Liam woke up slowly.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. It pressed against his ears like the calm before a storm. His eyes opened being alert despite the few hours of rest, and immediately scanned the room he had claimed as shelter.
The house was old, abandoned by its original owners long ago. Cracks ran along the walls like scars, and the wooden floor creaked even when untouched. Yet despite its condition, the place had something rare in this broken world—running water and stored supplies. When Liam had found it while scavenging for food, he had almost laughed at the irony. A ruin hiding comfort.
He exhaled slowly and sat up, his senses stretching outward instinctively.
Then he froze.
Footsteps.
They were faint but deliberate against dead leaves outside the house. Not the careless movement of animals. Not the frantic scurrying of scavengers either. These steps carried confidence.
Liam stood soundlessly, his bare feet touching the cold floor as he focused.
Voices followed.
"Be careful," an older voice muttered, low and stern. "If you can't make the deal, then leave."
"Relax, boss," another voice replied, dripping with pride. "Nothing here can harm me."
A brief pause followed.
"There's a reason he's the only S-rank," a feminine voice said, calm but edged with warning. "Don't provoke him."
Liam's eyes narrowed.
S-rank?
Before he could process further, something moved.
A blur burst from the shadows of the forest, tearing through the distance at an alarming speed. If anyone had focused on the figure's legs, they would have seen them distort and reshape—human flesh twisting into powerful wolf limbs that struck the ground with explosive force.
The figure lunged toward the house.
But the moment he crossed the invisible boundary around it, everything stopped.
The man's body was ripped off the ground as if seized by an unseen god. He gasped, limbs flailing uselessly as immense pressure crushed down on him from all sides. His eyes widened in terror when he saw the source.
A boy stood in the doorway.
He looked no older than fourteen or fifteen, his expression cold and unreadable. One hand was raised casually, fingers slightly curled, as if gripping the air itself.
The man choked. "P–please! Put me down! This—this is a misunderstanding! I only came to ask you something!"
Liam didn't respond.
His fingers tightened.
The pressure multiplied.
The man screamed as bones cracked beneath invisible force. Desperate, his body began to change—wolf fur bursting through his skin, muscles swelling as he shifted into a massive beast. When that failed, the wolf twisted into a bear, roaring in agony. Then into something smaller, thinner—a worm-like creature, writhing helplessly.
It made no difference.
Under Liam's telekinesis, form meant nothing.
Liam's gaze shifted past the suspended mutant and into the forest. His senses told him what his eyes could not—this man had not come alone. Someone bold enough to approach him would never do so without backup.
A faint hum filled the air.
Blue-white lightning crackled around Liam's body, crawling over his skin like living veins. The energy condensed above his open palm, unstable and violent. He hadn't trained in this element yet; controlling it felt like holding a storm in his hand.
Still, he shaped it.
The lightning twisted, compressed, sharpening until it formed a spear of pure energy—its edges flickering unpredictably.
The mutant's eyes widened in absolute terror.
"No—wait—!"
Liam hurled the spear forward.
"STOP!"
A voice rang out sharply from the forest.
The spear halted midair, inches from the suspended mutant's chest, lightning snapping angrily as if protesting the interruption.
Liam tilted his head slightly, amused.
Slowly, he lowered his hand. The mutant slammed into the ground, coughing violently—but Liam did not release his hold. The invisible force pinned him like an insect beneath glass.
"Talk," Liam said at last, his voice calm but heavy with authority. "How did you find me?"
Silence followed, broken only by rustling leaves.
Then two figures stepped out of the shadows.
The first was a girl, around eighteen years old. She had sharp eyes and a composed expression that didn't match her age. Dirt stained her clothes, but her posture was steady, confident. She met Liam's gaze without flinching.
Beside her stood a man wearing a dark mask. His presence felt… wrong. Like a blade hidden beneath cloth. Liam couldn't see his face, but he could feel his strength.
The girl spoke first. "We didn't come to fight."
"That was his mistake," Liam replied, nodding toward the mutant pinned to the ground.
The masked man stepped forward. "You were hard to track. Even for us."
Liam's eyes flickered with interest. "Us?"
The man hesitated for half a second, then spoke. "We are what remains of the mutants who survived the purge."
That word struck something deep.
Purge.
Liam's grip tightened slightly, drawing another groan from the trapped mutant.
"The Anti-Mutant Organization," the masked man continued. "They hunt us and Erase us. You've heard of them "
The girl added quietly, "You're a symbol. To them, you're a threat that must be destroyed. To us… you're hope."
Hope.
Liam laughed softly, the sound empty. "Hope gets people killed."
"Maybe," the masked man said. "But power decides who survives. And right now, no one has more power than you."
Liam studied them carefully.
He sensed no immediate lies.
Slowly, he released the telekinetic pressure. The mutant collapsed completely, unconscious but alive.
Lightning faded from Liam's body as he lowered his hand.
"Continue," he said.
The masked man straightened. "We're planning an attack on the Anti-Mutant Organization. Not a rebellion. A strike. But we can't do it without you."
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Liam's eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light as a small smile formed on his lips.
"I'm listening."