Lina POV

The world had gone silent.

But not the kind of quiet that soothes the mind this was the still, heavy silence that descends after devastation. The sort of quiet that makes your heartbeat feel deafening. A silence thick with the memory of screams and the stench of blood.

Lina's eyes fluttered open, heavy as stones.

Above her, a flickering fluorescent bulb cast sickly white light onto a cracked ceiling. Peeling paint clung to the walls of what barely passed for a hospital room. The air reeked of antiseptic and burnt plastic. Her mouth was dry, throat raw. Every breath came with a weight, as though her lungs had forgotten how to function.

Am I dead?

That was her first thought.

A cruel hope, quickly shattered as pain lanced through her body, sharp and immediate.

Memories crashed over her like waves — violent, disjointed.

The war.

The monster.

The way the ground cracked under the weight of something no human was ever meant to face.

She saw again the faces of those she loved and fought beside. Saw them fall, one by one, devoured by a force they barely understood.

And in the center of those memories…

Kael.

His smile flickered in her mind like a dying flame. Kael had been the type to grin through broken ribs, to crack jokes when the odds turned suicidal. Twenty-three and already a legend among their squad, with untamable yellow hair and a heart too big for the war they'd been thrown into.

He wasn't the hero type — not flawless or righteous. But he was real. And he made people believe, if only for a moment, that maybe they could survive.

And now he was gone.

A single tear slid down her cheek, followed by another. She didn't bother wiping them away. What was the point?

Lina forced herself to glance at her left arm, a dull ache blossoming as she moved. Her breath hitched.

Thick bandages wrapped the ruined limb, blood seeping through the gauze. She remembered, now the sickening crunch as she raised it in a desperate attempt to shield her chest from a strike that could've caved her ribs.

X's power had been beyond human.

She could still hear the bone snap, feel the flesh tear.

And yet, here she was. Broken, but alive.

The hospital felt less like a sanctuary and more like a graveyard. Empty beds lined the ward, some with bloodstained sheets. The war had devoured too many lives.

And for what?

A truce?

A secret to be buried?

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pain radiating from every joint. Her ribs screamed in protest. The floor was cold against her bare feet.

But she moved.

Because standing still hurt worse.

Stumbling to the cracked mirror across the room, she barely recognized the reflection that greeted her. Hollow, sunken eyes stared back. Skin pale as ash. Her hair was a tangled, blood-matted mess.

The girl in the glass was a stranger.

A corpse, clinging to breath.

"What… what am I becoming?" she rasped.

For a brief, irrational moment, she expected the reflection to speak back.

A sharp knock snapped her out of her daze. The door creaked open, and in stepped a tall, imposing woman in a tailored black suit — Director Voss.

Voss.

The woman who shaped them. The one who called them assets instead of people.

Her sharp gaze softened barely at the sight of Lina.

"Get up," Voss ordered quietly. "We need you at headquarters."

No explanation. No apology for the lives lost.

As if that was ever her way.

Two orderlies entered, helping Lina into fresh clothes. Dark combat trousers. A plain gray shirt. Her left arm remained bound in a sling, useless. She didn't fight them. There was no energy left for rebellion.

The car ride through the city was worse than the war zone itself.

Buildings sat in ruin, streets littered with rubble and ash. Military drones patrolled the skies. The illusion of peace felt like a cruel joke.

She wondered how many were left to bury the dead.

At headquarters, a collection of faces waited her old instructors from the elite program, former handlers disguised as guardians, and high-ranking officials. People she once trusted, people who'd betrayed that trust long ago.

The interrogation began before she even sat down.

Every question sharper than the last.

X's capabilities. RiZu's defiance. His final act.

They demanded precise details how he moved, how he fought, what weaknesses he showed. Lina answered, until her throat burned and her memory blurred the lines between what was real and what was nightmare.

When they pushed for more, she simply stopped.

Eyes glassy, voice cracked, she let the silence answer for her.

At the end of it, Director Voss slid a file across the table.

"Your unit's being dissolved," Voss stated, cold and clinical. "Your clearance is revoked as of tomorrow. You're finished."

As if words could sever the bond forged in blood and war.

They didn't dismiss her with gratitude, nor did they offer condolences. Only orders.

Later, alone in the locker room, Lina stared into another mirror. This one was unbroken, but it reflected a woman undone.

Her mind felt like frayed rope, strands snapping under the weight of memory.

Kael's voice whispered.

"We get through this, Lina. We always have."

The ache in her chest sharpened. She didn't know if the sound was memory or madness anymore. Maybe both.

The reflection staring back seemed… wrong. Her eyes too dark, too empty. Like the war hadn't just taken her friends — it had claimed her soul.

"Is this all I am now?"

She thought of RiZu.

Of how it had started.

How it ended.

Neither of them had been heroes. They were tools in a war machine, cast aside when dulled.

But part of her refused to believe it was over.

Somewhere, in the depths of that broken city, buried beneath secrets and rubble, the story wasn't finished.

Not yet.