In the city of future Arcanova, amidst towering skyscrapers and neon lights, the highest building housed Moros's laboratory. The room was cluttered with flasks filled with strange chemicals and countless gadgets scattered across the tables. At the center of it all, Moros sat, staring intently through a microscope at a small piece of black matter he had taken from the Palace of Doom.
The tiny fragment of Doom seemed alive. It moved, its minuscule tentacles reaching out as if sensing its surroundings. "How interesting," Moros muttered under his breath. "If I can control this, I might be able to become the god of this world." His voice was low, almost reverent, as he continued to study the black substance.
The doors to the laboratory suddenly opened, and Moros quickly hid the black matter.
"Why are you sitting in the dark?" Misa asked, her voice soft yet full of concern as she flicked on the lights. "Come on, everyone is waiting for you."
Moros didn't look at her as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "I… can't look them in the eye. I don't want to go."
Misa's hand slid off his shoulder, but she didn't leave. "Moros, please. Don't blame yourself. There's nothing to forgive. You don't need to carry this alone."
Moros glanced at her, his eyes hollow, dark rings beneath them. His voice trembled. "Please… just leave me alone."
Misa's face softened with sympathy, but instead of pulling away, she wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace. "We're all here for you. We'll wait for you to come back to us," she whispered. After a long moment, she pulled away and stood by the door. "Everyone's worried. Please don't make us wait too long."
Moros was left alone in the dim laboratory, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. He looked up at the ceiling. "I'm tired of this. Why does everyone think they can control my life?" He stood abruptly, slamming his hand on the desk. "I'm the greatest genius of all time. Only I am worthy enough to become the god of a new world!"
He quickly took a deep breath, regaining composure. "But for now, that's impossible." His gaze shifted back to the black matter. "First, I need to figure out how to use this."
He carefully hid the fragment and, with a resigned sigh, left the laboratory. "I'll act normal for now. They can't know what I'm planning."
Downstairs, Misa had joined the others in the living room. Josh sat on the couch, casually smoking a cigar, his new prosthetic arm resting on the armrest. Despite his recent loss, he still retained his easy-going demeanor. It was a stark contrast to Voltra, who had withdrawn completely after losing his limbs and the dreams that once defined him.
"So, how's your other half doing?" Josh asked with a smirk, giving Misa a playful wink.
"He's acting strange," Misa said, sitting down on the sofa beside him. "I think he still blames himself for what happened in the Palace of Doom. I don't know what to do anymore."
Josh leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. "Don't worry. He's stronger than you think. He'll pull through." He glanced up at the ceiling, seemingly distracted. "He'll be alright. Trust me."
The room fell into a tense silence. Moments later, Moros appeared in the doorway, looking less like the broken man he had been moments before and more like his usual self, though there was still a dark aura around him.
"Hey, how's everyone doing?" Moros asked, his voice strained but calm.
Misa jumped up and rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. "I was worried you wouldn't come!"
Moros chuckled softly, rubbing her head. "Don't worry, everything's fine now." He looked over at Josh, his eyes briefly flicking to the new prosthetic arm. "New arm, huh? Looks good on you."
"Yeah, got it after the funeral," Josh replied, a grin tugging at his lips. He met Moros's gaze. "Everything okay?"
Moros nodded, though his eyes flickered with something darker. "Yeah, everything's fine now." He looked around the room. "Where are the others? I thought we were having a meeting."
Misa, still holding onto him, reluctantly pulled away. "Hanz and Spinell went to bring Sandro here," she explained. She hesitated before continuing, her voice quieter. "And Voltra… he's in his house. He doesn't want to see anyone right now."
Tears welled up in her eyes. "I understand. After what happened to him, it's not strange."
Her voice cracked, and for the first time in a long while, tears began to fall. Misa, who had always been strong, couldn't hold them back anymore. The memory of Voltra's trauma—the loss of his limbs, his hopes dashed—was too much to bear.
Just then, the doors opened, and Hanz, Spinell, and Sandro entered, drenched from the rain.
"Why is there still no portable barrier for the rain?" Sandro grumbled, his voice dripping with irritation.
"There are umbrellas," Hanz replied, his own annoyance clear.
"I know! I've lived twice as long as all of you, and yet in this cursed city, rain is still the biggest problem!" Sandro kicked a basket in frustration. "Why can't any of you geniuses invent something to fix it?"
Moros smirked, his voice tinged with dry humor. "Looks like you're still grumbling, old man."
"Yeah, yeah," Sandro muttered. "I'm just an old man who loves to grumble." He took a breath and turned serious. "Now, why I gathered you all here—Hanz, come here and open the box we brought."
Hanz walked over and placed a large box on the table. With a careful hand, he opened it, revealing the severed arm of the Solutus-Lawless hybrid.
Moros felt a sharp pain in his head the moment he saw it. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the overwhelming sensation. Something was whispering in his mind, a call from the severed arm. It beckoned to him, and though he couldn't understand it, he felt the urge to reach out.
Moros's hand trembled as he stared at the arm, the whisper in his mind growing louder. The darkness was pulling him in, and this time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to resist.