Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is crazy. I'm going to walk in there and get myself murdered. What am I even doing here?”
Ntombi crouched down and looked Wesley in the eyes. “Is other life worth living? Life without purpose... Life when don't belong... is that choice?”
Wesley's head hung low between his shoulders as he stared at the floor. “I know you're right, Ntombi. I do. It's why I'm not running out the door right now. But I can't beat him. It's just not possible.”
“Kgosi no ask you this if he no believe in you.”
He looked across the room at her and asked, “Do you really believe that? Do you really think he believes in me? I mean... what if he's trying to get rid of me? What if this is his way of removing me. Think about it... if I die, then that proves I wasn't worthy to be here. Right? No one will blame him for that.”
Ntombi nodded her head with a single, firm nod and said, “Kgosi is good man. You must trust.”
Wesley shook his head, defeated. “I want to, Ntombi. I want to believe every word that he says. But something doesn't feel right.”
Ntombi nodded again. “Nothing perfect. There darkness here. Evil. But it not Kgosi. He is light.”
Wesley paused, considering her words, before he mumbled, “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” she said, angry again. “Yes.”
“I guess I'll find out,” he said, glancing out the window as the sun peeked out over the horizon.
Ntombi looked out and said, “Yes. It time.”
A part of Wesley just wanted it to be over. The anxiety he felt as Ntombi led him out the door and down the hall felt like it was eating him from the inside. Every step of his bare feet against the stone felt like a drumbeat in his ears, a countdown to his doom. He tried to center himself, like Zola had taught him. He tried to find his calm, his emptiness, but his brain wouldn't shut off. It kept screaming at him to run away, to leave all of this nonsense behind him and go home. He could get a normal job somewhere and live a boring life. But underneath all of that panic, he knew the truth. None of that was an option. He was someone else, he was who he was supposed to be, and there was no going back.
The central chamber was full of people. Women and children filled the outer ring, all of them enjoying their breakfast, excited for the event. Wesley wanted to scream at them, tell them to at least acknowledge that he might be breathing his last breath, but he knew they saw no error in Kgosi's will. If he had asked for this, then it must be Veritas.
Kgosi sat on a small pillow, his skinny legs folded underneath him, one of his hands cupped in the other's palm. Standing next to Kgosi were Zola and the Bautista brothers. Zola offered Wesley nothing, her face unflinching. Sergio and Javier stood tall, their chests puffed out like they had just gotten out of the gym, with conniving smiles that stretched across their square heads. Their beady little eyes stared into Wesley as he walked into the room.
Someone rang a bell as he entered, and the crowd of people took notice of him. Ntombi said nothing as she left his side and joined the other women. He felt alienated, standing by himself in front of the crowd. The loneliness gave him a strange sensation, as if he were suddenly defiant, one against many. He clenched his fists at his sides and stepped toward Kgosi.
“The time for the Mind Trial has come!” Kgosi bellowed, quieting the murmurs of the crowd. “A challenge has been made by Sergio, against Wesley. I have decided to allow them to settle this dispute, to prove their worth to our family and our future.”
Sergio stepped down from his place by Kgosi and bumped his shoulder into Wesley as he stepped next to him.
“I have to say, I'm surprised you even showed up,” Sergio said under his breath.
Wesley took a deep breath in through his nose, closed his eyes, and said, “I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”
“The only rule in this fight, is that you cannot use your physical form,” Kgosi said. “Your minds will battle, and that is all. Whoever falls or forfeits, will be deemed unworthy. Do you understand?”
“Veritas,” they both said in unison.
Kgosi nodded his head and said, “Then I wish you both the mindfulness needed to defeat your opponent.”
Sergio nodded his head and walked to the other side of the room. Wesley took his place, trying to breathe. His heartbeat was racing, and the more he tried to fight the panic, the more it was winning. Calming his mind felt like the hardest thing in the world. His instinct was to lash out, but he knew there was no way he was going to win if he did that. That was the old Wesley, the one who gave himself headaches, straining to lift a bottle cap.
