The archive chamber was dim, lined with towering shelves of forgotten records and dust-covered tomes. It smelled of ink, old parchment, and something faintly metallic.
Icarus stepped inside, his boots clicking against the marble floor. His presence alone made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. He barely glanced at the documents surrounding him, his focus entirely on the man at his side—the Minister of Internal Affairs.
The minister adjusted his collar, flipping through a leather-bound ledger. "Minister Amadala had quite a number of properties. Her estate alone—valuable land, prime real estate, not to mention the funds in her private accounts. With her unfortunate passing, there's much to be allocated." He mused.
Icarus hummed in response, only half-listening.
The minister continued, oblivious. "And then, of course, the spoils from the war. The assets seized from enemy territories, the redistribution of resources. We need to ensure everything falls into the right hands. It would be disastrous if—"
A wet squelch cut him off.
The minister gasped.
He looked down in shock. Icarus's arm was buried up to the elbow in his chest, fingers pressing against his still-beating heart.
For a moment, there was only stunned silence.
Icarus tilted his head, his expression almost thoughtful. "You talk too much."
Then, with a sharp twist, he drove his fingers through the minister's heart, until his hand popped out from his back.
The minister convulsed once, blood spilling from between his lips before collapsing lifelessly onto the cold floor.
His aide—standing mere steps away—choked on his breath. Panic seized his body, his feet stumbling backwards as he turned to run.
He didn't make it far.
Icarus was fast… too fast.
He caught the man by the collar, dragging him back effortlessly. In one smooth motion, he pulled out a syringe, pressed it against the man's neck, and drove the needle in deep.
The aide screamed.
His body spasmed, veins bulging black beneath his skin. He fell to his knees, convulsing as his features distorted—his bones snapping, muscles twisting.
Within seconds, he was no longer human.
Icarus sighed. "A pity."
Then, with the same ease as before, he ended it. A swift, clean kill.
Just as the creature's corpse hit the ground, something shifted in the room. A sound—soft, but distinct.
A thud.
Icarus's eyes narrowed.
He turned, his sharp gaze scanning the archives. Nothing seemed out of place.
He walked around for a bit, growing bored from searching. He was moments away from giving up when he finally caught something.
His scarlet eyes landed on something near the outer shelves. A body. One of his own.
The commissioned assailant. Dead. Poison pill between his teeth.
Icarus crouched, inspecting the body with mild curiosity. "Hmm. Who pushed you this far?" He glanced at the surrounding area, his eyes picking up on the fallen ledgers that had previously caught his attention.
After a while, he paused, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.
"Interesting."
---
Gabriel ran.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he tore through the long halls of the nation's administrative heart, gripping the orphanage documents so tightly his fingers ached.
He could still see it.
The way Icarus smiled as he drove his arm through the minister's chest. The way he injected that other man was like it was routine.
The way he murdered without hesitation.
The fear worsened. Panic rising in his heart.
Had he noticed? Did he know?
Gabriel's stomach churned, bile rising in his throat.
'No, that's impossible.'
If there was one thing Gabriel was sure of, it was that his blessing 'Stealth' was nearly undetectable. From his steps to his heat signature, it was like he didn't occupy space at all.
He had been careful. And even then, there was no way Icarus would be able to tell it was him. Hopefully.
He pushed forward, shoving past terrified nobles, evading guards who had no idea what kind of monster lurked just a couple of ways behind him.
And even if they knew, what could they do? What should he do?
By the time he reached the government district's main streets, his breathing was ragged. The cool evening air did little to calm him.
With a thought, he activated his blessing and snuck through the police barricade, only deactivating it once he was a safe distance away.
There were sirens and journalists flooding the scene. Noblemen littered the entry steps of the great hall with blankets over their shoulders as they shuddered in terror.
It was only after confirming the safety of the late minister's sister and children that Gabriel fled.
He needed to think.
He needed a plan.
Gabriel pulled out his transmitter, his fingers shaking as he dialled.
After three rings, Pearl answered.
"Gabriel?" Her voice was thick with concern. "Where are you? What's happening over there?"
"Pearl, listen," he said, voice low. "You need to find the professor. Right now."
"The professor?" she echoed, confused. "Why? Gabriel, what's going on?"
