The next morning, Hal walked down the corridor, his damp hair clinging to his forehead—he had just taken a shower. He carried a basket under one arm, piled with dirty clothes, toiletries, and a folded towel. His gaze was cast downward, his thoughts miles away.
He was still turning over the question that had plagued him since yesterday: the strange link between empathy and abnormal strength. Could there really be a connection between the two? So far, nothing he thought of made sense. It was starting to feel like he was chasing shadows, clinging to a rule that didn't truly exist.
Emotion-sensing. Super strength. That's all he knew. Two powers, seemingly unrelated. But somehow, they were both his.
"Maybe…" he muttered under his breath. "Maybe there's something I'm missing—"
He paused as he neared his room. Across the hallway, Gregor stood outside the door opposite his, balancing a tray that held a small vial—some kind of serum, from the look of it. That was Illyana's room, if he remembered correctly. Danielle had mentioned she'd be released from solitary today. So this was it—he was finally going to meet her.
Hal slowed to a stop a few steps away. An all-too-familiar sensation washed over him, prickling at the edges of his mind: a shiver of cold, creeping beneath his skin. Gregor was giving off that strange emotional aura. Another emotion, he noted—but what kind?
Gregor caught sight of him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Just… curious," Hal replied, offering a casual shrug. "Looking forward to meeting my neighbor."
"Get in your room, Hal." Her voice was sharp now. "I mean it. You could get hurt."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"I'm not going to ask again. Please."
Hal held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright."
He stepped into his room, but didn't shut the door all the way. Instead, he placed the basket on his bed, then hovered by the door, listening.
Across the hall, he heard the soft creak of a door opening, followed by murmured voices—Gregor's, though too muffled to make out. The sound of something clinking on metal followed. Then more hushed words. Then… silence.
A long, uneasy silence.
Hal's curiosity burned. That cold aura he'd sensed earlier? It was growing stronger. And now, he could feel something else radiating from across the hallway—anger. Not Gregor's. Someone else's.
Illyana.
He eased his door open just an inch more—and flinched as a sudden, deafening bang shattered the silence.
Through the cracked door, Hal froze at the sight unfolding before him.
Across the hall, Illyana—a blonde girl with wild, tangled hair—had Gregor pinned against the wall, her hand clenched tightly around the doctor's throat. A glowing sword, its blade wreathed in pale blue flames, was gripped in her other hand. Her eyes blazed with an unnatural blue light, but it was the fury radiating from her—raw, volcanic—that made Hal's stomach twist. Gregor's face was turning red, then purple. She could barely breathe.
And Illyana… was smiling.
"Hey!" Hal shouted, stepping into the hall. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Illyana's head snapped toward him. Her gaze locked on his like a predator scenting prey.
"You…" she hissed, venom in her voice. "You're the one who's been messing with my mind."
"What?!" Hal blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?!"
"Il–ya–na—" Gregor choked out between gasps, struggling to speak. "It's–not—hi—"
"Shut up!" Illyana snarled, turning back to the doctor. "And you! You drugged me!"
Hal took a cautious step forward. "Look, I don't know what happened, but this isn't the way. Just let her go."
The situation felt weird to him. Hal felt heat searing the right side of his body, radiating from Illyana like a furnace. On his left, a biting cold clung to him—the same aura he had sensed from Gregor. It's like sitting in between where lava meets an iceberg.
"Don't tell me what to do," Illyana said, her voice cold and deadly.
In a blink, the sword vanished. She raised her hand toward Hal, muttering something under her breath.
A second later, spectral chains burst from the floor. They coiled around Hal's arms, yanking him down hard, slamming his knees into the cold floor.
"What the—!" Hal gritted his teeth, straining against the bindings. He called on his strength, but the chains didn't budge. "Let me go!"
Illyana didn't even look at him. Her focus returned to Gregor.
"What do you think happens when I'm released from this place, huh?" she spat. "You're not here to help me. You're working with them. The ones who locked me up!"
"I–I'm not—working—with—"
"Liar!"
With terrifying force, Illyana slammed Gregor to the ground. The doctor's body hit the floor with a sickening thud, and she went limp.
Illyana stood over Gregor's unconscious form, breathing heavily. Her glowing eyes narrowed. Then, in a whisper of light and shadow, her sword reappeared—materializing from her palm, its blade growing outward in a stream of flickering blue flame. Eldritch armor wrapped itself around her right arm, metallic and angular, glinting silver and sapphire in the hallway light.
She looked like something out of a myth. A warrior born from fury and fire.
Illyana raised her sword, and aimed it at Gregor's back.
But before the blow could land, a violent crack echoed through the hallway—something slammed into Illyana from the side with the force of a wrecking ball. She was thrown clean across the corridor, her body crashing into the wall hard enough to dent it.
Dazed, she rolled to her knees and looked up, her glowing eyes narrowing as they locked onto her attacker.
