Somehow, Nicholas had managed to dispose of his bloodied clothes and sneak back home in one piece—or whatever was left of him after the battle with Markus. Even as he stepped into the familiar confines of his house, he kept his mask on, unwilling to let his guard down.
He moved carefully, keeping the lights off to avoid waking his father or brother. Not that he needed to be too stealthy—both of them were notorious heavy sleepers, with his father's thunderous snores practically shaking the walls.
Reaching the bathroom, Nicholas took stock of the damage. The blood had dried, thankfully, so there was little risk of leaving a trail. Grabbing the first-aid kit, he began treating his wounds with shaky hands, grimacing at the jagged gashes and bruises decorating his body.
By his estimate, most of the injuries would heal in two to three weeks. He'd have to devise an excuse to skip PE in the meantime, though with the school year nearly over and most of his grades finalized, maybe the teacher would cut him some slack.
However, the gaping hole in his left shoulder really concerned him. Peeling back his makeshift bandage, he inspected the wound again. Thanks to the strange mist he'd summoned earlier, the flesh had partially mended, but the damage was still severe.
"This is definitely going to leave a scar… damn it," he muttered. Hiding it would be a challenge. He'd try, of course, but the odds weren't in his favor.
Your darkness grows…
He blinked as the familiar voice whispered in his ear. He blinked.
'My… darkness grows? What did that mean? And how did it grow?' His questions were left unanswered, and with a sigh, he decided to forget about it for the time being.
Once he was done patching himself up, he meticulously cleaned the bathroom, ensuring everything was back in its rightful place. Satisfied, he shuffled to his room, slithering under the covers like a snake. He allowed himself to finally rest, slipping into a dreamless sleep.
His father woke him around ten in the morning, shaking him gently. Normally, he'd let Nicholas sleep in on weekends, but this time, he'd said it was urgent.
Groaning, Nicholas forced himself to get dressed. His body protested with every movement, but he gritted his teeth and endured it. He prayed his father hadn't found anything suspicious.
Descending the stairs, he saw the TV in the living room on, tuned to the news. The anchor was discussing the battle atop KhyberCorp Tower and showing grainy footage of the event.
The report confirmed that one combatant, Markus Tempus, was in custody. The other, however, remained unidentified. When questioned, both Benjamin Khybernus and Markus had offered cryptic responses.
Benjamin Khybernus: "His name is unknown, but he was the hero who saved my life." His tone was indifferent, but the gratitude on his face was genuine.
Markus Tempus: "His name is… Unknown."
With no further details, the mysterious figure had been officially registered as "Unknown" in the unregistered Awakened database. Legally, this marked him as a Villain.
The public, however, seemed to disagree, many labeling him a vigilante. But in the eyes of the law, vigilantes didn't exist—only Heroes and Villains. To the system, everything was black and white.
Khybernus had provided additional details, describing "Unknown" as wearing black clothing, having black hair, and a pitch-black mask that obscured his features. The only visible detail was the eerie glow of his blue eyes. He'd also estimated his height as 179 cm—or 5'8".
Nicholas scowled. "Scary," he muttered. Khybernus had only gotten a quick look at him but had managed to peg his height with unnerving accuracy. Of course, it wasn't enough for Khybernus to round up to 180 cm—he just had to be exact.
'Just you wait,' Nicholas thought bitterly. 'I'm still growing. I'll pass that height soon enough.' Thankfully, Markus had refused to comment further, a gesture Nicholas silently appreciated.
As Nicholas turned away from the screen, he felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. The world had now officially labeled him a Villain. He wasn't sure what to make of it yet, but one thing was clear—his life would never be the same.
His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hey, son, you okay? You look pale."
Nicholas nodded quickly. "Yeah, just tired."
His father eyed him suspiciously but didn't press further.
For now, Nicholas was safe. But how long could he keep up the charade?
It turned out his father merely wanted to warn him to be extra careful, saying that dangerous changes were on their way. Nicholas didn't quite understand what he meant but nodded anyway.
The weekend passed in a haze of rest and solitude. Nicholas spent most of his time in his room, only coming out to use the bathroom or prepare food for his family. He kept his interactions brief, brushing off his father and brother's repeated attempts to check on him with the excuse that he wasn't feeling well but would be fine by Monday.
He knew he wouldn't be fine by Monday—not entirely—but he'd be better. Probably.
The weekend's only noteworthy event was the announcement of a city-wide investigation to locate the new "Villain," Unknown.
"A bit over the top, isn't it?" Nicholas muttered to himself as he scrolled through the news on his phone.
