half-buried in dust.
He rushed forward—and what he found left him frozen.
The body was not fully formed.
It was half male, half female.
And then, before his eyes, it shifted.
The male half faded.
The body turned completely female.
Project 3—**Oham—**had no fear.
He only saw pain.
He took the body back with him, tending to the unknown victim.
For months, he waited.
And then, one day, she woke up.
Her eyes opened.
Oham looked at her, calm but questioning.
"Who are you?"
Her voice was weak, confused. "I… I'm Juliya. But… I'm not supposed to be alive."
Oham said nothing. He simply listened.
And then, Juliya told him everything.
She had been Jack's mother.
When she was dying.
She used the Reath Extractor—infusing her DNA into Jack.
And when she opened her eyes again, she was trapped.
Inside him.
Inside the void.
Later, she took the chair. She had gained control.
But when she couldn't find the Healer, she knew what she had to do.
She sacrificed herself.
Gave up her existence to bring Healer out.
So that every Reath could be healed.
But Oham told her the truth.
"The Healer is no longer separate. He merged with Dark-I. Together, they became Darkstar."
Juliya's breath shook.
Everything she had done.
Everything she had given up.
To Give birth—To Darkstar.
Juliya didn't break.
She adapted.
Using her chemist knowledge, she created a new identity.
She infiltrated the DAB Organization.
She worked for Mr. Fericul.
But her true purpose?
To learn more about Project 333.
For months, she followed leads. Read hidden files.
One name stood out: Mr. Lucan.
She had watched him closely.
And when he died, she thought all hope was lost.
Until she saw him again.
Alive.
But it wasn't Lucan.
It was Project 333.
She followed him.
And finally, she learned the truth.
Mr. Fericul didn't just command Project 333.
He was Project 333.
He had divided himself into three.
Now—he was bringing them back into one.
Juliya knew one thing for certain.
This war was far from over.
And now, everything was about to collide.
Jack closed his eyes. The void around him pulsed—cold, suffocating. The dark aura binding him was too strong to break.
He knew it. He couldn't escape alone.
But that didn't mean he was powerless. A soft glow radiated from his fingertips—light energy.
Not to free himself. Not yet.
Instead—he turned it outward.
He had one goal.
Heal.
But as the energy spread, the serum's effect kicked in.
His healing was limited.
He couldn't restore everyone.
So he focused on two.
Alvis. The weakest. But the most brilliant.Beast. The strongest. But the most reckless.
If they were to stand a chance, he needed both.
The light energy reached Alvis first.
The frail, skeletal figure jerked forward as the golden glow wrapped around his decayed arm.
His bones restructured. His strength returned.
He looked up, his sharp analytical mind now able to function again.
Next—the Beast.
Jack's light barely reached him before the wild form snarled, twitching in resistance.
But his clawed hand steadied.
His movements became more focused.
Not controlled. Not tamed. But stronger.
That was all Jack needed.
Jack forced himself to move. His body ached as the dark aura around him tightened—sensing his intent. But he pushed forward.
Step by step—toward the locked door of the void.
His fingertips sparked with energy as he reached for the barrier.
He knew this would hurt.
But he didn't hesitate.
The moment his hands **touched the lock—**it clicked.
The door opened.
The Beast's Rampage
The howl was immediate.
The moment the door swung open, Beast lunged.
Snarling, claws slashing, eyes burning with wild fury.
He was free.
And his first target—Darkstar.
Beast charged. But the moment his clawed hand touched the Chair, electricity surged through him.
A violent shockwave erupted, the void itself trembling under the energy burst.
The Beast roared in agony.
His fur burned. His skin cracked.
But he couldn't die.
So he did the only thing he could.
He howled.
A raw, pain-filled scream.
The sound of something trapped between life and death.
The void trembled.
Darkstar's throne pulsed with power.
And for the first time—the balance of control wavered.
Jack watched. And he waited. Because this was just the beginning.
Alvis watched.
The Beast howled in agony, his body twisting, burning, trapped in a loop of endless pain.
The Chair had changed.
It wasn't just a seat of control anymore—it was a cage. A modified execution device.
And the worst part?
Jack was the only one who could reset it.
But Jack was also the only one who could heal.
Alvis's mind raced.
He saw it clearly.
If Jack reset the Chair, it would require a price. A devastating cost.
But if Jack died, no one else could heal.
Darkstar's cold laughter echoed through the void.
He watched Alvis, amused.
"Look at you. The great mind. The genius. The strategist."
His smirk widened, eyes flickering with mockery.
"Checkmated."
Alvis gritted his teeth.
He knew what Darkstar was saying.
There was no solution.
If Jack intervened—he risked everything.
If he didn't—the void would collapse into chaos.
No way out.
Alvis turned his gaze back to Jack.
Despite the serum eating away at him, despite his own pain—
Jack never stopped.
His hands remained on Beast, pushing light energy through him, trying to ease the agony.
It wasn't enough to stop the burning.
But it was enough to keep Beast from breaking.
Alvis's mind spun.
He had always been the smartest.
The one who saw every possible outcome.
And yet, for the first time,
he had no answer.
Darkstar leaned forward.
"Tell me, genius… what's your move now?"
Alvis remained silent.
Because for the first time in his existence—
He didn't know.
Alvis smirked.
Then—he turned his back.
And walked straight back into the open cage.
Darkstar's eyes narrowed.
He hated that smirk.
Alvis was up to something. He always was.
Darkstar's fingers twitched. The moment Alvis took another step, he was ready to strike.
But then—
A voice cut through the air.
"Darkstar! We have it!"
A scientist rushed in, frantic and breathless.
