Chapter Eight: A Mask of Hope
Skyline city buzzed with uncertainty.
Wraith's name now lived in whispers, his mask burned into every screen, and the Trust Network's confidence in its heroes wavered. But as panic spread like wildfire, Kael stood alone in a quiet chamber inside the HQ's East Tower—staring at his new reflection.
The long white coat hung open across his shoulders, fluttering lightly in the filtered air. It was no longer tied at the waist like before. This version was freer—unbound. The white fabric shimmered faintly, accented by a silver harness across his chest that matched his new half-mask.
The mask was unlike anything he'd worn before.
The left side was pure gold, smooth and noble. The right side, matte white with soft golden streaks tracing toward his cheekbone—like sun rays piercing through dawn. It covered half his face, leaving his mouth and both eyes exposed.
It wasn't just protection.
It was a message.
Wraith's mask had become a symbol of dread—black and white, mouthless, soulless, with only glowing purple eyes and jagged strokes. Kael's was its opposite. Bright. Human. Designed not to hide fear, but face it.
Kael touched the front of the mirror, admiring his new attire.
Kathy, his hero outfit designer, stood beside him, her arms crossed, a hint of a smile on her face.
Kathy had short, dark hair with a small ponytail and striking green eyes. She wore a formal black office outfit, complete with a blazer, shorts, and high heels, exuding professionalism and confidence.
"What do you think?" Kathy asked Kael who was turning to face her. "Do you like it?"
Kael's smile grew wider. "I love it, Kathy. I think I look amazing." Kael kept admiring himself in the mirror like a little kid who just got a new toy from his parents.
"But I have to say, I'm still a bit shocked you called me so late at night. I was having a great beauty sleep, you know." She playfully rolled her eyes. "I mean, what's the emergency?"
Kael chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry, Kathy. It just struck me, and I couldn't keep it inside till morning. I know it's not exactly normal to redesign a hero outfit in the middle of the night." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit shy. "Won't happen again, I promise."
Kathy laughed, her expression softening. "It's okay, Kael. I'm just teasing. I'm glad I could help. You do look fantastic, though. The new design really brings out your... um, heroic side." She smiled, and Kael couldn't help but grin back.
"You're really doing this?" Lira asked, standing at the door. Her arms were folded, but there was a softness in her voice. "You know what people are going to say."
"That's the point," Kael replied, adjusting the mask. "If they're going to see Wraith in every shadow, I want them to see me in the light. I want to take the fear back."
He fastened the coat's shoulder buckle and stepped out.
***********
That afternoon, Kael flew.
He didn't appear on screens first. He didn't give any interviews. He simply moved across the city—helping people, stopping fake Wraiths, holding up broken signs, clearing rubble in low-Trust zones, speaking directly to the citizens without filters or slogans.
His actions became a breath of fresh air in a city suffocating under suspicion and fear.
Word spread rapidly through social channels. People started calling him "The Light Mask."
As news of Kael's heroics spread, reactions varied. Some were confused, unsure what to make of this new masked figure. Others were afraid, fearing the unknown or the potential consequences of his actions. But a growing number of citizens watched with cautious hope, sensing that The Light Mask might be the catalyst for change they desperately needed.
That night, the Trust Network reported a surprising shift in public sentiment. Kael's Faith Value, a measure of the public's trust and confidence in him, had climbed. It wasn't a dramatic surge, but enough to stall the fear spike that had been building for days.
The impact was clear: The Light Mask's actions had resonated with the people, and for the first time in weeks, the city's collective mood had begun to shift toward hope.
*********
Next day in a rooftop cafe, Nima stood beside a small crowd of onlookers watching a live feed.
"He is wearing a mask?" someone murmured.
"He's copying Wraith."
"No. He's confronting him," another person said. "It's the same shape—but he left his mouth uncovered. He's not hiding."
Nima smiled faintly and slipped away.
**********
Later that night, she met Kael under an abandoned tram bridge, as agreed. He was already waiting—sitting on the railing, legs dangling, mask tilted up.
"Well?" he asked, half-grinning.
She tossed him a small snack bar. "You made headlines. Some think you're mocking Wraith. Some think you're challenging him."
Kael caught the snackbar and shrugged while unwrapping it. "Let them think. As long as they stop being afraid."
She walked closer. "The mask was smart. Symbolic. It makes people curious—but you kept it human. It gives them something familiar to hold onto."
"And you?" he asked.
"I think it was gutsy," she said. "But that's why it worked."
Kael nodded, then looked out at the night sky. "People need something to believe in again. If not the system, then maybe just… one person."
