CHAPTER 178: THE MISSION MUST SUCCEED

Raphael’s head snapped back as the bullet punctured through his skull, but Hermes barely had time to gasp before instinct took over.

He rushed to Raphael’s side, his palms glowing faintly with the beginnings of Rewind, fingers trembling as he reached for him.

"No... No, no, no! Stay with me!" Hermes muttered, voice breaking, ready to twist the fabric of time itself if it meant pulling Raphael back.

But then....

Raphael convulsed. His entire body trembled violently as if the very cells inside him rejected death itself.

Hermes froze, wide-eyed, watching as a sharp metallic ping rang out.

The bullet lodged inside Raphael’s brain was suddenly ejected with a sickening wet sound, clattering against the floor. Blood hissed and evaporated into steam as golden light coursed through Raphael’s veins. His head, the wound, even the fragments of shattered bone...

All of it regenerated in seconds.

The alien slowly stood upright, and his eyes burned like twin suns. Hermes stumbled back, his breath shallow.

The Russian soldiers, terrified beyond reason, fired more bullets in a desperate frenzy. Dozens of shells bounced off Raphael’s chest like rain against steel, each ricochet ringing out across the cramped cabin.

He barely flinched. Instead, Raphael just raised his hands, smiling gently, as if to calm frightened children.

"Peace. Please," he said, voice deep and resonant. "I am not here to kill you."

But the soldiers couldn’t understand him. Their shouts in Russian filled the cabin, sharp, panicked, almost feral.

They shot again. Hermes flinched at every muzzle flash, every blast echoing in the steel chamber.

Then Raphael tilted his head, exhaling as though reluctantly revealing a card he hadn’t wanted to play. His voice suddenly shifted, smooth and accented.

"My ne vashi vragi." Raphael said in flawless Russian. We are not your enemies.

Hermes froze. His heart dropped. "...You... you can speak Russian?"

Raphael didn’t look at him. His golden gaze remained locked on the soldiers, his posture calm, his words steady as he spoke again in their tongue.

Hermes couldn’t follow everything, but the tone was undeniably equal parts commanding and reassuring.

The soldiers lowered their guns an inch, trembling but hesitant.

Hermes stepped closer, whispering harshly. "You.. You’ve understood them this entire time? The kids, the soldiers, all of them?"

Finally, Raphael turned, and his expression was unreadable. "I’ve gathered just enough information for a decent grasp of the language. I hear every word and process them faster than humans could... And then I simply adapt, my Lord."

Hermes’ lips parted, fury and confusion twisting inside him. "Then why... Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to the children earlier, ask them if they even wanted this mission?"

Raphael’s smile faltered, his face hardening as though Hermes’ question pressed a nerve. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting Hermes in shadow.

His voice dropped, quieter now, almost intimate.

"Because, Hermes... even if the children say they chose this mission, even if they swore with all their hearts that they wanted to go to Mars... do you believe they understand? Do you truly think they grasp the weight of never seeing their families again? Of dying billions of miles away from home?"

Hermes clenched his fists. "...Maybe they do."

"They’re children," Raphael countered coldly. "Their consent is an illusion. A gilded choice crafted by governments. By adults who know exactly how to bend them. That is no choice at all."

Hermes’ chest tightened. He wanted to argue, but Raphael wasn’t entirely wrong. The image of that boy reading The Little Prince haunted him.... How innocent his eyes had looked, how ordinary.

How easily a child’s dreams could be twisted into chains.

"And besides," Raphael added, his voice softer now, dangerously persuasive, "if we don’t complete this mission, the Stripes will know. Your fame, your power, your future... it will vanish. My Lord, you can’t afford that. Not now, when we’re so close to breaking the hornet’s nest."

Hermes’ jaw locked, teeth grinding so hard his head throbbed. The weight of that truth crushed him, the reminder that they weren’t free. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Finally, he exhaled sharply. "...Fine. Let’s do it."

Together, they moved quickly.

Raphael’s eyes blazed crimson as he turned toward the console, lasers erupting from his pupils with surgical precision. The control panel hissed, melted, and then erupted in flames.

Sparks showered across the cabin as alarms blared in frantic Russian. The pilot screamed into his headset, trying to report back to Roscosmos.

Raphael’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade, smooth and commanding in Russian. "Eto bol’she ne vasha missiya. My berom na sebya upravleniye. Sidite spokoyno."

This is no longer your mission. We’re taking over. Sit still.

The crew froze, terror locking their muscles. Hands raised, they obeyed, sinking into their seats with trembling limbs.

Hermes’ stomach churned as he watched. The ease with which Raphael commanded them. The ease with which the crew surrendered. And the ease with which Hermes was falling in line with a plan he didn’t trust.

Still... a promise was a promise.

He followed Raphael to the airlock, bracing himself for the void. The plan was simple. Exit the spacecraft, push it back toward Earth with their combined strength, and then... Rewind. Freeze Earth itself in a suspended moment, while they’re invisible to human eyes.

Then they’d be free to search for Raphael’s place of origin.

But just as Raphael keyed the hatch and the steel door began to hiss open—

A shrill voice cut through the din behind them!

Hermes spun around. The children!

One by one, they were climbing out of their capsules, oxygen masks dangling, faces pale but eyes blazing with fire. Their voices were sharp, angry, demanding answers. Russian words Hermes couldn’t understand crashed into him like waves, but the fear and anger in their tone was undeniable.

The soldiers they had knocked unconscious earlier lay sprawled across the floor, and the children had noticed.

Hermes raised a hand, frantic. "Raphael, talk to them. Please. Tell them we’re trying to help. They’ll listen to you—"

But Raphael didn’t move. His face was grim, his jaw tight.

And Hermes knew.

He knew before it happened.

The first child’s eyes glowed electric blue. A second raised her hands and conjured sparks of lightning across her fingertips. Another’s hair ignited like a torch, flames licking upward. One by one, all twelve children revealed themselves...

Twelve living weapons, trained and sharpened, their small frames hiding terrifying power.

And then—

They attacked.

The chamber erupted in chaos. Lightning arced across steel, flames roared, wind howled with unnatural force. One boy screamed and the air pressure dropped, the metal walls groaning under the strain. Another girl’s skin crystallized into diamond as she lunged forward like a human blade.

Hermes barely had time to react. He threw up his arms, six radiant wings flaring out behind him in a shield of light as a storm of psychic and elemental fury crashed against him. Sparks danced across his skin, and the scent of ozone filled the cabin.

"Raphael!" he shouted, his voice drowned in the cacophony. "Do something!"

Raphael’s golden aura blazed, his body alight with fire, but his eyes were shadowed. For once, he didn’t look like the invincible alien god Hermes thought he was.

He looked... torn.

"Hermes," he said, his voice low even as flames curled around him. "They won’t stop. They said they’ve been trained for this, and been told that this mission must succeed no matter what."

A boy hurled a sphere of molten rock straight at Hermes’ chest. He staggered back, his clothes melting into his skin, pain rippling through his arms. He bit back a scream, forcing himself upright as his Paragon powers healed him.

They have no choice but to fight these 12 superpowered children.