Darkstar's eyes flickered toward him, his attack momentarily halted.
"We've identified Project 333!" the scientist claimed, his voice urgent. "We know his face. We can scan the entire network using the IT Reaths."
A pause.
Then—Darkstar's smirk returned.
This was the best position possible. For two years, Project 333 had remained a mystery.
Now?
Darkstar knew everything.
Their division ability.
Their three separate bodies.
Their tactics.
He was ready to fight them now.
He wasn't walking into an unknown battle.
He was prepared.
Or so he thought.
Because there was only one thing he didn't know.
The scientist standing before him—was Sharr. A smile flickered across Sharr's lips.
The first phase of the trap—was complete.
Darkstar's eyes scanned the report. The image in front of him. The description.
This was it.
Project 333's identity.
Or so he thought.
In reality—he was looking at Project 3.
The Oham.
The one built from pure goodness. The one who refused to fight.
Darkstar didn't hesitate.
He turned to his Teleporter Reaths, Hackers, and Tech Specialists.
"Find this man." His voice was sharp, commanding.
But he wasn't just sending them out—he was boosting them.
A small dose of his drug, flicked toward each of them.
Their eyes glowed as the substance took effect.
More motivation. More focus. More drive.
Nothing would stop them.
They would track Project 3 down.
And Darkstar would finally have him.
Alvis Senses the Lie
Alvis, now fully aware, stood silently inside the open cage.
His eyes flickered to Darkstar.
A single glance.
And in that instant—he knew.
Something was wrong.
Something was deeply, dangerously wrong.
Darkstar wasn't being careful.
He was confident. Too confident.
Which meant he was walking into a trap.
And if Darkstar fell—so did they all.
Alvis's mind raced.
There was only one move left.
They all had to be at full strength.
Alvis turned toward Jack.No words. Just a small nod.
A silent order.
Jack, still healing Beast, immediately understood.
Alvis had figured something out.
And Jack trusted him.
Without hesitation, Jack shifted his light.
One by one—healed.
Flirty. Strength restored.Trickster. Mind awakened.One after another.
Jack still didn't know the full plan.
But he knew one thing.
Alvis had sensed something dangerous.
And whatever was coming—they needed to be ready.
Darkstar's Focus on the Hunt
While Jack healed and Alvis prepared, Darkstar's attention never wavered.
His Reaths were already working.
Teleporters vanishing into the world.
Hackers scanning through networks.
Tech Reaths enhancing the search.
They were fueled, driven, and unstoppable.
It was only a matter of time.
Darkstar thought he was in control.
He had no idea how wrong he was.
Darkstar's Impatience – The Teleporter's Fatal Mistake
A Reath burst into the lab, breathless.
"We found him!"
Darkstar's eyes flashed.
Oham's location was no longer a mystery.
He couldn't resist.
He turned to his Teleporter.
"Open a portal. Now."
A moment of silence.
Then—the Teleporter smirked.
For the first time, he saw an opportunity.
For the first time, he thought—Darkstar needs me.
"More drug first," the Teleporter demanded, voice bold.
A mistake.
A deadly mistake.
Darkstar's expression darkened.
The aura around him flickered—anti-atomic energy surging.
Before the Teleporter could react—
Darkstar's fist crashed through his chest.
A pulse of pure destruction.
The Teleporter disintegrated into ashes.
Not even a scream.
Just nothingness.
The room fell silent.
Darkstar turned to the next Teleporter.
"Take me."
This time, there was no hesitation.
The Trap is Sprung – Oham's Illusion
In an instant—the portal opened.
Darkstar stepped through.
And in a flash—he was there.
His feet hit the ground before he even registered the world around him.
And in front of him—
Oham.
Standing still. Watching.
Darkstar didn't waste time.
He raised his fist, power surging.
"You're the key to my freedom." His voice was sharp, ruthless. "And I want you. Now."
But before Oham could even react—
Mirage had already begun.
The Illusions Begin – A War on the Mind
The air shifted.
Darkstar's vision blurred.
And then—he wasn't alone.
From the corners of his sight, figures emerged.
Familiar ones. Too familiar.
His own personalities.
Stepping out of the void.
One by one—
Jack.
Alvis.
Beast.
Flirty.
Trickster.
All of them—free.
Moving. Speaking. Staring at him.
Darkstar's mind reeled.
This wasn't possible.
And yet—they were here.
Mirage's illusions had begun.
And Darkstar, for the first time in years—was lost in his own mind.
The Trickster's Gambit – The War on Two Fronts
Darkstar's weakening mind caused a chain reaction.
The leash on Jack loosened.
Jack gasped, feeling the sudden freedom—his energy surging back into his body.
Alvis didn't waste time.
"Now," he commanded.
And Trickster moved.
The Trickster's True Play – Whispering to the Healer
In the void, Trickster wasn't talking to Darkstar.
Not directly.
He was talking to Healer.
His voice slipped through the air, smooth, persuasive, dangerous.
"You remember, don't you?" Trickster's voice was almost playful. "Back when you were merged with Flirty?"
The Healer stirred.
"You didn't have to do anything back then," Trickster continued. "No burden. No pain. Just hidden, just resting."
Silence.
Then, Trickster's voice shifted—sharp, cold.
"But now? You've done nothing but suffer."
A pause.
"Dark-I didn't absorb you. He buried you."
The void trembled.
The Healer's aura flickered.
Trickster pressed further.
"You were never meant to be in this merge."
"You don't belong in Dark-I."
"Go back."
"Back to Flirty."
The void shook.
Something was changing.
And Darkstar—even in his chaos—could feel it.