"But it won't be enough forever," Nima said. "We still don't know what Wraith wants. Or what he looked at in the archive."
Kael's smile faded. "Then tomorrow, I fly again. And we keep digging."
Nima nodded. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Always."
********
But hope had its price.
In the days that followed, Kael worked nonstop. He showed up at every fake Wraith sighting, every collapsing Trust Zone, every place the Network reported fear spikes. He was everywhere.
And it was wearing him down.
On one particular night, another villain disguised as Wraith held a train hostage.
Kael arrived in time and landed at the train station, his movements a little slower than usual. He was tired, and it showed. The mask didn't hide the fatigue in his voice anymore but there was no time to rest.
His eyes quickly scanned the area.
Inside, a masked man was holding dozens of passengers hostage. He wore a cheap imitation of Wraith's outfit and gripped a gun tightly in his hands.
Kael stepped forward, his voice calm but strained. "Let them go."
The fake Wraith gave a cruel smile—and fired.
The bullet struck the side of the train, sending sparks flying. Without missing a beat, Kael raised his hand. His telekinetic power caught the bullet in midair, bending it away so it hit the ground harmlessly.
Then, with a flick of his fingers, he pulled the gun from the man's grip. It clattered across the floor, out of reach.
The impersonator staggered back, stunned.
Kael didn't wait. He reached out with his power again, pressing the man back against the side of the train, pinning him there. The passengers stared, frozen in place—some in fear, others in awe.
A moment later, police officers arrived and rushed to secure the scene. The hostages were safe.
As things calmed down, Kael turned to leave—but felt a small tug at his coat.
He looked down.
A young girl, maybe eight years old, stood there. Her eyes were big and curious, her voice soft but steady.
"You're not scary," she said. "You're nice."
Kael blinked, surprised. Then he crouched down and a small smile formed on his tired pale face. "That's what the mask is for. To show you that heroes can wear one too "he said gently.
The girl gave a firm nod and ran back to her parents, who wrapped her in their arms.
Kael watched them for a moment, then looked around at the station, the people, the lights.
He was still tired. Still unsure if the system believed in him.
But in that moment, one voice had mattered.
And for the first time in days, he felt a little lighter.
***********
Later, he met Nima again—this time on the rooftop of a quiet school. The city hummed faintly beneath them, distant sirens cutting through the still air. The night was cold, but Kael didn't seem to notice. His shoulders were tight, his breaths shallow.
"You're running yourself ragged," Nima said softly, stepping closer. There was real worry in her voice. "You haven't even slept, have you?"
"I can't afford to," Kael replied, his voice low, hoarse. "The Fear spikes are getting worse. Every time someone panics, every time another fake shows up—it feeds him."
His hands clenched on the railing as he stared down at the glowing city below. His reflection stared back at him in the dark windows—his mask cold and perfect while the man underneath unraveled.
"This mask…" he continued, voice breaking just slightly. "It's not enough. No matter how hard I fight, no matter how many people I save—Fear always spreads faster."
Nima's chest tightened. She could see how thin the line had become for him.
"You're doing more than anyone else," she said gently. "But you can't fight fear alone, Kael. You weren't meant to."
Kael let out a bitter breath. "Sometimes I wonder if I was meant to fight at all."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. He looked away, ashamed of his own weakness.
"I thought saving people would be enough. That being trusted would give me strength. But every time I step out there... it's like I'm drowning. The more they fear him, the less they believe in me."
He shook his head, jaw tight. "And I don't blame them. Maybe they should be afraid."
Nima reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "You're not him."
"That's the problem, isn't it?" His voice was barely a whisper. "People don't see the difference anymore."
Silence hung heavy between them.
"Then we have to remind them," Nima said finally, her voice firm despite the tightness in her throat. "We need to turn that fear against him. Make them see what he really is—not just a killer. Not just a shadow. Someone who's feeding on everything that makes us human."
Kael exhaled, his grip on the railing loosening slightly. "If he's feeding on Fear Value, then he's still tied to the system. There has to be a limit. A weakness. Something we can break."
Nima nodded. "We'll find it. I promise."
He turned toward her, his mask catching the moonlight like glass. But behind it, Nima could feel the exhaustion pouring off him.
"I'll keep wearing the light," he said softly. "Even if all they see is darkness."
Nima swallowed, voice quieter now. "You don't have to carry it alone, Kael."
For a brief second, his guard almost fell—but then he straightened again, as if forcing himself to be steady.
"I know," he said, though it sounded more like a lie.
They stood side by side under the moonlit sky—two people trying to hold back a city's collapse, even as its weight crushed them from all sides.