Kilos didn't fully comprehend what Ensolete meant by pointing the finger, but he went ahead anyway, climbing up. Upon reaching the top, he realized Ensolete's finger was still fixed in position.
"Pour the contents of the bottle on the machine, sucker," the inner voice broke another rule to correct Kilos on what he was supposed to do.
"Oh, okay!" Kilos responded, grabbing the bottle, removing the cap, and turning sideways.
As soon as the lubricant began to flow, it dropped onto the engine. Kilos shook the bottle, expecting more, but that was all he needed.
The once-dead machine sparked to life. Chains around its center began to rotate violently.
"Place a hand on the machine now," the voice instructed with urgency.
"Which one?" Kilos asked nervously. The machine's turning parts appeared dangerous.
"Anyone, you fool. Hurry!" the voice scolded.
Kilos didn't know why he had to place his hand on a machine in motion, but he decided to trust the voice. It had never lied before.
Ensolete suddenly charged toward the machine.
"Don't get close to that—it's deadly!" Kilos shouted, warning Ensolete of the danger.
Ensolete only smiled mockingly and placed his hand on the flat surface that had a screen. Kilos regretted not doing it first.
"You loser," Ensolete scoffed as his hand made contact.
There was a whirling sound from the other end, followed by a storm of dust, fire, smoke, and thunder that echoed through the room. These were the prelude to something much bigger—the real restoration.
Kilos suddenly understood. Power restoration was beginning—the long-awaited clash between light and darkness. It was starting in this very room, the same place where everything had ended many years ago. This was where Senior Barber had terminated evil at its root. His machine still stood as proof.
Since Senior Barber, Kilos's father, fought as the Great Tamer, the Chatka had been trapped within the warehouse. He had been seeking a way to reawaken lost glory. Now, that day had come. The ancient evil would return and be pursued by those destined to become his disciples.
Kilos stepped out of his trance-like state and joined Ensolete. Both now stood at the same spot. Kilos gripped the machine from the other side.
At once, the machine flared to life, displaying data: strength, speed, agility, intelligence, awakening, instinct, wickedness. Each positive attribute was met with its negative counterpart; each negative, with a surprising positive.
Ensolete jabbed Kilos hard, trying to push him away.
"You once defeated me. That will never happen again," Ensolete said, his voice seething with rage.
After a long struggle, Ensolete stepped back—but he had already achieved his goal. He had confirmed the presence of ancient DNA in Kilos. Living in the warehouse had always been about fulfilling a prophecy foretold long ago.
Ensolete made his way to the gate and vanished at the entrance, no longer the boy he used to be but a new Lord of Darkness.
To Kilos Barber, it felt like he had opened a door that should have stayed closed. Weary and confused, he slumped before the machine, unsure of what to do next.
"Why are you quiet? Say something, bro," he muttered.
There was no response. And he knew why.
Back in his dormitory, restlessness was etched all over Kilos's face as he entered. Effron got up immediately.
"Kilos, hope you're good. Come and rest," Effron said. Though still not fully recovered, his concern was evident.
Kilos hadn't seen Effron since taking him to the hospital, but he was relieved to see him doing better.
"Where's everyone?" Kilos asked, his eyes fixed on Fred's bag.
Suddenly, he remembered Fred's mention of Lantern Monroo.
"Any problem?" Effron asked, noticing the tension on Kilos's face.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Effron approached. "Who's back at this time?"
Two boys entered with Fred. The moment they walked in, Kilos recognized them and hid himself.
"Where is Kilos? Don't tell me you don't know anything," Fred barked, glaring at his roommate.
"Why are you looking for him?" Effron demanded, blocking their path.
They attacked Effron, kicking and punching until he lay motionless. But Kilos waited outside the door. He burst in, kicking the first boy so hard that he collapsed, coughing blood.
The second boy transformed into a giant gorilla and charged at Kilos. It wasn't strange to him—he had seen worse—but he didn't want anyone to know about the change in his own identity.
The gorilla raised a mighty fist, aiming to smash Kilos to the ground, but his incredible speed saved him. The boy hurled a watery substance at him.
"What are you trying to do?" Kilos laughed, thinking it was a childish attempt.
"Until I get rid of you, okay?" the boy threatened, lashing out a whip from his waist.
Kilos had more than one way to destroy them, but he didn't want to. He believed that the best way to conquer evil was by doing good.
Fred stepped forward, pleading with Kilos to meet Lantern Monroo and settle their issues.
Kilos felt that should be his decision, not something to be pressured into. The fight ended with no clear winner.
-----
While the boys battled Kilos, Lantern Monroo waited in a secluded part of the building, anxious to hear the outcome. He tapped his feet, betraying his impatience.
Then a sound echoed through the room. He looked around. The doorknob twisted roughly, signaling someone's presence. As he turned to check, another noise from the opposite side drew his attention—the chair dragged across the floor.
Lantern Monroo understood what this meant.
"Monroo Awakening Head, show forth," he declared, summoning his awakening power.
A strange creature materialized: a massive head, long arms, two standing ears. Its face was covered entirely in fur. Its muscular chest bore sharp claws, and its mouth was clearly designed for blood.
"I'm ready for you. Let's talk," Monroo said, prepared to confront his adversary.
Laughter rang out—a mocking, infuriating sound.
"Why laughing?" Monroo asked, his growing fear slipping into his voice.
He quickly realized the horrifying truth: his powers were useless against this immortal being.
The laughter ceased.
Then, the boys he sent out returned to give him outcome of where they went.
"Lantern Monroo," Fred and the other boys called.
Monroo reverted to human form to receive them. His frustration was evident. He couldn't focus anymore. He'd rather leave the room entirely.
Divisional classes had ended, and the school had declared the weekend free of any academic activities.
Freedom reinvigorated the students. Each wore their best attire in celebration. Kilos Barber wasn't an exception. Dressed in a white T-shirt, black trousers, and soft tennis shoes, he was ready for a different kind of day.
He had no particular destination but was interested in exploring places he hadn't been before. When he stepped outside, students from various dormitories were already on the street, some going, others returning.
He decided to follow the crowd. His steps eventually brought him to a large field where a loud gathering cheered.
In the center, two higher-level boys competed in a betting game.
Kilos recognized one of them—Hamara, a level-two student who had once tried to kill Tega.
The crowd roared as the boys clashed in a whirlwind of blows. Money exchanged hands, laughter rose and fell, and the energy in the air buzzed like static. Kilos folded his arms, quietly observing the spectacle. Despite the excitement, something in his gut warned him this was more than just sport. He could see it in Hamara's eyes—a hint of savagery.
A nearby student nudged Kilos. "You placing a bet?"
"Not today," Kilos replied, eyes still fixed on the fighters.
The match ended with a dramatic knockdown. Hamara stood victorious, chest heaving.
Then, for a moment, Hamara locked eyes with Kilos. A flash of recognition passed between them.
Kilos looked away first.
He didn't want trouble—at least not today.