In the dark corners of the world, things stir when they sense power.
Somewhere, beneath the ruins of a forgotten research lab in the Arctic Circle, a pale figure stood over a frozen sarcophagus.
Dozens of screens flickered around him, displaying footage from the docks, infrared scans, voiceprint analysis.
He watched Jerry's transformation frame by frame.
"Beautiful," the figure whispered.
A technician approached nervously. "Sir... Should we inform the Syndicate?"
The figure smiled with cracked lips.
"Tell them the Abyssborn has bloomed. It's time to release the Others."
Back in Nova-City, Jerry sat on his apartment's rooftop again, hoodie pulled tight against the cold night air.
The city was quiet. Too quiet. As if it, too, was holding its breath.
Emily sat beside him again. She hadn't said much all day.
He finally broke the silence.
"Why'd you really follow me that night?"
She didn't answer right away. Then: "Because... I saw it in you. That same look my father used to have. Before he turned cold. Before the Core twisted him."
Jerry tilted his head. "You're afraid I'll become like him?"
"No," she said. "I'm afraid you'll become something even worse."
He didn't argue.
Because he was afraid of that, too.
The next day, the monsters came again.
Only this time, in pairs.
Not random. Not wild.
Hunters. Coordinated. Sent for him.
One moved through shadows, blade-like arms slicing through steel. The other controlled sound—sending sonic waves that shattered buildings.
The city center was evacuated.
Helicopters circled but didn't interfere. Too risky.
And Jerry?
He stood alone at the street's center, hood down, Core awake.
He looked at the two monsters with calm eyes.
They weren't Apex-class. Not yet.
But they were getting closer.
He cracked his knuckles. "Let's see what the Abyssborn can really do."
(To be continued...)