"The law isn't on the side of the weak. Nor is it here for the Returners. It's just another weapon—one we use to survive."

  Ethan smirked coldly as he pressed the gas pedal of the Volvo SUV.

  According to Beatrice’s orders, they were forty minutes from the designated coordinates.

  Emma sat in the passenger seat. Maya, in the back.

  Their mission was clear: if the resurrected Returner proved harmless, protect them. If dangerous—eliminate them.

  (This is how I was saved... by Emma and Victoria...)

  Gratitude stirred in Maya's chest. But now she was on the other side of that mission.

  The thought made her chest tighten.

  "You can always count on Ethan to say something bleak like that. But don’t worry, Maya—he’s a total softie when it comes to girls," Emma said with a teasing smile, glancing over her shoulder.

  Ethan cleared his throat in protest, eyes still on the road.

  "Mr. Ethan... what exactly is your relationship with Luna Nordics?" Maya finally asked.

  She couldn’t shake her curiosity—after all, Luna was a women-only organization.

  Their eyes met in the rearview mirror—her icy blue, his steel gray.

  "Just call me Ethan. We’re only a few years apart. I work as a legal assistant for the Luna Nordics’ law division. But my actual organization is the Gray Archives—a Returner faction. They maintain ties with Luna, but I’m more of a personal ally than a member."

  His voice was deliberately emotionless. Detached.

  "The Gray Archives…?" Maya repeated.

  Emma turned back to explain.

  "They’re kind of like a preservation society for the past—before everything got hyper-modernized. A lot of Returners without combat skills or Exceeds live in that community. Ethan’s one of their rare combat operatives."

  Hearing that, Maya’s thoughts wandered to the blood sausage she'd eaten. A memory of old lives.

  Emma turned again, this time more serious.

  "Now that you're officially with us, Maya... and since there's a fight coming, there's something I should show you."

  She reached back and held out her left hand.

  "Grab it."

  Maya did. A warm, orange light—like dawn itself—wrapped around her palm. The warmth, the healing sensation... she knew this feeling.

  (It was her... all along... Emma was the one healing me while I was unconscious...)

  She recalled being out for nearly a month. And all that time, Emma had stayed by her side. That thought alone nearly overwhelmed her.

  "My Exceed is called Healing Palm. Returners have enhanced regeneration, but I can push it further—rapid healing, toxin removal, internal repairs. Still, we don’t usually reveal our Exceeds to others unless it’s necessary or we really trust them. So keep that in mind, okay?"

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  Emma smiled gently.

  "What about yours, Ethan?" she asked with a sly grin.

  "You’ll find out soon enough. Especially if the enemy’s scum."

  His tone dropped. Cold. Blunt.

  (What kind of life has he lived…?)

  Maya couldn’t stop wondering.

  "Sorry if I startled you, Maya," Ethan said. Their eyes met again in the mirror.

  "You’ve got eyes like mine used to be—full of rage and grief. You don’t have to talk about it. Just… know that I get it."

  His voice was calm, but it echoed deep inside her.

  (He’s been through something too…)

  There was kindness in his restraint. And Maya appreciated that more than words could say.

  Meanwhile—

  At the river’s edge, Clara was soaked and shivering. Three large men pinned her arms behind her back, tying her wrists tight.

  She tried to resist, but the cold and terror had drained all strength from her body.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, landing on her mud-stained, shredded school uniform.

  One of the men picked her up like luggage, heading toward the car.

  That’s when she screamed.

  Not just a scream—something else.

  The sound warped the air, vibrated through the ground, stabbed through the men’s minds like needles.

  Agony bloomed where there should have been numbness.

  "Shut the hell up, you little—!"

  One of them dropped her, clutching his head.

  Clara fell hard, but she scrambled upright and screamed again, desperate.

  (There’s… power in my voice… but I’m almost at my limit...)

  The tears wouldn’t stop. Some force welled up in her throat, but even that was fading.

  (Why won’t anyone come? Why doesn’t anyone help?)

  (God, after everything… you’re letting it happen again?)

  Beneath the shimmering aurora, the scene looked like some ancient myth—a pure girl about to be executed under the eyes of silent gods.

  "Awakened just enough to be annoying," one man growled.

  Then he crushed her face under his boot.

  Silence.

  "You didn’t kill her, did you?" one asked.

  "She’s alive. Still useful. Still got a pulse. We’ll gag her just to be sure."

  He grabbed a rope and bound her mouth. Blood dripped from Clara’s broken nose, pooling on the icy ground.

  "Beating the fight out of them… nothing better, huh?"

  The booted man licked his lips, smiling like he enjoyed it.

  His two friends chuckled behind him.

  "—That’s what you call fun?"

  A voice. Male. Calm and cold.

  The man turned.

  Someone was standing there. Tall. Silent. Already there.

  His eyes—glowing gray—pierced the night. Pierced him.

  Not a reflection, but a radiance. Pressure poured from those eyes like gravity.

  "W-Who the hell are you?! How long have you—?"

  The man reached for a knife. Froze.

  He couldn’t move.

  "Who are you? What’s your goal? Speak it. Aloud."

  Ethan’s voice was sharp. Unfeeling.

  Maya, hiding nearby, saw the other two hesitate. They were unsure—on the verge of panic.

  (Like hell I’d answer that. You think I’m stupid—wait, why—?!)

  The man’s mouth moved. Against his will.

  (No—! I can’t stop…!)

  "W-We’re the Lumen Dei Special Forces… Our mission is to capture escaped female Returners… break them… brainwash them… turn them into slaves… all in worship of the god who blesses desire..."

  The words had barely left his mouth when Ethan moved.

  His foot lashed out—Duality Martial Arts: Abyss Strike – Breakpoint.

  A solid, ugly crack. The man’s groin caved in.

  He stood for a moment—eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth—then collapsed.

  His companions snapped out of their stupor and moved to fight.

  Ethan sighed. Hands still in his pockets.

  "Emma, treat the girl. Maya—support her. I’ll handle the rest."

  His gray eyes flashed. His voice dropped.

  Low. Cold. Deadly.

  So heavy, it seemed to still the very air around them.

  ?? Author’s Note

  Thank you for reading Chapter 9. This was a quiet, heavy episode, shifting away from action to focus on trauma, memory, and the unseen scars our characters carry.

  "second act" — where each character’s past begins to resurface and intertwine with the larger conspiracy behind the "Returners."

  things get darker from here.

  check out my Substack article here:

  https://open.substack.com/pub/knishi2050/p/why-i-wrote-hells-returners?r=5wfkgu&utm_medium=ios)