[Day 23 — 1 day left]
Inside the WHA headquarters in A-City, an urgent transmission from NASA reached the branch. The information was flagged immediately—serious enough to summon Marshall without delay.
A solar eclipse.
On Z-City.
From 1:55 p.m. to 2:05 p.m.
A narrow window… but a significant one.
Their earlier suspicions began to solidify. Zerathos gathering thousands of people, combined with the timing of the eclipse—it was no longer coincidence. It was design.
Something was coming.
And it was already in motion.
Marshall exhaled sharply, irritation barely masked beneath his composure.
Marshall: If things were turning out like this… they should've informed us sooner.
He paused, pressing his fingers against his temple before letting out a quiet sigh.
Marshall: Call the Director General.
Elsewhere in A-City—at the top floor of a separate, isolated building—the shrill ring of a telephone broke the silence.
On the desk sat a solid black nameplate, angled precisely toward the door. Its deep gold lettering caught the light just enough to be read—
WHA Director General
REACHER
Reacher, still seated in his black chair, picked up the telephone. His posture remained relaxed, but his presence alone carried weight. With a deep, composed voice, he answered—
Reacher: Marshall, I believe this call must be important, since you are calling directly from the HQ. Tell me, what is the matter?
Marshall: Sir, this matter is about our Plan X against Zerathos. We strongly believe he will become what we feared, and executing Plan X now seems necessary.
Reacher: Hmm… stay put for now. I will call the President to confirm our Plan X, and if anything comes up, we will proceed with the plan.
After the call ended, Marshall immediately turned toward the communications officer, urgency replacing restraint.
Marshall: Send word to Submarine Units One and Two. Tell them to begin the aiming sequence. Open launch panels, power up missile systems, and set coordinates to Z-City. Hold at final code input until further notice.
He paused briefly, then added with firm authority—
Marshall: This is a direct order from the Executive Director and the Director General.
The inmates of the Ice Box were going through their usual routine, stretching outdoors under the cold sky. Kael sat between Herald and Diana on a bench, the three of them idly passing time.
Then—
the guards rushed in.
Without explanation, they ordered everyone to return to their cells immediately.
Confusion spread among the inmates. No one understood why, yet no one resisted. One by one, they complied.
Back inside his cell, Kael leaned against the wall, his thoughts drifting back to Zerathos… to that one sentence that refused to leave his mind—
Tomorrow, my Dark Knight will come to free all of you.
Kael:(Thought) Someone… a Dark Knight is coming. I have to warn the guards.
He called out.
Once. Twice.
No response.
Not a single guard appeared.
The silence answered him instead.
Hopeless… even when he was trying to do something right.
Herald: Even if you try, it'll be pointless. The Dark Knight that is about to come…is the strongest among us. His name is…
Being on just the opposite of J City, the previous place where Ice Box was made, B City was colder than the former.
Snow fell in quiet, endless sheets around the Ice Box—
as if something was preparing to arrive.
At the Ice Box gate, a red-and-brown jeep rolled to a stop.
The engine died.
Silence followed.
A man stepped out.
When he reached the security booth, the guard inside leaned forward, routine taking over.
Guard: ID.
The man didn't even look at him.
Stranger: Do me a favor… and don't struggle.
For a second—
nothing happened.
But suddenly, the guard felt uneasy, as if something was gripping him, hard.
Then the guard's uniform began to tighten.
Slowly at first… then violently.
Fabric constricted around his body, compressing flesh, then bone. A sickening crack echoed inside the booth as pressure mounted from every direction. His eyes bulged, veins rising, his body forced inward as if crushed by an invisible force.
He tried to scream—
but the collar snapped tight around his throat, sealing his airway.
No sound.
Only the wet, muffled collapse of a body being reduced from the inside out.
His organs gave way.
His eyes burst.
And then—
he dropped.
Lifeless.
Still.
The man stepped forward.
The metal gate ahead of him began to change—its solid structure softening, bending, then liquefying despite the freezing air. Steel sagged like wax, dripping into nothing as if reality itself had loosened its grip.
He walked through.
Unstopped.
Inside—
Kael's eyes narrowed.
