The night was calm and quiet, with the soft glow of the city’s neon lights shining through Ethan’s apartment. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ease a headache that had been bothering him. The migraines felt intense, almost like tiny blades, making it hard for him to focus. Without Paragon's soothing voice, the silence around him felt a bit heavy, almost like a puzzle waiting to be solved.“Damn it… what’s happening to me?” he muttered, his voice raw.The blackout came again. His vision tunneled, fragments of light and sound scattering in his mind. In one moment, he saw his hands stained with blood, in the next, a reflection of himself—eyes hollow, face twisted like a shadow of Specter’s mask.When he jolted awake, Lena was there, her soft fingers pressed against his temples. Her expression was carefully composed, the perfect blend of concern and tenderness.“Ethan,” she whispered, her voice a low balm, “you’re scaring me. Do you even realize what’s happening? You’re… changing.

The tribunal chamber was overflowing. Reporters lined the back rows with cameras flashing like lightning in a storm. The air was thick, suffocating, as murmurs of traitor, murderer, Specter’s pawn whispered from mouth to mouth. Ethan Cole stood in chains, wrists bound in gleaming steel that seemed far heavier than their weight.The prosecutor’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.“Ethan Cole, accused of high treason, terrorism, and collaboration with the hostile entity known as Specter. Today we bring forth the evidence.”Screens flickered to life above the chamber. Footage played—grainy but damning. Ethan, gun raised, firing into Jace’s chest. Another clip showed him meeting with masked figures in a dimly lit warehouse. Then another: Ethan walking away as explosions tore through the port, civilians screaming in the chaos.“Lies!” Ethan’s voice cracked across the chamber. His chains rattled as he took a step forward. “Those videos are forgeries. Specter set me up!”The prosecuto

The cell was silent but for the faint hum of its containment field, a constant vibration that gnawed at Ethan’s skull. He sat on the floor, back against the cold steel, wrists cuffed with restraints that pulsed every few seconds to remind him of his captivity. His breathing was shallow, heavy with defeat, but his eyes burned with an unyielding ember of defiance.Then, like smoke unraveling in a dim chamber, a presence slid into the room. Shadows bent unnaturally as if the air itself recoiled. A low chuckle slithered through the silence. Ethan’s gaze rose—and there he was.Specter.His mask gleamed faintly, the crimson mark along its edge catching the sterile light. His movements were fluid, predatory, as he stepped just beyond the field. “So,” he said, his voice smooth, venomous, dripping with malice, “the great Ethan Cole. The builder of Paragon. The so-called Zero. And now? Just a caged dog waiting for the slaughter.”Ethan’s jaw tightened. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet,

The stench of blood clung to the ruined corridor like a second skin. Ethan Cole walked slowly, one hand grazing the wall for balance, though not from weakness — he could’ve stood tall, unshaken, if he wanted to. But appearances mattered. He wanted the world, and especially her, to believe he was broken.The flickering emergency lights painted his shadow across the blood-smeared walls, jagged and monstrous, as if mocking the shell he pretended to be. Corpses of guards lay sprawled across the polished floor, their eyes wide, throats cut by Specter’s merciless blade. Each death was silent testimony to the world Ethan had re-entered — a world where mercy was weakness, where survival meant deception.Inside him, something new stirred. His heartbeat was slower now, steady as a metronome. Every sound, every vibration carried to him in impossible clarity. He could hear the faint hum of a security drone two floors above. He could smell the gun oil on weapons discarded by dead men twenty paces

The ballroom sparkled with chandeliers that glimmered like beautiful crystals, and every polished surface showcased the charm and elegance of the Brooks Empire. Gold-trimmed masks adorned guests, adding a touch of excitement to the atmosphere, though the cheerful laughter echoed like bubbly champagne. Lena stood at the heart of the celebration, glowing in a lovely silk gown that hugged her figure beautifully, while Nathan held her hand supportively. Together, they embraced their roles like friendly leaders, bringing joy to a city buzzing with anticipation.Ethan watched from the balcony above, shadow pressed against the velvet drapes. The mask he wore was plain, almost forgettable, designed to let him fade into the sea of guests below. His heart didn’t beat faster at seeing her smile anymore—no, the warmth was gone. In its place burned something darker.“Look at them,” he muttered under his breath, his voice only for himself. “Every toast, every lie, every kiss—they think it makes the