“You got this, bro!” Javier yelled out.
The crowd erupted, shouting in different languages. They clapped their hands and stomped their feet, cheering both of their names. No one was openly choosing either of them, as if the whole family supported them both. It was strange, yet comforting. The alienation was swept away with that simple gesture, and Wesley was filled with confidence. His thoughts calmed and his heartbeat slowed. He peered across the room at Sergio, who was stomping his feet, walking in a circle as he tried to get himself pumped up. He clapped his hands together and flexed his muscles, letting out a howl as a show of strength. It was everything Wesley had been taught not to do.
“Let the Mind Trial begin!” Kgosi shouted.
Sergio threw out his arms, his fingers curling in as he tried to mentally reach out and grab items in the room. As plates of food lifted off the ground, his eyes bulged from his head, the veins in his neck pulsing.
Wesley removed his glasses, sat down on the floor, and closed his eyes.
The clamoring of the crowd reached a fever pitch. The different languages and words became a hum of white noise. Wesley heard them all, but did not listen. He pushed his thoughts away. His panic, his fear of death, his own self-doubt, all fell from his mind. He focused on his breathing, feeling the air enter his lungs, then exhaling, over and over, until that was his only consciousness.
He felt the first plate strike his head and it drew him back to the present, but he immediately returned to his breathing. In and out. Over and over.
When the second plate struck, it shattered against his skull. He felt like he was aware there was pain, he was aware there was blood trickling down his forehead, but he was removed from the actuality of it. It was as if he was so deep inside of himself, he couldn't feel his own body.
A knife stuck into his leg as he reached out with his thoughts. It was like he was lazily brushing his mind across the room, looking for something to grasp. Everything he touched felt too big, but that didn't distract him. Normally he felt disappointed in his inability, but in that moment, he moved on, continuing his search.
A fork stabbed his chest as he finally touched Sergio. His mind searched his body, sensing his muscles flexing and his arms thrusting into the air, grabbing onto the next item to throw at Wesley. But on the front of his collar, Wesley's thoughts felt a single button. Wesley pinched the tiny item and plucked it from his shirt. In his calm state, as he breathed in and out, Wesley was amazed at how easily he could move the button. It was just as Kgosi had described, like none of the rules of the physical world existed. There was no gravity, nothing holding it back. He could move the button as fast as he wanted to, up and down, left and right, slashing it through the air like lightning, over and over again. It moved like a bullet, one that he could stop in mid-air and change direction, causing it to strike a body over and over again.
It was exhilarating. He wanted to open his eyes, return to physical world, so he could share his excitement with Kgosi. He wanted to tell him that he finally understood, that he finally believed in Veritas. There was a truth beyond truth. There was something beyond the world our bodies exist in. The world of the mind was freeing, transcendent. He took in a breath and pushed out, returning to his physical form, and as he did, he heard the screams. The multitude of languages that cheered for him had become shrieking sounds of horror.
Wesley opened his eyes but his blurry vision hindered him from seeing what they saw. He grabbed his glasses and settled them onto his face, finally peering across the room.
The button was still moving, up and down, back and forth, still reverberating the loop he had created with his thoughts. It sliced and swirled in the spot where Sergio once stood, but all that was left of him was a pile of diced flesh, a bloody mess of gore that didn't even resemble a corpse.
The button finally stopped, falling to the floor and rolling away as Wesley blinked a few times, his mind trying to react to the sight. When he glanced around the room, he saw the faces of the horrified women shielding the eyes of the children. Some backed away from him, while others fled from the room, yanking those children they were in charge of behind them as they ran.
He pulled the fork from his chest, then the knife from his leg. He wiped the blood from his forehead and turned around to look at Kgosi. The thin man had one arm outstretched toward Javier, who was fighting against Kgosi's psionic ability. There was a fury exploding from the twin as he struggled to attack his brother's murderer. Zola was standing next to him, her hand covering her mouth in shock.
