Chapter 71

HENCHMEN MANIFESTED

Annie forced brightness into her voice as she stepped back into the living room. “How’s everyone doing? Still enjoying the Barkforce?”

She stopped mid-sentence. One of the aliens, the one with scales that shimmered like oil on water, held her tablet. The others huddled close, multiple eyes and sensory organs focused on the screen. But it wasn’t the show playing. The translation app was open, fragments of broken text visible as they passed it between them.

“...means they hunt us for... credits?” the scale-shimmer one said, voice like coins rattling in a jar.

Annie leaned in to read the translation on the tablet screen as the blue-gilled alien made a harmonious trill. The text appeared: “The scary one. He choose not to... to show what happened to us. To prevent war.”

Annie’s stomach dropped. “Wait, you guys could hear us?”

She watched the screen as the scale-shimmer one responded patiently, his words appearing in broken English below his alien script. “Human species is very young. Most Council races have enhanced senses. Through evolution or genetic enhancements.” He tapped where his ear might be if he had human anatomy. “Nearly half of us here have... superior hearing.”

The multi-limbed alien made what might have been a chuckle, moving pieces on a makeshift game board. Annie caught his translated words on the tablet: “We also turned down entertainment program. Used device’s listening function. Pointed at kitchen.”

“You used the tablet’s microphone to...” Annie blinked. “That’s actually pretty smart.”

“We are not animals,” the rock-skinned one rumbled, though his tone was gentler than before. “We understand... pieces. The woman with sharp voice. She explained before. About the System. About what these mean.” He gestured at empty air, presumably at his status screen.

Annie found herself checking the screen less frequently now, starting to pick up the rhythm of their broken English. Some of them had picked up enough to get by in just a handful of conversations. Though perhaps some of them already knew fragments from interacting with humans before them.

The gilled one tilted his head, eyes wide with that same wonder he’d shown toward Chilli. “We have the human virus now? The power sickness?”

“It’s not really a—” Annie started, then stopped. “Yeah, okay. Close enough.”

“It makes us stronger,” the scale-shimmer one said, not a question but seeking confirmation. “Smarter. Like superhumans. Like you.”

Annie moved closer, sitting cross-legged on the floor so she wasn’t towering over them. Most were still sitting or lying down, too weak to stand for long. “That’s the idea, yeah. Takes time though.”

“And if we go home,” the rock-alien said slowly, “we might spread it. To our peoples.”

The weight of that statement hung in the air. Annie opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “We don’t actually know if—”

“The scary one,” interrupted the multi-limbed alien. “Is he your leader?”

Annie huffed. “Alexander? Nah, he’s the sidekick.”

The aliens exchanged confused looks. The translation app flickered, processing.

“Sid... kick?” the gilled one tried.

“Yeah, sidekick.” Annie fought to keep her face straight. “It means, uh, leader. Big boss. Very important title on Earth.”

The rock-alien nodded solemnly. “We should address him as such. Show respect.”

“Definitely,” Annie said, her grin threatening to break free. “Every chance you get. He loves it.”

The scale-shimmer one shifted, producing a sound like wind chimes. “We talked. All of us. Last night. Today. And now, when you were... discussing our danger.”

Annie tensed slightly. She barely glanced at the tablet now, understanding their cadence.

“We want to go home,” the alien continued. “All of us.”

The words hit Annie like a slap. They wanted to return even with all the danger that would bring their people?

“But not to hide,” the gilled one added quickly. “To bring this gift. This power. To help our peoples become strong like superhumans.”

“The ones who hurt us,” the rock-alien rumbled, and Annie could hear old fear under the words, “they were bad humans who wanted us to make special powers for stealing. But you saved us. You are strong without stealing. Or hurting.”

Annie blinked rapidly, not sure how to process this.

“We cannot go home now,” the scale-shimmer one continued practically. “We understand. You are hunted. Must relocate. Must hide.” He straightened as much as his injuries allowed. “We will help. To repay debt. To learn. When time comes, when it is safe, you send us home.”