His thoughts wandered back to the female hero he'd encountered in the alley. She could have apprehended him, but she hadn't. Instead, she'd given him a choice: to die by her hand or struggle to survive.
"Did she think I wouldn't make it?" he wondered aloud, frowning. It was a possibility. Her choice to leave him might not have been mercy—it might have been indifference.
He decided to dig deeper into her identity and managed to find some information. She was an overseas hero from Japan, known by the codename Slash Draw. Intriguingly, there were no mentions of her real name. That wasn't entirely unusual, though—heroes weren't required to disclose their identities to the public. However, their true names were always on record with the government.
The thought of such a thing irked Nicholas. If it were possible to become a hero while keeping his identity completely secret, he might have considered applying. But the idea of anyone, especially the government, holding power over him made his skin crawl. Being forced to follow orders and act against his own will wasn't something he could accept.
"I guess by that definition, I really am a Villain," he said with a dry laugh, shutting off his phone.
A voice cut through his musings. "Oh, come on now, we both know if one of us is going to be a Villain, it's probably going to be me."
Nicholas turned toward the familiar voice with a sigh and a small smile. It was Philip, his best friend.
Philip had tanned skin, light brown hair, and warm brown eyes. True to form, he was dressed like it was midwinter—thick jacket, scarf, and gloves—even though the sun was shining brightly overhead.
Nicholas frowned, glancing at the sky. The weather was cooler than he'd expected, almost chilly despite the sun's presence. "Even though it's chilly now, you know that it will get hotter later, right?" he gestured vaguely at the sky.
Philip grinned, shrugging nonchalantly. "What can I say? I'm like a reptile. I gotta stay warm."
Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head. "You just like making people question your sanity, don't you?"
"Maybe both," Philip said, falling into step beside him.
For the first time in days, Nicholas felt a flicker of normalcy. It didn't last long, but for now, it was enough.
The two of them had lived in the same neighborhood their entire lives, so it was only natural that they'd see each other often and grow close. Still, their friendship only truly blossomed once they ended up in the same class during elementary school.
While they lived in the same area, Fusionight City's structure meant that the "neighborhood" wasn't a quaint, tight-knit community. The city's core was a bustling metropolitan hub filled with towering skyscrapers, modern apartments, and a scattering of nature parks. Surrounding this urban center was a sprawling expanse of residential housing, stretching for miles in every direction. Nicholas's home, a modest two-story house, was on the outer edge, conveniently close enough to the city that he could walk to school in about an hour or less.
He didn't mind the walk too much—especially since it gave him the chance to chat with Philip most mornings. Public buses didn't service their area, and while Nicholas would have liked a bike, he'd never gotten around to getting a new one. The daily trek wasn't ideal, but it was manageable, made better by his friend's constant banter.
Even though they'd been close since childhood, they'd ended up attending different high schools. The first year apart had left Nicholas feeling strangely lonely. Philip, on the other hand, hadn't suffered much from the separation.
"It's fine if we pick up Rose, right?" Philip asked, pulling Nicholas out of his thoughts.
Nicholas nodded. Why wouldn't it be? Rose was his second-best friend. The three of them had been inseparable throughout late elementary and middle school.
Rose lived in an apartment complex closer to the city center, just a short walk from her school. Conveniently—or inconveniently, depending on who you asked—she attended the same high school as Philip.
When they reached her building, Rose was already outside waiting, her arms crossed and a sly smile on her lips.
"What took you two so long? Let me guess—the weather slowed you down?" she teased, her tone dripping with mockery.
Nicholas sighed, shaking his head. "This audacious girl."
"Oh, how she wounds me, brother!" Philip declared dramatically, clutching Nicholas's shoulder and wobbling as though he might collapse.
"Alright, that's enough," Nicholas hissed, shrugging Philip off—though his friend had unknowingly grabbed his injured shoulder. It took all his willpower not to wince, let alone cry out in pain.
Rose smirked, her sharp pink eyes glittering with amusement. "You two never change."
As they started walking, they expressed their concerns to Nicholas about not answering any of their texts. He merely said he was sleeping and that seemed to be enough for them.
'Bastards, do you think that I just sleep? Show at least a bit of skepticism, will you?' He thought. He was glad they believed him, but slightly annoyed at how easily they believed his lie.
After that, Rose and Philip fell into their usual back-and-forth.
"So, Rose, did you ace that math test?" Philip asked, grinning mischievously.
"Of course," Rose replied, flipping her short, fluffy pink hair over her shoulder with mock arrogance. "Not that I needed to study much. Unlike someone, I actually pay attention in class."
