Diabolist : The Beginning

Peter stopped by the mall on his way home to buy the PS5. As he swiped his card, he realized he had hit his self-imposed spending limit for the month. Setting that limit had been one of his smarter decisions—it had allowed him to save up fifteen million from his diabolist missions.

Carrying the PS5, Peter headed home. When he stepped inside, he found his entire family seated in front of the TV, their faces tense and filled with worry.

"This is the most recent country to be taken over by the Atlantian Legacy," the news anchor said gravely. "This leaves everyone wondering: which country is next? Is it ours?"

"Oh, God help us," Mrs. Davis whispered, her hand covering her mouth in dread.

"We now cut to a message from the president," the anchor continued.

The room fell silent as the president appeared on the screen. He began a speech designed to calm the nation, reassuring the people of their safety. But toward the end, his tone shifted.

"Despite our best efforts, I must call upon all hidden diabolists," the president said. "The Hoods, the Mask, the Shifter, and all other unknown diabolists—we need you. Please come forward to help your country."

Peter's heart sank as the weight of the words settled in the room. He glanced at his family and saw their fear mirrored on their faces. 

Peter reassured himself silently. If the time came, he would step forward to help—but exposing his identity as a diabolist wasn't something he was ready to do.

"It's okay, honey. We've got the Hoods, remember?" Mr. Davis said to his frightened wife, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

The Hoods. That was the nickname the public had given to his group—him, Jane, and Eva. Peter suppressed a smile at how little his family knew about their son's secret life.

Wanting to change the tense atmosphere, Peter tapped Michael on the shoulder. "I got the PS5," he said, holding up the box.

That did the trick. "That's my brother!" Michael grinned, jumping to his feet.

"Peter, did you send the money for... you know, the thing?" Mrs. Davis asked, her voice softer now.

"Yup," Peter replied, ruffling her hair affectionately. "And I added a little extra for Ruth."

Mrs. Davis's face lit up as she walked off with Ruth to check the money. Michael grabbed the PS5 and bounded upstairs, eager to set it up.

"Good job," Mr. Davis said, his tone low but filled with approval. He knew exactly what Peter had done—deliberately distracting the family from the ominous news.

Peter nodded back, the quiet acknowledgment between father and son saying more than words ever could.

*** Another country ***

In a grand but chaotic conference room, men in tailored suits paced back and forth, their faces etched with despair. The weight of impending doom pressed down on them, and the air was thick with tension.

The heavy oak doors swung open, and a woman in a sharp navy suit entered. Her expression was grim, and the room fell silent.

"Well?" one of the ministers asked impatiently, his voice cracking under the strain.

The woman shook her head solemnly. "They refused the job."

A collective groan swept through the room as the men slumped in their chairs or buried their heads in their hands.

"Increase the offer," one of them said desperately. "Double it—no, triple it. Pay them whatever they want! We need the Hoods now!"

"Enough!" an elderly man at the head of the table bellowed, slamming his cane against the polished floor. The room quieted as everyone turned toward him. His weathered face, lined with years of leadership, was steely with determination. "Our president has fled like a coward, and now we, the ministers of this nation, are running around like headless chickens. Where is our pride?"

"What do you suggest we do, then?" another man asked, frustration seeping into his voice.

The old man's gaze swept the room, piercing through their despair. "We declare martial law. Summon every diabolist in the country. Assemble our forces. We will not go down without a fight!"

His voice reverberated through the room, igniting a flicker of resolve in the eyes of those present.

"And the Hoods?" another minister asked hesitantly.

"Keep trying," the old man said firmly. "Contact them, and any other diabolists willing to stand with us. We cannot afford to give up hope."

The ministers exchanged uneasy glances but nodded. They had a plan now—fragile as it was—and it was better than succumbing to despair.

***

Peter stood at the front of the class, steadying his nerves as he began his presentation. His voice was confident, and his points were clear, each slide reinforcing his arguments. The lecturer's eyes flicked between Peter and the printed report in his hands, his expression neutral but focused.

"Thank you," Peter said, concluding his presentation with a polite nod.

The class erupted into applause, some more enthusiastic than others. Even the lecturer gave a subtle nod of approval, though he tried to mask his reaction.

"Fuck, I should've gone first," Alan muttered under his breath, shooting Peter a mock glare.

"Mr. Davis, please come to my office after your classes are over," the lecturer said, closing Peter's report. "Mr. Andrews, you're next."

As Alan trudged to the front, Peter returned to his seat, puzzled by the lecturer's request. Why would he want to see him?

Alan's presentation began, but Peter's mind wandered. Thoughts of his report and the unexpected summons filled his head. Still, he couldn't help smirking as Alan stumbled through a few slides.

After that class ended, the day continued with a string of lectures that left little room for Peter to dwell on the mystery. It wasn't until all their classes were finally over that he made his way to the lecturer's office.

When Peter stepped inside, he froze. Standing next to the lecturer's desk, deep in conversation, was Mercedes.

Her eyes darted toward him, and for a split second, she seemed just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

Mercedes looked genuinely surprised to see him. "Peter?" she said, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Hi," Peter replied awkwardly, offering a small wave.

The lecturer cleared his throat, drawing both their attention back to him. Peter quickly straightened, his casual demeanor shifting to one of focus.

