Chap 195: Time for a Change

Saeda’s scream hung in the air, her mouth frozen open. Her father barreled into the room, a large blade clenched in his hand, eyes darting for a Xenosapian. His chest heaved violently… and then stilled. Silence. No threat.

And then he met her gaze. Mad, fiery, unrelenting.

“How could you do this?” she spat, her finger trembling, eyes red and raw.

“Saeda?” he whispered, disbelief cracking his voice.

Julie turned slowly, heavy-lidded, a faint smirk ghosting her face. “I don’t think she liked the renovation.”

Rage consumed Saeda. Her arm swung violently and something crashed from her dresser, splintering against the floor. “She’s pregnant! How could this have happened?!”

The sound made both her father and Julie flinch, hearts hammering in shock. But Saeda didn’t wait for their explanations. She stormed out, leaving only the echo of her fury behind.

“Saeda!” they shouted, but she was already gone.

The elevator was out of the question. She took the stairs, thirty-one levels descending like a storm unleashed. Her breath was steady, her pace unrelenting. Outside, darkness greeted her. Almost curfew. But she didn’t care. She would rather sleep on the cold streets or in a shelter than spend another second with that traitor, that father.

Miko’s gaze softened when she saw Ping, her steadfast helper, moving quickly among the unpacked belongings.

“It’s good to see you back and unarmed, Lady Miko. Dinner is prepared and will be served shortly in the great dining hall. Please get ready.”

Miko nodded. “Yes… my parents will be there?”

Ping’s frown was sharp. “No guarantees, my lady.”

When Ping left, Miko’s eyes wandered to the hologram frames of male models that adorned her walls. They had lost their charm. None of them held the fire she had seen in Zod’s eyes. With a quiet sigh, she began turning them off, one by one.

Soon, she was seated at the long table, colorful dishes before her. Helpers and guards stood in shadowed sections, almost invisible. Her nieces and nephews were preoccupied, lost in devices or meals, barely acknowledging her presence. Like last time. She let out a long, quiet sigh, appetite gone before she could touch a bite.

Zod’s father arrived home well before curfew, the evening air heavy with anticipation. Dinner was special—takeout, Zod’s favorite fried chicken. His brother attacked it recklessly, spilling and tearing through the food. Zod’s expression remained calm, unreadable.

“Looks like you’ve tasted better,” his mother observed, worry flickering across her face. His sudden change in build made her cautious about the food at his Mid-Guard.

He had tasted better. Miko’s cooking had been… exquisite, a memory that burned in him. Could he tell his parents he had a girlfriend? He imagined his father’s scrutiny, the online investigations, the search for faults where there were none. Even if there were none, his father would assume there were.

The thought tightened his chest. He had agreed to speak with Miko earlier. Sealed behind his metal room door during curfew seemed like the only time he could. He forced a brighter smile, picked up his fork, and feigned enjoyment. His parents, seeing it, assumed he truly relished the meal.

Kie had had enough of watching movies alone in his apartment. Particularly because they were all romance. Every channel showed two or more people cozying up, whispering, laughing, reminding him with every frame that he was utterly alone.

He decided to get some fresh air before the global curfew forced him indoors. The gym in his building was practically empty, the hum of treadmills mixing with the clank of weights and the occasional grunt of effort. The faint scent of rubber mats and sweat lingered in the air, sharp yet oddly grounding. Everything there felt too easy, almost like a cruel joke. 

The food was decent enough, the pools scattered across the building luxurious. On the roof, the largest pool stretched beneath the sky. Floating on his back, Kie stared upward, watching clouds drift across the dimming blue. Was that what life in Primus amounted to? A loner with more wealth than he knew what to do with. He exhaled heavily, the sigh carrying more than just air.

Leaving the glossy multistorey building behind, he wandered into the streets. People passed him, heads down, shuffling toward their homes. At a vending machine, Kie noticed someone frozen in place. Ragged clothes clung to their frame, a worn jacket draped across their back.

For a brief moment, Kie remembered himself on the streets, staring at food he couldn’t reach. Now, with more cash than he needed, he felt the impulse to help. Maybe they would talk afterward. Maybe they needed someone to notice them.

But then he saw it—the collar. A Xeno-victim.

Tee’s face flashed in his mind. Never before had he intentionally approached a Xeno-victim. Not until Tee. But that was because she was covert.

Still… maybe that one was desperate enough for the company to accept him.

The young man’s bushy black hair caught the light as he finally noticed Kie. Wide, speculative eyes lifted to meet him.

