"When I say, 'Fight,' they don't just fight—they obliterate everything in my path."
"And when I say, 'Kill'—they don't think, they don't hesitate. They show up armed, ready, and they end it."
Zach's jaw tightened as Robert's words sank in.
"And whatever happens after that?" Robert said, his voice rising. "That's on me."
"But Matilda's death is on you."
Zach flinched at the words but didn't look away.
Robert leaned back, his voice softer now but no less intense. "The same way it's on me what happens to everyone in Vargath."
The room felt suffocatingly quiet, the weight of Robert's words settling over Zach.
Zach inhaled deeply, trying to steady his emotions.
"In Vargath," he began slowly, his voice thick with exhaustion, "we don't mourn the dead. Mourning makes you weak. It shows the world your cracks."
Robert watched him carefully as Zach sat forward, his hands clenched into fists.
"In Vargath, we see death, and we grow stronger. That's what I did when my mom died. I didn't cry. I didn't break."
Zach's voice hardened, and he looked Robert in the eye with defiance. "And I'm not weak."
Robert's voice dropped to a slow, deliberate tone.
"If we make ourselves a problem for Valthar," he began, locking eyes with Zach, "they'll send the Sentinels… to Vargath."
Zach shot up from the sofa, his frustration boiling over.
"So what?" he shouted, defiance crackling in his voice. "This is our city! Someone needs to remind them of that!"
Robert's glare hardened, his presence growing even more imposing.
"You're not listening," he snapped. "Valthar and Vargath may both be cities, but Vargath is nothing more than a shadow of Valthar."
"They gave up on us years ago."
"They saw the Hudson River, with its radioactive waters and its beasts, and decided we weren't worth saving. Instead, they built up their perfect city while we were left to rot."
Robert's voice rose, sharp and unforgiving.
"But make no mistake, Vargath still belongs to Valthar. If you keep pushing, they'll remind us of that—violently."
"And trust me, you don't want the Sentinels in this city. They don't negotiate. They don't care about our struggles. They will wipe us out."
Zach hesitated, his anger flickering as Robert's words sank in. But his defiance hadn't fully disappeared.
"So, what?" Zach muttered. "We're just supposed to roll over?"
Robert leaned forward, grabbing Zach by the bandaged side of his head, forcing him to look directly into his steely eyes.
"No," Robert growled, his voice low but seething. "But this?" He gestured to the bandage. "This is just the beginning if you keep acting without thinking. Next time, it won't just be a few cuts and bruises—it'll be worse. For all of us."
Robert let go, and Zach slumped back into the sofa, silent for once. The weight of Robert's words pulled him into deep thought.
After a moment, Robert's tone softened, and he placed a firm but almost gentle hand on Zach's head.
"Listen to me," he said. "You lost someone today, and that's a wound that'll stay with you. But you didn't get the items you were after. There's nothing tying you to that explosion in Valthar—as long as you don't mention Matilda to anyone. Do you understand?"
Zach exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he nodded.
He understood now.
Laying low was their only option.
"You're going to have to keep quiet for a while," Robert continued, his voice steady but firm. "Stay out of trouble. Can you do that?"
"Okay," Zach said quietly. Then, almost like a child seeking reassurance, he asked, "But we're going to be fine, right?"
Robert stood up, his expression unreadable. "I'll take care of it," he replied, his tone carrying both promise and warning.
Turning toward the door, Robert swung it open, revealing Tia standing a few meters away, her face pale and streaked with tears. She froze, clearly caught eavesdropping.
"You," Robert said, his voice commanding. "Come with me."
Tia's lips quivered, but she didn't dare argue.
"I'm going to have a little chat with you and that girl, Lily," Robert added, striding out of the room.
Tia hurried after him, her sad, guilty face hidden behind her lowered gaze. Zach remained on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall as the door clicked shut behind them. The silence in the room was deafening.
...
In the dimly lit last room on the second floor, Danny sat at an old, splintered wooden table.
Spread out before him were four circular spheres.
The spheres, once smooth and glistening, now appeared fractured, their surfaces marred by cracks and a dull, rough texture.
Their colors—white, green, blue, and grey—seemed muted, as though dulled by time or some unseen force.
Danny furrowed his brows as he picked up the grey sphere, turning it over in his hand.
Its cold, heavy surface bore three distinct cracks that seemed almost deliberate, like scars from a deliberate blow. He frowned, unable to recall when or how this sphere, or any of the others, had been damaged.
"Why are these balls cracked?" he murmured to himself, his voice barely breaking the eerie silence of the room.
The memory of their pristine state tugged at his mind. When he first retrieved these stones, they had shone like polished gems, each one flawless and mysterious. Now, they seemed like ordinary rocks—damaged, lifeless.
His eyes shifted to the green sphere, and a fragment of memory flickered.
"If I remember correctly," Danny muttered, "this green one was labeled 'U' on that chalkboard… Uranium."
He reached for the grey sphere again. "And this one… Pu. Plutonium,"
Danny's gaze fell on the blue sphere. "Rn… Radon."
Finally, his eyes settled on the white sphere.
Unlike the others, its surface bore only a single, faint crack, barely visible unless examined closely.
"Unlike the others, this one wasn't marked with an element's name—only a label: N Star."
"Why does this one look different?" Danny whispered, holding the white sphere up to the flickering light.
Its faint crack seemed almost deliberate unlike others.
As he scrutinized the white sphere, a strange sensation began to creep over him.
A faint hum echoed in his ears, growing louder with each passing second. The room seemed to sway, the edges of his vision blurring.
Danny shook his head, trying to clear the sudden fog clouding his mind. His legs felt unsteady, the floor beneath him inexplicably slick. The sphere in his hand felt heavier, as if it were pulling him downward.
"What… what is this?" he mumbled, panic lacing his voice as the dizziness grew stronger.
The next moment, the world tilted violently.