Jack Donovan crouched on the rooftop, watching the scene below as the crowd’s energy built to a fever pitch. The memorial parade for Crimson Nova had begun without a hitch, the Guardians standing tall on the stage as the city paid tribute. Jack could see the wide, eager eyes of the people, the smiles of families who believed the worst was behind them. They didn’t know how wrong they were.

  His ribs still ached from the NovaTech fight, but Jack forced the pain to the back of his mind. His eyes scanned the crowd, his instincts screaming that something was about to go horribly wrong. He pulled out his small device, checking the power grid readings again. The spike was happening now, just like Molecule had warned. Any second…

  Then, the lights flickered.

  Once. Twice.

  And the world went dark.

  From his vantage point, Jack saw them first—figures appearing out of thin air in the middle of the crowd, their movements too swift, too precise. Teleporters, their faces hidden behind black masks, spreading through the crowd like a plague. The panic spread like wildfire, screams erupting as the people realized what was happening. It was a coordinated attack, and Jack’s worst fears had just become a reality.

  He gritted his teeth, his pulse racing as he slipped his mask into place. Veil was needed now more than ever. But as he reached for the handle of his knife, he froze.

  There, in the middle of the chaos, a spotlight flickered on—an eerie, white glow cutting through the darkness. Jack’s breath caught in his throat as the beam illuminated a horrific sight. On the stage, standing in front of thousands of terrified onlookers, were the top heroes: Stellar, Titan Forge, and Warden. But they weren’t acting like protectors anymore.

  They were puppets.

  In the center of the stage stood the man behind it all—the Chancellor, a figure cloaked in shadows, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. Jack recognized the power emanating from him immediately. Psychic. A level 5. He could control minds, and right now, he had his claws sunk deep into the minds of the city’s greatest heroes.

  Stellar stood at the Chancellor’s side, his normally confident demeanor replaced with a blank, emotionless expression. In his hand, he held a random civilian, a woman, by the throat, her feet dangling helplessly above the stage. His other hand was outstretched, glowing with the power to obliterate her on the Chancellor’s command.

  Warden, the hero known for his impenetrable force fields, had his back to the Chancellor, trapping the other Guardians inside a shimmering bubble of light. They were helpless, pounding against the walls of the force field as the Chancellor’s plan unfolded before their eyes.

  But the worst of all was Titan Forge.

  Jack’s heart pounded in his chest as he saw the number one hero—Rayner Scotia, Dominic’s father—holding Zenith by the head, his massive hands wrapped around the young Guardian’s skull. One twist, and it would all be over. Zenith, the newest member of the Guardians, was seconds away from death, and Titan Forge didn’t even flinch.

  “Do you see now?” the Chancellor’s voice boomed through the darkness, amplified by Stellar’s powers. His tone was low, mocking, dripping with malevolence. “This is the truth of your heroes. They’re nothing without control. And I—” he raised a hand, gesturing to the paralyzed Guardians—“control everything.”

  Jack’s hands tightened around the hilt of his knife. He wanted to move, to act, but he knew better. If he rushed in now, if he tried to play the hero, the Chancellor would kill him in an instant. No one—not even Veil—could take on a level 5 Psychic head-on, not without being ripped apart from the inside.

  He needed a plan. He needed to be smart.

  Jack slipped into the shadows, his body blending with the darkness as he activated his power. His right arm vanished first, then the blade of his knife. Partial invisibility—that was his advantage. He couldn’t disappear entirely, but he could move in the gaps, where no one expected him. His mind raced, calculating the best way to break through the Chancellor’s control. He couldn’t take out all the villains, but he could create chaos—enough chaos to free the Guardians.

  As he moved silently through the alleyways and side streets, Jack’s stomach churned. The Chancellor’s voice echoed through the city, taunting the Guardians, mocking their helplessness. Every word was a dagger aimed at the heart of hope.

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  “Do you see?” the Chancellor sneered, turning to Stellar. “Do you see how easily they bend to my will? Your leaders, your protectors, are nothing more than weapons for me to wield. And with Titan Forge, the strongest of you all…” He turned to the crowd, his grin widening. “I will break the boy’s neck, and you will watch.”

  The crowd screamed in horror as Titan Forge’s grip tightened around Zenith’s skull, the young Guardian’s face contorted in agony. Jack’s heart raced, his breath catching in his throat. He could see the desperation in Zenith’s eyes, the futile struggle as Titan Forge, mindless under the Chancellor’s control, applied more pressure with each passing second.

