Chapter 6: Sarah

Sarah had never liked her home.

Her mother was a hoarder. Every room was filled with clutter — stacks of boxes, old furniture, random junk ordered off the internet. It was suffocating. Ben had visited once, years ago. He accidentally stepped on a box, and her mother went ballistic, screaming and berating him until he left, vowing never to return.

Her father wasn't any better. A gambling addict, he spent his weekends at seedy dens, illegal cockfights, or horse races, burning through what little money they had.

The house was a warzone of endless arguments — whether it was over new junk deliveries or her father's spiraling debts. As Sarah grew older, the burden fell on her. She juggled part-time jobs just to keep the lights on.

But it was never enough.

One evening, while preparing for her tutoring shift, she heard them whispering heatedly in the kitchen. Curiosity gnawed at her — and dread. Her father's voice was eager, her mother's was tense.

"I found an agent," her father said. "They help young women get into modeling."

But they all knew what he really meant.

Not even a few days later, Sarah's heart shattered when she saw the stranger in a suit standing at their front door, speaking quietly to her mother. She crept closer, listening to every poisonous word.

How all her earnings would go to her parents.

How everything that would happen to her would be "legal."

The contract her mother had already signed sealed her fate.

Sarah didn't even confront them. She didn't even managed to pack her things. She just walked to the nearest train station, and left.

Far away from the only place she'd ever known.

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Sarah woke up with a start.

The hospital ceiling spun above her, the sterile smell burning her nose. Her body ached in every place imaginable, but... she was alive.

Turning her head, she spotted a nurse nearby, who noticed her stirring and rushed over.

"Oh! Hello! You're awake! Are you in pain? Headaches? Do you remember what happened? You were in a car crash! They said an ani—" the nurse babbled rapidly.

Sarah tuned her out, her eyes drifting to the bed beside her.

Beth was there, covered in bandages, looking tired but awake.

"You're awake," Beth said with a soft voice. "I'm sorry about the crash. I didn't realize it was running towards us until it was too late."

Sarah shook her head weakly. "It's okay. We're alive. That's what matters."

A beat of silence passed before Sarah hesitantly asked, "I-is the hospital fee...?"

Beth gave her a reassuring smile. "It's covered. Don't worry. We're lucky that healing guy was with us. I heard from the nurses — he was the one who called for the ambulance too."

Sarah nodded in relief, glancing back at the nurse still chattering away. "-Seriously, a cow flipped a patrol car! And someone else got bit by four snakes! Oh! And over at Hearth Hospital, a patient started summoning wolves out of thin air!"

Wolves again?

Sarah frowned.

At that moment, the door swung open. Detective Angelo entered, followed by Adam.

"How are you both doing?" Angelo asked warmly.

"We're fine," Beth answered. Sarah nodded in agreement.

"Ben visited earlier," Adam said, pointing at a paper bag filled with snacks and juice by the bedside. Sarah gave a small smile.

Beth shifted her gaze to Angelo. "So, what now?"

Angelo glanced around before lowering his voice. "You're both staying here for a few days to recover." He leaned in closer. "The government's made a move. They've acknowledged the existence of superpowers and the animals' sudden physical mutations. It's not public yet — they're keeping it quiet to prevent mass panic. Expect it to go official within three months."

He took a slow breath.

"A new division has been formed. It's a trial group to handle superpowers, magical events, and the like. Our city is part of the first wave. Right now... there are only two confirmed police officers with abilities — you, Beth, and Oliver."

Beth's eyes widened. "Oliver? That asshole?"

Angelo sighed heavily. "Yeah. That asshole."

Adam cut in. "What's his power?"

"Rumor says he can cover his body with rocks and dirt, like armor," Angelo replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "So... what about me?"

"For now, stay at your bar," Angelo said. "Beth should recover in three days. You can join her patrol group after that."

He paused, then turned to Sarah. "That sword kid... is he willing to join?"

Sarah shook her head firmly. "No. He's a minor. He's focusing on his college entrance exams."

Angelo nodded. "Understood." He straightened. "Focus on recovering. Both of you."

With that, he left.

Silence filled the room for a while.

"I'll get you lunch," Adam finally said.

Beth grunted her approval.

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Adam returned later with lunch, making small talk as they ate. Afterwards, he headed back to his bar.

Even though it was spotless, he started cleaning anyway — just to keep his mind busy. Anything to avoid thinking.

But as he wiped down the counter, a thought hit him.

Wait.

How does my power react to exercise?

He knew that muscles grew by tearing and healing... but if he healed too fast, was he accelerating the gains he gets? Curious, Adam dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups.

After a few hours of working out, he noticed it. His stamina recovered faster, but his strength stayed mostly the same. It was like his body rejected change, constantly resetting itself to a default state.

There must be another way.

His gaze drifted to the broken knife hilt lying on the counter — the one he absorbed the blade from.

Absorbing.

He scanned the kitchen for something denser — his eyes landed on an old metal bucket used for ice. Nearby, he found a heavy butcher's knife.

A wild idea began to form.

Am I really this crazy now?

He chuckled dryly.

But then the memory of the crash hit him.

The upside-down car.

The helplessness.

The feeling that he wasn't strong enough.

If the bison had stood back up...

If it hadn't been wounded...

He would've been useless.

Adam's expression hardened.

I'm not willing to be weak anymore.

He braced his left arm over the bucket, raised the cleaver high — and swung it down without hesitation.

"ARRRGGHH!!"

Blood splattered across the kitchen floor as his severed wrist hit the ground with a sickening thud. The cleaver clattered after it.

Panting heavily, Adam seized the stump of his wrist with his right hand and, gritting his teeth, jammed it into the thick metal wall of the bucket.

The pain was blinding. His veins bulged, his muscles spasmed. But slowly — agonizingly — his arm regenerated, weaving flesh and bone back together. Only this time... it was different.

Adam gasped, falling to his knees.

Something inside him stirred — like his body approved of the madness.

He felt it. He was stronger. Just a little bit. But it was real.

A trembling smile crept onto his face.

This could work.