Chapter 96 Because we failed you
928 Words
Adam and the Acolyte vanished in an instant. Even if Adam hadn’t told him to stay, Henry knew he’d never catch up.
“Hey!” Henry took a step toward the direction Adam had disappeared, then stopped.
He grabbed his comms unit and began speaking urgently.
“I’m sending my coordinates. We’ve got a situation here—anyone nearby, move in fast.”
He quickly relayed Adam’s solo pursuit to Levin as well.
Then he turned to the mother and daughter still huddled on the ground.
“Please, get up. We need to get you somewhere safe.”
But the moment his hand touched the woman, she flinched violently—silent, trembling, eyes wide with fear.
Henry immediately pulled back. “I’m a student from Orienta. I'm not like that evil guy.”
She didn’t move. Still kneeling, arms wrapped tightly around her child, she finally lifted her tear-streaked face.
“You’re superhumans… right?” Her voice cracked. “This has been going on for a *month*. We’ve called every department, every day!”
“Then why are you only showing up now?”
Henry met her gaze—and froze.
Her eyes held too much: grief, betrayal, exhaustion. For the first time, he felt unworthy to look at a civilian.
Down the street, two of his classmates from Class One were already approaching at a run.
More civilians began gathering at the edges of the block.
But there were no cheers. No gratitude.
Just silence. Phones raised. Eyes lowered.
Whenever Henry glanced at someone, they quickly looked away—ashamed, wary, or both.
He wanted to say he didn’t even know what had happened here. That he was just a student, thrown into this without context.
But the words died in his throat.
Then—a voice boomed from above.
“Because we failed you.”
*Thud!*
Levin landed like a black monolith, his massive frame shaking the pavement.
Even from across the street, the crowd instinctively stepped back, intimidated by his sheer presence.
His brow furrowed as he surveyed the silent onlookers.
“The local Superhuman Affairs Bureau chief has been negligent,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Judging threat levels solely by energy output—ignoring human suffering. That’s why this crisis festered.”
A wave of raw, suffocating killing intent erupted from him, forcing even Henry to stagger backward.
“I’ll escalate this immediately. Those responsible will be held accountable.”
He bowed deeply—ninety degrees—and stayed there, motionless.
“On behalf of every superhuman who failed to protect you… I apologize.”
“I’m sorry.”
After a long moment, he straightened, knelt before the little girl, and gently touched her hair. Then he turned to the mother.
“Ma’am, please take your daughter home. I’ll escort you personally.”
The woman stared at the towering, fearsome man trying so hard to be gentle. Without a word, she stood, lifted her child, and walked away—unsteady, but resolute.
“Professor,” Henry said quickly, “Adam went after him alone. Shouldn’t we—”
“Civilian safety first,” Levin cut in. “Too many people here. We can’t risk the Acolytes causing chaos in the crowd.”
“As for that kid…” He glanced toward the horizon, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’s stronger than you think.”
***
Meanwhile, Adam strolled leisurely behind his prey, hands in his pockets, watching the Acolyte flee like a cornered rat.
Within minutes, they reached the city’s outskirts—an abandoned factory complex, rusted and hollow.
The injured Acolyte slowed as he neared the entrance. As if worried Adam might lose interest, he turned, flashed a mocking gesture, then limped dramatically inside—playing up his wounds.
Adam smirked at the amateur theatrics… and followed.
*CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!*
The moment he stepped through the doorway, massive lead plates slammed down from the ceiling, sealing every window and exit. It was a classic trap—lock the prey in, then beat it to death.
Darkness swallowed the space whole. Not a sliver of light remained.
Then—shuffling. Whispering. Dozens of figures emerged from the blackness like roaches from a sewer.
Every Acolyte wore infrared goggles, smirking at the lone figure in the center—now blind, they assumed.
The one with the broken wrist opened his mouth to gloat—
But Adam spoke first.
“Alright. You people are surrounded by me.”
“Confess now, and I’ll go easy. What’s your plan for this city? And how many more of these hideouts do you have?”
The Acolytes exchanged glances—then snorted in unison.
*Still mouthing off at death’s door?*
This facility was custom-built: signal-jamming alloy walls blocked all external comms. No backup. No escape.
And intel confirmed Adam hadn’t flown during pursuit—meaning he hadn’t reached level-5.
Even better: hidden suppressors throughout the room dampened superhuman abilities.
“The city belongs to the Lord now,” one hissed.
“But don’t worry—you’ll feed His ascension. Nothing about you will go to waste.”
They began shifting positions, breaking formation, clinking gear and stomping boots to drown out sound. With Adam’s sight gone, they aimed to rob him of hearing too.
Adam tilted his head, scanning the pitch-black void.
“Where is your Lord?” he asked, voice calm. “I don’t see Him.”
“This city doesn’t belong to your Evil Lord.”
“It‘s under my protection right now.”
- Writer