Kael: So… his name is Jax, with the codename 'Duskfall'… and he has the ability to manipulate… matter? How the hell am I gonna beat that guy?
Herald: The best course of action is to do as the boss wants. You can't beat him, by no force. He's one of the few Dark Knight you'd never want to come across. Just follow my lead, and you'll be safe and sound.
Before reaching the larger staircase that spiraled deeper underground, Charlie's team and Leona's group crossed paths.
For a brief moment—relief.
Leona rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her friends, holding them tight as if to confirm they were still real. Nearby, Lyra stood still… her gaze drifting toward her other three brothers, something softer flickering in her eyes.
But the moment didn't last.
There was only one path forward.
Understanding that, Nathan stepped ahead—and merged with his five clones, their forms folding into one.
Nathan: Okay… so this is it. Whatever's behind that door—that's the end of our mission. We take that bastard down… and bring him to justice.
He paused, his voice lowering—heavier now.
Nathan: I know it's easier said than done. But we're what this world has. We're what stands between it… and that monster. So—if anyone has a problem… speak now.
Lyra shot her hand up without hesitation.
Nathan:(Sigh) Yes, Lyra?
Lyra: Can we celebrate and drink after we win?
Nathan: We might. But you're not drinking—you're still a kid.
Lyra: I didn't mean alcohol, my dumbass brother.
Nathan:(Chuckle) Anyone else?
No one answered, and with nothing left to be said, they moved. They descended the stairs in silence, tension tightening with every step. When they reached the giant doors, Nathan didn't hesitate—he drove his fist forward, and the doors burst open, flung aside by the force.
The alarm rang out continuously. Guards rushed in and quickly assembled, forming a tight ambush for Jax. The elevator reached the floor, and every weapon was raised, aimed at whatever was about to emerge. But when the doors slid open, there was nothing.
No one.
A brief moment of confusion passed—then the iron platform beneath them shifted.
It stretched. Twisted—
and suddenly erupted into long, brutal spikes.
They shot upward, impaling the guards through their skulls, killing them instantly.
The alarm still screamed, but now it rang over silence—over bodies that no longer moved.
From the liquefied metal below, Jax emerged.
He rose slowly, as if the ground itself obeyed his will, reforming beneath his feet as he stepped forward. Calm. Unbothered. Walking toward the iron door as if nothing had happened.
One guard near the door had somehow survived.
Shaking, desperate, he fired everything he had at Jax.
The bullets tore through the air—
and stopped.
Right in front of him.
Suspended. Frozen.
Then, before they could fall, they softened—melting mid-air, their forms reshaping, edges sharpening into something far more dangerous… a saw.
The molten saw hardened once more, locking into a razor-edged form. Jax glanced at the guard and saw it plainly—nothing remained in the man's eyes but raw fear and hollow horror. Without command, the blade launched itself. In a single, clean motion, his head was severed—slipping from his body, rolling slowly across the frozen ground before disappearing into the depths of the Ice Box.
Far from that slaughter, Zerathos stood before the alien structure—now far larger than it had been centuries ago, its presence looming, unnatural. Three massive containment boxes stood behind him, each filled with hostages infected by the Black Breath—five hundred souls in each. Towering pillars rose around them, acting as conduits, all wired into a single, human-sized chamber at the center. Slowly, Zerathos turned to face them.
Nathan: It's over, Zerathos. You're a day short.
Zerathos: Oh, really? Then why is an eclipse about to occur… in eight minutes?
Nathan: Bullshit. Don't try to bluff your way out of this.
A pause.
Blake: Uhh… Nate?
Blake raised his wrist. Nathan glanced down at his own watch—almost dismissively at first—
then froze.
The date had shifted.
It wasn't today anymore.
It was already the next day.
Zerathos: I know what you are thinking, and no—I have no control over time. But I do have authority over causality. And soon… I will no longer need even that.
Magnus: Then use those few minutes you have left to surrender, and we can all go home.
Zerathos: For five hundred years, I have waited for this moment. I won't let it be ruined by some inexperienced mortals. So come… try and stop me.
