The waters were as calm as silence in space. Yet what appears to be stillness often hides chaos, waiting for the right moment to surface. That chaos arrived with the patrol boats—dashing across the glassy sea, thrashing and splashing as they tore through the barrier.
There were many boats on all side and one that stood at the center. The middle boat carried—no, had rescued—a man lying rigid on a stretcher as a transparent breathing mask sealed over his mouth. Ben's breathing was erratic. His body temperature had dropped dangerously low, and only a faint ember in his heart resisted extinction, struggling to keep him alive against all odds. His body was icy to the touch. In the deep waters below, it must have felt like a frozen abyss—inescapable, vulnerable, demanding a rush of resistance to survive.
The boats drew close to the boarding deck. Once stationed, the patrol guards moved swiftly and carefully, lifting Ben—who was still on the stretcher—onto their shoulders and carried him up the stone stairs. Wheel beds were abandoned; the critical state of the patient left no room for delay.
At a safe distance from the movement carrying Ben toward the hospital tents, Max stood motionless, awestruck and shaken.
"I can't believe it," he said, staring at the scene before them.
"Who is that?" Luna asked as she stepped closer, resting her hand against the cold stone fence.
Max looked at her, then at Alice standing behind them, before answering. "That's Ben. The organisation calls him the Man Without Fear…"
"Why do they call him that?" Luna asked, unsettled by the strange name.
"It's a title," Max replied, clearing his throat as he straightened.
By then, the guards had disappeared into one of the tents. The patient on the stretcher was gone.
"That title doesn't go unnoticed," Max continued. "Whatever happened here… it was probably because of the Myfecta."
Myfecta? The word echoed in Alice's mind. She didn't know what it meant, yet something about it unsettled her...intriguing her.
"And this Myfecta…?" Alice asked as she stepped out of the shadows. "What is it? Another monster that ruins people's lives?" Her voice was in harsh tone probably thinking back to the mine.
Max turned to her sharply. His expression hardened. He was pissed. "The Myfecta is NOT a monster," he snapped.
He took a breath, forcing himself to explain. "It's an endangered animal," he said firmly. "One that's been under the organization's surveillance for decades. Think of it this way—imagine a foreigner comes into your country with no understanding of its culture. He's welcomed. He sees a native animal roaming freely across open land and assumes it's neglected. He takes a photo, posts it online, and accuses the people of being careless."
Max's eyes narrowed.
"But that animal isn't a pet. It's a symbol. An identity. A living piece of the nation's culture. And that post? That ignorance? It becomes a threat."
He clenched his fist and shook it, "The Myfecta has never behaved like this before. The evidence shows it went rogue without cause. Which means something else is at play—something that altered its behavior."
Alice was stunned. She hadn't expected such a reaction, nor such conviction. What was it with this thing anyway? She thought.
Before she could respond, a soldier approached them.
"The Director wants to see you. All of you."
The change of pace hearing those words made music to Max. He nodded once, his expression unreadable, and they followed.