—This isn't just a hideout —Ikar said, studying the rails embedded in the ground and the markings along the walls—. It's a network.—An old one —Enzo replied—. But very well designed.
They reached a wide, circular chamber where the tunnel branched out in multiple directions like roots beneath the earth. At the center stood an improvised console: layered screens, exposed cables, repurposed military modules, and a power core pulsing with a steady vibration.
Enzo stepped closer and ran his hand over the keyboard.
The screens came alive.
Three-dimensional maps of the city unfolded, revealing underground layers that didn't exist in any official records. Lines of light traced through the tunnels, connecting distant points like a hidden nervous system.
Silyan let out a low whistle, impressed.
—Since when has all this existed?
—For decades —Enzo answered—. Forgotten infrastructure. Old evacuation projects, rapid transit lines, maintenance routes that were never fully shut down. You know how it is in these countries—corruption always finds a way. You could say this was a small part of a much larger money-laundering operation by someone important.
Ikar stepped closer, studying the data.
—And you activated it?
—I modified it a bit and woke it up —Enzo corrected—. The network was already there. It just needed someone who knew how to talk to it.
His fingers moved quickly—commands, calculations, alternate routes. The console responded instantly.
On one of the screens, a red dot marked their current location. Around it, multiple signals began to blink.
—They're scanning the area —Enzo said—. Drones, thermal sensors, electromagnetic sweeps.
—How much time do we have? —Ikar asked.
—Not much —Enzo replied without looking at them—. But it doesn't matter.
He pressed one final key.
The ground vibrated.
A deep sound echoed through the tunnels, like a mechanical beast awakening. A few meters away, a metal platform rose from the floor, locking into place with surgical precision. It didn't resemble a conventional vehicle—it was more like a compact, aerodynamic module, windowless.
—What is that? —Silyan asked.
—Underground rapid transport —Enzo said—. Variable speed, no external signal, no fixed route. By the time they try to track us, we won't be anywhere near here.
Ikar looked at him, serious.
—Where does it take us?
Enzo paused for a second before answering.
—Far from here —he said—. Far enough.
The platform opened with a hiss. The interior glowed with a clean, almost clinical white light.
Silyan stepped in first.
—I hope this isn't another one of your bets —he muttered.
Ikar climbed in last. The console and maps began shutting down, and a beeping sound filled the air.
—What's that? —Ikar asked.
—Oh, that's the self-destruct command. Can't leave any evidence behind.
Enzo sealed the hatch. The module dropped violently, then shot forward through the tunnel, swallowed by darkness. Lights went out one by one, erasing their trail.
—Tell me something, Silyan —Ikar said without stopping—. Is there any other surprise I should know about? Or someone else you "forgot to mention"?
Silyan let out a short nasal laugh.
—You mean Dante?
Ikar froze.
He slowly turned his head.
—…Dante? —he repeated—. That Dante?
Silyan nodded once, without drama.
—He's exactly where we're headed.
Enzo glanced at them over his shoulder.
—I knew that was going to be awkward.
—Since when? —Ikar asked, moving again—. Because the last time I heard about him…
—It didn't end well —Silyan finished—. For anyone.
—And now what? —Ikar said—. I assume you know where he is.
—Not exactly… well, something like that —Silyan replied—. You don't just find Dante by accident.
—Let's just say he found a safe place before we did —Enzo added.
Ikar frowned.
—That doesn't reassure me.
—It should —Silyan said—. You'll be surprised when you see him.
—I don't usually get along with surprises —Ikar replied.
Silyan glanced at him.
—I never said it would be a good surprise.
—If it helps —Enzo added—, when Silyan told me about Dante, he didn't give me many details either.
—That doesn't help —Ikar said—. That confirms a pattern.
Silyan crossed his arms, looking around.
—We couldn't go just anywhere —he said—. After today, all our safehouses are compromised. And the ones that aren't… will be soon.
Ikar looked straight at him.
—Does Dante know about Hera?
For the first time since they escaped, Silyan held his gaze.
—Something. I told him we were coming, but not why. Ikar… Dante isn't the person you remember anymore.
Ikar clenched his fists.
—None of us are.
He took a deep breath and moved forward.
As he crossed the threshold, a single thought cut through his mind:
If Dante was involved… then this was far bigger than he had imagined.
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two days after the attack on Ikar's house.
