CHAPTER 58: DESTROYER OF WORLDS

Aphrodite pressed his glasses higher up his nose as he balanced a clipboard and a stack of folders in one arm.

He carefully maneuvered down the sterile white halls of the SHIFT facility. The fluorescent lights overhead hummed softly, their glow bouncing off every polished tile, while soft static murmurs echoed from communication panels on the walls.

He was dressed in a SHIFT cadet uniform...borrowed, of course. The oversized collar was too wide, and the sleeves had been discreetly rolled to hide his wrists.

But with his meek posture and soft steps, no one really paid him any mind. Just another forgettable intern running errands.

Perfect for someone with a skill like his.

Mindbloom activated.

All around him, thought bubbles began to rise...translucent and glowing faintly, visible only to his eyes. They came in a range of colors. Pale pink for boredom. Bright red for frustration. Leaf green for routine task focus. Aphrodite tilted his head, scanning them as he walked.

[Need to file the new registry entries before noon...]

[Did I leave my noodles on the stove again...]

[Why does Cadet 45 look like he skipped breakfast...]

It was like walking through a garden of murmurs, each petal unfolding secrets. Aphrodite skimmed past them, keeping his face neutral.

But then, he saw it...

Aphrodite followed the general at a safe distance, walking slow and quiet, clipboard tucked to his chest like a shield. The man’s boots echoed down the metallic hallway with soldierly rhythm, shoulders squared, jaw tight. His thought bubble still loomed...mauve, but darker now, rippling with anxiety.

Aphrodite took a breath, steadying himself.

’Push deeper.’

With a pulse of concentration, he tugged more at the thread connecting his mind to the general’s. The thought bubble flickered. Colors bled...mauve darkening to indigo, tinged with angry red veins. Aphrodite’s temple throbbed.

Another pulse. More pressure.

The bubble swelled... and then burst open like an overripe fruit.

Fragments swirled around him...disjointed memories, emotional echoes, half-spoken inner monologues. Aphrodite gasped as his vision blurred. Blood pricked at the edge of his nose. Still, he held on.

[They said it wouldn’t happen again. After Operation Black Chamber, the Void forces were too scattered. Too feral. But now...]

[These Threats... they’re talking. Organizing. Real coordination. Voidlings and humans side by side. That should be impossible.]

[Last time, we lost half a battalion before we even knew what hit us. They struck from within, used our own agents against us. How many of those bastards are still hiding in the cities now?]

[We called them savages. Monsters. But that was our mistake. They’re not just strong. They’re smart.]

The image that surged next was of fire and shadow. The general, younger, barely twenty. Holding a gun in shaking hands as a boy with black Void-scarred eyes reached toward him...not to kill him, but to pull him into cover.

Then a soldier from behind the general shot the boy in the head, and the general didn’t stop him.

[We never let them speak. We never tried.]

The memory dissolved.

Aphrodite stumbled slightly, catching himself against a wall. His nose was bleeding now...thick and red down to his lip...but he didn’t care. The realization hit him like a slap.

They’re scared.

Not just of the Threats’ power...but their unity. Of the idea that this time, maybe, they weren’t just fighting creatures from the dark.

They were fighting people. Working together. Sharing a purpose.

And the generals had no contingency plan for that.

Aphrodite wiped the blood off with his sleeve, dizzy but alert. He inhaled sharply, closing the Mindbloom connection to let the storm of voices fade into the background.

The real revolution isn’t fire or claws. It’s cooperation. And the old world is terrified.

Aphrodite’s lashes fluttered. He gripped the clipboard tighter.

He followed.

With a quick side-step, he turned into an adjacent hall, keeping a safe distance. The man scanned his badge. Aphrodite waited. Then, when the coast was clear, he reached for the keycard given to him through Somner’s backchannel network. It beeped green.

The lock slid open.

Click.

"Smooth." He whispered.

He adjusted his disguise, changed into a SHIFT analyst uniform he had tucked into his bag earlier, and entered. He messaged Somner as he walked:

Ditee: Just entered the archives. Gonna be a while.

Somner: Wow, you should really consider a career in espionage.

Somner: Careful not to steal more than intel. It would be a shame if someone as sneaky as you ended up stealing Hermes from me.

Ditee: Please don’t tease me while I’m working.

Somner: Mmm. So professional. Just don’t forget to breathe. And hey...

Somner: Don’t die, okay?

Aphrodite felt his heart soften just a bit. He bit his lip, fingers hovering over the reply field... then tucked the phone away. He couldn’t afford distractions now.

Inside the restricted archive room, the air was colder. A single hologram glowed on the wall. It was footage... surveillance from Haven City Jail.

He stepped closer.

On the screen: Trivia, her long, stringy hair draped like soaked threads over her gaunt shoulders, shackled to a chair. Across from her, stood Eirwyn, all smiles and soft-spoken menace.

"I’m asking nicely this time, Trivia," Eirwyn said, conjuring a flickering dagger of ice between his fingers. "What did you mean by this ’core’? What is it? What does it look like?"

Trivia gave a chuckle...a rasping sound that didn’t quite qualify as laughter. Her lips peeled back into a grin, revealing bloodied teeth.

"You wouldn’t understand," she croaked. "The core... is what was born of nothing. Yet it is made of everything."

Eirwyn’s smile twitched. "Poetry doesn’t help me."

"It’s the thread," she whispered. "The one that connects us to the Void. And when it snaps... your world burns."

He raised his hand. The screen flashed as the blade descended. The footage flickered to black.

Aphrodite blinked. His heart was pounding. He stared at the screen long after it had turned blank.

’Born of nothing... made of everything...’

Those words replayed in his mind like a haunting lullaby. The image of Hermes flashed in his memory...Hermes who had no birth records. Hermes who appeared out of nowhere. Hermes, whose powers took from others... and returned it twisted, redefined.

Aphrodite stared into the darkened screen.

’Consumes all, becomes all.’

All this time, the SHIFT generals, Eirwyn included, believed the core was a bomb. A relic. A source of destruction.

But... What if it wasn’t an object at all?

What if it was a person?

What if it was...

"Hermes." Aphrodite whispered.

His breath caught in his throat.

He took a step back, steadying himself on the console. The realization dug into him like an arrow. Hermes’ mysterious birth, his ability to become anything he consumes...

Aphrodite covered his mouth. His pulse thundered. His knees almost buckled.

He couldn’t tell Somner. Not yet. He had to be sure. But more importantly...

He had to protect Hermes and the world from what he could become. A destroyer of worlds.