CHAPTER 179: GO HOME

The cabin roared with chaos, twelve voices screaming in unison, a storm of powers colliding with steel walls and flashing alarms.

Hermes spread his six radiant wings wide, light pouring from him in rivers, shielding Raphael and himself as best he could. Electricity arced across the walls, shards of crystal flew, and fire seared through the air.

Each blast slammed into him with enough force to tear a man in half, but his Paragon body only flared brighter, mending wounds as quickly as they formed.

Still, the pain was real. His chest heaved as he forced himself to stay upright.

"Raphael, we cannot kill them," Hermes shouted, his voice strained under the pressure. "They are children!"

Raphael’s body blazed with fire, his phoenix wings cutting through the haze of smoke. He blocked a spear of diamond with a single strike of his arm, shattering it to dust. His face twisted, not in anger, but in conflict.

He knew Hermes was right.

"Then we subdue them, my Lord. Hold fast. I will not take their lives."

The children were relentless. A girl with hair of flames screamed as she hurled a torrent of fire, the heat warping the metal floor beneath them. Hermes braced his wings, forcing them forward as a shield. Fire splashed against him, searing into his skin. He grunted, his body trembling under the weight of it.

Then, Raphael leapt, soaring high within the cramped cabin, and with a sweep of his burning wings, he created a wave of flame that canceled hers. She staggered back, gasping, and Hermes lunged forward, striking her in the side with the flat of his hand.

She crumpled unconscious, the fire extinguishing from her hair.

One down. Eleven to go.

Another boy charged, his skin glittering with diamond. He was fast, faster than Hermes expected, and his crystalline body slammed into Hermes’ ribs with the force of a truck. Hermes felt something crack.

He roared, grabbing the boy’s arms, wings folding in around them both. The crystal boy struggled, punching, kicking, shards stabbing into Hermes’ flesh. H

ermes squeezed, forcing his strength into restraint, and with one swift motion he brought the boy down against the floor. The boy’s head struck the metal with a dull thud, and his glittering skin dulled into pale flesh again.

Hermes exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down his temples. "That is two."

But there was no time to rest. A sphere of ice streaked across the cabin. Raphael caught it midair, the frost crawling up his arm instantly.

His flames flared, melting it to vapor, but another attack came from behind. A psychic wave slammed into his back, forcing him to his knees. Hermes turned, snarling, and rushed forward, grabbing the girl who was clutching her temples.

He tapped her shoulder gently, whispering, "I am sorry," before striking her neck with precision.

She collapsed, unconscious.

On and on it went. Every strike they dealt was measured, every blow intended to disable rather than destroy.

Hermes bled from his arms, chest, and even across his face. Raphael’s body was littered with burns, cuts, and bruises, but both of them healed as quickly as the damage appeared.

Yet healing did not mean it was painless.

Every moment was agony, and every moment reminded Hermes that these were not enemies. These were children, forced into this.

They pressed on.

The tenth child fell after a brutal clash.

A boy had conjured winds so sharp they cut through steel, but Raphael wrapped him in his fiery wings, burning away the oxygen and snuffing out the gale until the boy fainted from exhaustion.

Hermes grabbed him before he struck the floor, laying him gently down.

The eleventh was trickier, a girl whose body dissolved into mist and reformed in another corner. She darted again and again, striking their ribs, their backs, their necks, each hit sharper than the last.

Hermes caught her finally, spreading his six wings to flood the cabin with light. The brilliance stunned her, forcing her to reform for longer than usual, and Raphael swept in, striking her temple with the gentlest force he could muster.

She fell, her body turning solid again as she slumped into Hermes’ arms.

Only one remained.

She was the smallest of them, a little girl no older than twelve, her hair dark as midnight, her eyes black pools that glimmered with violet light.

Her hands trembled, and yet when she lifted them, the air shifted. Shadows bent unnaturally.

A chilling miasma spread across the cabin, swallowing the light of Hermes’ wings and the flames of Raphael’s body. The temperature dropped instantly, and the sound itself seemed to die.