Hal.
Red energy pulsed from his body in thick waves, wrapping around his frame like living fire. His eyes were consumed by it, glowing crimson. The chains that had once held him were still clinging to his arms, but they'd been torn from the floor, dragging chunks of tile and concrete with them. He stood there, chest heaving, like something barely human—like a beast set loose.
Illyana's lips curled into a crooked grin. "A demon? Here?" she said, almost to herself. Then louder: "No matter. Come at me!"
With a roar, Hal charged. The chains dragged behind him, crashing against the ground as he ran, every step shattering tiles beneath his feet. The walls quaked with the sheer force of his momentum. Before Illyana could brace herself, Hal tackled her through the wall, sending both of them flying into the sunlight.
They landed on a patch of grass outside the facility—Illyana flat on her back, Hal standing near her, his chest rising and falling like a wild animal coming down from a frenzy.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he barked. The red glow around him began to fade, the energy dissipating like mist. "I didn't do anything, and you chained me to the damn floor!"
Illyana coughed and sat up, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. She leaned on her sword for support and gave a hoarse chuckle. "You still don't get it, new guy," she said. "This place… it's not cozy little rehab center. It is prison."
"I'm not blind." Hal's voice was calmer now, more grounded. The rage was ebbing from him, though his fists still trembled. It was then that the spectral chains that were tied to him faded. "I've only been here three days, but that much is obvious. What I don't get is why you attacked me."
Illyana's smile faded. She tightened her grip on her sword. "Because…"
In a flash, she lunged again, spinning her blade around to slash Hal.
"You invaded my mind!"
She swung with all her strength, aiming to cleave him in two—but the impact never came.
Her blade met Hal's body—and stopped cold.
A massive shockwave rippled through her arms. She stared in disbelief as the sword's blue fire began to flicker and dim, its energy siphoned into Hal's body and changing color—turning orange, glowing like embers that greeds for more fuel.
"What are you?!" she gasped.
Hal looked just as stunned, watching the energy snake up around his body. Then his expression shifted. He grabbed her by the shoulders with both hands.
"I don't know," he said, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "But I'd really like to find out."
With a swift motion, he drove his knee into Illyana's gut. She grunted, staggered—but recovered almost instantly. She snapped forward, headbutting him hard, then seized his throat and slammed him to the ground.
Only… there was no impact.
Hal hit the grass like it was a feather bed. No sound. No pain. Just a faint shimmer of orange light flowing into his body.
Illyana's eyes widened—but only for a moment. Hal lashed out with a kick, sending her tumbling across the lawn. As she rolled to her feet, Hal stood once more, chains still hanging from his arms, energy still simmering beneath his skin.
"Can you calm down for one second!?" Hal snapped, panting. "I didn't mess with your head! I don't even know what you're talking about!"
Illyana spat blood into the grass and glared at him. "Bad dreams… they started when you showed up, new guy. Has to be you."
Hal threw his hands up. "That's your logic? Seriously?"
At this point, he was done. Every second with her felt like walking barefoot over broken glass—chaotic, painful, exhausting. And on top of that, new powers were appearing left and right, each one more confusing than the last. He could barely keep track of what he was even capable of anymore.
God, I wish she was just chained to the ground, he thought bitterly. Like she did to me.
And then… It happened.
From thin air, translucent green chains materialized beside Illyana. They shot down and anchored themselves into the dirt. Before she could react, the other ends whipped around her arms and yanked her to the ground, forcing her into a kneel.
Hal stared, wide-eyed. "No way…"
Illyana's head snapped up. "What?! You are sorcerer?! I knew it! You lied to me!"
"I didn't lie to anyone!" Hal shouted back, still catching his breath. "I don't even know what I did! But whatever this is—this feels great!"
Cautiously, Hal stepped toward her, muscles aching from the adrenaline crash. He considered ending this whole disaster by knocking her out cold. Just a tap, maybe—nothing serious. He raised a hand, half-formed plan in his head—
—and the chains vanished.
"What?!" Panic gripped him. He looked down at his wristband—it was glowing, active. The only person who could remotely trigger it was—
"Gregor?!" he shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. "Are you insane?! You're gonna get me killed!"
Illyana was already moving. Her sword flashed back into her hand, rage in her eyes as she raised it to strike.
But then—
Thwip.
A dart embedded itself in her neck.
Illyana staggered, her sword falling from her grip as her limbs gave out. Hal followed the trajectory of the shot and spotted the source—a turret, far off in the distance, barely visible among the trees. Then, he realized: nearly every turret in sight was now trained on him.
"Shit—"
Illyana crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Hal didn't have time to move before he felt a tiny sting at his own neck.
"Oh, come on—" he muttered as the world began to blur, his knees giving out beneath him. "Seriously…?"
Then everything went black.