A sharp crack split the air.
From Ezra's fingertips burst a bolt of purple-white lightning, cutting through the air like divine judgment. In an instant, it struck Stussy squarely in the chest.
"AAAAAAHHHHH!"
Her scream tore through the silence.
Though Stussy was a trained agent, schooled to endure pain without so much as a sound, this time was different. The agony that coursed through her body was not something human training could prepare for.
Ezra's power his spiritual pressure was not of this world.
Her nerves burned. Her thoughts shattered. It felt as though her very soul was being scorched from within.
Morgans, standing nearby, had never seen such a thing.
This was the first time he had witnessed the full, unrestrained force of Ezra D. Vale.
He stood so straight it looked painful, feathers trembling, afraid even to breathe too loudly terrified that if he so much as twitched, Ezra might turn that same lightning on him.
When the white thunder finally faded, Stussy lay sprawled across the floor, completely limp.
Her breath came shallow, consciousness flickering like a dying flame.
Ezra looked down at her, his expression devoid of sympathy. There was no pity in his eyes only judgment.
He raised his hand again. A wave of searing spiritual energy gathered around his palm, glowing like a miniature sun.
Then crack!
The energy slammed into Stussy's body.
"Ah…"
A faint cry escaped her lips, her last shred of strength breaking. Then she collapsed, falling completely unconscious.
Morgans turned his head away, grimacing.
Even for him who had reported on the most brutal scenes in history it was difficult to watch.
Too cruel, he thought. Just too cruel…
Ezra exhaled slowly, letting the heat fade from his hand.
Then, glancing down at the unconscious woman, he said coldly, "Morgans. Take her with you."
"When she wakes, tell her everything you know."
Morgans blinked in confusion.
Everything I know?
He hesitated. Did that include… the truth about Ezra's identity?
The Five Elders had made it clear no one was to reveal that secret. It was an order sealed in blood.
But standing before Ezra now, feeling the crushing weight of his presence, Morgans didn't dare question him.
Ezra caught his hesitation. His brow creased slightly.
"What's wrong, Morgans? Is there a problem?"
The reporter nearly jumped.
"N-no, no problem at all, Young Master!" he stammered, feathers puffing nervously.
"I understand completely! When she wakes, I'll tell her everything I know!"
Ezra gave a faint nod. "Good. Now go. Roger's execution takes place in two days. Until then, I don't want to be disturbed."
He turned away, his tone light yet absolute.
"As for Charlotte Linlin… I'll deal with her after Roger's execution."
Morgans bowed deeply, relief and dread mingling in his chest. "Understood, Young Master."
He quickly lifted Stussy's limp form and carried her out of the Marine branch, vanishing into the night.
By the time the moon rose high, silence blanketed the city.
Stussy's eyelashes fluttered. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
Her sapphire-blue pupils focused, vision swimming from blur to clarity. The ceiling above was unfamiliar.
"Where… where am I?" she whispered hoarsely.
Bits of memory flooded back. The fight. The pain. The lightning.
And that man the demon in human skin.
"Didn't he… knock me out?"
Her throat was dry. Even speaking made her voice rasp.
Then, from the corner of the room, came a familiar sharp voice.
"I'd suggest you call him Young Master from now on."
Stussy turned her head sharply.
Morgans sat behind a desk, wearing a pair of glasses, tapping away at a stack of papers. He barely looked up from his work editing tomorrow's headlines, ensuring every word was perfect before sending it to print.
"Morgans," she said slowly, suspicion in her tone. "What do you mean by that? Why should I call him 'Young Master'?"
The journalist paused.
He took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his beak, and sighed. "Before you ask questions… try feeling the power inside your body."
"My… power?"
Her brows furrowed. She hadn't noticed until now, but something was different.
Her strength her senses everything felt sharper, more vivid. Her heartbeat pulsed with a strange rhythm, and her body felt lighter, stronger.
"What… what is this?"
"Concentrate," Morgans said quietly. "You'll feel it. There's something new inside you a strange, burning force."
Stussy hesitated, then closed her eyes.
Within moments, warmth spread through her veins. A surge of energy gathered in her right hand intense, fierce, alive.
She gasped as a pale-white flame burst to life in her palm.
"This… this power! It's incredible!"
Her eyes widened with awe. The heat licked against her skin but didn't burn. It felt like her very soul was alight.
Morgans, however, nearly fell out of his chair.
"White flame?! Why is hers white? Mine's red!" he muttered, feathers ruffling.
Still, he quickly composed himself. It didn't matter what color it was if it came from him, it was a blessing beyond measure.
Clearing his throat, he straightened up and said solemnly, "Ahem. That power was a gift from the Young Master himself."
"...What?" Stussy blinked in disbelief.
Morgans sighed again, though a hint of pride glimmered in his eyes. He wasn't the trembling informant he once was he was someone trusted by that man now.
With a wave of his hand, he activated a small mechanism. The windows and doors sealed shut, muffling the outside world.
Now, no one could overhear what he was about to say.
Stussy watched him warily as Morgans leaned back in his chair and began to speak.
He told her everything he knew.
About Ezra. About his power. About the secret the Five Elders feared more than anything else.
Time slipped by. When the seals finally released and the windows reopened, Stussy sat frozen in place.
Her face was pale. Her pupils trembled.
So that's why...
That's why they sent me to protect him.
Her heart pounded violently in her chest.
"He's... he's actually !"
"Stussy!" Morgans snapped sharply, cutting her off. His tone carried genuine fear. "Be careful what you say!"
Stussy flinched violently, instinctively covering her mouth with both hands.
For a moment, she could almost feel Death itself brush against her throat.
If she had said another word just one
she might never have spoken again.
Her hands trembled as she lowered them. Her mind was chaos, but one thing was clear:
The world she thought she knew had just shattered.
And from its ruins, a single truth remained
Ezra D. Vale was no mere Marine.
He was something far, far greater.
_______________________
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