**Chapter 55
INTO THE TRENCH**
LIBERTY CITY AND BEYOND — THE SEARCH
John Stellman hadn't slept properly in days.
Not because he was tired—he was used to exhaustion—but because every time he closed his eyes, he saw that crater. Smooth. Silent. Wrong.
The task force moved like a shadow across the world. Unmarked vehicles. Quiet helicopters. No press. No speeches. Governments cooperated in whispers, pretending to the public that nothing unusual was happening.
They weren't searching for a criminal.
They were searching for a mistake in existence.
Town by town, they questioned people.
"Did you see a boy?"
"Red hair?"
"Did anything strange happen last night?"
Some shook their heads.
Others avoided eye contact.
A shopkeeper in a coastal town said his mirrors cracked on their own.
A shepherd swore the stars blinked out for a second.
An old woman claimed she heard a child crying from inside the earth.
All dead ends.
John reviewed footage endlessly. Satellite feeds glitched when they neared the impact zone. Drones lost signal. Sensors malfunctioned.
"It's like he doesn't want to be found," Gina said quietly one night.
John rubbed his temples. "Or like reality itself is hiding him."
---
THE WRETCHED BUILDING
Far from Liberty City, beyond maps people cared about, stood an old building abandoned decades ago.
Its walls sagged inward as if tired of standing. Dust coated the floors in thick layers. Broken windows let in cold wind that howled through the halls like muffled whispers.
Inside, on the cracked concrete floor, Karos lay curled into himself.
His body trembled.
This time, he wasn't laughing.
He was crying.
Not softly. Not quietly.
It came from deep inside — uneven breaths, shaking shoulders, hands pressed against his face as if trying to hold himself together.
Except no tears fell.
Thin streams of dark red traced down from his eyes, dripping onto the floor beneath him. Each drop felt like something being torn away rather than released.
He didn't understand what he was.
He didn't understand why people vanished when he felt afraid.
Every memory he formed hurt.
The darkness inside him wasn't whispering comfort. It was settling in, stitching itself into his thoughts, shaping them gently, patiently.
> You are alone.
> They will fear you.
> You will break again.
Karos pushed himself up slowly.
The glass crunching beneath his bare feet made a sharp sound—but he didn't react. Pain barely registered anymore. Sensation felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
He stood upright.
Blood traced faint lines down his face.
Then—
He laughed.
Not loud at first. Just a breathy sound, fragile, unstable. But it grew, echoing through the broken building until it bounced back at him from every wall.
The laugh didn't mean joy.
It meant something inside him had snapped.
---
EASTERN EGYPT — A SHARED SILENCE
H.I.M sat beside a small fire as desert winds moved the sand like waves.
Riya slept nearby, wrapped in a blanket too big for her. Her breathing was soft, steady.
She trusted him completely.
That trust weighed more than chains ever could.
H.I.M prepared food carefully, measuring water, checking the heat, making sure nothing would harm her. His hands—once tools of destruction—moved gently now.
"You remind me of the sun," Riya said earlier that day, watching him.
He didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because light terrified him.
Still, he stayed.
The Devil within him stirred occasionally, but its voice no longer commanded him. It watched. It waited.
H.I.M would sacrifice nations before allowing harm to come to the child sleeping a few steps away.
For the first time in years, his power was not aimed outward.
It was guarding something fragile.
---
LIBERTY CITY — THE SKY TURNS
The first sign wasn't the color.
It was the birds.
They dropped from the sky without sound, wings stiff, as if the air itself rejected them.
Then the clouds began to darken unnaturally, bleeding into a deep crimson—not storm clouds, not fire, but something thicker, heavier.
People stopped in the streets.
Phones were raised.
Someone whispered, "Is this a drill?"
Then the scream came.
A massive shadow struck a nearby building with terrifying force. Stone cracked. Walls collapsed inward.
A giant crow—unnaturally large—lay still against shattered concrete, feathers scattered across the street.
Sirens erupted.
Emergency responders rushed in.
Chaos spread like ripples in water.
And high above them—
Karos stood on the edge of a building.
Wind whipped through his red hair. His eyes glowed faintly, unfocused, detached.
He watched people run.
He watched alarms fail.
He watched the world react.
And he laughed again.
Not because he hated them.
But because he no longer felt part of them.
---
JOHN STELLMAN — FACE TO FACE
John arrived minutes later.
He stepped past debris, ignored shouted instructions, pushed through officers trying to secure the site.
His instincts screamed.
"This feels familiar," he muttered.
Then—
Something shifted in the air behind him.
A pressure.
A presence.
John turned.
Karos stood there suddenly, impossibly close.
A small figure.
A boy.
Blood streaked faintly from his eyes. A simple knife rested loosely in his hand—not held with intent, but curiosity.
Karos tilted his head, smiling.
"You're not scared," the boy said softly.
John didn't raise his weapon.
He didn't speak.
For the first time in his life, he felt completely exposed.
The city held its breath.
---