"Harsh!" Philip clutched his chest in mock agony. "Your words cut deeper than any blade."
Rose chuckled, giving him a sidelong glance. "Maybe if you stopped texting me during class, you'd actually learn something."
"Ah, but if I stopped texting you, who would keep you entertained?" Philip countered, winking.
Nicholas groaned. "Could you two not flirt so openly? Some of us are trying to preserve what's left of our sanity."
'I'm a damn third wheel is what I am. Since when did these two get this close?'
They turned beet red as they screamed out. "IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!"
Nicholas rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. "I'm surrounded by children."
His school was the closest of the three, so they dropped him off first. Nicholas waved Philip and Rose goodbye, ignoring the teasing grins they shot his way. Behind him, he could hear the faint sound of snickering. His brow twitched. He already knew what was coming.
"Something funny?" Nicholas asked, turning around with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. The faint crease of irritation on his forehead made it clear he wasn't in the mood. He cracked his knuckles for added effect.
Standing a few feet away were two familiar figures: Haru and Dick. Dick's actual name was Richard, but no one ever called him that.
Haru claimed to be Japanese, though Nicholas found it hard to believe—his messy blond hair and his colorful, almost garish sunglasses didn't quite match the image. Not to mention his entire facial structure was so vastly different from actual Japanese, let alone Asian, people. Dick, on the other hand, was an enigma. He refused to share anything about his background, and frankly, Nicholas didn't care enough to ask. The guy had dark blue-dyed hair, an ear piercing, and a penchant for causing trouble.
Both of them were in his class and, unfortunately for Nicholas, they'd been branded the biggest perverted degenerates in the school.
For some inexplicable reason, Nicholas had been lumped in with them, earning the unfortunate title of one of the Three Perverted Musketeers.
Nicholas had no idea why people thought he was part of their little "group." Well, no idea might be a stretch.
When the school year started, he'd struggled to make friends. His reserved demeanor didn't exactly scream "approachable," so he'd been labeled a loner pretty early on. He hadn't minded that label. But Haru and Dick, for reasons unknown, had decided to attach themselves to him.
They'd stuck to him like glue, their constant presence making it impossible for anyone to see him as anything other than one of them. He hated it.
"One of us. One of us," they chanted in unison, their voices dripping with exaggerated mockery.
Nicholas frowned, his brow twitching. The hell?
"How does it feel?" Haru asked, his grin widening as he leaned closer. "Being the third wheel? Knowing you'll die alone? Just like us?"
Dick joined in, his tone equally mocking. "Yup. Forever single. Forever hopeless."
Nicholas's scowl deepened. He clenched his fists, his voice rising in indignant defiance. "No. I refuse. I'm still in the prime of my youth! I'm certain I'll experience teen love soon!"
His conviction was so strong that it silenced the pair for a moment. Then, the two of them burst out laughing.
Nicholas sighed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He knew he was hopeless in the romance department, but not as hopeless as these two. Still, hanging out with them for a year had shown him that they weren't entirely terrible.
Most of the time, though, they kept making atrocious comments that no sane person—or life form—should ever hear. Despite their crude humor and tendency to sneak glances at the girls in class, Nicholas had never caught them crossing any serious lines. That didn't stop him from smacking them on the head whenever he caught them ogling.
"Hey, come on, Nicky-chan," Haru said, raising his hands in mock surrender, a wide grin plastered across his face. "We were just talking about how good you looked staring off into the distance. Very protagonist vibes, y'know?"
"Yeah," Dick chimed in, leaning lazily against a nearby wall. "That 'stoic loner' thing you've got going on? Chef's kiss. The ladies love it."
Nicholas rubbed his temples. "You two do realize I have zero interest in hearing this nonsense, right? And how many more times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
"Aw, don't be like that!" Haru draped an arm around Nicholas's shoulders, seemingly unaware of the way his friend stiffened. "We're just trying to hype you up, man. Wingman duty and all that."
"More like dragging me down into the abyss of your degeneracy," Nicholas muttered, shrugging Haru's arm off.
"Aw, don't be like that!" Haru pouted dramatically. "You're one of us, man. Embrace it!"
Nicholas shot him a glare. "I'd rather embrace a cactus."
Nicholas turned away with a huff, waving them off dismissively as he headed to class. Behind him, he could still hear their laughter and the faint chant of "One of us, one of us."
Sometimes, he wondered if enduring their nonsense was worth it. But deep down, he couldn't deny they made his otherwise dull school life a bit more bearable.