The lunch hall was alive with noise—forks scraping plastic trays, laughter that never quite meant anything, conversations stitched together from habit rather than interest. Half-baked smiles everywhere. Performative normalcy.
Jair walked in the way he always had. Quiet. Careful. Food balanced on his tray. Shoulders slightly forward, the posture of someone trained by repetition to take up as little space as possible.
No one reacted.
That was the strange part.
He had been gone. Not just absent—erased from time. The Free Abyss had swallowed him whole, torn him apart, stitched him back together with something new humming beneath his skin. And yet here he was, stepping into the lunch hall as if he had simply gone home early yesterday.
No whispers.
No double takes.
No "where were you?"
It was as if reality itself had shrugged and said: Nothing happened.
Which meant only one thing.
This was the next day.
The day after the rooftop.
The day after the confession.
The day after Lis—Valerie, the ghoul he loved—had looked at him not like a mistake, but like a choice.
And that also meant one thing more.
They were coming.
They didn't announce themselves. They never had to. Their presence always arrived before they did—air tightening, laughter dulling, that familiar gravitational pull of cruelty entering the room.
Timmy and the others slid into place around his table, uninvited, practiced. Their faces weren't smug today.
They were wounded.
Yesterday hadn't gone the way it was supposed to. The memory clung to them like a bruise you keep poking just to feel something familiar. Jair could see it in their eyes: not anger, not exactly—offense. Reality had disobeyed them.
Timmy's hand slammed down on the table.
Plastic rattled. Silence rippled outward.
"Now," Timmy said, leaning in, voice sharpened by entitlement, "I'm gonna make this clear to you. Apologize. Right now. Before I humiliate you in front of everyone here."
Jair blinked. Slowly.
Then he tilted his head, eyebrows lifting, voice light—almost bored.
"Uh… what did I do this time?"
Timmy's jaw tightened. His face flushed, heat crawling up his neck. "You know what you did, you sociopath."
Jair nodded, as if considering it. "Oh. That. Yeah—you got your ass kicked. Not really my fault your ego couldn't survive that."
That was it.
Timmy didn't hesitate.
The punch came fast, desperate, the kind thrown not to win but to reassert. Knuckles collided with Jair's face in a dull, satisfying thud—satisfying for exactly half a second.
Jair's head snapped to the side.
Pain bloomed—bright, immediate—an orange flare burning across his cheekbone. The taste of copper filled his mouth.
And then—
He laughed.
Not loud. Not theatrical.
Manic.
The kind of laugh that isn't meant for anyone else.
Timmy froze.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
He had thrown that punch as a test. He knew something was different about Jair after yesterday, even if he couldn't articulate it. The hit wasn't just punishment—it was a probe. A way to see if the old rules still applied.
They didn't.
Jair straightened slowly, rolling his jaw once, as if savoring the sensation. His eyes were bright now—not angry, not afraid.
Present.
Pain didn't weaken him anymore.
Pain was confirmation.
Timmy recoiled inwardly and compensated outwardly, doing what bullies always do when control slips—he made it a performance.
He turned, raising his voice. "You see this? You guys see this freak?" He jabbed a finger at Jair. "I told you. Total sociopath. He's crazy. Always was. Just look at him—I knew he was a ticking time bomb."
The murmurs started immediately.
Predictable. Reliable. Comforting in their cruelty.
People love a narrative that absolves them from thinking.
Jair listened. Let it wash over him. He didn't interrupt. Didn't correct them. Didn't defend himself.
Because he already knew something they didn't.
Yesterday, he would have cracked here. Retreated. Apologized for existing. Tried to make himself smaller so the world wouldn't notice how badly it hurt him.
But yesterday was gone.
He had stood at the edge of the Free Abyss and accepted something most people spent their entire lives running from.
Pain. Rejection. The truth that being hated doesn't mean being wrong.
So he let them talk.
Let Timmy enjoy the illusion of control for a few more seconds.
Because what Jair was about to do next—
Wasn't predictable.
And for the first time in that hall, the power balance shifted, quiet and irreversible, like a tectonic plate sliding into place beneath everyone's feet.
Jair wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
And smiled.
A beat
The smile was over.
And the expression that came after was anything but now.
This was time for business.
What he had really come for.
Jair raised his hand.
And just like that, reality paused.
Just him and Timmy. Everyone else was frozen.
The dread in Timmy's face was foreign—but not to Jair.
Not to him either.
But definitely to the others—because that was off Pattern.
Jair looked at him and spoke.
Jair: Hehehe… You were right, Timmy. I ain't normal.
Timmy stepped back, shaking.
Timmy: Get… g-get away from me… stay back.
Jair: No. Stay away from who you think you are… Timmy.
