Zeke pushed open the door to his home, a mix of exhaustion and determination etched on his face. The familiar scent of the place washed over him, but something was different. The house was spotless—every surface gleamed, every corner tidy. Alistair had mentioned someone would keep the place clean, but seeing it now, Zeke felt a pang of unfamiliar comfort.
There was no time to dwell on it. The house, the memories—it could all wait. Right now, only one thing mattered: getting stronger.
Without even taking off his coat, he headed straight to the training room. The quiet air around him quickly filled with the sounds of his focused breathing and the hum of soul power gathering. Hours bled into days as Zeke pushed himself harder than ever before, sweat dripping, muscles straining, soul energy pulsing.
Midway through a particularly grueling exercise, he paused, feeling the power within him shifting. He could sense it now—it would take a month of this relentless training to reach the sixth level of Soul Manifestation. The realization fueled him.
The fact that he could advance so quickly was thanks to the guy who tried to kill him .
His path was clear, and there was no turning back.
Zeke's fists tightened as he focused, the energy around him swirling like a storm. The more he trained, the clearer it became—his soul power wasn't like anyone else's. The dark ability that lay within him wasn't just a tool; it was a weapon.
He could feel it now, a sinister hunger. The more he used his power, the more it revealed its true nature. Draining energy from others didn't just make him stronger—it accelerated his growth, pushing him closer to the sixth level of Soul Manifestation. The temptation was undeniable, but it came with a cost: someone else's soul powers and he noticed that people that get their soul power taken from them will get their life force taken from them as well.
Sitting in the silence of his training room, Zeke's mind raced. Should he really use this ability? Each step forward meant someone else would fall. Their energy would become his strength.
He had told himself he would do anything to protect his family, to avenge his father. But was this the path he wanted to take? The line between power and morality blurred, and doubt gnawed at him.
In the quiet, a question echoed in his mind: How far are you willing to go, Zeke?
Zeke's hands trembled as he sat in the quiet room, his breath heavy. Memories of his grandfather and grandmother flooded his mind—their cold eyes, the ruthless control they held over the family. And then there was the killer they had sent. The image burned in his mind like a brand, a constant reminder of their cruelty.
Anger flared within him, hot and consuming. They had already taken so much from him. His mother. His father. And he knew—if he remained weak, they wouldn't stop. He, Mia… they would be next. The thought sent a chill through his bones, quickly replaced by a fire that burned brighter than ever.
He clenched his fists, his soul power responding to his rage, swirling with a dark intensity. There was no room for hesitation anymore. Power was the only answer. If he had to drain others, to sacrifice anything to reach the next level, so be it. His family's safety, his revenge—they were worth any cost.
Zeke's eyes darkened with resolve. The weak didn't survive in this world. He wouldn't let that be his fate.
The next day, Zeke walked into the Guardians' headquarters, his steps firm, his mind set. The weight of his decision from the night before still pressed on him, but it had carved out a new resolve in his heart. As he entered, Alistair was already waiting, leaning casually against a pillar. His sharp eyes scanned Zeke, taking in the changes.
"You're healed. And stronger too, by the looks of it," Alistair said, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "What's next? What do you intend to do now?"
Zeke's eyes hardened, his voice cold and unwavering. "First," he said, locking eyes with Alistair, "we need to clean the city. We start with the Lennox family's rats. Every single one of them should be dead."
Alistair raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He knew the name well—powerful, dangerous. "That's no small task. Are you sure about this?"
Zeke's expression didn't waver. "They think they own this city. They've taken too much already. It ends now."
The officer and Alistair can't take formal action against them because they didn't want to fuel the war right now so they decided to side with him and help him when needed.
The determination in Zeke's voice left no room for doubt. Alistair nodded slowly, understanding the depth of what this meant. The real battle was just beginning.
Zeke asked Alistair to gather the 20 recruits under them; it took about 10 minutes before they gathered in the background of the headquarters.
Zeke stood before the twenty recruits, his eyes scanning each one, the weight of authority settling on his shoulders. "There was an attempt on my life," he began, his voice calm but filled with an undercurrent of steel. "The culprits are still out there. I want you all to investigate the gang responsible for the attack."
Alistair, standing at his side, spoke up. "I know that the black wolf gang do most of their crimes in the north side of the city," he said, his voice low. "They won't stay hidden for long."
Zeke nodded. "Good. The twenty of you will head there immediately. If you find anyone you suspect of being in that gang, arrest them. If they resist…" His gaze darkened, the unspoken rage from the attack still fresh. "Kill them."
A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of the mission settling in. Alistair glanced at Zeke, seeing the fire in his eyes. This wasn't just about justice—it was personal.