Chapter 3

  "The Fate of the Most Powerful"

  — So... who's this one? I often heard them talk like that. As if I wasn't there.

  — We didn't give him a name. — What are his abilities? — Hard to say. — We've only been able to test them in highly controlled environments. — But it seems he can manipulate time.

  There was a silence. — Impressive. — No other ability comes close. — Yes... but we have a problem. — How so? — His body can't handle it. — At best, he can repair small objects. — His record is a three-second time stop. — And he had to be hospitalized for over a month after that.

  They laughed. — The most annoying part, one of them continued, — is that it's impossible to prove. — We're affected too. — We thought it was teleportation at first. — But the metrics are clear. — This is the first proven temporal manipulation in human history. — Shame he's so flawed. — Hm. — Train him every day. — I don't care about his condition. — He'll get there eventually. — Time manipulation is absolute power. — The government can't pass it up. — Very well.

  I stood up. With great difficulty. Everything was spinning. — You okay? another child asked. I had blood on my face. — Yeah... — I'm fine. — Thanks.

  I lied a lot. The door opened. — Good. — Today, we're welcoming a new friend. — Be kind and welcoming.

  I saw her. Right away. A girl. Silent. Long silver hair. Azure blue eyes. They said she came from another program. That she'd been isolated since birth. That she was special. My heart skipped a beat. — Badom badom! — She's so beautiful! I shouted.

  Everyone laughed. She didn't. The children approached to play. She backed away. Like a frightened kitten. Once, she bit a boy. Everyone screamed. I thought it was... cute.

  One day, I went to talk to her. — Uh... hi. — My name is... I stopped. — Well... I don't have a name either.

  I smiled at her. And held out my hand. She looked at me. I looked at her. She bit me. It hurt. But I tried again. And again. More than anyone else. Without success.

  One day, I really tried to talk to her. Even though talking to someone mute is a bit like talking to a wall. I told her my story. — Before... — I was in a big family. — I had a little sister.

  I smiled thinking about it. — I teased her all the time. Then my voice trembled. — And then the war came. — I never saw them again.

  I wiped my eyes. — I miss my mom. She looked at me. Her eyes filled with tears. — Hey... wait. — Don't cry.

  I panicked. I didn't know what to do when someone cried for me. — Don't worry. — I'm strong, you know.

  I winked at her. — Even if I bleed a lot. She reached out. Very slowly. She touched my sleeve. I didn't move. That day, she didn't bite me.

  From that day on... She sat next to me. When I fell, she stayed. When I bled, she looked without turning away. Sometimes I did stupid things. I'd break a toy. Then repair it by rewinding time. It made my head spin. But she laughed. Well... she smiled. So it was worth it.

  I think that's when I understood. The most dangerous power wasn't mine. It was hers. Because she survived. And I... I was burning from the inside. I knew it. I'd always known it, deep down.

  I'd already stopped time for two seconds to save you once before. And despite all your efforts... I still saw those tears on your face. It was all over. Even you... you couldn't survive an entire army. Especially not in your condition. Anyway... If I had to die, might as well do it for you.

  I gathered what little I had left. No strength. No hope. Just absurd will. I did one last thing. I stopped time. So you could escape. If you exist... then you'll be proof that we existed. And that... that was enough for me. I was satisfied. Satisfied to have been by your side.

  1 second. My vision blurred. The world grew hazy, like covered in water. 2 seconds. My nose started bleeding profusely. Blood flowed without me wiping it. 3 seconds. I felt my organs giving out. One by one. As if crushed by time itself. 4 seconds. I'd never gone this far. But maybe if...

  On the verge of losing consciousness, I felt something. A presence. Time was frozen. Yet... It wasn't me. A silhouette approached. I heard it. — You've fought well. — This is the most you can do in your current state.

  10 seconds. Time was still frozen. — You're not ready yet.

  15 seconds. — Don't worry. — It will come.

  20 seconds. — After all...

  25 seconds. — You are the most powerful.

