Hermes’ vision spun, not unlike the swirling cosmos paintings behind Mr. Quasar’s desk.
It felt as though his thoughts were meteorites, colliding violently, trailing fire and dust as they orbited the core of his uncertainty.
What the hell did inner beast mean?
He clenched his fists on his lap, trying to focus on Mr. Quasar’s warm, grandfatherly tone.
"You’ve been trying to suppress it, haven’t you?" Dante asked, his voice both far and near, echoing through the folds of Hermes’ psyche. "That hunger. That part of you that growls when you’re cornered. That side of you that bites."
Hermes’ mouth felt dry. The memories surfaced whether he wanted them to or not—of him threatening a waitress in a café, of growling at a rival who had harmed Aphrodite, of going feral when Eirwyn had gaslit him one too many times. The way his nails dug into his own palms, or how his voice deepened, distorted.
"It’s terrible..." Hermes muttered.
Dante nodded. "But... Is it indiscriminate? Or does it choose its prey?"
Hermes’ eyes widened. Yes... there was also when he used that same rage to protect. To shield someone. To survive.
"I... I guess it’s not random," Hermes finally whispered. "It only comes out when someone crosses a line."
Mr. Quasar smiled, reclining back on a chair that looked like it had been made from galaxies and coiled energy. "Exactly. The beast is not a monster... It’s a sentinel. It reacts to injustice. To pain. To fear."
Hermes knew in his heart that this was correct. But it was also difficult to accept.
"And yet." Dante continued, steepling his fingers. "You fear it. You treat it like a curse. But let me ask you this... Have you ever thought about why it exists in the first place?"
He leaned forward, suddenly looking ancient.
"There is no light without shadow. No hero without the potential for villainy."
Mr. Quasar stood, his colorful suit shifting in design every time he moved. He walked to the nearest wall and gestured. A panel lit up, displaying old Jungian diagrams, simplified and stylized with animated lines.
"We all wear masks, Hermes. But underneath them are archetypes. Patterns of behavior, ancient and eternal." He tapped on a glowing icon of a stick figure.
"The Hero." he said. "Courageous. Driven. Loved by the people."
Then he tapped again.
"The Shadow. Angry. Resentful. Dangerous."
"The Creator. The Sage. The Jester. The Ruler. Each one of us wears these roles throughout our life. Sometimes, even at the same time."
He turned to Hermes and raised a brow. "And each has a darker side. The Hero becomes a Villain. The Lover becomes the Whore. The Caregiver becomes the Neglector. The Innocent becomes the Guilty."
Hermes murmured, "So you’re saying I’m... all of them?"
Quasar’s eyes twinkled. "Multitude, my boy. We are not one thing. We are legions. And sometimes, you have to make peace with the darker version of yourself. Because only then can you become whole."
Silence passed between them like the passing of comets.
Then Hermes, staring at the swirling ceiling, asked the question that itched his throat. "You’ve separated your dark sides before, haven’t you? Because of your power..."
Quasar nodded solemnly. "Yes. I’ve lived lifetimes in moments. Split myself to fight wars on multiple fronts. I’ve seen what I am without the rage, and also what I become if I am only the rage."
Hermes clenched his fists tighter.
"Can you... do that to others?"
"I can," Quasar said carefully. "But I ask you this instead: Would you rather carve the beast out of you... or tame it?"
Hermes didn’t answer. Not right away. The weight of that question throbbed like a second heartbeat.
"...I’ll think about it," he said finally.
Dante smiled again. "That’s all I ask. In the meantime... control the impulse. The line between hero and monster is not in capability. It’s in frequency. How often you choose to hurt. That’s all evil ever was."
And with that, he dismissed him.
Throughout that week, Hermes tried to distract himself with missions. Action helped. Movement helped. Noise helped.
Victorina did a pirouette midair, slamming her wand on the pavement as glittering skeletons rose like musical notes from the cracks. "Dance, my bony pretties!"
"She’s still a menace." Hermes muttered, watching a glittery T-Rex headbutt a non-power user criminal.
They were fighting a bunch of thugs that had been causing trouble in the streets.
Vera rode atop a horned black unicorn, black tears staining her cheeks like always. "I pierced his soul. He will weep every night for eternity."
Fiero crushed an entire building’s scaffolding into a metal web. "Bro! I got ’em!" he flexed, shirtless as ever.
Cam rolled his eyes, flashing his mechanical camera arm. "Hermes looks pudgy. That’s a weak spot. Work on your sides, drama queen."
Hermes groaned. "Why don’t you focus on your weakspots, Cam."
Somner just smirked, leaning against a car with one word ready to command: "Sleep."
And three enemies collapsed, snoring.
Hermes had to pretend he didn’t have Rewind or Mindbloom or Sirentone. He wasn’t officially cleared to have those, after all.
So, instead, he used capsules containing DNA samples from Ymir and Magni. Stuff like hair from their combs or nail clippings. Pretty disgusting to eat on their own, so Hermes had them kept in these small pills to pop into his mouth so he can use Cryoshift and Magnarok even just for a few minutes.
He would eat them along with ice cubes or coal to make it seem like those were what caused him to have the powers.
Straight into his gullet.
"Let’s finish this." He grinned, igniting his hands in fire and frost.
The city roared as Hermes Potentia soared into the battlefield, and nothing felt better than when he landed with a boom.
Everyday, he would come home to his apartment feeling tired but also fulfilled.
Xolotl was sprawled across the couch, always looking after the puppies like an older brother. The Grrberus pups ran in circles, barking, "MASTER FOUGHT AGAIN! MASTER BLEW STUFF UP! MASTER IS A GOD!!"
Aphrodite just served tea.
Hermes took off his jacket and flopped on the couch. "Today was wild. Victorina summoned an entire glitter whale."
"Hmm." Aphrodite nodded. "Saw it on the news. You got caught in its blowhole."
"...Don’t remind me."
Somner would sometimes come over too.
He would be sitting cross-legged on the floor and sipping milk tea. "You were majestic, Master. Also dumb. But mostly majestic."
"Gee, thanks." Hermes chuckled.
Sometimes they all fall asleep . Dogs at their feet, mouths still stained with takeout, and a movie playing in the background.
Everything seemed to be going just fine...
Until they received a mission that was not like the others.