Hermes’ breath hitched. His halos dimmed. His six eyes burned with strain. He staggered backward, clutching his chest.

Raphael’s face turned grim. His jaw clenched, his teeth grit together, and his flames sputtered.

His voice dropped, tight with dread....

"Dark matter."

Hermes snapped his head toward him. "What?"

Raphael did not take his gaze off the child. His eyes glowed faintly, the fire within him flickering weakly.

"My only true weakness, my Lord. Night itself. Dark matter is the substance of the Void, the invisible threads that shape the universe. It cannot be burned. It cannot be consumed. It is the one thing that devours my strength."

Hermes’ wings faltered, their glow strangled by the oppressive shadow. His chest tightened. The girl’s small frame trembled as she pushed harder, her dark aura expanding, suffocating them both.

Hermes dropped to one knee, gasping for air. He could not fight this head on.

But then he remembered.

Mindbloom.

He pressed his palms against the ground, focusing, his halos spinning. He reached with his mind, pushing into the girl’s thoughts. Her world opened before him, fractured and trembling.

Memories flashed... her home, a small village in Russia, fields of sunflowers, a wooden house with peeling paint.

A family gathered around a table. Laughter, warmth, her mother’s smile. And then... the exams. The men in uniforms. The promise of pride, of serving the Motherland, of touching the stars. Then the training, the long nights of exhaustion, the fear buried under determination.

Her thoughts screamed in Russian, a language Hermes could not understand. But he could hear the tone, the sorrow, the desperate cry.

He began to repeat the words out loud, shaky and clumsy, his voice rough. The girl’s eyes widened. Confusion flickered through the shadows.

Raphael’s gaze sharpened. He realized immediately what Hermes was doing. He stepped forward, despite the pain of the dark matter.

His voice translated softly, each word carried in Russian. "She says she is afraid. She thinks she will never see her family again. She thinks we destroyed her ship, her comrades. She thinks she is all alone. She is calling for her mother."

Hermes swallowed hard. His throat tightened. He nodded once, and spoke. "Then translate this for me."

He straightened his back, ignoring the pressure crushing his chest, and lifted his voice.

"My name is Hermes Potentia. Like you, I was given powers. I wanted to make my people proud, and so I left my home to live in a new city. A strange world that was not my own. I was lost. I was homesick. I did not know what to do."

Raphael’s voice carried his words to the girl, gentle in Russian.

Hermes took a step forward, his eyes fixed on hers. "I was lucky. I found friends. But I always wished I could be with the people I loved. I wished I was not pressured to leave them behind just to prove myself. I never wanted to be torn away from them."

The girl’s lips trembled. Tears welled in her blackened eyes. The shadows flickered, faltering for a moment.

Hermes extended his hand. His voice cracked, but his words stayed firm.

"I know you want to go home. And I want that too. I want to send you home to your family. You do not deserve this. Not at your age. You should be playing in the fields, laughing with friends, living a silly teenage life. Not dying billions of miles away. Not suffering what I suffered."

Raphael’s voice wavered as he translated, his own golden eyes dimming with emotion. His breath hitched once, betraying how Hermes’ words cut into him as well.

The girl’s hands shook violently. The dark miasma pulsed one last time...

And then dissipated.

She sobbed, collapsing forward.

Hermes rushed to her and caught her in his arms. He knelt, holding her small body tightly, his wings folding around her like a shelter. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his chest.

He stroked her hair gently, whispering as Raphael translated. "You are safe now. You will go home. I promise."

Her small voice cracked, a single word slipping past her lips. "Mama..."

Hermes felt his chest break, but he smiled through it. He pulled back enough to meet her eyes, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"Let us go home," he said softly.

Raphael stood behind them, silent, his flames returning slowly. His gaze lingered on the pair, his expression unreadable. For once, the alien who claimed invincibility looked human, touched in ways he could not hide.

Together, Hermes and Raphael rose, the unconscious children surrounding them. Their path was clear. It was time to bring them back to Earth.

"Let us go home."

Hermes repeated, his voice steady now, as his wings unfurled in full light.