  The silhouette placed its hand on me. I no longer felt the pain. 30 seconds. Time resumed. Just before the bursts tore through the air. Just before the explosions reduced everything to silence. The silhouette... and I... We had vanished.

  I slowly regained consciousness. The pain returned before the images. Dull. Deep. Crushing. A silhouette sat beside me. A young man. Masked. You could still make out messy brown hair. He seemed... young. Maybe fifteen. — Feeling better?

  My throat burned. — What the... — Easy. His voice was calm. Too calm. — You're far from recovered. — Some of your internal organs literally burst under the pressure.

  I tried to move. Impossible. — Who... are you... I murmured, in agony.

  He hesitated. A moment too long. — Me? — Well... uh... He looked away slightly. — I'm... hum... Noah. — Yeah. Call me Noah.

  He seemed troubled. As if he wasn't used to lying. — Where are we...? — Safe. — Within an organization called NoName.

  He paused. — Don't worry, we're not exposed. — The boss is away. — He had something to handle in Nevada.

  My heart tightened. — The girl... — The one who was with me...

  My voice trembled. — Where is she? — She escaped. — Don't worry.

  He added, almost naturally: — I stopped time long enough for that.

  I stared at him. Despite the pain. Despite the fatigue. — What... — You're like me?

  My breathing quickened. — We have the same power?! — You could say that, he replied simply.

  I felt a sting of injustice. — You... — You look perfectly healthy...

  He chuckled softly. — Much better than you.

  Then his tone shifted. Sharply. — Listen to me carefully. He leaned in slightly. — About that girl you're talking about...

  A silence. — You should stay away from her.

  It wasn't a suggestion. It was a warning. I wanted to protest. But he continued before I could speak. — That girl...

  His voice was grave. Almost weary. — Will be your downfall.

  The door to the room burst open. A man entered. Broad. Very broad. Shoulders like wardrobes, arms covered in useless muscle, a cold gaze empty of deep thought. He was chewing something. Probably gum. Or a wrong turn in life. — Who you talking to, kid? — Uh... Noah... — Who?

  I turned. No one. — But... he was there...

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The man narrowed his eyes. — I don't know who you were talking to, kid, — but what interests me is why there's a bloody kid in the guest room. He crossed his arms. — Right outside my place. — Uh... I... the organization... NoName... — What organization? — Who sent you, kid? — Uh... the boss... — Well... Nevada... — I don't really know...

  He stared at me for a long time. Silence. Then he pulled out a cigarette. Lit it. — Mind if I smoke, kid?

  The cigarette was already in his mouth. — Uh... no... (He clearly didn't wait for my answer.) He blew a huge cloud of smoke. — So... — The boss sent you. — Uh... no... it was Noah... well... — I don't even know what I'm doing here, sorry sir...

  He shrugged. — It's okay, kid. — If you're here, it's probably part of his plan. — Uh... — You... you believe me?

  He looked me up and down. Then took a long drag. — Do I look like someone who thinks? He blew the smoke straight ahead. — All I know is if the boss planned it... — it's okay.

  He stubbed his cigarette on the floor. — Simple.

  I looked at him. For a long time. This guy's completely out of it, I thought. But strangely... It was maybe the first time in a long while that I felt a little safe. — Alright, kid. — Tell me everything.

  I took a deep breath. I told him everything. The war. The tests. The blood. My friend. The stopped time. The escape. The disappearance. I told him about the fear. The pain. The sound of bullets. That emptiness when you realize you're going to die. I talked for a long time. A very long time.

  —

  — Hey, sir? No answer. — Sir?

  He was snoring. Mouth open. Head tilted back. A half-burned cigarette between his fingers. — ... — HEY! — Huh? — What? — Yeah, yeah... terrible story, buddy.

  He scratched his neck. — You know... tragic stories aren't really my thing. He looked at me seriously. — Your girl... — Was she hot at least? — But... what?! — Nah, 'cause wait, I gotta tell you...

  And then... He launched into it. An avalanche. He told me about his "adventures." His "encounters." This girl. Then another. Then yet another. Useless details. Dubious comparisons. Gross laughs. A new cigarette every hour. A new story with every cigarette. It wasn't just boring. It was worse. It was deadly dull. No... It was more exhausting than my training.