  Jack had to act now. There was no more time to plan, no chance for a calculated move. If he hesitated even for a second, Zenith would be dead—his skull crushed by the hands of the man meant to protect him.

  Slipping into the shadows, Jack moved closer to the stage, his body flickering in and out of partial invisibility. He wove through the panicking crowd, his movements precise but frantic, blending with the chaos as he edged closer. His hands turned invisible first, the hilt of his knife vanishing as he gripped it tightly. He couldn’t stop Titan Forge directly—there was no way—but he had to cause enough of a distraction to give the Guardians a chance.

  But before he could make his move, the Chancellor’s voice boomed over the chaos, cold and unfeeling. “You all cling to your heroes, to these false idols, believing they are invincible. Look at them now! Watch as your saviors become the instruments of their own destruction.”

  Titan Forge’s hands jerked, twisting Zenith’s head with a sickening crack. The world seemed to freeze for a moment—just long enough for Jack to see the light leave Zenith’s eyes.

  Zenith was dead.

  The roar of the crowd became a deafening wave of screams, a swell of panic that surged through the streets as the Guardians, still trapped within Warden’s force fields, pounded uselessly against the shimmering walls. Jack’s body went cold, his breath catching in his throat. He’d been too late. He’d watched it happen. And there was nothing—nothing—he could do to undo it.

  Titan Forge, still under the Chancellor’s thrall, let Zenith’s lifeless body slump to the ground, like a broken puppet cast aside. And yet, the Chancellor didn’t even flinch. There was no satisfaction in his face, no emotion at all. This wasn’t personal—it was methodical, cold, and devastating. The death of a hero was simply a message, another symbol of his power.

  The Chancellor’s voice cut through the air again, calm and deliberate. “This is your future. The future of this city. You either kneel or die. I don’t care which.”

  Jack’s mind raced. He had to regroup, to figure out some way to get the Guardians out of Warden’s trap, but the weight of Zenith’s death was like a punch to his gut. He moved through the shadows, his limbs trembling as he fought the urge to rush the stage, knowing it would only get him killed.

  His invisibility flickered as his pulse quickened, his breath shallow. The Chancellor’s control was absolute. And Titan Forge, the strongest hero alive, had just killed one of their own with a single twist of his hand.

  This was more than chaos. This was annihilation.

  Jack slipped further into the darkened alley, his mind spiraling as the reality of the situation sank in. He couldn’t fight the Chancellor head-on, not with a level 5 Psychic controlling everything. And Titan Forge, Stellar, Warden—they were untouchable under the Chancellor’s grip. Any hope of stopping this, of turning the tide, was slipping away faster than he could catch it.

  The crowd surged again as the villains moved in, dark figures flickering into place, teleporters dropping them into position like pieces on a chessboard. These weren’t mindless thugs—they were an army, methodical and efficient, striking fear into the heart of the city with every step. The Chancellor didn’t even have to give them orders. They moved with precision, corralling civilians, cutting off escape routes, leaving the Guardians trapped and powerless behind Warden’s shield.

  And still, the Chancellor didn’t care. His attention was on the crowd, on the sheer spectacle of it all. He was making a point—showing the world just how easily he could tear it apart.

  Jack ducked behind a pillar, his heart pounding as he surveyed the chaos. Zenith’s lifeless body was still crumpled on the stage, a symbol of everything that had gone wrong. The Guardians, the ones who were supposed to protect the city, were helpless. And the villains, led by the Chancellor, were in complete control.

  For a moment, Jack’s mind blanked. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He was just another powerless body, standing in the wake of something far bigger than himself. Zenith was dead. The city was falling apart. And he, Veil, couldn’t save them.

  But then, something shifted.

  It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t grief. It was colder than that—deeper. A dark resolve settled into his bones, hardening his every thought.

  He couldn’t save everyone. He couldn’t bring Zenith back. But he could do one thing.

  Survive.

  Jack’s hands flickered back into view as he gripped his knife. He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t belong on the front lines like the others. But in the shadows, in the dark spaces where no one looked, he could make a difference. He could create enough chaos, enough uncertainty, to turn the tide in some small way.

  He disappeared back into the crowd, his thoughts sharp, focused. He wasn’t done yet.