“Hey,” Kie said gently, holding out cash. “I just want to help.”

The boy snatched the money, fed it into the machine, and retrieved a meat roll. He tore it open, teeth sinking in with a hungry, almost feral intensity. Kie watched, silent, as the boy devoured it. The stranger seemed to forget he even existed, until the roll was gone and hunger still gnawed. Then, reluctantly, he looked back at Kie.

Kie sighed, frowning. The boy couldn’t have been much older than him. He pulled out the rest of his cash and handed it over. He didn’t want to talk with someone like that. Chitchat would dredge up old pain, drag him into depression. He didn’t like being around depressed people. It drained his energy.

Turning away, he started walking.

Then something pricked at the edge of his senses. He froze, glanced back and froze harder.

Black spikes erupted from the boy’s back, twisting outward like jagged shards. The screams came next, piercing and raw. The meat roll fell to the ground, forgotten, as black mana coiled around the boy’s form, constricting, pulsing.

A mutation.

The crowd scattered instantly. Holographic arrows flashed in the air, directing panicked citizens where to flee. Alarms screamed. Mid-Guard officials surged into the zone, weapons drawn.

Kie slipped back quietly, blending with the stampeding crowd. Cameras scanned every angle—no Ultramana powers for him that day. The MG officers were busy handling the chaos.

And in his mind… Tee. She had been that age. That fragile, precarious age where mutation often struck. It was inevitable. Soon, he would have to accept it.

Saeda ran until her legs burned. Normally she would have taken a cab, but that evening she moved by foot, forcing herself through the stench of the streets. Smoke hung heavy in the air, thick and acrid. Puddles of urine and grimy patches along walls made the city smell of rot and neglect.

She found her mother’s building—a decrepit apartment block with outside balcony stairs that climbed like a ladder to her floor. The elevator was out of the question.

Saeda pounded on the door, screaming, “Mom! Mom! Mom!!”

The door swung open, revealing a skinny woman with wide, black eyes and unkempt black hair. She spat on the ground, voice sharp. “What’s all the noise?”

Recognition hit. Her eyes softened, shrinking in disbelief. “Oh… you. You’re still alive?”

Saeda pushed past her. Inside, the apartment reeked of neglect—trash scattered across the floor, dust coating every surface. Paintings she had made with bio-reactive paint clung to the walls. The elements shimmered and shifted as she moved, hair flowing, clouds drifting, water rippling—a ghost of motion for her clients. Most of her earnings were gone on drugs and drinks. She lived hand-to-mouth, barely scraping by.

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” her mother said, placing a cigar between her lips, exhaling smoke in deliberate puffs.

“Dad’s having a baby with my stepmother!” Saeda blurted.

Her mother’s face didn’t change. “So?” she asked, voice flat. “What does that have to do with me?”

Saeda froze, trembling, mouth agape. Then she flailed her arms, voice cracking with desperation. “Well… do something! You have to do something!”

Her mother turned her back, stylus in hand, returning to the fluid motions of her art. “Please tell that to someone who cares,” she murmured, spitting into a metal can that rang hollowly. “If that’s all you have to say, leave me to work. That rent isn’t paying itself.”

Saeda stared at the rigid back, the brush strokes blurring between the real and the unreal. As always, her mother ignored her. She was nothing. Soon, she would be nothing to her father too—replaced by a new child. A mistake that should never have existed.

The sound of doors slamming and security grills rolling down cut through the air. Curfew approached. Saeda wavered. Stay with her mother or return to her father? Then she remembered Stinkers.

Back home, her father and stepmother rushed to the door as the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, her father saw her, relief flooding his face. He slid the door open and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Saeda, you had us so worried—”

“Thank goodness, you’re back,” Julie exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.

Saeda pushed her father aside and dashed straight to her room. She scooped Stinkers into her arms, patting the small body gently. Stinkers’ purrs vibrated against her chest, warmth spreading through her as tears streamed freely. For the first time in hours, maybe days, she felt something soft, something safe.

Locked away in his room, Zod watched the hologram screen glow from his phone. Moments later, Miko’s joyous eyes filled the display, sparkling back at him.

“Hey, sugar muffin,” he teased, voice low and flirtatious.

Miko giggled, a sound that made his chest tighten. “Hello, my sweet prince.”

Her voice—so close, so alive in his room—sent his heart leaping. What if his parents heard? Panic flashed for a second before he glanced around. Silence. They couldn’t hear him. He exhaled, relief flooding through him.

“So… what happened? Did your parents welcome you back this time?”