  At some point, my eyelids grew heavy. Very heavy. I drifted off.

  —

  When I fell asleep, everything was calm. The room smelled of cold tobacco. And strangely... safety.

  —

  The man smiled as he watched me sleep. He leaned in slightly. And murmured, so low no one else could hear: — I heard everything, little one. He took one last drag. — But kids your age... — should sleep with two pillows.

  He stubbed the cigarette. — You're too young to bear the consequences of adults' bullshit. He pulled the blanket over me. — Sweet dreams, kid.

  —

  And for the first time in a long while... I slept without nightmares.

  The man gently closed the door. Lighting another cigarette, he made a call. No, it's not a mole... — You told me no surveillance camera caught his arrival? Silence settled. A man in uniform, standing by the wall, nodded. — None, sir. — Not at the entrance, not in the hallways. — As if he'd never crossed the doors.

  The burly man stood still. Then he growled, low, almost to himself. — Hmm... He slowly stubbed his cigarette. — One more thing. — Launch a discreet investigation on a certain "Noah."

  The soldier frowned. — Noah, sir? — Yeah. — I don't know who it is. — But this guy knows way too much.

  He straightened up. His frame seemed even more imposing in the dim light. — We can't afford to put the organization at risk. — Not after what we've seen.

  Another soldier hesitated. — Sir... — You think he's a threat?

  The giant's gaze hardened. — I think we can't afford to be naive anymore. He paused. Then his voice changed. Deeper. Heavier. — We have to make sure no child ever... He clenched his fists. — No. — No living being ever goes through that hell again.

  No one replied. Because no one had the courage. His gaze was no longer that of a cool 6'5" brute. It was that of a man who had realized too late and refused to let it happen again. — Alert the teams. — Tighten security around the kid.

  He turned to the door. — And if this Noah shows up again... — I want to be the first to know.

  He left the room. In the hallway, his steps echoed heavily. But in the bedroom, behind the closed door, a child slept peacefully. Without knowing that someone had just decided to become his shield.

  A few days later West Highland Line — Scotland Direction: Glasgow

  The train glided silently through misty landscapes. The nameless man sat alone, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. He was reading the Bible. Calm. Focused. He turned a page, then glanced up slightly. — Do you know the story of Noah?

  Across from him, a masked brown-haired boy of about fifteen sat. He hadn't been there seconds earlier. The carriage was frozen. Passengers motionless. The world suspended. — That man, guided by God, saved a handful of the chosen... — While the rest was purified by the flood.

  He brought the cup to his lips, paused, then set it down gently. — What the story doesn't say, he continued, — is that the flood took women and children.

  A silence. — No... — They weren't all guilty.

  He closed the book. — Believers draw their own conclusions. — But me, do you know what I see? He crossed his legs elegantly. — Even God couldn't protect everyone from His own wrath.

  His gaze settled on the boy. — You remind me of Noah. — Full of faith. — Full of kindness.

  A faint smile. — Convinced he's acting for good. — When he was merely a puppet of the fate God chose for him.

  He tilted his head. — Maybe that's why you chose to call yourself "Noah."

  Noah clenched his fists. The nameless man looked around, noting the obvious. Time was frozen. He set down his cup. — What brings you here? he asked calmly. — What exactly are you plotting? Noah shot back. — Why expose the program?

  His voice trembled with anger. — You knew it would trigger a massacre. — Did I? the nameless man replied with mock surprise. — And yet...

  He smiled. — Some children survived, didn't they? He tilted his head. — How many did you save? — Wait... let me guess.

  A step toward him. — A dozen? He raised an eyebrow. — For someone who can bend time to his will... — That seems few.

  He stepped closer. — Or perhaps... — Are you discovering that your power has limits?

  Noah snapped. — Coming from a man who abandoned his role, — I'm surprised to hear you spew so much bullshit.

