Before Charles could even process what had just happened, the woman stepped forward, faster than his eyes could follow. Her hand struck the side of his neck—sharp, precise, and merciless. His vision blurred, the world spun, and darkness swallowed him whole.
When Charles finally regained consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the cold. The air smelled damp, metallic, and unfamiliar. He pushed himself upright, groaning, his head still heavy from the blow.
His eyes adjusted slowly to the dimly lit room. Concrete walls. A flickering overhead light. And in front of him—two figures.
One was the same woman from before, her sharp gaze piercing through him like knives. The other stood beside her, taller, wearing a black coat and carved into a permanent, unsettling grim, on a white plain mask .The painted smile never changed, but the aura the masked man gave off was suffocating, as if he was silently laughing at Charles's confusion.
Charles's throat was dry. "W–Where am I…?"
The woman crossed her arms, glaring. "You really are clueless, huh?" She stepped closer, her voice sharp enough to cut. "That little stunt back at your apartment—your lie was terrible. They would've killed you on the spot, dumbass."
Charles flinched at her words. "Lie? What are you talking about? I don't even—"
"Don't play stupid!" she snapped, slamming her hand against the wall beside his head. The sound echoed in the room, making him freeze. Her face was inches from his now, her eyes burning with frustration.
"Why didn't you use your Zenith?"
"My… what?" Charles stammered, his pulse quickening.
The woman stared at him like he'd just grown another head. 'Don't tell me you don't know what a Zenith is.'
Charles's mind raced. The word meant nothing to him, but the way she said it—like it was something obvious, something vital—only made the dread in his chest grow heavier.
"What the hell is a Zenith…?" he whispered, more to himself than to her.
The masked man chuckled softly behind the grin carved into his mask, the sound low and chilling. The air in the room grew thick, and Charles realized—whatever a Zenith was, his life had already been pulled into a world where the answer would change everything.
The masked man said nothing at first. Instead, he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek black phone. His gloved fingers tapped across the screen in silence.
A faint beep echoed in the room, and then a cold, mechanical voice spilled out from the phone's text-to-speech function.
"There exists a strand of DNA within the human genome that appears… useless. For centuries, scientists dismissed it as junk—something left over from evolution with no real function. At least, that's what we believed."
The robotic voice droned on, but every word carried weight, echoing in the stillness of the room. Charles felt his chest tighten, a creeping sense of dread growing with each sentence.
"In 1925, a team of award-winning scientists uncovered the truth during a top-secret study. Their findings were immediately classified, hidden away from the public eye. Only a handful of individuals within the highest levels of government were ever allowed to know what they had found."
The masked man tilted his head slightly as the phone continued to speak, the grin carved into his mask reflecting the dim light.
"What they discovered was extraordinary: when this dormant genome is triggered using a specialized device—codenamed the Trigger—a person can awaken a supernatural force within themselves. This force was given a name… Zenith Energy."
Charles's pulse quickened. Zenith. That same word the woman had thrown at him earlier.
The voice continued, steady and emotionless, but the content felt like it was tearing open an unseen curtain between Charles and a world he was never meant to glimpse.
"An individual who gains access to Zenith Energy can accomplish feats that defy every known law of science. Superhuman strength, speed, perception—abilities limited only by the depth of their connection. And that connection is no mere trick of biology. A Zenith gives the user a word… which is tied directly to the user's soul."
The room fell silent when the phone stopped speaking, the mechanical voice fading into an eerie stillness.
Charles's breath was uneven, his thoughts spinning in chaos. His soul? Superhuman powers? A secret hidden since 1925? It all sounded insane, like something ripped out of a comic book—yet here he was, staring at a masked man and a woman who had just killed someone like it was nothing.
The masked man lowered his phone slowly, the permanent grin of his mask staring back at Charles like it knew more than it let on. The woman crossed her arms, her eyes sharp and unyielding, as if silently demanding an answer Charles didn't have.
Charles swallowed hard. His voice cracked when he finally spoke.
"…What the hell does any of this have to do with me?"