The airport greeted them with constant noise—a mix of distant engines, metallic announcements, and footsteps that didn't seem to lead anywhere in particular. The air was cold, recycled, carrying that undefined smell somewhere between stale coffee and disinfectant that made it impossible to tell what country they were in… except for the language of the announcements and the flags hanging above the entrances.
Silyan walked a few steps ahead, stretching his neck as if he still expected someone to appear behind them.
They had passed through immigration without any real delay: a quick glance, a dry stamp, and next.
Ikar couldn't help but look over his shoulder once they were on the other side.
—That was too easy.
Enzo smiled, tired but satisfied.
—Because it wasn't improvised.
Silyan let out a short laugh.
—"Not improvised," he says. Like you weren't sweating when the guy checked your passport.
—That was acting —Enzo shot back—. If you don't look nervous, they get suspicious. If you look too calm, they get suspicious too.
Ikar lowered his voice.
—Those documents… they weren't real.
—Of course they weren't —Enzo replied—. But they existed before I printed them.
Ikar looked at him.
—What did you do?
—The usual —Enzo said with a shrug—. Immigration databases, civil records, a couple systems that shouldn't even communicate… and done. Three clean identities, with enough history to avoid raising flags.
—And the visas? —Silyan asked—. That's usually where idiots get caught.
—Approved weeks ago —Enzo replied—. Nobody just knew it yet.
Silyan shook his head.
—You're insane.
—Thanks.
Ikar frowned.
—So we just walked out like nothing happened?
—Exactly —Enzo said—. No running, no forcing checkpoints, no agents following us down the hallways. When someone checks the cameras, they'll see three bored guys getting off a plane. That's it.
—And if someone cross-checks data? —Ikar insisted.
Enzo glanced at him.
—Then they'll see you left legally. That you bought overpriced coffee, complained about airport Wi-Fi, and that your flight was terrible.
—I can confirm that last part —Silyan said with a grin.
Enzo yawned, dragging a backpack that clearly hadn't been unpacked in years.
—The worst part wasn't the flight —Ikar said—. It was the food. That crap made me throw up halfway through the trip.
Silyan let out a dry laugh.
—That's because you mixed chicken with something that clearly wasn't chicken —Enzo replied—. I stuck to the rice.
—That rice tasted like wet cardboard —Silyan said.
—But it didn't make me throw up.
Unbothered by the conversation, Ikar slowed his pace, falling behind. He wasn't looking at signs, stores, or the people walking past with luggage and expectations. His eyes were fixed on his phone screen.
An old model. Thick. Small screen, scratched at one corner. A Nokia that seemed to survive more out of stubbornness than technology.
The phone vibrated again.
LIVIA — incoming call.
Ikar clenched his jaw and rejected the call without stopping. A few seconds later, it vibrated again.
Lívia.
He stopped near a column. Turned the phone in his hand as if considering snapping it in half… but he knew it was the only thing he had left from the life he had built over the past months. Instead, he navigated the menu clumsily. His fingers were slower than usual.
Block number. Confirm.
The vibration stopped.
He exhaled slowly.
He didn't notice that, a few meters away, a group of people had gathered in front of a large screen hanging above a café. There were murmurs—tones different from the usual airport noise.
Silyan noticed.
—…Hey —he said quietly.
Enzo turned his head.
On the screen, the logo of an international news network filled the lower corner. The image showed a destroyed structure, smoke still rising, cameras shaking.
"BREAKING NEWS."
Silyan narrowed his eyes.
—No way…
The audio barely cut through the ambient noise, but it was enough.
—…confirmed minutes ago… the World Guardians have been found dead…
Enzo tilted his head, attentive.
—Did you hear that?
—Yeah. Sounds impossible.
—…authorities have not released an official statement… perpetrators unknown…
Silyan frowned—not in surprise, but in calculation.
—That's strange. I thought they were the strongest heroes in the world. If they got taken out like that… maybe they weren't as strong as they claimed.
Enzo nodded slowly.
—Maybe… or maybe there is someone strong enough to take them down.
—If that were the case, that person would be dead too —Silyan said, pointing at the screen.
Around them, people reacted dramatically: hands over mouths, phones raised, unanswered questions. To them, it was a tragedy.
Ikar rejoined them just as the image switched to a map.
—What happened? —he asked.
—Nothing you'll find in tourist brochures —Silyan replied, walking again.
There were a few seconds of silence as they moved through the crowd.
—Alright —Ikar finally said, eyes forward—. Then let's go find Dante.