“You want to help us?” Annie’s voice came out smaller than intended.

“The woman healer tends our wounds,” the rock-alien said. “The one with grand presence brings food. The scary one, the sidekick, made choice to protect your peoples and ours from war, even though it brings you all danger. And you...” He pointed at Annie with one thick finger. “You came into the dark place and brought us to light.”

The gilled one trilled agreement. “Also, your bird is magnificent.”

“Pretty bird!” Chilli squawked from his cage.

Annie sat there, stunned, as the implications hit her. Then her face split into a massive grin. “Holy shit. You guys are volunteering to—” She shot to her feet, bouncing on her toes. “Grimnir has its first henchmen!”

The aliens looked at each other, confused.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Hench... men?” the scale-shimmer one tried.

“It means, uh, loyal allies! Helpers! Part of the team!” Annie was practically vibrating with excitement. “This is so cool! Wait until I tell—” She paused. “Actually, let’s keep the sidekick thing between us for now. It’ll be funnier when he figures it out.”

The multi-limbed alien made what might have been a laugh. “You are not like the ones who took us.”

“Damn right we’re not.” Annie’s grin softened slightly. “We’re the ones who are gonna burn their whole world down. But first...” She glanced toward where Talia had disappeared upstairs. “We gotta pack. You guys really think you can help? Some of you can barely stand.”

“We stand enough,” the rock-alien said firmly. “We carry what we can. We learn your language. We grow strong.” He paused. “And when we return home, we remember who saved us.”

Annie felt something warm bloom in her chest. It wasn’t just gratitude or relief. It was the sudden understanding that they weren’t just saving victims anymore. They were building something. Maybe something bigger than any of them realized.

“Alright then,” she said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get you guys ready to move. But first, important question. That episode where the corgi figured out the mailman was a demon? Totally called it, right?”

The gilled one made that harmonious trill again, all six eyes brightening. “The signs were obvious! The irregular schedule! The suspicious packages!”

“Right?” Annie flopped down beside them again. “And don’t get me started on the squeaky toy conspiracy episode.”

As the aliens eagerly began discussing Earth entertainment with broken but enthusiastic English, Annie’s mind raced with possibilities. Alien henchmen. Alexander was going to flip when he found out.

But not as much as when they started calling him sidekick.

Talia sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the golden vial resting in her open palms. The serum caught the late afternoon light filtering through the curtains, casting amber reflections across her fingers. Two million credits worth of possibility. Or poison. Or both.

She’d locked the door, more for the symbolism than actual privacy. This decision required absolute focus, the kind that came only in solitude.

The System notification still hovered at the edge of her vision, patient and insistent. Third power slot unlocked. All she had to do was inject the serum and let chance decide her future.

Except Talia Kim had never believed in leaving things to chance.

She closed her eyes, letting her breathing slow. The vial was warm against her skin, almost alive with potential. Every superhuman who’d ever taken the serum described the moment differently. Some said it felt like drowning. Others like being struck by lightning. A few claimed they heard music, or saw colors that didn’t exist. Most described it as dying.

But they all agreed on one thing: in that moment of transformation, something fundamental about them shaped what emerged.

The de Castillos had proven it was possible to influence the outcome. Generations of barrier abilities, each one slightly different but following the same theme. After the first of them had cracked the secret, the family had turned it into tradition in under a decade. The Delvanes with their flight and enhanced physiques. The Ferretti family in Italy, three generations of Terrakinesis. The Volkov line in Russia all successfully developed teleportation powers and now ran an interstellar transport empire.

Will shaped power. Desire shaped destiny.

She’d spent the last hour reviewing everything she could find. Most families kept their methods secret, treating them like trade formulas or state secrets. But the Nakamura twins had published a paper after their success. Six months of synchronized meditation before their injections, breathing as one mind until they both manifested Sympathy, giving them the ability to transfer anything to the other, from items and wounds and sensations, to even abstract things that should not be possible. The only documented case of deliberate power selection she could verify.