Wesley tried to say something, but he wasn't sure what to express. What he had done was no accident. He had moved the button with his thoughts, but it was so unconscious, so removed from reality, he had never considered the consequences. He never thought about what was actually happening in the physical space it existed in, because all that existed in that moment was his mind. All that mattered were his thoughts.
With a gentle smile on his face, Kgosi said, “You believe.”
Wesley felt the breath enter his lungs, and as he released it, he answered, “Veritas.”
37
MAKSIM
“FATHER!” the boy screamed, shaking the walls of the throne room once again. “WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!”
Another pillar collapsed, crumbling over the shoulders of Maksim. He stood up, shaking the debris from his cape, and launched himself at the boy.
“NO!” the boy shouted, sending a shock wave that slammed into Maksim like a freight train.
His body was sent spinning as he slammed into a wall, cratering the stone. As he fell from the crater, landing on his feet, he saw Carmen climbing onto her knees as she regained consciousness.
“Stay back!” Maksim yelled to her, fearing that without his invincibility, the boy could shatter her mortal body.
She nodded her head and grabbed her shoulder, wincing in pain. Seeing his wife hurt, he launched himself at the cause of her pain, but once again the boy let out a single shout, tossing him across the room.
“Miguel!” Hector yelled out to his son as he crawled toward him.
Maksim spun around the pillar and grabbed the man by the neck. As the boy opened his mouth to shout, Maksim held the man in front of him like a shield.
“Don't do it, boy,” Maksim growled. “Unless you want to tear your own father apart...”
When he heard nothing, Maksim peeked out from behind Hector and saw the boy begin to cry. He was holding his own throat and pounding his fist against the ground.
“WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!” he screamed again and the room shook.
“You have the disease,” Hector said, his voice sounding pained.
“NO!” the boy screamed again, falling to the ground and burying his head under his arms. “I'M SO SORRY, FATHER! I'M SO SORRY!”
Maksim's ears were swelling with pain, ringing with a piercing squeal when the boy wasn't shouting.
“Tell him to stop talking,” Maksim yelled. “He's going to bring this whole Citadel down around us.”
“Let him,” Hector mumbled to himself. “Hopefully he'll kill the rest of your family when he does.”
“You'll die too, you fool!”
The man's head dropped low as he grumbled under his breath, “I don't care.”
“What about your son?” Maksim asked, trying to bring sense to the man. “He'll die too.”
There was a brief pause as Hector looked across the room at his son, then looked away and said, “My son is a monster.”
“FATHER!” the boy wailed, reaching out toward Hector with tears streaming down his face.
“What are you talking about?” Maksim asked. “Just make him stop using his power.”
The man spit his words over his shoulder, “That's not a power. It's a disease. You're all diseased. I was going to cleanse the earth of you. I was going to leave a better world behind. For him.”
The boy shrieked an indecipherable word that shattered another pillar. Parts of the ceiling fell in large chunks, and Carmen was forced to roll to the side as a piece of stone fell right where she was kneeling.
“You're insane,” Maksim said.
“No,” Carmen said from across the room. “He's just a bigot. He's far from the first to think there's something wrong with people who have powers.”
“Of course there's something wrong with you,” he said, his voice breaking, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Look at you. Leveling cities. Murdering people by the hundreds. Waging pointless wars against each other, just so you can control more of the world. You're all a blight on this earth. You're all monsters.”
“HE'S RIGHT!” the boy shouted. “WE ARE THE DISEASE!”
The walls cracked from the sound. Carmen was thrown to the ground. Hector shook in Maksim's hands. The boy stood up, picking up the blade that laid next to him, the same sword that had murdered Maksim's family.
“Boy... put that sword down!”
“NOOO!” the boy shouted, the shock wave nearly tearing Hector in half.
Maksim was shocked at the resiliency of the man, wondering if there was some sort of armor in his suit. He held on tightly, still maneuvering the man like a shield.
“I said, drop it! If you try to attack me with that blade, you'll have to cut through your father first.”