They moved without another word, forming a precise formation—supports and attackers falling into place. Leona, Lyra, Alan, Augustine, Diego, and Magnus held the rear as support and ranged control, spreading out at different angles, while the rest advanced head-on.
The iron door melted away, revealing a hallway packed with guards, every weapon aimed at Jax. Yet he walked forward as if nothing in existence could threaten him—and strangely, no one fired.
Because they couldn't.
They were already frozen.
Every guard stood locked in place, their bodies tinted an unnatural blue. And as Jax passed them—step by step—
they shattered.
Not all at once.
One by one.
Breaking into countless tiny fragments that scattered across the floor like brittle glass.
With every step Jax took, cell doors broke apart, and the power-nullifying collars around the prisoners' necks deactivated, shattering completely. The Dark Knights roared in triumph, their voices echoing through the upper floors as chaos erupted. But Jax remained expressionless—silent, steady—continuing downward, intent on freeing the rest.
Meanwhile, Nathan, Charlie, and Christopher struck at once, unleashing a barrage in perfect sync—but Zerathos met them head-on. Faster. Sharper. His counter came before their strikes could even fully land, overwhelming their rhythm and driving them back with sheer dominance.
Then the strategists moved.
Augustine summoned a shadow rhino, its massive form tearing through the ground as Michael mounted it without hesitation. Diego fired two explosive arrows skyward, their trajectories splitting apart mid-flight. Leona amplified Michael's momentum, pushing him beyond his limits, while Eric followed with a relentless barrage of water-forged fists.
Zerathos: Have you learned nothing from our last encounter, Riptide? The same attacks won't work.
Eric: I'm counting on that. But have you?
In that instant, Lyra adjusted the battlefield itself—her nanites altering the water's temperature to precisely 4°C, forcing it into its densest state. With Magnus opening wormholes across multiple vectors, the attacks scattered, bending space as they repositioned—
waiting to strike Zerathos from angles he could not predict.
Zerathos drove a punch straight through the shadow rhino, shattering it instantly and launching Michael into the air. Mid-flight, Michael snatched the explosive arrows and hurled them back at Zerathos. They detonated on impact—
but the damage never stayed.
It was redirected.
Straight to Diego.
The blast tore through him, and his insides spilled out onto the ground.
Charlie: DIEGO!!!
She rushed to him immediately, dropping to her knees as Leona and Lyra joined her, their hands already working to heal him. But Zerathos didn't stop. He seized Michael mid-air and used his body as a shield, forcing him through Eric's barrage of water fists before hurling him away like nothing.
Blake moved fast—catching Michael—
but the force was too much.
Momentum carried through both of them, and they slammed into the wall together, collapsing unconscious.
Guards gathered on the third floor, forming a defensive line as they aimed toward the stairway, waiting for Jax to descend. They were ready to light him up—but fear was already there, creeping in. Screams echoed faintly from above, and blood began to trickle down the stairs.
Then—
silence.
Heavy. Suffocating.
Suddenly, the concrete ceiling above them gave way—collapsing in a perfect rectangular slab.
It crushed them instantly.
No time to react.
No time to scream.
Jax stood on top of it.
Still. Unbothered.
He brushed the dust from his shoulder as if nothing had happened.
Jax brushed the dust from his jacket and continued walking, as if nothing had happened.
Inside the cell, Kael paced slowly while Herald sat still, eyes fixed ahead, carrying the quiet anticipation of what was about to unfold. Then—without warning—the iron door disintegrated into dust, and Jax stood at the entrance.
He tilted his head slightly.
Herald understood.
It was time.
He tapped Kael's shoulder and turned, moving forward without hesitation. Kael followed—but his eyes lingered on Jax, studying him as they walked.
Then—
he stopped.
His foot had stepped into something wet.
A thick pool of blood seeped out from beneath the collapsed concrete ahead, spreading across the floor like a silent warning. Kael stared at it, unmoving, his thoughts pulling him under.
Herald turned back.
Herald: Kael, come on. We're almost out.
Kael didn't respond at first. He kept staring at the pool of blood, his mind contemplating which and what to do. And finally, he spoke—
Kael: No.