Timmy frowned, confused.
Timmy: What do you mean?
Jair: Let me show you.
And just like that, he appeared in front of him and placed his hand on Timmy's chest.
A sharp pain shot through him. Then the memories flooded.
They appeared beside them like a screen.
This was it. That was him.
The small child, abandoned, not loud, but subtle.
The kind shaped by cold dismissal, by negotiating with his own existence just to stay relevant.
The kind whose parents always told him what they wanted—but never what he wanted.
This wasn't the bully Timmy had known.
Jair: This was who you are, right?
Timmy: NO! NO! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! YOU DON'T GET TO DO THAT!
Jair chuckled softly.
Jair: So you weren't always like this.
Timmy: You bastard! I'll make you pay, I'll make you pay so bad… You think you're clever, huh? I don't know what you've become… turn it down, or I swear to—
Jair: I feel you, man.
A beat.
Everything paused.
Timmy: What did you say?
Jair: You heard what I said. I feel you. We've had it rough, you and I… but we took different paths. It's not our faults—we are what we are.
Timmy let his guard down for a brief moment.
For the first time in his life, he actually listened.
He looked at Jair. Really looked.
And saw someone different.
His posture was steady, his expression dead serious, as if he knew all of them—and was unimpressed.
Timmy: What do you propose?
Jair: Heck, this isn't the "I believe in you" crap, but I can see you took the easy path… And I don't blame you. But listen— it's never too late. Never. I thought differently back then, and it led to no good.
Timmy: You're not appalled? You're not mocking me? After what I did, after everything that happened, after everything you've seen? NO. I'M NOT ALLOWING THIS. I'VE SEEN THIS BEFORE. EVERYONE HAS TO DO THIS. YOU DON'T GET TO BE THE SMART ONE. PICK YOUR STRUGGLE!
Jair: No. I'm not mocking you. I'm not taking revenge. I'm here to give you an offer. Take my hand—and I promise you, you won't have to be perfect to be whole.
Timmy: You… you look like you want to save someone in danger… like… uh… why aren't you doing what I expect? You were supposed to be angry! What happened to the one who was pissed off yesterday?
Jair sighed heavily.
Jair: That version of me is still there. But I've seen things, Timmy. Things that gave me dread… and hope at the same time. And I want you to see it too—all of you.
Timmy: What, so you have some kinda superpower or something…
Jair chuckled knowingly.
Nah. You'll see. Come on.
Timmy hesitated. His old self clung like a stubborn parasite.
He didn't trust Jair—not yet.
But… what could he lose?
So he took his hand.
And that… changed everything.
There was a pause. A long pause.
Timmy expected something. And nothing happened.
Jair was just as confused.
Then… everything went white.
Boom.
The whole class collectively felt it.
The power of Omega Devia.
Their inner realms had been breached—but with the illusion of consent.
Some felt it as invasion, not invitation.
Some tried to resist. Some cried from the overwhelming truth they weren't ready for.
Jair watched them all. His expression was frozen.
Not smiling. Not crying.
Too aware of the consequences.
Undefined, unnamed emotion. Even Sonia couldn't label it.
The students rose.
Student 1: I… I don't know what happened, but I feel freer than… oh my gosh…
Timmy: Heh… I feel invaded. But why can't I let it go?
Student 2: Did you do this, Jair? What have you done?!
Student 3: I feel alive… so alive… but I don't know if I was ready.
Student 4 (chill guy): Whatever man… this slaps.
Some reactions weren't what Jair expected.
Some expressions were hollow—not happiness, not sadness.
Some smiles were frozen.
Everyone had their own way of processing the phenomenon.
Jair didn't answer. He just nodded.
But the nod was fractured.
Loaded. Heavy. He knew it.
A brief smile passed across his face.
Because in that moment, he realized:
Omega Devia. Traxis. So this is how you feel… huh. I get it now. This is what it takes.
Then he spoke, quietly:
Jair: I know this is new and strange… uh… but… I felt the same way too, when I was introduced to it.
It was all he could say. Not too much. Not too little. Just enough for them to know what was at stake.
Timmy couldn't look at him the same way again.
It was as if a new painting had brushed against a familiar one.
He tried to stare with his old arrogance, but his eyes flickered traitorously, hinting at something else.
Other students' expressions assumed dependence—especially those who reminded Jair of Jack. Always shrinking. Always negotiating.
Some ran. They ran because this was scarier than any monster they had ever seen in movies.
Greenish-yellow energy swirled around them.
Jair had done it. His first faction… even though it was uncertain.
Messy. Unstable. Raw.
Just like he had felt at first.
And he didn't doubt it—not yet.
But he knew they would understand… soon.
Soon enough.