Flames danced across the skyline like a deranged brushstroke. The War Zone was a burning canvas of rebellion—charred buildings lined with glowing graffiti, smoldering cars overturned like forgotten toys.
At the center of it all, in letters ten meters tall, a message scorched in roaring fire blazed atop high-rises:
Hermes stared up, blinking soot from his eyes, trying not to gag on the smoke.
"Okay but—do I really have to wear this?"
He gestured bitterly at the hero uniform. White gloves. A monocle. A silver tray in hand. And cat ears.
"This is undignified. I look like a knockoff from some Victorian BDSM furry catalog."
"Shut up." Ymir said flatly, wiping his bloodied knuckles against his jacket. "You’re lucky I promoted you to second-in-command. You could’ve been the third. Or a water boy."
"I am literally holding tea."
"Exactly. You’re a tea boy, which is superior to a water boy. Now enough chitchat, Copy Cat."
They stood side-by-side atop a collapsed fire escape, surveying the chaotic playground below. Ymir, arms crossed, wore a tattered military trench coat like some war god just dragged out of hell. Hermes, behind him, looked like his freshly waxed valet.
The fire had attracted cameras, drones, and thousands of live viewers across Haven City. The government was already scrambling to respond. Just as planned.
Somner: Aphrodite infiltrated SHIFT successfully. He’s currently pretending to be a coffee intern. You wouldn’t believe how fast he memorized everyone’s drink order.
Aphrodite: Triple-shot oat milk latte, one pump vanilla, no foam. Eirwyn’s secretary works here, and said "I like my coffee like I like my lovers—disposable." I kept note of all her affairs.
Somner: Background check came in from Cam. Eirwyn never attended Hero Academy. Military brat. Late bloomer. Graduated from Corinthian Combat College with honors.
Hermes stifled a laugh.
SHIFT—the Special Hero Intelligence Force Troop—was more secretive than most people realized. It wasn’t just a branch of hero intel; it was a silent partner of military experiments, with deep ties to politics.
And Eirwyn was their golden graduate.
Ymir scoffed when the news came in. "Of course. No wonder his justice tastes like poison. Bastard probably saluted before gutting people."
Hermes fiddled with the tray, checking his reflection in the polished surface. "We need to time this perfectly. If Eirwyn shows up too early, it’ll spook our actors. If he shows up too late, the Threats will already get too hurt, possibly eliminated."
"Speaking of Threats..." Ymir tapped his comms again. "Magni. You still alive or did your melodrama finally get you killed?"
Magni’s voice crackled through, deep and theatrical as always. "We are the fire in the eyes of the oppressed! The storm after centuries of still air! The scream of the silenced!"
"Yeah yeah, poet laureate." Ymir muttered. "How’s the ’revolution’?"
Hermes leaned in as Magni responded.
"It’s... unexpected," Magni admitted. "More Threats are joining. Not just Voidlings. Humans. Young ones too. I told them to stay behind the lines, but... they want to fight."
Ymir cursed. "Stupid brats. They’ll get killed."
Hermes lowered the tray. "Can you blame them? This might be the first time they’ve felt seen. Like they belong somewhere."
He thought of Trivia. Her hollow laughter. Her jagged teeth. Her childlike delight when speaking of the Void. She’d been one of them once.
Magni’s voice softened. "I know. That’s why I’m keeping them safe. I let them paint the banners. Help with cooking. They wear helmets and play pretend. But not the frontlines. Not a single one."
"Good." Hermes sighed. "That’s all we can ask."
The Sixth Department arrived shortly after.
Hermes’s stomach turned when he spotted them—those smug, musclebound jerks from his F-class days. They hadn’t changed. Some glared, others snickered, already whispering behind his back.
He caught one of them, Cain, muttering, "Guess even losers can get promoted if they suck up hard enough."
Hermes clenched his jaw.
Ymir seemed to notice. "Keep your fangs, Copy Cat. Don’t go biting people at random."
Hermes smiled bitterly at this dig on the ’incident’. "I already apologized, ok? And I have better control of my Void side now."
The old bitterness was crawling back. Being surrounded by the people who once humiliated him was like getting dragged back into his own personal hell. He’d worked so hard to prove himself. Fought the best heroes, demons, and beasts.
And yet, these meatheads still looked at him like he was trash in a cape.
Maybe he was trash. But he was trash on a mission.
’Look at them... mocking you. Again. Still. Always.’
’You could break their bones. Make them scream. They’d never laugh again. Never give you fake smiles while wishing for your downfall.’
"Shut up," Hermes whispered under his breath, but the beast only chuckled.
’Ymir’s stronger. Faster. More loved. And what are you? The butler?’
’You envy him. It’s okay. Let it fester. Let it burn. After this whole debacle with Eirwyn, you can take him down next. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
He shook his head, turning away from the Department. From the war. From the smoke.
He gripped the tray so hard his fingers went numb.
Not now. He had to hold it in. He had to play nice. This wasn’t just a war of fire. It was a war of perception. Of masks. If they were going to expose Eirwyn for what he truly was, he couldn’t afford to snap. Not yet.
"Hey." Ymir nudged him. "You good?"
Hermes looked up, blinked. "Yeah."
"Then stop acting weird. You’re my second-in-command. Try not to cry in front of the drones."
Hermes rolled his eyes. "One day I’ll kill you with that trench coat."
Ymir just grinned. "Ha! I dare you to. You won’t catch me off-guard this time, remember that I knocked you out last time we sparred."
"I can’t even remember that." Hermes grumbled.
Ymir’s expression softened a bit. "Yeah... I can’t wait to ice that fascist prick. Only I get to bully my employees."
They turned back toward the blaze as fire reflected in their eyes. The battle hadn’t even started yet—but already, the pieces were moving. SHIFT was watching. Eirwyn would arrive soon.
And somewhere, beyond the smoke and chaos, Aphrodite was sipping coffee and listening to military secrets behind closed doors.
Their phony war to expose the true enemies had begun.