Jack Donovan—Veil to the few who knew him by anything other than the blank mask—lay back against the thin pillow in the dim, antiseptic room. The dull ache of his injuries pulsed in his side, a constant reminder of the fight that nearly killed him. His body had begun to heal, the pain was tolerable, but his mind had been relentless. He was used to pain, to bruises and cuts, but the scars this time were deeper, less visible, gnawing at him from the inside.

  The room itself was a quiet, nondescript corner of NovaTech’s underground labyrinth—far from the spotlight and even farther from the eyes of the public. The kind of place designed for people like him, people the system didn’t know how to deal with. He was still Veil to them, the man without a name, without a face, a shadow that moved outside the law. He could vanish from here just as easily as he’d arrived, but for now, he stayed.

  The sound of footsteps echoed down the sterile hallway, and Jack didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The door slid open with a hiss, and Dr. Marcus Levin stepped inside, his brow furrowed in thought, the usual calm determination etched into his face. Levin was meticulous, controlled, the type of man who approached problems like equations to be solved. The problem right now? The collapse of the hero world they’d all taken for granted.

  Levin moved to the side of the room, glancing over the medical displays before fixing his gaze on Jack. “Veil,” he said, his voice low, respectful. “You’re healing faster than expected, but I wouldn’t push yourself yet. The damage from that fight—physically and otherwise—will take time.”

  Jack said nothing, his eyes still focused on the ceiling, waiting for Levin to get to the point. He wasn’t here for small talk.

  Levin sat down in the chair beside the bed, exhaling. “You need to know what’s happened while you’ve been resting. The meeting took place. The Guardians, NovaTech—everyone important was there.”

  Jack’s attention shifted now. Levin had his interest. He turned his head, meeting the scientist’s eyes, waiting for the rest.

  “The attack on NovaTech has shaken the foundations of everything. The top heroes—Titan Forge, Viora, Aurora—sat in a room, trying to decide what comes next. The world is watching, and the loss of Crimson Nova has left a vacuum that no one is ready to fill.”

  Jack felt the familiar twist in his gut at the mention of Crimson Nova. She’d been a pillar, someone people trusted to keep the system in balance. Now she was dead, her body broken, her power snuffed out like a flame. And he hadn’t been able to stop it. No one had.

  Levin continued, his voice steady, though the gravity of the situation weighed on every word. “There’s talk of replacing her in the Nova Horizons, but no one’s stepping forward. No one wants to be the one to take her place. It’s too soon, and they’re all afraid of what’s coming next.”

  Jack’s jaw clenched. Of course, they were afraid. The world was changing, and for all their powers, the heroes were no different from the rest. They didn’t know how to handle the chaos that had been unleashed.

  “And the modulators?” Jack asked, his voice low, rough from disuse.

  Levin shook his head. “Still missing. Whoever took them knows exactly what they’ve stolen. The potential for disaster is immeasurable. We’ve been trying to track down leads, but nothing yet.”

  The air in the room felt heavy, the weight of everything they didn’t know pressing down on both of them. Jack shifted slightly, wincing as his ribs protested the movement.

  Levin glanced at him, concern flashing across his face before he quickly masked it. “There’s something else,” he said, leaning forward. “You’ll want to see this.”

  He picked up the remote from the table and switched on the small TV mounted on the far wall. The screen flickered to life, revealing a sleek news broadcast, the kind that was constantly streaming, feeding people updates and information about the world’s powers and its protectors.

  On-screen, a polished news anchor stood in front of a massive backdrop showing an image of Crimson Nova in her prime—her vibrant red suit ablaze, eyes burning with the fire that had made her legendary.

  “The hero world mourns today,” the anchor began, her voice solemn, though the practiced professionalism never faltered. “Hana Kim, known to the world as Crimson Nova, one of the strongest members of the Nova Horizons and a beloved figure, was confirmed dead in the aftermath of the attack at NovaTech Labs.”

  Jack’s stomach twisted as the camera cut to a series of images: footage of Crimson Nova soaring through the sky, flames trailing behind her; interviews with citizens whose lives she had saved; then finally, her still, lifeless body being carried away on a stretcher.

  The anchor’s voice continued over the footage. “Authorities have confirmed that a private funeral will be held for Hana Kim, though details remain classified for the safety of her family and loved ones. In addition, a public memorial service and parade have been scheduled for next week, allowing the world to pay their respects to a hero who gave everything to protect us.”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen, announcing the date and time of the public memorial.

  Jack stared at the screen, feeling the hollowness settle deeper in his chest. Crimson Nova was gone, and now the system was putting on a show—another reminder of the power they had lost, the heroes who couldn’t save her.

  Levin cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “They’re trying to keep the public from panicking. But you and I both know this isn’t the end. The cracks are already showing.”

