Chapter 50: Reflection
Necro’s Apartment —
"Is captain going to be alright?" Zia asked. She adjusted her glasses, staring at the closed door in front of them.
Ace yawned, he didn’t look like someone who was bothered but inwardly, he truly was. He was worried about their captain even more than Zia seemed to be.
Why... Because, Necro was his savior and his life somehow belongs to him. As such, everything about Necro bothered him.
"He’s never lost to villain before," he said to Zia. "I understand how he feels right now. We should give him more time alone."
"Is he going to be fine?" Zia asked.
"He wouldn’t abandon us, right?" Ace mumbled, forcing himself to smile. "Let’s go fix something for dinner, we’ll call him to join us when we are done."
After agreeing, the both of them left for the kitchen.
Meanwhile —
Necro stood on the balcony, the city lights flickering in the distance like dying embers. A cold breeze swept past him, ruffling his dark coat as he leaned against the railing. The chill bit at his exposed skin, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the aftermath of the fight. He sighed, a deep, drawn-out breath, before pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. The soft crackle of the lighter followed, and soon, a thin wisp of smoke curled into the night air, dissolving into the vast emptiness above.
His fingers tightened around the cigarette as his mind replayed every detail of the battle. The way his opponent moved—effortless yet deliberate. The suffocating darkness that coiled and twisted like sentient tendrils. Each attack, each evasion, each counterattack... It had all felt somewhat different. Shadow wasn’t just another powerful foe. No, this was something else entirely. Something designed to throw him off balance.
Necro had fought against overwhelming odds before. He had faced mercenaries, monstrous creatures from the portals, even those who were considered the elite among the underground organizations. But Shadow was different. His presence alone was unsettling, an aura that weighed heavy like an oppressive storm. It was as though he was fighting against the void itself.
Necro exhaled, watching the smoke vanish into the cold night air.
His body still ached, the bruises hidden beneath his clothes a stark reminder of how close that fight had been. He had forced himself to remain composed in front of Ace and Zia, unwilling to let them see even a sliver of doubt. They needed to believe he was unshaken, invincible. But here, in the quiet solitude of the night, he allowed the truth to settle in.
Shadow had pushed him further than any opponent in recent memory. It wasn’t just strength. There was something else at play. His own abilities, normally an extension of his will had strangely felt sluggish, unresponsive. The shadows had hesitated, resisting his command in ways they never had before. That alone was enough to set his nerves on edge.
Had Shadow done something to them? Or was it something deeper?
Necro took another drag, the nicotine barely easing the tension coiled in his chest — A hobby he learned over the years.
He hated losing, but more than that, he hated uncertainty. There were too many unanswered questions. The way Shadow fought, the way his abilities seemed to negate his own—it was almost as if Shadow had been built to counter him specifically.
His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the railing.
This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone had sent Shadow after him. But why? Was it because of what he had been doing lately? Had he attracted too much attention? Or was this part of a much larger scheme—one he had yet to uncover?
Necro tapped the ash off the cigarette, his mind racing. He needed to get stronger. He needed to understand what had gone wrong during the fight. His usual tactics had failed him, and that alone was unacceptable. If there was one thing he had learned in his time battling in the shadows, it was that failing to adapt meant death.
The world he lived in had no room for weakness.
He took a long, slow drag before flicking the cigarette over the railing, watching the ember disappear into the darkness below.
The fight with Shadow had been more than just a battle. It had been a warning and Necro had no intention of ignoring it.
After some time, he walked back inside and his nostrils were greeted by the heavy smell of food lingering in the air. He looked ahead and saw that the dining table has already been filled with their dinner.
"Took you long, Cap," Ace said as he walked out of the kitchen carrying bottles of water. "Come and eat."
"I am not hungry," Necro replied and made to walk past them, into his room but Zia blocked his path.
"Captain, you don’t have to starve simply because we failed a mission," she said. "We need food to sustain ourselves, in case of another missing."
"Yes, she’s right, Cap!" Ace agreed with Zia.
Necro glanced at them, his face expressionless. He hasn’t eaten since morning but then he was no longer hungry — he had lost his appetite due to the fight with Shadow.
"Come on," Zia urged him. "Let’s eat, tomorrow will be better."
Necro sighed inwardly and then followed Zia to the table. He sat at the table, the warmth of the meal doing little to melt the cold lingering inside him. He ate in silence, letting Zia and Ace talk amongst themselves. Occasionally, he would nod or give a brief response, but his mind was elsewhere. Even as he lifted the last spoonful of food to his lips, he was already thinking ahead.
Once dinner was over, Zia and Ace retired to their rooms, leaving him alone in the quiet apartment. The faint sound of running water echoed from the bathroom as one of them prepared for bed, but Necro barely noticed. He slipped on his coat and stepped outside, the night air biting at his skin as he walked down the dimly lit streets.
The city had settled into its usual late-night lull. Neon signs flickered, casting strange glows on the pavement. The distant hum of cars, the occasional laughter from an alley, the rhythmic click of his boots against the concrete—it was all so familiar, yet it felt strangely distant tonight.
As he walked, his thoughts drifted back to the beginning, back to when everything changed.
<<<
The fall of Hero Academia had been the first domino. Once, it had been a prestigious institution, the backbone of the hero system. But after the Dean’s death, everything crumbled. Without its leader, the academy lost direction, and with no one strong enough to take the reins, corruption seeped in. The system that once nurtured future heroes became nothing more than a political game, a battleground for power-hungry elites who saw students as tools rather than protectors.
In response, they had changed the rules. No more structured graduations, no more years of careful training. Instead, students were thrown into real cases, judged solely by their ability to handle them. Those who succeeded were given a title. Those who failed were discarded. It was a brutal, unforgiving system, but it was the only way they could keep up with the growing threat of villains. The world didn’t have time for slow learners.
Necro had risen to the top, not because he wanted to, but because he had no choice. He had been seen as the best, the one who could handle even the toughest assignments without hesitation. And so, he was made a certified hero, his name spoken with admiration and fear in equal measure.
Then came the turning point—the moment everything spiraled further into chaos.
It had been a mission like any other, or so he had thought. A dangerous villain, a city in peril, and a desperate fight for survival. But in the heat of battle, when he was pushed to his limits, something inside him had surfaced. His ability, the one he had kept hidden for so long finally revealed itself in full force. Shadows had answered his call, bending to his will and devouring everything in their path.
The Hero Organization had seen it. They had watched as he tore through the battlefield with an unnatural power, a force that set him apart from the rest. And just like that, he was no longer just a hero. He was an anomaly, a weapon to be used.
Instead of being cast aside, he was given a title, a new role that bound him tighter to their cause. He became the captain of the White Eagle Squad, a position meant for only the strongest. They told him it was an honor, that he had earned it through his skill and dedication. But deep down, he knew the truth.
They didn’t trust him, they were afraid of him.
The title was a leash, a way to keep him under control. They wanted him close, where they could monitor him, where they could use him when necessary but eliminate him if he ever became a threat.
Necro stopped walking, his hands curling into fists. The memories sat heavy on his shoulders, but there was no point in dwelling on them now. What was done was done. He had chosen this path, and there was no turning back.
With a deep breath, he continued down the empty street, the echoes of his past trailing behind him like a shadow that would never leave.
Finally, he arrived at an Inn and pushed open the door. There, a young lady was ready to greet him, she seemed to have been waiting for him.
"You are here, Alex."
