Chap 144: Destroyer
"It is perfect," Zod repeated to Miko. "I'm not surprised… since you made it."
He had been saying ‘perfect’ a lot, echoing what she had told him at the park. Miko shrugged and lifted the tray toward the oven, her dimples deepening. She knew that smile wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and trying to suppress it would be useless.
"Well, you helped. So if anything, it’s perfect because we worked together."
"You know, you’re the only person who made me like cooking. If I could count the times my mom spanked me on the arm with a spatula… yeesh."
Miko grinned, then pouted at the thought of him getting hurt. He opened the oven like a gentleman and closed it once she slid the tray inside. She turned to him with heavy eyes.
"I hope Saeda likes it. I hope she wakes up soon."
Zod leaned against the table, staring at the oven. "She will. And so will Tee and Kie."
Miko stood beside him, careful not to stare too long. She didn’t want to jump ahead in time like before and ruin the moment.
“What happened at the park is still concerning,” she said softly.
Zod shook his head. "I hope it has nothing to do with the Harbingers, as Saeda said."
"Whatever the reason, it can’t be the Harbingers. Maybe we shouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure it had nothing to do with any of us or us being there either." She touched his shoulder. "It will all be fine. You’ll see."
Zod smiled. "You always know the right things to say. It’s someone like you that I need in my life."
She blushed, pulling her hand back, but he held it before it reached her side. Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the world felt smaller, tighter, warmer.
Zod’s height made her tilt her chin up to meet his hazel eyes. She imagined tipping forward each time she wanted to kiss him, him leaning down to meet her halfway. That thought sent a tiny shiver through her. He was perfect, but if they kissed, she wouldn’t be the one to start it. She didn’t have the courage, and somehow, the moment didn’t feel right. How could they begin their first day as a couple with a kiss?
The footsteps outside the kitchen made Zod and Miko move apart.
Saeda entered the kitchen, and Miko flashed at her side from how fast she moved.
“Saeda, you’re awake!” Miko cheered.
Saeda flinched from the scream in her right ear. She glimpsed Miko before locking her eyes in the direction of the oven. “What’s that smell?” She walked closer to where Zod was.
“We made lunch,” Zod took off his apron. “Just a few more minutes until it's ready.”
“You mean it’s not ready?” Her shoulder length hair flipped into her face when she turned around to see him.
A blank expression swept onto his face. Who was this person? Did she help to make the food yet she’s asking if it’s ready? The audacity!
“That’s what I just said,” he told her casually.
Saeda's plain face didn't flicker as she looked at him for a second. Zod had to wonder what was going on in that mind of hers.
Saeda left them, sat on the stool by the center counter, and began scribbling on her drawing tablet.
Miko appeared beside her, always captivated by Saeda’s work. It was a good way to pass the time while they waited. “Nice web drawing,” she said.
Saeda kept her gaze fixed on the screen. “This is not a drawing. It’s an investigation map.”
Miko glanced at Zod, who had come over.
“I’m getting to the bottom of what’s hindering my aura-sensing. There have to be connections that will reveal the problem.”
Zod’s eyes skimmed the small scribbles of text, connected by chaotic lines. ‘Park’ and ‘Harbingers’ were the last words he made out before he looked elsewhere.
“Why don’t we vote on our next outing?” he suggested. “How about a Vergant village?”
Miko opened her mouth, but Saeda’s monotone cut in. “Do you really think the Commander will let us out again after that disaster?”
“That had nothing to do with us,” Zod replied.
A minute of silence passed before Saeda spoke again. “I swore I felt energy there, just like with the Harbingers on a mission. I won’t forget that feeling. What if the Harbingers are hunting us now? No matter where we go outside Primus, they’ll find us.”
Miko studied the drawing before speaking. “Even if the Harbingers did attack, why would they target only her—Tee?”
Saeda shrugged. “Maybe her white hair made her easy to spot—does it matter? Whatever it is, I have a really bad feeling. We should all be concerned. A horrible realization is coming. I can feel it.”
The loud ding from the oven shattered the tension. Miko gasped and dashed to the oven.
Zod looked down at Saeda, who wouldn’t lift her gaze from the tablet. “What did I say about keeping your negative speech to yourself?”
Saeda slammed her stylus onto the counter and finally looked up. Zod stepped back, surprised. The real Saeda would have ignored him and kept drawing. Who was that girl before him claiming to be Saeda?
Miko turned with the steaming tray, seeing Saeda marching toward the kitchen entrance. “Saeda?” she called.
“I’m going to speak with an elder. Maybe they’ll take me seriously.”
Zod shook his head. “It’s best she took her bad vibes elsewhere. The Harbingers tracking us in the modern world? That’s crazy.”
The creak of the door sliced through the infirmary.
Kie reacted instantly, leaping off the bed, dropping into a crouch, hiding in the narrow shadow between the beds. Tee yanked the sheet up over her bare skin, breath unsteady, pulse still racing.
Sweaty and flushed, she forced a sweet smile at the nurse checking on her. A quick glance, a quick note, and the nurse slipped back out.
The moment the door closed, Tee exhaled sharply, relief melting into a breathless laugh. She turned—only to find Kie tugging his pants back on.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, disbelief and heat tangled together. “We don’t have to stop.”
“Are you crazy?” he hissed. “We just had sex in the infirmary. I’m going to remember this every time I come in here.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she murmured, eyes low, teasing.
He snatched her shirt off the floor and tossed it at her—not harsh, but with that flustered playfulness he couldn’t quite hide. She caught it, grinning.
Damn… that was so good. Her whole body still hummed, warm at the thought that she was not going to die untouched after all. She still couldn’t believe she had never felt anything like that.