  Jack’s eyes flicked to Levin. “And what do you think happens next?”

  Levin leaned back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. “What happens next is chaos. The people behind the attack are waiting for the right moment to strike again, and we’re not ready for it. The heroes are stretched thin, the public’s faith is shaken, and the power structure that’s kept everything balanced is crumbling. It’s only a matter of time before the world falls into a kind of disorder we haven’t seen since the Wave.”

  Jack nodded slowly, his mind working through the implications. The attack on NovaTech wasn’t just an isolated event. It was a crack in the dam, and when that dam finally broke, the flood would wipe out everything in its path. The heroes, the government, NovaTech—they were all just trying to hold back the inevitable.

  “I can’t sit here,” Jack muttered, the frustration rising in his voice. “I can’t just—”

  “You’re not ready yet,” Levin interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’ll get back out there soon enough, but right now, you need to heal.”

  Jack bit back a retort. He knew Levin was right. His body wasn’t ready for another fight. But the idea of sitting here, waiting for the world to unravel while he lay in bed, made his skin crawl.

  Levin stood, his eyes serious but not without empathy. "I know how this feels," he said quietly, adjusting his glasses. "It’s hard to stay still when you want to act. But you can’t rush this. The world’s in a fragile place, and if you go out there before you’re ready, you’ll only make things worse. For yourself, and for everyone else."

  Jack didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Levin had made his point, but that didn’t mean Jack had to like it.

  The doctor hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. "They’ve scheduled the public memorial for Crimson Nova," he said finally, glancing at the TV still playing in the background. "The private one’s already set—strictly family and close friends, of course—but the public memorial... it’s going to be a big deal. The world needs closure, and they’re using it as a way to keep people focused on hope rather than fear. They announced the date just a few hours ago."

  Jack’s gaze shifted to the screen. The anchor was still delivering the news, now talking about the logistical preparations for the massive event. A memorial parade through the heart of the city, thousands expected to attend, security tighter than ever. The heroes needed to put on a show, to remind the world that despite everything, they were still standing. They needed to remind themselves too.

  The camera switched to footage of citizens lining the streets, their faces somber but hopeful, some wearing the iconic red of Crimson Nova’s suit in solidarity. Jack watched, the growing pressure in his chest making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t help but think back to the fight, to the way she fell. It shouldn’t have ended like that.

  Levin crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "It’s not just about remembering her. This is about control. The system needs people to believe in it, especially now that it’s been shaken. The public’s going to grieve, and then they’ll move on—because they’ll be told that things are under control. That someone new will step up and fill the void."

  Jack clenched his fists, the sharp sting of his bandaged knuckles grounding him. "And do they have someone to step up?"

  Levin hesitated, then shook his head. "Not yet. They discussed it at the meeting, but no one’s eager to take her place. Stellar’s the name that’s come up most, but he’s untested in leadership. He’s not sure he’s ready for it—and neither are the others."

  Jack let the silence hang between them, his mind racing. Stellar. A young hero with potential, but filling Crimson Nova’s shoes? He wasn’t sure anyone could do that. The weight of the world had been balanced on a few key figures, and now, without one of them, everything felt like it was tipping.

  Levin glanced at the door, clearly preparing to leave Jack to rest, but he paused one last time. "They’re not sure what’s coming next, but they’re preparing for something. Whatever’s happening with the modulators, whatever these attackers want, it’s bigger than we thought."

  Jack closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. "And you think I can stop it?"

  "I think you’re going to have to," Levin said simply. "Because you see things they don’t. You fight differently, think differently. They’ll be looking in all the usual places, but this enemy isn’t playing by the usual rules. And neither are you."

  With that, Levin turned and left the room, the door sliding shut with a soft click behind him. Jack lay there for a long moment, listening to the muted sounds of the outside world, feeling the heaviness of everything pressing down on him. The news anchor’s voice droned on in the background, details of the memorial parade rolling out, but Jack’s thoughts were far from the pageantry and speeches.

  His eyes flicked back to the TV screen, where a still image of Crimson Nova filled the frame. He watched her face, fierce and unyielding, a hero to the end. But behind the hero was just a person—someone who couldn’t withstand the kind of power they had faced. Someone who had died trying.

  Jack didn’t care about the memorial, or the public’s need for closure. He cared about the fact that no one seemed to understand how broken the system really was. They were all playing their part, pretending the cracks weren’t getting wider, that their heroes weren’t falling apart. But Jack could see it, and he wasn’t sure anyone else could stop what was coming.

  The weight of it pressed down on him, and despite his injuries, despite everything Levin had said, Jack knew he couldn’t stay in bed for much longer. The world wasn’t going to wait for him to heal.

  Because when the next wave came—and Jack could feel it coming—it wouldn’t care whether he was ready or not.