News

Zale slumped against the couch, limbs sprawled over the soft cushions like a lifeless doll. The worn leather creaked under his weight, but he didn't care. Everything felt too distant, too dull. The sensation was blissful in its own lazy way, his thoughts swimming through a thick, pleasant fog.

He'd been like this for days. Weeks, maybe. The passage of time had become irrelevant. Doing nothing, it seemed, was the only thing that truly made him feel alive.

The power of Sloth… He was beginning to understand it, to truly feel its pull. The less he moved, the stronger the connection grew. And it was intoxicating. A sedative to all the pain, all the anger he once harbored.

His hand lazily rose before his face, fingers twitching as he focused on the air itself. From the space just above his palm, something began to form—a small, glistening orb.

It hovered weightlessly, an ethereal sphere resembling swirling air molecules compressed into a single, delicate form. Its surface shimmered like mist captured in glass, a nearly invisible presence that obeyed his every thought.

The orb was his Avatar, his extension. And it was a masterpiece of simplicity.

He grinned, the expression loose and unfocused. It took no effort to control. All he had to do was think, and it responded. With the smallest nudge of his will, the orb twisted and stretched, changing shape as easily as clay in a sculptor's hand.

First, he made it into a dagger—thin, sharp, and deadly. Then it morphed into a delicate bird, its wings fluttering soundlessly as it floated above his hand. Finally, it dissolved into a formless, shifting mass, its structure left vague and undefined.

He didn't even have to lift his head to manipulate it. It was all too easy. Almost disappointingly so.

But the orb was just one part of his power. His other gift was far more… insidious. The ability to weave illusions. To blur reality itself. The few times he had tested it, it was always when his Avatar was present, as if its mere existence amplified his capabilities.

The illusions he conjured were never meant to harm. They were like dreams crafted from laziness, designed to entertain him when the world outside grew too dull. But recently, he'd felt something change. His abilities grew stronger, more refined, the less he cared about anything.

Perhaps that was the cruel joke of it all. To grow stronger, he only had to give in to apathy.

His gaze drifted lazily to the TV, the remote lying just within reach of his fingertips. He poked at the power button, his effort minimal. The screen flickered to life, the bright glow stabbing into the darkened room.

Words scrolled across the screen: "String of Mysterious Deaths Leaves City in Panic."

Zale's eyes squinted with vague interest. His thumb hovered over the volume button before pressing down. The voice of a polished news anchor filled the room.

"—as authorities continue their investigation into the unexplained deaths occurring throughout the city. With us today is Detective Calvin Reyes, one of the lead investigators on the case."

The camera cut to a man sitting across from the anchor. Detective Reyes was a severe-looking individual, his dark hair flecked with grey, eyes sharp and penetrating. His posture was stiff, as if he'd been carved from stone.

"Detective Reyes," the anchor began, his smile strained, "thank you for being with us today. The public is understandably anxious. Can you tell us anything new about this case?"

The detective's gaze was heavy, his words clipped. "The truth is, we're dealing with something far more complicated than we initially thought. The victims range in age, occupation, and background. They've been found in their homes, workplaces, and even public places. What's consistent is the nature of their deaths."

"And what is that exactly?" the anchor prompted, his voice trembling just slightly.

Reyes leaned forward, his eyes locked on the camera as if he were speaking directly to Zale. "Their bodies simply shut down. No signs of struggle, no external or internal injuries. Their hearts just stop. And the autopsies reveal nothing. No toxins, no illnesses. It's as if their minds simply… shut off."

A chill ran down Zale's spine, but it quickly dissolved into lethargy. His fingers played with the orb absentmindedly, letting it float above his palm.

The anchor's brows furrowed. "You're saying their minds simply quit? Is that even possible?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Reyes replied. "Right now, all we have are theories. And none of them make any sense."

Zale smirked. The detective had no idea how close he was to the truth.

"Some speculate it could be some sort of weapon," the anchor continued. "Or perhaps… an ability?"

Reyes's jaw tightened. "If someone is doing this, they're using a method we can't trace. It's like their life force is just… drained away. And we have no idea how or why."

A spark of amusement flared in Zale's chest. He wondered if his illusions had something to do with it. He hadn't exactly tested his powers on anyone directly. Not really. But if his abilities could influence someone's perception of reality, who was to say they couldn't do more?

"What's the possibility of this being a mass psychological attack?" the anchor pressed.

"I can't rule anything out," Reyes replied, his voice now a low growl. "But if it is… then whoever's behind it has a way of manipulating minds on a level we can't comprehend."

His phone rang. The sound cut sharply through the air. Reyes frowned, his fingers gripping the phone like a lifeline. "Apologies, I have to take this." Without waiting for the anchor's response, the detective rose from his seat and walked off-camera, leaving the news anchor visibly rattled.

"We… we'll be right back after this short break."

The screen switched to a commercial about prescription medications, but Zale's thoughts had already drifted away.

Had his power somehow reached beyond his control? The description the detective gave… It matched what he imagined his illusions could do if pushed to their extreme. But did it matter?

"People die every day," Zale mumbled to himself, his words slurred with apathy. "If it's my fault, it's their fault for being too weak to resist."

He let the orb settle on his palm, its surface pulsing with a dull, rhythmic glow. It was a beautiful, haunting thing. A tool he could mold into anything. A tool that might be far deadlier than he ever intended.

Yet, the effort required to care was far more than he could muster.

His eyelids drooped, his head sinking into the cushions. Maybe he'd figure it out later. For now, sleep felt so much easier. So much better.