Talia opened her eyes and stared at the vial.

What did she desire?

The obvious answer was strength. The ability to stand beside Alexander and Annie and Augustus without being the weak link. To face whatever the System threw at them without needing protection. But that was fear talking, not perfection.

She thought about her existing powers. Cognitive Resonance let her instantly see connections, patterns and weaknesses with perfect clarity, so long as she herself already possessed the knowledge to understand. Mind Palace gave her a space to process that information, to step outside normal time and think. They were observer’s powers. Analyst’s tools.

Perfect for support. Terrible for combat.

As the others grew stronger, faster, more durable, the gap would only widen. Tier 2 ascension made superhumans resistant to conventional weapons. By Tier 3, they could shrug off military ordnance. Her rifle would become a prop. Her blade a mere decoration.

Unless she evolved. Other superhumans could wield traditional weapons, enhanced with their powers and Will.

She lifted the vial to eye level, watching the liquid shift. What she needed wasn’t raw power. It was synergy. Completion. Something that would transform her analytical abilities into direct action.

The thought had been growing since she’d unlocked the third slot. What if she could make her insights tangible? Not just see the weakness in an enemy’s stance, but reach out and make it real? Not just understand the optimal path for Annie’s attack, but somehow grant it to her?

Manifest. To make real. To bring into being.

The word resonated in her mind like a struck bell.

If she could manifest what she understood, project what she analyzed, then every observation became a weapon. Every insight a gift she could bestow. She could touch an enemy and make their flaws critical. Touch an ally and optimize their actions.

And perhaps, one day, when she’d grown strong enough, she could bring others into her Mind Palace. Make that space real enough for teammates to experience the way she already did. Imagine pulling the entire team into accelerated time, letting them plan and prepare while the world stood still.

The thought sent shivers down her spine.

She considered using her Mind Palace now, but immediately discarded the idea. The drain would be too much, disrupting the process before it truly began. What she needed was to find peace with her new path, without exhausting herself, and without repeatedly breaking the flow.

But wanting wasn’t enough. The Nakamura twins had taken six months. Whatever effort the de Castillos had invested in their first breakthrough must have been enormous. She had days at most.

Three days, she decided. Three days of meditation, visualization, and absolute focus. Every free moment spent reinforcing the concept, building it in her mind until it was more real than the floor beneath her. She would eat, sleep, and breathe the idea of manifestation until her Will recognized no other possibility.

It was a gamble. If she was wrong about how the serum worked, she might waste her only chance at a third power. Might manifest something useless or actively harmful. The Nakamura paper had mentioned that all others who had attempted their method had failed. Those who failed got random powers, or worse, powers that actively fought against their intentions. They broke their Dreams by breaking the fundamental nature of their own desires.

But Talia had built her entire life on calculated risks and perfect execution. This would be no different.

The message to Star Titan had been sent earlier through encrypted channels. The sketch from the director’s memories, the location of his brother, all of it delivered with as much detail as she could offer. By now he’d either dismissed it as a hoax or was already moving to investigate.

If it worked, if he found his brother imprisoned and transformed into a living nuclear reactor, his rage would turn entirely toward Santiago. One less Tier 3 hero hunting them. One more enemy for Gabriel to handle.

She pushed the thought aside. That die was cast. Now she had her own transformation to focus on.

She settled back into her meditation position. Three days to shape her Will. Three days to define her Dream.

Three days to ensure she would never be left behind.

Her breathing steadied. The world faded. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she began to build. Not her familiar Mind Palace, but something new. A bridge between thought and reality. A door between understanding and action.

Manifestation.

The word echoed through her consciousness, growing stronger with each repetition. By the time the sun set, she’d forgotten everything else existed.

Only the Dream remained.