With tears streaming down his face and bloodshot eyes, the boy looked at his father with a begging, pleading look, but his father didn't look back at him as he muttered words that held no sadness.
“You know what you have to do.”
The boy's stare fell to the blade with a defeated look in his eyes. He gripped the sword with both hands and tried his best to whisper his words.
“I'm sorry.”
Carmen shouted when she realized what the boy was about to do, but the boy didn't hesitate. He drove the blade deep into his stomach, and then sliced sideways, letting loose a spraying torrent of blood. He fell forward without making a sound, collapsing into a lifeless heap. Carmen screamed again, rushing to the boy's side, but when she looked up at Maksim, she shook her head with tears in her eyes.
“What did you do?” she screamed at Hector. “Your son is dead. Because of you!”
Hector's head rose in defiance, glaring back at Carmen as he said, “I'm proud of him.”
“Proud?” Carmen sputtered the word in complete disbelief.
“Yes,” Hector said. “He did what was necessary. For that... I can be proud of him.”
“You... you're a monster.”
Hector stuck his chin into the air and said, “Think what you will of me. When the history books look back on the day the Imperator died, the mortals of this world will know I was a hero.”
Carmen opened her mouth to argue, but they all turned when they heard Yuri step into the room and weakly say, “Uncle?”
Maksim tossed Hector into a pillar, knocking him out cold, and then rushed to Yuri's side. The boy's eyes kept roaming around the blood-soaked room, his gaze falling upon each piece of carnage, one at a time.
As Maksim embraced the boy, Yuri mumbled, “Is that... mother?”
Carmen covered her mouth, tears pouring from her eyes as she saw the bullet-ridden, golden corpse laying near the door, right where Maksim had dropped her.
“I'm sorry, Yuri. It's going to be okay. I promise.”
Yuri pushed Maksim away, his strength surprising the huge man. T
he boy stepped passed him and roamed around the throne room in silence, examining each corpse that lay scattered about. Carmen looked at Maksim with worry, but Maksim didn't know what to do.
When the boy stopped, he turned to Maksim with a blank stare and asked, “Who did this?”
Maksim hesitated, but decided in the face of everything he was experiencing, the least that Yuri deserved was the truth.
“Two men from the American Republic. They came into the Citadel to kill the Imperator. Your mother must have come across them as they neared the throne room.”
Yuri stepped over to the Imperator's headless corpse and asked, “How is this possible? Are they members of the Alliance?”
Maksim was taken aback by how calm the boy was being, but he continued, “No. They were mortal men. At least the father was. But the sword they used was special. I'll have to have it tested to see how it could have injured our family. But there will be time for that. Right now, we need to worry about the living. Your grandmother-”
“Mortal men?” Yuri gasped, looking appalled by the very thought of it. “Mortal men did this?”
Yuri bent down and picked up the boy's corpse from the floor and began a strange examination. Carmen let out a shriek at the disgusting behavior, but swallowed the sound as Yuri tilted his head back and forth like he was trying to decide what he was looking at.
“They killed my mother.”
“Yes, Yuri. But don't worry. This crime will not go unpunished. One of them still lives...” Maksim motioned toward Hector, who laid unconscious against the pillar.
“Lives?”
Yuri moved in a flash, tossing the boy's corpse to the side and rushing at Hector. Before Maksim could even think to stop him, Yuri was tearing the man's body in half. His tiny hands dug into the flesh, over and over, ripping out organs and causing blood to spray across his own body.
Carmen stepped back in horror, and Maksim flew across the room to stop the boy's horrific act of violence. Yuri spun his head toward Maksim and hissed. Blood dripped from his face, looking more like a feral animal than a little boy. He shoved Maksim, this time with all his strength. Maksim was knocked back with a force he didn't expect from the tiny body. He crashed through a wall, barely managing to stop his flight before he was thrown out of the Citadel. He rushed back into the room and landed hard on the floor.
The Super Power Saga (Book 2): Rise of the Supervillains Page 28