"No time," he snapped. "Just—please. Find him. And tell him, wherever the fuck he is, he better get his ass down here right now!"
Gabriel yelled. A long pause followed. Then came a quiet, "Okay."
Gabriel exhaled. Then spoke again:
"Pack all your bags too. We're leaving for a while."
He could hear Pearl's worry from his side of the line, but she was smart enough to not ask questions.
With another 'Okay' she hung up and Gabriel was left in silence.
He didn't know if this would change anything. He didn't even know if it mattered anymore. But if it were the professor, he'd surely know what to do… In the meantime, all they could do was run away and lie low for now. At Least until they could come up with a concrete plan.
With that, he pocketed the transmitter and continued walking.
It took him a while to reach the next bus terminal, and that was when he saw it.
The massive broadcast screens that hovered all across the cityscape flickered to life.
A live address.
Icarus stood before a grand podium, his golden hair gleaming under the spotlight. His expression was somber, and composed, the perfect countenance of a loyal leader.
"My fellow citizens," his voice rang through the streets, smooth and authoritative, "Today, we faced an unspeakable act of terror. The tragedy within the Sovereign Hall was an attack not just on our government, but on our peace. But rest assured—justice will be swift."
Gabriel clenched his fists.
"The perpetrators sought to divide us. But they have failed. We remain united. Strong. And we will not allow fear to control us. We had given them an opportunity for peace talks, but it has become evident that they harbour no interest in coexistence…"
People in the streets murmured, nodding, believing every word.
Gabriel meanwhile held his stomach in disgust.
"They've given us no option than to repay in kind. This time we shall have no mercy. Justice must prevail."
The streets roared in unison. Oblivious to the tyrannical maniac they rallied behind.
He had just seen this man commit unspeakable acts—cold, ruthless, methodical. And now? Now, he stood before the entire nation, wearing a mask of righteousness.
A monster pretending to be a saviour.
Gabriel forced himself to breathe.
They had thought the war was over.
But in truth, it was only just beginning.
--
When he finally reached Pogswood, exhaustion weighed on his body. His thoughts– occupied by the events of the day, left him feeling drained and weary.
His intuition hadn't shut up since back at the Sovereign Hall.
The bus he had taken, took quite some time to leave the capital, especially after everything that had occurred earlier.
By the time they had reached Pogswood, it was already after dark. The sun had fled, painting the sky blood-red– then a deep magenta as it sank behind the stunning countryscape.
The green hills and scarce buildings did little to calm Gabriel. He sat by the window watching the farms and old buildings pass by. It was then he recalled the ledger that rested in his idle grip.
He stared at it for a bit, his mind blank as a board. He had no idea what he was hoping to see but hoped it could at least point him towards something. Furthermore, he didn't know if it even mattered, if it would change a thing, but he hoped regardless.
With a sigh, he flipped the ledger open and soon steel grey eyes stalked the tea-stained pages, growing wider and wider the further he went.
"How is this even possible?"
He had lived in the orphanage all his life, every memory he had growing up was within those four walls. Although not as knowledgeable or involved in the orphanage's internal affairs, he could still boast of being well-informed about the orphanage's history.
But this piece of paper in his hands flipped everything– he thought he knew, on its head.
He was so engrossed by the revelation he had no idea when he had gotten to the ranch the orphanage was in.
The bus had dropped him by a large field of golden brown wheat that fluttered in the evening breeze. The orphanage was just up ahead, a soft orange glow spilling out its windows.
As much as he hated it, Gabriel couldn't just look at the building the same way.
He was confused, occupied entirely by thoughts and questions.
But all of it—all of it—came to a screeching halt the moment he stepped through the front door.
Laughter.
Lighthearted chatter.
And then—
"Welcome home, Ghost."
Gabriel's heart sank.
There, sitting comfortably in the living room, was Icarus.
A soft, eerie smile played on his lips.
His fingers idly frolicking in little Martha's curls, his entire presence relaxed, as if he belonged here.
The room blurred at the edges. Gabriel's pulse rushed fast enough for him to hear.
This was wrong.
This was so wrong.
Icarus met his gaze, his smile widening just slightly.
"Long day?" he asked, tone light. "You look exhausted."
Gabriel couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
Because at that moment, he understood.
Icarus knew.