Miko’s brow furrowed. She sighed, voice soft. “No.”

That was all she said, until a faint beep pulled her attention. She moved to her desk, sliding open a drawer. A new hologram screen flickered to life, revealing her mother and father.

“Hello, darling,” her mother said.

“Welcome back, my dear,” her father added warmly.

Miko gasped, eyes wide, and Zod quickly ended his connection. He was happy for her—truly—but something in her expression told him the moment was fragile.

Tears swelled in Miko’s eyes, unbidden, as she listened to their voices.

“Mom… Dad… I’m so happy to see you…”

But then she noticed it. The speech flowed too smoothly, too perfectly. A pause, a twitch in the frame. Both figures froze. The truth hit her. The voices, the smiles—they weren’t real. It was a recorded message. Her parents hadn’t taken the time to speak with her live.

Her hands slammed the drawer shut. She collapsed into her bed, sobs shaking her body, grief and longing spilling over.

Tee’s thoughts churned relentlessly, circling her future like vultures over a field. Would she ever find a cure? Would the Xenogene mutation claim her life soon? Who would discover her body first? Would anyone even give her a funeral?

Her mind drifted to Tetra. No funeral. Not for her, not after the illegal dealings that had defined her life. Then darker thoughts crept in, colder and sharper—the dark, empty eyes of Sade. His last words, whispered at the edge of death, hinted he knew how Tetra had perished. But did he? Or was it just another bluff, a desperate ploy to buy his escape.

And the Harbingers… where were they? Had they abandoned fragment-hunting for better pursuits? Well, Tee had no such luxury. She had a single goal—find a cure for the Xenogene.

The memory of Kie’s words cut deep, still echoing in her mind… 

You’re wasting your time. You’ll never find a cure. 

It stung as sharply now as it had then. She would see him again—on another sensing of a fragment of the Alpha Seal. But the Harbingers would remain absent, as always.

Then, like a spark in the darkness, an idea struck her.

The elders possessed fragments. If she could request to see one, she could perform aura-sensing, learn more about the Alpha Seal—and maybe, just maybe, uncover a way to combat the Xenogene.

She was tired of the cycle. Exhausted by waiting. Something had to change.

Not long after, she stood before the elders in their sanctum. Elder Caledor shimmered in gold, Elder Menrith in dark purple, Elder Seriphal in deep blue, and Elder Earvangar in fiery orange. Tee bowed low, then seated herself, showing respect without hesitation.

“Please, speak the burden you carry,” Professor Caledor intoned.

“I request the possession of a fragment of the Alpha Seal,” Tee said, steadying her voice.

Silence stretched, pressing against her chest, forcing her to elaborate.

“It is to aid me in my quest… to find a cure for the Xenogene.”

A bitter laugh echoed in her head, reminding her how presumptuous her claim sounded.

Elder Earvangar’s voice, sharp and speculative, cut through her reverie.

“Do you truly expect us to entrust you with a Fragment that our brethren labored tirelessly to recover—one for which they risked their very lives?”

Tee lifted her chin. “You may give me one that my teammates and I retrieved—”

Elder Seriphal’s small eyes narrowed further. “Your past acts of deception have placed you in poor standing with us. Moreover, we have no proof that you are capable of achieving such an ambitious goal as finding a cure for a two-thousand-year-old anomaly.”

The elders had allowed her to remain in the Primus Vergant village, ostensibly to keep her occupied. They didn’t know—or perhaps didn’t care—whether correspondence from the Verge regarding her possible betrayal held any truth. The course of the future was fluid, ever-shifting.

“I’m only trying,” Tee said, determination ringing in her voice. “Maybe it will work, maybe not. But with my new Ether prowess, the sky’s the limit.”

Elder Menrith glanced at his peers, voice measured. “It is not as though she could do much with a single Fragment. With its Sealed Bond deactivated, it is little more than inert—useful only as a piece of the greater Alpha Seal.”

“So… is that a yes?” Tee asked, hope flickering.

The elders’ voices rose together, cold and absolute.

“Nay.”

Tee’s chest tightened. Disappointment, sharp as glass, cut through her.

Professor Caledor’s tone closed the meeting.

“If there is nothing further troubling your mind, then this meeting is concluded. This is the council’s collective decision on the matter. Whether you choose to accept it or not is your concern.”

They departed, leaving her alone. Tee’s hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Of course they didn’t care. They weren’t Xeno-victims. They weren’t being stalked by a demon that would steal their life like a thief in the night.

But Tee knew the truth, bitter and clear. If she wanted something, she would have to take it herself.