Розділ 2

A man with a large camera burst into the audience. A reporter from a local TV station, assigned by the Bureau to interview lesser fighters like champions, or even the governor if he was lucky, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would be the one to capture the birth of a creator. Nothing he would do in his life would compare to this moment. It was the pinnacle of his career as a cameraman. Lightning never strikes twice.

Brad stood in the middle of the stage, his hands still touching the golden spheres. His smile was directed directly at the camera, as if he were greeting the whole world. Which, in fact, he was. Thad's existence was forgotten. Brad was now a big lump. The air around Brad trembled as if it were alive. Beams of light appeared and disappeared as quickly as his body absorbed them. His transformation would continue for a whole week, until his body reached perfection. Perfect strength, abilities beyond the possible. It was all in Brad's hands. In the hands of a pathetic tyrant.

Tad's worst nightmare had come true.

The cameraman pushed through the crowd. “Congratulations!” he shouted over the din of the crowd. “The Rank of the Creator! Did you know this was going to happen?

Brad ignored the question, stepping off the edge of the stage. He didn't fall. Instead, he slid smoothly to the floor. Gravity no longer had any power over him. Brad was now a creator.

Thad looked away from the glowing aura surrounding Brad. It was growing stronger by the second. Faces around him were glowing. Some with delight, others with admiration, but mostly from the reflected golden glow Brad was radiating. But some echoed Thad's own feelings. "It should have been me." "It could have been me." Some could no longer hold back their tears. The universe had bestowed their most cherished dream upon another, right before their eyes. Never before had a rebirth ceremony produced two Creator-ranked fighters in one session. Even Chinese twins had been reborn a week apart.

The world is unfair. Anyone but Brad. Anyone. Brad will never go back to school again. Not now, when he has everything. But if he does… Thad won’t have a chance. Brad can kill him, and no one will touch him. The laws no longer apply to Brad. No one can enforce them. No one is equal to the creator. Except another creator.

Despite the horror of the thought, Tad felt calm. Amidst the chaos, the world froze. It was still. His gaze was drawn to the sphere on the stage. The sphere of rebirth had returned to its original inky state. It spiraled into deeper darkness as Tad watched. It was mesmerizing. Alluring. Before he knew what he was doing, he was moving down the aisle toward the sphere.

Brad, with his entourage already formed, left the auditorium. Everyone else was sitting there, probably stunned by what had just happened. Everyone except Tad, who had approached the sphere. When he was a step away from it, a tall teenage girl with a long blond ponytail that reached halfway down her back crashed into the line in front of him. A wave of irritation broke his trance. A fruity, vanilla scent trailed after the girl. Tad's irritation disappeared as soon as he realized that all eyes were on him, and immediately his determination faded.

The woman responsible for everything had her jaw hanging open like a fish's. It's not every day that a godlike being is born in front of you. Finally, her eyes focused on the girl in front of her.

"Name?"

"Liz, that is, Alysandra Dent."

The woman led the blonde onto the stage, next to the rebirth sphere. Tad's heart skipped a beat as the girl turned to face the crowd and placed her hands on the golden spheres. She was strikingly beautiful, with piercing blue eyes. Tad inhaled that lingering scent again. She smelled good.

The spinning black sphere flared again. Colors, bright shades of yellow, blue, and green, shone from the sphere before it settled on a deep blue. The white number 770 formed on the front surface of the blue sphere. The girl was a warrior-ranked fighter. Stronger than a soldier, but not as strong as a champion. With Brad, the number did not appear. Only color. Gold. White. Perfection.

На її обличчі розквітла полегшена усмішка, коли всі зааплодисували. Два чудові результати поспіль. Це не було чимось нечуваним, але шанси були низькими. Третого не буде. Тад відвів погляд від засліплюючої усмішки дівчини. Він не був забобонним, але здавалося, ніби дівчина вкрала його відродження. Вона обійшла його в черзі. Дев’яносто дев’ять відсотків людей відроджувалися цивільними. Які шанси на два потужні відродження поспіль? Три — ще гірше.

Тад повернувся до свого місця. Він міг почекати, поки кілька цивільних відродяться, перш ніж спробувати щастя. У роті пересохло. Палець торкнувся його плеча. Тад обернувся й зустрів погляд жінки, відповідальної за церемонію відродження. Його черга.

Тад опинився перед пристроєм. Усі погляди були на ньому, але він не міг розгледіти їхні обличчя. Усе, що він бачив, — золоті сфери глобуса відродження. Вони блищали так, як він не очікував. Блиск ніби насміхався з його браку сміливості. Очі Тада мимоволі притягувалися до закрученого чорного orb.

«Ім’я?»

«Тад Гаррінгтон».

Тад заплющив очі, простягаючи руки вперед. Навіть із заплющеними очима він точно знав, де золоті сфери. Він відчував їх. Бачив їх, навіть крізь закриті повіки. Сфери, гладкі на вигляд, виявилися шорсткими й теплими. Ні, гарячими! Вони палали! Він спробував відвести руки, але долоні розтанули на сфері. Хіба інші двоє перероджень були такими болючими? Якщо так, вони не подали виду. Тад напружився, ховаючи дискомфорт.

Будь ласка. Будь ласка. Будь ласка. Хоч би достатньо сили, щоб захищати себе. Він утомився від того, щоб бути пораненим. Він не був певен, чи витримає переродження цивільним, як у мами. Кольори спалахнули перед заплющеними очима, доки не зникли повністю. Ахи й шоковані вигуки пролунав від натовпу. Серце Тада злетіло. Глядачі ахали лише за сприятливі результати!