CHAPTER 57: KISS OF JUDAS

The sun was barely above the horizon when Eirwyn arrived at the settlement, dressed like the messiah himself.

His white and gold uniform was spotless, despite the ash lingering in the air. The cape trailed behind him, rippling like a divine banner, and his dark amber hair glimmered under the rising light.

"Here he goes," Hermes muttered, crouching beside a campfire with Ymir as they finished a canned breakfast. "Cue the violin."

Ymir sipped his coffee. "Don’t make it too obvious that you want to bite his head off. Just eat your food."

And feed he did, while imagining it was Eirwyn’s head.

The moment Eirwyn stepped onto the grounds, cameras zeroed in. He smiled with the ease of someone who had practiced it his whole life. His first act was to heal a limping hero with a dislocated shoulder.

One touch, a golden clock swirling on his palm, and the shoulder clicked back into place.

"Thank you, Rewind! You’re the best healer ever!" The man cried, voice choked.

"No thanks needed." Eirwyn replied, voice like sugar syrup. "You protected the people. It’s my honor to serve."

"Fraud." Hermes whispered. Ymir elbowed him.

The rest of the day played out like a sickening montage. Eirwyn fixing broken tech. Healing bruised backs. Handing out rations with a boyish grin. Every act performed right in front of the news drones floating in the air.

Hermes hated him. Not because of his smile. Not because of the fame. Not even because of what he did to Trivia.

No. It was because everyone else believed it.

"Cameras are rolling." Ymir said beside him. "This ’war’ isn’t just a way to expose him. This is your debut too. Make it count."

Hermes stood up, wiping coal dust off his pants. He’d injected Magni’s blood that morning, and his veins still itched faintly. He could also feel Cryoshift humming within him, stable now after hours of syncing.

"Then let’s give them a show."

***

"And here we have the infamous Ice Prince, Cryoshift, and his newly assigned Second-in-Command, Copy Cat, entering the scene."

The reporter’s voice echoed across the network. "Despite the tension within the Sixth Department, it seems the duo is working smoothly."

At first, Hermes focused solely on Cryoshift. He conjured frost daggers with the same precision Ymir had taught him, summoning a cold mist to blind the incoming lava creatures. With swift footwork and defensive slides across the ice, he disarmed and dismantled their molten forms before they could strike.

But no matter how clean his moves were, no matter how efficient—

The murmurs began.

"Isn’t that just Cryoshift’s thing?"

"He’s just copying Mr. Glace, right?"

"Eh, he’s just at the tip of the iceberg when it comes to using that ability. He’s no special snowflake."

"Must be nice to leech off someone else’s legacy."

Even the commentators didn’t hold back.

"Copy Cat seems to be relying heavily on Glace’s Cryoshift, folks," said the voice on the stream. "While effective, some are wondering whether this is ingenuity or just mimicry."

Hermes ground his teeth as he spun, freezing a lava serpent mid-air. The crowd clapped—but not for him. They clapped for the move they’d seen a dozen times before, under Ymir’s name.

Then...

He brought out the fire.

Lava gushed from his fingertips, swirling with Cryoshift’s frost. He turned the field into a canvas of contrast: steam erupting where heat met ice, magma tendrils curling into frozen spears.

"Copy Cat is displaying a curious evolution of Cryoshift!" The reporter sounded more excited. "Sources say he consumed raw ice and coal this morning, which suggests that he got his powers by consuming things. Talk about taking ’You are what you eat’ way too literally."

The news outlets are already preparing headlines like:

COPY CAT: A-Class Prodigy or Glorified Mime?

Cryoshift Reimagined: There can only be one Ice King in this Ring!

Hermes ignored the cameras. He ignored the whispers. He fought.

And he made it look good.

Every step he took was with intention. Every enemy he downed was with calculated flair. The pairing between him and Ymir moved like a duet: Ymir froze; Hermes scorched. Ymir threw; Hermes swept.

At one point, Hermes created an ice ramp, launching Ymir into the air where he slammed down with a glacial fist, earning cheers from the sidelines.

He should have expected it—that by noon, he was trending.

#CopyCat #CryoshiftFusion #SixthDepartmentShowdown

And for once, the comments were not cruel. Not entirely.

"He’s more than a Copy. That combo move? Damn."

"Cute and creative. Glace better watch his throne."

"Okay, Copy Cat kinda slayed."

Hermes returned to the camp, breath ragged, face flushed from adrenaline. His arms were trembling from the exertion, but he felt good. He felt seen.

He expected Ymir to snark at him. Something cold. Something dismissive.

Instead, Ymir tossed him a water bottle and smirked.

"Showoff."

Hermes blinked. "You’re not mad I stole your thunder?"

Ymir shrugged. "Hah. You wish. I am still the main character but... You’re not a bad sidekick."

Before Hermes could respond to that, a shadow fell over him.

"What a dazzling performance, Copy Cat."

He turned.

Eirwyn.

Hermes forced a smile. "Just doing my job."

Eirwyn bent down slightly, inspecting his face. "You’re bleeding."

Hermes touched his forehead. A small scratch. "It’s nothing. Band-aid will do."

But instead of reaching for medical supplies—

Eirwyn leaned in and kissed the wound.

The entire camp froze. The cameras zoomed. The air turned glass-sharp with tension.

Hermes stood still, heart thundering in his ears.

Ymir’s expression went blank.

"There. All better now," Eirwyn said, smiling serenely.

Hermes felt like he was just kissed by Judas.

***

Later that night, the clip was everywhere. Rewind kissing Copy Cat. Ships were sailing, edits were spinning, and conspiracy theories were brewing.

#RewindCat became the most popular tag instead of the ones meant to praise his debut performance as a hero.

Hermes sat alone, scrolling through his phone with a tight jaw. The beast inside whispered:

’He’s marking you. Staking a claim. You let him touch you.’

"What am I supposed to do?" Hermes grumbled. "There’s people watching."

’You should’ve bitten his tongue off.’

Hermes turned off his screen and stared at the bonfire. Ymir sat across from him, silent. Unreadable.

Finally, Hermes spoke. "I’m going to kill him."

Ymir didn’t flinch. "Not yet."

"He kissed me on live TV."

"It has to be some sort of move to spark more drama about you. Or to get more popular through feeding the shippers." Ymir concluded. "Let the world fall for his mask. The more they love him, the harder they’ll crash when we pull it off."

Hermes exhaled. The fire cracked. Somewhere in the distance, Magni’s rebel Threats were singing a war song. Aphrodite texted that he had access to the SHIFT archive terminals now.

The pieces were falling into place. But the game has only begun.