  The nameless man sighed. Satisfied. Then his smile faded. His gaze darkened. — Don't push your luck, kid. — Or I'll have to give you a little lesson.

  Noah's eyes flashed. — Oh yeah? — Try it.

  He stepped forward. — Throw the first punch. — If you dare.

  —

  The nameless man was hurled to the back of the carriage. Sudden violence. Noah advanced, determined. His hand cracked. Fissures spread through the space around him— tears revealing stars, the universe itself. Yes. It was spacetime breaking.

  The nameless man burst out laughing. — He really did it...

  Noah was hurled in turn. Even more violently. He crashed through the frozen train's window. The nameless man stood. He adjusted his tie. Then stepped out of the carriage. Not by flying. But by walking. Using the suspended glass shards as staircase steps. With elegance.

  —

  They were above the Glenfinnan Viaduct. The landscape immense. Majestic. Fitting for myths. — Well, well... — Playing apprentice sorcerer, young hero?

  He surveyed the scene. — The place matches your arrogance.

  Noah lunged at him. With all his power. Each blow tore reality. The air screamed. Time splintered. But the nameless man... Dodged. Small steps. Slow movements. Almost lazy. — Such fervor... — Such energy...

  He closed in while dodging. — Tell me... — Why didn't you eliminate that girl as she escaped?

  Noah gritted his teeth. — You know full well that "he" will die by her hand.

  A cruel smile. — Don't tell me you couldn't? — I'm not an assassin! Noah shouted. — I have no lessons to take from you!

  The nameless man drew very close. — Look at you. — So desperate.

  He raised his hand. — Do you really think you saved those twelve children by choice? — Do you think that girl was there by accident? — That your delay was just a mistake?

  He advanced further. — Let me teach you a lesson. He smiled. — No matter what you do... — You won't break the wheel of fate.

  A flick. — You're like Noah. — Slave to a greater entity.

  Noah was hurled. Through the mountain. Rock cracked under the impact. Before losing consciousness, Noah murmured: — I'll make it...

  —

  Time resumed. A gust swept through the carriage. Passengers startled. The nameless man was back in his seat. He feigned surprise. A stewardess rushed over. — Ladies and gentlemen, — it seems we've encountered a minor technical issue. — Please evacuate to the next carriage.

  The man, hair disheveled, cast one last glance out the window. In the distance... A cracked mountain. He smiled. Then calmly followed the crowd.

  Once in Glasgow, the nameless man stepped off the train. The station was alive. Noisy. Ordinary. He walked aimlessly for a moment, then slowed. His gaze lost in the void. A monologue imposed itself.

  —

  In the Bible... Jesus shared his wine with twelve apostles. He gave an almost imperceptible smile. The word "apostle" means: sent by God. He looked up at the overcast sky. You saved twelve children, Noah. One more step. But if we push the thought...

  He pulled the small Bible from his pocket—the one he'd read on the train. He flipped through it without really reading. If the apostles were sent by God... and if Jesus was the son of God... He stopped. Then... wasn't he himself an apostle?

  A light breath escaped his lips. The thirteenth. He closed the book. In that case...

  His gaze darkened. Which of those two children you saved at the last second... was the thirteenth? The boy with time's power, or the girl born to survive everything. The martyr... or the heir.

  He resumed walking.

  —

  At the station exit, he hailed a taxi. — Where to, sir? He gave an address. A grand house. A private estate. Property of a wealthy Scottish earl. The taxi pulled away. Through the window, the city receded. — Funny thing, fate, he murmured to himself. — It loves symbols.

  He smiled. A calm smile. Almost tender. — And it loves repeating the same stories...

  The vehicle stopped before massive gates. The nameless man got out, paid, then looked up at the manor. Grand. Ancient. Steeped in history. He paused for a moment. — Anyway, Noah... — I can't keep an eye on you indefinitely.

  A breath. — I'll have to take measures. His gaze hardened. — What irony... — Among the children you saved, — you chose one of the few capable of stopping you.

  He gave a smile. Cold. Calculated. He crossed the gate. And the door closed behind him. — You're the doctor? — Yes, ma'am. — ID, please. — Of course.

