Creation Of All Things-Chapter 36: They Are Just Kids

"All the preparations are in place, Mistress," Anya reported, her voice steady, but there was a slight tension in her posture.

Selene leaned back in her chair, a wicked grin spreading across her lips. "Good. Now, we just wait for him to walk into the trap… and then, he's ours."

Anya swallowed hard. That smile… it sent a chill down her spine. For a brief moment, she almost felt bad for the poor guy they were targeting. Almost.

Then, something clicked in her memory—something she saw on the news earlier.

"Mistress, there's something else. It's about the President."

Selene's smirk faded. Her gaze sharpened as she turned to Anya. "What about the President?"

Anya pressed a few buttons on her tablet, then handed it over. "You're going to want to see this."

Selene's eyes flickered across the screen. The headline was bold and unavoidable:

"BREAKING: WESTWARD ACADEMY STUDENT CONFIRMED AS PRESIDENT'S GRANDSON?"

Below it, a photo—Adam, casually stepping out of Westward Academy, Sara right behind him.

Selene's fingers tightened around the tablet. "So… he's her grandson," she muttered. That meant—her eyes narrowed—"he's their son."

Raphael and Freya. The strongest superhumans. The names alone carried weight.

And now, their son was in her crosshairs.

"That's not all," Anya continued. "Check the next slide."

Selene swiped to the next page, and her brow arched slightly. Footage played—Aria and Alfred inside the Academy's arena, effortlessly tearing through their opponents like it was child's play. Then, Adam… completely humiliating Jordan without even trying.

"According to sources inside the Academy," Anya added, "all three of them are freakishly strong. And the craziest part? They haven't even used their abilities yet. It's all been raw physical strength."

Selene stared at the screen, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, that wicked grin returned.

"Well, well… looks like we caught something far more interesting than we expected."

The Dhark Estate

Frantic footsteps echoed through the grand halls of the Dhark estate as a woman in her 30s sprinted like a madwoman. Her breath was ragged, but she didn't slow down—not even for a second.

She reached the heavy double doors of the family hall and shoved them open without hesitation.

BANG!

The doors slammed against the walls, silencing the room. Inside, the highest-ranking members of the Dhark family sat around a long table, deep in discussion. Every head turned toward her, their expressions darkening at the interruption.

Franklin Dhark, the patriarch, sat at the head of the table. His piercing gaze locked onto the intruder—his daughter, Madeline.

"What is so urgent that you couldn't wait until the meeting was over?" Franklin's voice was low, calm, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

He knew Madeline too well. No matter how stubborn and rebellious she was, she wasn't reckless. If she barged in like this, it had to be serious.

Madeline barely took a second to catch her breath before shoving a tablet into her father's hands. "I think… I found traces of Freya."

The room went still.

Franklin's fingers tightened around the tablet at the mention of his eldest daughter—the one who left. The one he never stopped searching for.

His sharp eyes scanned the screen. The headline hit him first.

"WESTWARD ACADEMY STUDENT CONFIRMED AS PRESIDENT'S GRANDSON?"

Then, the image. A young man—Adam—stepping out of the academy.

Franklin's grip on the tablet trembled slightly. Not because of the boy… but because of the faces of the twins beside him.

They had Freya's eyes.

His heart pounded. His daughter… she was alive. And she had a family.

For the first time in decades, Franklin Dhark felt something he thought he had long buried—hope.

Franklin's sharp eyes stayed locked on the screen, scanning every detail. Adam—the young man in the photo—had a strong presence, an air of confidence that reminded him of someone. But it was the twins that sealed it.

The same eyes. The same shape of the face.

There was no mistake.

"Where was this taken?" Franklin finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an emotion none in the room had ever heard from him before.

Madeline, still catching her breath, pointed at the tablet. "Westward Academy. The media's been covering them non-stop ever since that fight with the ranking guy, Jordan. The rumors started when the President didn't refute the claims that Adam is her grandson."

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Franklin exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the polished wood of the table. His mind was already racing.

"If this is true…" His gaze lifted, scanning the faces of the family elders. "Then Freya's children have been living in the spotlight, and we never even knew."

One of the elders, an older man with sharp features, scoffed. "If they are truly her children, why did she never come back?"

Franklin's eyes darkened. "That is not the question we should be asking."

A cold silence filled the room.

Madeline bit her lip. "There's more." She swiped the screen, showing footage of Adam's fights. "They've only been using physical strength so far, and they're already stronger than most elites. If they start using their real abilities…"

Franklin watched as Adam crushed Jordan with little effort, then Aria and Alfred effortlessly destroying their opponents.

A small, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Freakishly strong," Madeline muttered, crossing her arms. "It's almost scary."

Franklin leaned back in his chair, silent for a long moment. Then, his voice came quiet but firm.

"Prepare a team. We're going to Westward."

Madeline's eyes widened. "You're going personally?"

Franklin stood, his presence alone enough to make the air in the room feel heavier. "Freya is my daughter. And those kids… are my grandchildren."

He turned toward the exit, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority.

"It's time the Dhark family reunites."

The news spread like wildfire.

Every major family, every powerful organization—none of them could ignore it.

The children of Raphael and Freya had been found.

Speculation ran rampant. What did this mean? Would the legendary power couple finally step out of the shadows? Or would they remain ghosts of the past while their children shook the world in their place?

And then there was the bigger issue—the Dhark Family and the President. Those two never saw eye to eye before. They sure as hell wouldn't start now.

Tension was brewing. Everyone knew it.

Something big was coming.

---

Elsewhere…

A dimly lit room. A single glass clinked against ice.

A man sat in the darkness, whiskey in hand, eyes locked on the screen before him. The glow illuminated his silhouette, but his features remained unseen.

Only his voice carried through the room. Low. Amused.

"So… he has kids. Interesting."

Behind him, a woman stood with arms crossed, her tone sharp with concern. "What are you going to do about them, Wraith? Those kids are a problem. We're talking about three X-rank superhumans here."

The man—Wraith—took another sip, savoring the burn before setting his glass down. Then, slowly, he stood.

From the shadows, two blood-red eyes glowed like a predator's in the dark.

"We do nothing," he said, voice calm, deliberate.

The woman tensed. "Nothing?"

Wraith's gaze flicked back to the massive screen on the wall.

Adam. Alfred. Aria. Their faces were displayed in high resolution, their recent fights replaying on loop.

A slow, eerie smile stretched across his lips.

"They're just kids."