CHAPTER 59: INFLUENCER

There were no slow-motion montages. No triumphant soundtracks. No glowing captions highlighting bravery and sacrifice.

Just cracked roads, crumbled buildings, and the smell of scorched metal lingering too long in the air.

The battlefield—now nearing its seventh day—looked nothing like the footage aired on national broadcasts. Those feeds were saturated with carefully selected hero poses, cropped angles, and cinematic filters.

But the truth was what Hermes saw now: charred tree stumps, melted glass on sidewalks, and collapsed homes that had been "accidentally" caught in the crossfire of what was supposed to be a ’staged’ conflict.

He couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Did things really need to go this far just to expose the truth?

He kicked aside a smoking helmet as he walked next to Ymir, both of them doing a perimeter check. The damage here wasn’t even the worst part.

"Ymir..." Hermes muttered, pausing in his tracks. "There’s someone over there."

In the distance, a girl in a stained hoodie stood atop the shell of a burned-out car. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen, holding a shaky phone camera in one hand while gesturing toward the destruction around her.

"Welcome back to my SuperTube channel, ’Fall of the Capes’." She said into the lens. "This is Day 7 of the Magnarok War. We’ve seen over thirty houses leveled and fourteen injured civilians. Don’t believe the livestreams—they’re all sponsored. This is what heroism looks like in real life."

Hermes approached cautiously. "Hey, kid. It’s dangerous here. You should go home."

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you going to make me?"

Ymir stepped forward, arms crossed. "It’s not about making you. It’s about not getting your guts turned into pavement decorations."

"I’m documenting this," she snapped, pointing to her phone. "If I leave, no one will know the truth. All those drones in the sky are filming fireworks. I’m filming the smoke after the bang. People shouldn’t be cheering. They should be mourning."

Hermes hesitated.

"You’re not wrong...." He said quietly.

There were no real fatalities yet—not in this staged performance. But the debris, the collateral pain, the growing unrest...

That was real.

And then, like the ticking of a clock, a familiar presence made the hairs on Hermes’ neck rise.

"Ah, what a passionate voice. And so early in the morning." said Eirwyn smoothly, stepping into view.

His uniform was pristine, white and gold against the gray wasteland.

A reassuring smile played across his lips. "May I?"

He extended his hand—half toward the girl, half toward the camera.

The girl held her camera against her chest protectively, not falling for his kindly aura. Eirwyn wasn’t fazed, and just continued to try and coax her.

"I couldn’t help but overhear." He said warmly. "I truly admire your conviction. This world needs more young people who speak their truth."

Hermes narrowed his eyes, feeling the bait behind every word.

"But..." Eirwyn chuckled softly, tilting his head with theatrical gentleness. "I do wonder—if heroes didn’t exist, would we not still have chaos? Crime? Suffering? Should we not at least try to help those who cry for it?"

The girl frowned, fingers tightening around her phone.

"And what are you helping with, exactly? This fake war? This PR stunt?" She looked at Ymir accusingly.

"What makes you think it is a stunt?" Eirwyn tilted his head.

The girl fiddled with her camera’s lenses. "They talked about it in Raddit. Cryoshift always lets Magnarok get away, and Magnarok never really killed a single person. So what if this was all just for publicity? Another cool episode of Fire vs Ice."

Eirwyn held her gaze, still smiling. "Conspiracy theories aside... You call it fake, but ask the people we’ve evacuated, the lives we’ve shielded from real Threats hiding among the smoke. This isn’t just a show. It’s a message—that we won’t stand idle, even if the danger does not involve death. We act because we must, revert things to the way they should be."

"And what about the civilians caught in the crossfire?" She shot back. "Can you revert them back to themselves before they had trauma? Bring back the homes they lost?"

"As a matter of fact, I can." Eirwyn raised his hand.

In a display of power, he used Rewind to bring back a piece of rubble that the girl was standing on back to the building it fell off.

"Ahhhhh!!!" The girl shouted as she was lifted high in the air.

"Jump!" Ymir told her just as she would soon no doubt be crushed into the building and become a part of it.

She jumped off and Ymir caught her.

Eirwyn sighed, like a teacher dealing with a stubborn pupil. "See? This is why civilians are better off leaving the area and letting the professionals handle it. Nothing good comes out of getting in the way, especially young ones that can do nothing but post criticism as ’influencers’."

Hermes gritted his teeth, and stepped forward. "Eirwyn—"

The girl interrupted him. "So what—you think I’m just a brat with a phone? Is that it?"

"No," Eirwyn said, kindly. "I think you’re a young person who still has time to grow. And with the right guidance, you might even become someone who saves lives, rather than just commenting on those who do."

The girl moved, furious....

And raised her hand to slap him!

Eirwyn caught her wrist gently, his expression calm. He didn’t squeeze. He didn’t scowl.

But his grip, even so, didn’t budge.

"I understand your frustration." He said softly, like a priest calming a sinner. "But violence won’t help your cause."

"Ahh!" The girl howled in pain as her fingers started to turn purple the more pressure was put on her wrist.

Hermes took a step forward. "Let her go."

Eirwyn looked remorseless as he was close to breaking the girl’s bones...

But he eventually let go.

"Of course, Hermes." He said sweetly.

He released her, brushing his cape back as if it had all been a civilized debate. The girl stumbled back, tears in her eyes and holding her camera like a lifeline.

"I’m just being careful, Hermes." Eirwyn said as he watched the girl like a hawk. "People need direction. Discipline. That way they won’t get hurt... Or hurt others when they can no longer control the monster within them."

The threat was subtle. Not shouted. Not even sharpened. But Hermes felt the cold steel underneath.

Ymir stepped in, his tone colder than Cryoshift itself. "Are we done?"

Eirwyn placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. "Always a pleasure to talk to the youth. Best of luck with your channel, Miss..."

"...Naia," She said, voice tight.

"Naia." He smiled again, then turned and walked away—leaving the sour aftertaste of manipulation behind him.

Hermes stood in silence, fists clenched.

Naia sat on a piece of rubble, quietly rubbing her wrist.

"You okay?" Hermes asked.

She nodded, then looked at him. "Why does he scare me more than the monsters?"

Hermes sat beside her, watching Eirwyn’s back as if wanting to lodge a dagger into it.

"Because he’s worse."