  He calmly handed over a card. — Hmm... — Doctor Williams Campbell... that's right? — Exactly. He gave a polite smile. — I'm proud of my Scottish roots.

  No reaction. A hurried glance. — Very well. — Follow me. — Mr. Duncan expects your complete discretion. — Of course.

  —

  — MR. DUNCAN, — the doctor has arrived! — Send him in.

  —

  The room wasn't a real medical suite. Everything had been improvised in urgency. Stained sheets. Old equipment. The smell of blood and antiseptic. On the bed... a child. Dying. Riddled with bullets. Each breath seemed it could be the last. — Poor child... murmured Mr. Duncan. An old, weary man. Hunched back. Cane in hand. — I found her on my doorstep two weeks ago. — I couldn't let her die.

  He shook his head slowly. — I can't alert the authorities. — I no longer trust this government. A sigh. — Since the arrest of the British Prime Minister... — I don't know where the world's heading.

  He stared at the child. — But such a young girl in this state... — What a tragedy...

  The nameless man stepped forward. — I understand, sir. — I'll do my best.

  He bowed slightly. — Doctor Williams Campbell. — Pleased to meet you. He extended his hand. The old man ignored it. — Skip the pompous introductions, — and please...

  His voice trembled. — Save this child.

  He turned away, leaning on his cane. — I'll rest. — This world is really going to hell...

  The door closed slowly.

  —

  Silence. The nameless man stared at the child. And then... a thought struck him. Lightning-fast. Structured. Relentless. Subject #333 Name: Zoé Kovàcs Origin: Hungary Age: 9 Sole survivor of a hostage crisis. Quietly extradited at age five. Integrated into Project Zero. Survivor of the massacre during program shutdown. Officially classified ability: teleportation. Correction. Actual ability: space manipulation. Creation of gravitational singularities. Black hole.

  —

  The nameless man swallowed. Very discreetly. For the first time in a long while... what he saw before him wasn't a variable. But a real threat. — So here it is... he barely murmured. — One of the few capable of opposing time manipulation.

  He gently placed his hand on the bed's edge. — Really, Noah... — you had a knack for picking the worst survivors.

  The child's heart still beat. Weakly. But enough.

  Somewhere in the United States. The burly man sat across from me, arms crossed, looking more focused than ever. — One more game. — But you'll lose again. — You don't understand chess, why bother? — HAHAHA! — Perseverance, young man! — No. — You're just bad. — You're nothing but a brainless brute. — Hey! — Not between us, kid. — Call me Mike.

  (Damn... no name more cliché. It was literally written on his face.) — Come on, one mo—

  —

  A body collapsed in the middle of the cafeteria. A dull thud. A masked brown-haired teenager lay on the floor. Injured. Breathing shallow. He tried to stand, with difficulty. Silence fell. No one had seen him arrive. No one had felt him. — Boss!

  Voices erupted. — You're back from Nevada?! — What happened to you?

  I jumped up. — But that's No— The boy looked up and stared at me. He slowly shook his head. No. I fell silent.

  Around him, NoName members gathered, worried. Some armed. Others simply tense. He finally stood. — Gather everyone.

  His voice was calm. But tired. — Someone's trying to pin this on us.

  A murmur spread through the room. Mike leaned toward me. — That man... — He's the boss.

  I blinked. — Don't let his age fool you. — He deserves all our respect.

  He crossed his arms. — He's the one who brought us together. — Who gave hope back to the people. — By exposing political corruption. — By shaking entire governments.

  I understood then. Slowly. The teenager who saved my life. The one who introduced himself as Noah. The one who manipulated time like me. Wasn't just a member. He was NoName. The leader.

  From the looks around him, it seemed I was the only one who knew the truth about his powers. And there... I truly understood. It wasn't chance that I survived. My fate had changed. It wasn't the end. It was the beginning. The beginning of an adventure where I'd have to oppose powers far beyond me. Because the wounded teen I saw before me... was undeniably... the most powerful.

  To be continued...