Even if he was an MG-off wannabe… she definitely wanted him again.
After getting dressed—though her clothes felt too tight, too warm, too aware against her skin—they headed toward the door.
Kie halted, doubled back for the snack bag he’d left on the bed, and handed it to her.
“So… are we back on?” he asked, voice unsure under the bravado.
Tee slid her hand into his and tugged him toward her so suddenly he nearly stumbled into her. His heart kicked and hers answered. She rose on her toes and pressed a slow kiss to his cheek.
“That’s my answer,” she said, and took the snack bag.
A flash of Karen skimmed across his thoughts, tightening his jaw. He buried it, letting Tee’s warmth pull him out of it.
In her room, she chowed down on the snack and then stripped for a bath. Steam curled around her as she stepped under the water. The heat enveloped her… but not as much as the phantom memory of Kie’s hands tracing her, holding her, claiming her. She braced one hand against the wall, eyes drifting shut.
She wondered if those sensations—those thoughts—would ever fade.
A quiet part of her hoped they wouldn’t since they were ‘back on.’
Once out of the tub, she grabbed her flat iron from her room, coated her hair with the chemical, and began straightening it. She stopped mid–press, staring at herself in the mirror when something black rushed past the bathroom door. Something familiar. Something straight out of her nightmare—made her go completely still.
Only the soft hum of the flat iron filled the silence, followed by the heavy thud of her heartbeat. She set the iron down and stepped out to check her room.
Across all four walls, nothing was out of place. Not a single shift, not a shadow out of line. And there was certainly no black being. If it were a Xenosapian, it would have attacked her. They weren’t creatures that hid. They didn’t feel pain. They had nothing to fear.
But the memory flashed anyway—terrified faces, people rushing for the exits at the park. It all blurred together, leaving her wondering if any of it had even been real. She didn’t remember running with a crowd. The last thing she saw was a version of herself… Jack… and Tetra… and then—
She grabbed her tablet, and with her safe‑mode Wi‑Fi she managed to pull up news about the incident. Priman troops in white battle suits, scanners sweeping through rubble—that part didn’t surprise her.
The entire investigation had been halted due to the global curfew. Some survivors had serious injuries and amnesia. Over one hundred and fifty people were dead. The mention of Xeno‑victim deaths was the last thing she saw before she shut off the tablet.
Tears blurred her vision as she headed for the bathroom counter. She braced both hands against the surface and stared down the drain. She had done it that time. That kind of damage… that surge of pain… it was proof that time was running out. Next time she might not be able to fight it. Next time she might mutate.
Why her? Why was she cursed with such a fate—hated not for what she did, but for what she was? Nothing she did would ever make up for what she would bring into the world. When she died, her legacy would be resentment.
Images of the beautiful places in the pod drifted across her mind, reminding her she wasn’t ready to die. There were still things she wanted to see, things she wanted to accomplish. She still had to prove the worth of all Xeno‑victims. But had that goal already failed? All those Xeno‑victims were dead because of her. So much blood on her hands… And it was all caused by her, a Xeno-victim.
The Commander’s warning resurfaced. The longer she waited, the more time she gave it to take control. She needed the Balance Seal—a procedure with a fifty‑fifty chance of killing her and awakening the MegaSapian. Where was Tetra when she needed her? Needed advice, comfort? Tetra was gone. Dead. Never coming back.
That realization made her swipe her arm across the counter, sending everything crashing to the floor. The bangs and thuds died quickly, but an empty metal bottle rolled, clinking sharply against the tiles. The sound stabbed at her ears. She picked up the solvent bottle, and the brick wall in her mind cracked. She didn’t even need to open it to know.
She opened her top cupboard, revealing the containers anyone else would mistake for makeup. Concealers—her stockpile. Instead of counting them, she grabbed one and checked the expiration date.
Each batch lasted five months. They had all been made together, which meant in a few weeks they would all expire. After that, turtlenecks and scarves. Would the Primus medics keep helping her the way they always had?
Never in her life had she needed to check an expiration date. Tetra always made fresh ones far in advance. It should’ve sent her into a panic, but nothing came. She clutched her robe over her chest and backed away until the wall stopped her. Weakness buckled her knees and the fabric scraped against the surface as she slid down.
Soon she was sitting on the floor, staring at nothing.
Yes, it was right to tell them. But she didn’t want what came after. She was afraid—terrified—especially of Kie finding out. What would he think of her?
Regret washed over her. They were a couple again. Why did she let that happen?
She stared at the tiled floor for a long, hollow moment, the Commander’s warning looping over and over in her head. Then the terrified faces of the MG officials flashed before her—the instant before her metal claws ripped through their guts. Their screams, the ones she tried so hard to bury, tangled with the cries she’d heard at the park. Her body twitched. She hugged herself tighter and shut her eyes, but the memories she’d buried clawed their way back up, scratching at the front of her mind.
The screeching, ragged creatures tearing into her teammates… parting a path for her as if she were one of them.
Her reflection that night—a single horn jutting from her forehead, black filling her eyes.
The ash‑black aura swirling around her fist after she struck. Nothing like the clean blue light of her Sentinel teammates.
Her unhinged jaw, stretched wide enough to unleash a supersonic scream.
The park—its devastation, its blood, its chaos.
And that massive shadow in a red fog‑choked sky, a silhouette that belonged in a First Apocalypse documentary. Severin. Not connected to her… yet it fit the horrors in her mind far too well.
“Destroyer,” a deep voice rumbled.
Her eyes snapped open.
“No!” she screamed, the sound ricocheting off every bathroom wall.
Her gaze darted wildly, searching for a face—any face—to match that voice. But she was alone.
…Or was she?