"I wasn't aware you knew him," the lecturer said, eyeing Mercedes.

"Oh, we became acquainted recently," Mercedes explained with a polite smile.

"I see." The lecturer adjusted his glasses and turned his gaze to Peter. "Mr. Davis, please take a seat."

"Yes, sir," Peter said, quickly moving to sit across from the desk.

The lecturer clasped his hands together, fixing Peter with a stern expression. "Mr. Davis, ever since I began teaching your class, you've stood out as the most unserious student in the room."

Peter flinched at the blunt statement. "Sorry, sir," he muttered, lowering his head.

"I'm not done yet," the lecturer said sharply.

"Sorry," Peter muttered again, his tone quieter this time.

"You've frequently taken leaves of absence, and when you are present, you're inattentive and disruptive. I was quite certain you were going to fail this class," the lecturer said, each word carrying the weight of judgment.

Peter braced himself, feeling the sting of the criticism.

"But today has proven me wrong," the lecturer continued, his tone softening slightly.

Peter's head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. "Really?"

"Your report was the best I have read in my years of teaching," the lecturer said, leaning back in his chair. "Your ideas are brilliant, and your presentation wasn't bad. You clearly understand and have a passion for business, which is why I'm recommending you to intern at J and K."

Peter blinked, momentarily stunned. "What? Really?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

J and K was one of the largest corporations in the world, renowned for its exclusivity. Internships there were typically reserved for the children of the wealthy elite—those who had connections and influence.

The lecturer nodded. "It takes place over the summer break. So, are you interested?"

Peter nodded rapidly, struggling to contain his excitement. "I am! But… how?"

"My father is looking to scout talented students to train for the company," Mercedes interjected, stepping closer. She handed Peter a form. "I'll just need your name, email address, and contact number."

Peter eagerly took the form and quickly scribbled down his details, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and gratitude.

Mercedes smiled warmly as she took the form back. "I guess I'll see you around then," she said, offering a small wave before leaving the office.

Peter watched her go, still in awe of what had just happened.

"What are you waiting for? Get out," the lecturer said curtly, snapping Peter back to reality.

Peter jumped to his feet. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I won't let you down," he said earnestly before hurrying out of the office.

***

Jane's experience in class was worlds apart from Peter's. As a renowned genius in the electrical engineering department, she had long since earned the respect—and wariness—of her lecturers. None of them bothered forcing her to attend lectures or focus on the material. After all, Jane had usually mastered the syllabus long before they taught it.

She sat at the back of the lecture hall, scrolling through her phone openly as the professor droned on about circuit designs she'd learned—and improved upon—years ago. Nobody found her behavior odd. It was simply Jane being Jane.

Opening the website she had built for her group's commissions, Jane navigated to the job request page. The site was a masterpiece of cybersecurity, its constantly changing IP address ensuring no one could trace it back to her.

Her sharp eyes landed on a familiar request—the same mission she'd rejected because Eva and Peter didn't want to go. This time, however, the payment had increased significantly, from five hundred thousand to one million.

Jane's brows furrowed as suspicion crept into her mind. A sudden jump like that was far from normal. She rejected the request again with a decisive tap, her fingers moving with precision and purpose.

"Who's trying to bait us?" she muttered under her breath.

She leaned back in her chair, recalling the last time they'd fallen for such a setup. It had been a government trick—a high-paying mission designed to lure them into a trap. Escaping had been nothing short of a nightmare.

Since the Atlantian Legacy had become a looming threat, the government's desperation to recruit them had only grown. That was why Jane strongly suspected this sudden offer was yet another trap. She sighed heavily and tucked her phone into her bag, leaning back in her chair.

Jane's thoughts drifted to Eva, her enigmatic partner and Peter's root. Even among roots, Eva was a unique case—so much so that Jane often wondered if even Eva herself knew the full extent of her power. In the global rankings, the Hoods held the number five spot, a position Jane knew they could easily surpass if Peter could channel more of Eva's strength. If that ever happened, they wouldn't just climb the rankings—they'd claim the top spot, undisputed.

But the mystery surrounding Eva always gnawed at her. Online theories about the Hoods' root were endless, and Eva's secrecy only fueled the speculation. Some theorists claimed Eva once belonged to the powerful Norton family, while others tied her to the ancient and elusive Aimar lineage. Both families had ties to roots dating as far back as the 1960s, but Jane didn't have the resources—or connections—to verify any of it.

Jane rubbed her forehead, her thoughts swirling. What was Eva hiding? And why was she so determined to keep it from them?

Peter, as usual, didn't seem to care. He never questioned Eva's past or the way she deftly avoided discussing it. To him, Eva's presence was enough. He trusted her without hesitation, his easygoing nature shielding him from the deeper questions that kept Jane awake at night.

But Jane couldn't let it go. Something about Eva's past felt ominous, like a shadow hanging over their group. Jane wasn't sure what it was, but she had a sinking feeling that whatever Eva was hiding wasn't just personal—it was dangerous. Dangerous for Eva, dangerous for Peter, and dangerous for her.

As the lecture continued in the background, Jane's fingers tapped anxiously on the desk. She needed answers, but Eva wasn't going to give them willingly. And as much as Jane hated the thought, she knew she might have to find those answers herself.