Morning broke over the hidden base.

But Chris didn’t change back.

He stood tall — still in his transformed form. Muscles tightened, glowing veins humming beneath his skin, eyes burning with subtle power.

All day, he remained like this. Sitting. Eating. Training.

Elara noticed.

“You haven’t transformed back once,” she said, eyeing him.

Chris shrugged. “This is who I am now.”

She frowned. “You need to rest, Chris. You’ll burn yourself out.”

Chris stood, facing her. “Before this power, I was... no one. Just some weak, scrawny loser who got pushed around every day. But now—? Now I matter. Now I feel... special.”

Elara looked at him for a long time. Then, softer than before:
“You were always something, Chris. You just couldn’t see it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Chris spoke again—quieter, heavier.

“Would you betray me?”

Elara blinked. “What?”

“I saw the file,” he said. “The one on your laptop. You never planned to stay. Just run tests. Then disappear.”

She was silent. Then, slowly, calmly:

“So you saw.”

Chris stepped back. “That’s it? No denial? No apology?”

“You weren’t supposed to look through my things.”

“I trusted you.”

Elara’s expression hardened. “I’m a scientist, Chris. I study anomalies. And you... are the greatest anomaly the world has ever seen. You think I was going to walk away from that?”

Chris’s hands trembled — not from fear, but fury.

“I thought you cared.”

“I never said I did,” she replied coldly. “I said I hated X. That’s why I helped you. You misunderstood the rest.”

Chris’s eyes glowed.

“I should’ve left you back at the crater.”

Elara’s voice cracked just slightly. “Then why didn’t you?”

Their eyes locked.

Then Chris turned.

And walked out.

Later That Night

Chris stood in front of his old house. The same crooked mailbox. The same cracked driveway.

His fists unclenched.

He hadn’t been here since the meteor. Since everything changed.

Maybe... maybe this was still home.

He knocked once.

The door creaked open.

“...Mom? Dad?”

No response.

He stepped inside.

The living room was still.

Too still.

He took a few steps—then froze.

A slow clap echoed from the shadows.

“Well done, Chris.”

X.

Standing in the living room like he owned it. Calm. Cold. And behind him—

Chris’s parents.
Tied to chairs. Silent. Scared.

Chris’s heart dropped.

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

X smirked. “Just tying up loose ends. You’ve made quite a mess. But you’re still useful. That energy inside you... it belongs to me.”

Chris’s hands lit with power.

“You’re not getting anything from me.”

“Oh, but I already have,” X said, stepping aside to reveal a small drone glowing with green light. “While you ran off chasing trust and affection, I figured out how to copy your energy signature.”

He smiled.

“I don’t need to extract it anymore. I just need to break you.”

Chris’s eyes burned.

And in that moment, he knew:

This fight was no longer about power.

It was about who he was becoming.