The hidden memories of the incident began flooding back, as if something had been open which shouldn't have.

  Hearing more from Lyra and Daniel, Alexander had been left in almost a comatose state. His mana channels had been ruptured due to going berserk as a result the only procedure to save him was to block his mana channels so that he wouldn’t be able to use mana ever again.

  As Lyra and Daniel left, the weight of their absence settled over the room like a heavy blanket. Their departure didn’t bring relief—just more space for Mark’s thoughts to spiral. The silence stretched thin, leaving only the sterile hum of the machines to fill the void.

  “Mark couldn’t shake the image of Alexander’s still form. His chest barely rising, his mana channels darkened—silent. A shadow of the force he once was.”

  Time passed in a haze of shallow breaths and unspoken tension.

  The door opened again, slicing through the quiet like a blade.

  Two figures entered—their presence alone enough to command the room. Darren Ward, known across the city as the Iron Warden—the enforcer of the Astra Special Task Force (ASTF), an elite division responsible for handling high-threat ability incidents.

  Beside him stood Elara Mienz, also known as the Verdant Aegis no longer felt like just a healer but a commanding force, her presence carrying the weight of experience and authority. Known for her exceptional plant-based recovery and crowd control abilities, she worked alongside the Iron Warden in high-risk operations, ensuring that those who survived the battlefield had a chance to live another day. Her posture was straight, her expression unreadable, yet beneath the surface, there was an undeniable undercurrent of compassion tempered by necessity.

  Even the hospital staff froze. The Iron Warden was a name spoken with equal parts fear and respect. Even if he wasn’t wearing, his dark imposing armor, his reputation carried enough weight to suffocate any casual air. Mark’s thoughts were trapped on Alexander—unconscious, helpless. The idea that one of their strongest could be brought so low weighed on him like an anchor.

  Mark felt his body tense instinctively, even as his injuries protested. The air around the Warden seemed heavier like the shadows bent toward him in fear.

  Darren’s voice was cold, efficient—stripped of any warmth. “You did well. Because of you, casualties were minimized.”

  He reached into his coat and placed two sleek black business cards on the table. The embossed ASTF emblem glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “We are always in need of talented people. Consider this an invitation to join the Astra Special Task Force. We need operatives who’ve proven they can handle situations under extreme pressure. You’ve both demonstrated that and have the potential to become stronger and stop threats by yourselves.”

  Mark clenched his jaw, the image of Alexander’s unconscious body flashing behind his eyes. Every word from Darren scraped against his nerves. A storm brewed inside him—rage, guilt, frustration—all boiling over.

  His fists clenched, the faint hum of unstable mana sparking against his fingertips.

  His voice, low and sharp, cut through the room: "You didn’t even try to save him." “Is that what this is? Power to decide who lives and dies on a whim?”

  Darren didn’t flinch. His voice, cold and devoid of empathy, was a blade. "He was already lost."

  Mark’s breath hitched as anger surged through him like wildfire. But before he could react further, Elara’s voice snapped through the tension.

  "I saved you! If I hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be here—you’d be gone. And this is how you respond? Acting like you know better?"

  Mark’s fury sharpened. "Maybe I don’t. But I know one thing—you didn’t even hesitate."

  His voice cut deeper now, raw and bitter. "You call it justice. I call it murder." If you don’t want more people ending up like Alexander—or worse—you’ll accept.”

  Darren’s gaze didn’t waver. His words hit like iron.

  "A soldier hesitating gets people killed. You let emotions dictate your actions. That’s weakness."

  His eyes bore into Mark’s, unrelenting. "If you truly believe you could have saved him, then prove it—next time, become strong enough."

  The anger in Mark threatened to consume him. His mana pulsed violently, raw and unstable.

  But before the storm could break, Aria’s voice—calm, steady—cut through the chaos.

  "Mark. Not now. Not like this." Aria whispered almost telepathically.

  She sent a wave of serenity—cool, grounding frequency along with her voice. Mark’s breath hitched again, but this time, the mana within him flickered… and then faded.

  Mark relaxed. His heart felt like it was caught between fear, guilt, and duty. The idea of joining an elite task force while his friend lay unconscious felt wrong—yet the responsibility clawed at him.

  Aria broke the silence first. “We’ll need time.”

  Darren placed the business cards on the bedside table with cold precision.

  "Consider your options," he said, his voice laced with finality. "You have potential. Don't waste it."

  He turned without waiting for acknowledgment, his footsteps echoing like iron hammers against the hospital floor.

  Elara lingered for a moment, her frustration visible but tempered by genuine concern. Elara paused for just a moment, her gaze lingering on Mark with an emotion she couldn’t name—regret, perhaps, or fear for what the future held. Then, without another word, she turned and followed Darren out.

  The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the fading echoes of their departure.

  Mark gripped the hospital sheets tightly, his knuckles whitening as he stared at the ceiling. Every muscle in his body ached, but the burn of helplessness stung deeper than any physical wound.

  Aria, still recovering herself, watched him in silence—unsure of what to say, but there in quiet solidarity.

  The unanswered questions remained, lingering like smoke in the air.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  “Mark, I know it hurts. But if you lose control now, they’ll never let you go.”

  Mark didn’t answer. His gaze remained fixed on the door, where shadows still seemed to linger.