Jon had met Alex and Alexa on the same day. From the very beginning, the bond had been natural, almost fated. Strangers turned companions, and companions turned into something closer, like family.
Alex had always been fiercely protective of his younger sister. It wasn't just the overbearing care of a sibling; he had watched too many good girls be broken by careless boys, and he refused to let that happen to Alexa. She was all he had left in this crumbling world.
Yet, even with all his caution and stubborn walls, Alex had grown to trust Jon. He saw the way Jon looked at his sister, not with lust, but with understanding, with empathy. He respected her fire and valued her softness. That was more than Alex could say for anyone else.
Would he have ever pushed Jon toward her? No. That wasn't his place. But if it had happened naturally, he wouldn't have objected.
Unfortunately, that hope had died before it could bloom.
Alex was dead now.
Gone.
And the sister he had spent every waking moment protecting had been scarred in ways he would never know.
Jon didn't know how long he had stood there, surrounded by silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing on his chest. The people around him began whispering, pointing, wondering if the rumors were true, if Jon had really changed like the rest.
The air suddenly shifted.
Jon's presence had become something oppressive. Those watching instinctively stepped back, unsure of whether to help or flee. More people poured in from nearby areas, drawn by the rising tension. The cafeteria, their makeshift refuge after the collapse, now felt like the epicenter of something bigger, something dangerous.
Then it came.
The rage. It was sudden, volcanic, and overwhelming to the point of uncertainty.
His vision dimmed at the edges as emotion churned inside him.
Before his final sanity snapped, he managed one word.
One question.
A whisper carrying the weight of the world, or rather cafeteria.
"Who?"
Alexa had been sobbing since the moment Jon had appeared. But when he asked—when he demanded to know—her grief transformed. Her sorrow sharpened into fury.
"IT WAS JOE!" she screamed, her voice ripping through the tense air like a blade. "HE JOINED KRAD! THEY KILLED ALEX AND—AND—"
She couldn't even finish. Her voice cracked, broken by the weight of her trauma.
But Jon already knew.
Cynthia, who had been walking past the corridor, froze as she heard the scream. She peeked around the corner and saw the scene, the glowing mana spiraling around Jon, the storm in his eyes, the girl in pieces before him.
A chill ran down her spine. She had seen powerful abilities before. But this, this was something else. Something unhinged.
She took a cautious step back.
From across the cafeteria, members of the Krad gang began to approach. They wore the smug arrogance of those who believed themselves untouchable. Most were armed with weapons for the system, all were dangerous, and none of them knew what they were walking into.
Jon didn't flinch.
One of the Krad members, perhaps the boldest of the lot, stepped forward. "The fuck's your problem?"
Jon didn't respond.
Another spat, "How dare you raise your voice at our name, you piece of—"
Jon's aura exploded.
There was no warning. No hesitation.
He moved like a shadow pulled by moonlight, appearing before the first Krad member.
BANG.
The sound was sickening.
The man's head exploded like a water balloon filled with red mist. The body dropped like a sack of stones.
Gasps.
It turned into screams.
Chaos erupted. People ran in all directions. The calm they had built in the days after the world ended was shattered in one moment of wrath.
"The fuck..." Another Krad member tried to fight back.
Jon didn't give him the chance.
BANG.
Gone.
Two bodies. There was no chance or struggle, just death.
Two days ago, he would've vomited at the thought of killing someone. He had hesitated even when defending himself. But now, the hesitation was gone. His system had dulled the weight of morality, replacing it with instinct and efficiency called composure.
His trait numbed the horror. His grief sharpened his fury.
The next Krad member lunged at him with a knife.
Jon didn't move.
The moment the blade neared, he raised his hand, charged with silver-blue energy.
SLICE.
The man was cleaved in half before he even knew he was dead.
System notifications blinked in his peripheral vision.
[You have received Level 2 "Johnson Mark" remains]
[You have received...]
Jon didn't care.
He ignored them all.
He didn't want rewards.
He wanted blood.
Within minutes, it was over.
Ten Krad members lay dead on the floor, their bodies twisted, heads smashed, limbs bent at impossible angles.
The strongest of them had fallen just as easily as the weakest.
Their power had meant nothing.
Jon's aura dimmed slightly, but the flickering around him changed. Red wisps began to mingle with the moon-blue light around him.
Jon didn't notice as his focus shifted to another person.
To the cause of this rage.
To Joe.
Joe had emerged from the Krad area, pale and stiff.
The boy who used to joke and laugh with Jon now stood as a traitor, a coward, and a monster.
His eyes met Jon's and fear overtook him.
Jon's bloodstained steps echoed as he walked toward Joe. His boots squelched against the blood-soaked floor.
Joe tried to speak. "J-Jon… it's all a misunderstanding, I—"
"A misunderstanding?" Jon's voice was cold. Like he was speaking to him for the first time. "Alex is dead what misunderstanding. Alexa is- Alexa is scared. WHAT FUCKING MISUNDERSTANDING?!"
Joe flinched, stumbling backward.
Jon looked at him. Waiting for a reason or excuse at all, however Joe just kept trembling underneath his gaze.
Without any shred of emotion, Jon's hand shot forward.
Moonlight danced along his fingers as he went for his arm.
SLASH.
Joe's arms hit the ground.
SLASH.
Then his legs.
The cafeteria fell into silence. This was madness. No, beyond madness.
If it was before the world situation, Jon would have spent several years in jail. Besides, there was a reason the authorities always tried to keep sights like this from the public.
It affects the mental health.
Several students and professors likewise had collapsed at the cruel sight, and those still standing could only hear Joe's agonized screams.
Blood poured out in fountains.
Some people turned away. Others vomited.
But no one dared stop Jon. Not even Jenny currently witnessing something she couldn't believe or Cynthia.
He stood over Joe, staring down at what was left of his former friend.
He didn't need answers.
He had all the proof he needed.
He had seen Alexa's state with his own eyes.
With his Moon Gaze still active, he had confirmed her injuries. There were bruises and trauma, but no signs of final violation.
Still, the intent had been there, and the betrayal had been real.
Alex had died while Joe watched. That was enough.
Jon stepped back, his chest heaving.
He turned away from Joe's pitiful cries and walked slowly toward Alexa. He reached out but stopped just inches from touching her. She was too fragile, too broken. He didn't want to add to her pain.
So he let his hand fall.
Jenny stepped forward silently, her expression unreadable. She stood beside Alexa and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Alexa didn't resist.
Jon looked at Jenny, and for a brief second, nodded.
A quiet thank-you.
Then he walked away.
The crowd parted before him like waves before a storm.
No one spoke.
No one dared breathe.
He returned to the corner from which he had emerged, a bloodstained figure beneath flickering lights. The crimson glow around his blue aura still danced wildly, hints of something darker rising within.
He didn't know what he had awakened.
He didn't know what he had become.
But one thing was clear.
The Jon Whyte who had hesitated… who had once believed in reason, forgiveness, and peace…
Was dead.