The atmosphere in the medical ward still carried the remnants of the chaos that had occurred minutes before, but now everything seemed strangely stable. The air was clean, the equipment was emitting its regular, controlled sounds again, and at the center of it all, Natasha sat on the stretcher, breathing without any assistance. The mask that had previously covered her face was tossed aside, forgotten as if it had never been essential to keeping her alive.

Charlotte moved around her with precision, analyzing every detail with almost obsessive attention. Her fingers pressed specific points, checking muscle response, skin temperature, respiratory rate. The stethoscope was used more than once, not out of immediate need, but because she simply didn’t trust what she was seeing without repeatedly confirming it.

Serafall stood a few steps behind, arms crossed, observing everything in silence. Her gaze was neither relaxed nor relieved. It was focused, suspicious, like someone who had seen too many good things turn into disaster too quickly to trust the first positive result.

"So," she finally said, breaking the silence with a firm voice, "are you really okay?"

Natasha looked up slightly, still adjusting to her free breathing. Her chest rose and fell naturally, effortlessly, without that faltering sound that had previously accompanied each attempt to draw air. She took another deep breath, this time deliberately, as if testing her own limits.

And she found none.

"I am," she replied simply, but with a slight trace of surprise in her voice. "I... I don’t remember the last time breathing was so easy."

Charlotte didn’t comment immediately, but continued analyzing, mentally noting each response. There was no apparent inflammation, no irregularities in airflow, no abnormal heartbeat. It was as if her body had been completely rewritten.

Natasha turned her head slightly, looking around the room for the first time with more attention. Her eyes moved slowly, absorbing details that had previously been unimportant or even imperceptible.

She inhaled again.

Deeper this time.

And she frowned slightly.

"There’s a strange smell here," she said.

Serafall raised an eyebrow.

"Strange how?" she asked.

Natasha took a second to answer, trying to process the sensation. It wasn’t just an ordinary smell. It was more... intense. More present. As if it were being pulled directly into her more clearly than it should be.

"It’s not bad," she said slowly. "In fact... it’s the opposite."

Charlotte paused for a moment, looking directly at her now.

"Describe it better," she asked.

Natasha inhaled again, more carefully, trying to identify the source. Her nose twitched slightly, her senses clearly sharper than before.

"It smells like blood," she said.

Serafall didn’t react immediately.

Natasha continued.

"But it’s not just any blood," she added. "It’s... good."

She hesitated for a second, as if choosing her words carefully.

"Very good."

The silence that followed was short, but significant.

Serafall slowly uncrossed her arms, her gaze becoming more attentive.

"It’s my son’s blood," she said bluntly.

Natasha blinked once.

Thinking.

Processing.

The name wasn’t spoken, but it didn’t need to be.

She remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing the information, while her body seemed to react subtly, almost imperceptibly at first glance.

And then—

It changed.

It wasn’t gradual.

It was immediate.

Her entire body froze for an instant, as if something had been triggered inside her without warning. Her muscles tensed involuntarily, and her gaze shifted sharply to a specific point on the wall.

There was nothing there.

Nothing visible.

But the reaction wasn’t based on what she saw.

It was based on what she felt.

Thousands of miles away.

Natasha stood completely still for a full second, her eyes fixed on that empty point, while something inside her connected to something very, very far away.

And very strong.

Her body began to tremble.

First slightly.

Then more intensely.

Charlotte noticed immediately, approaching quickly, but without yet touching.

"Natasha?" she called, her voice firm but controlled. "What’s happening?"

Natasha didn’t answer immediately.

Her eyes remained fixed, as if she were seeing something beyond what was there.

"I..." she began, but her voice faltered.

She swallowed hard, trying to maintain some control.

"I’m feeling something."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes.

"Feeling what?" she asked, already anticipating that this wasn’t normal.

Natasha took a deep breath, but this time her breathing wasn’t as clear as before. Not because of a physical problem, but because of the intensity of the sensation coursing through her body at that moment.

"It’s not here," she said slowly. "It’s far away."

Very far away.

The trembling intensified.

Her hands closed slightly, her fingers contracting as if her own body were reacting to that connection.

Charlotte took another step forward.

"Are you connected to something?" she asked directly.

Natasha didn’t hesitate this time.

"Yes."

The answer came immediately.

Without a doubt.

No room for interpretation.

She brought her hand to her head, pressing lightly on the side as if trying to contain something that wouldn’t fit inside.

"It’s too strong," she murmured.

Her eyes still fixed on the wall.

But not seeing the wall.

"My head..." she continued, her voice becoming heavier, "is screaming."

Charlotte exchanged a quick glance with Serafall.

"Screaming how?" she insisted.

Natasha finally blinked, but didn’t look away.

"To go," she said.

Simple.

Direct.

"Where to?" Charlotte asked.

Natasha didn’t answer with words this time.

She simply raised her arm slowly, pointing in the exact direction she had been looking from the beginning.

West.

The gesture was firm.

Without hesitation.

Without a doubt.

The trembling in her body didn’t lessen.

In fact, it seemed to increase as the awareness of that connection became clearer.

"I need to go there," she said, now with more urgency in her voice. "Now."

Serafall finally moved.

She took a step forward, her gaze fixed on the direction Natasha was pointing.

She didn’t need to think much.

She didn’t need to calculate.

She already knew.

"That direction..." she began, softly.

Natasha didn’t lower her arm.

"I don’t know what it is," Natasha continued, almost interrupting, "but it’s like... like something is pulling me."

It wasn’t just a desire.

It was a need.

"Like I have to go."

Charlotte watched everything intently, her mind racing, trying to understand exactly what that reaction meant. This wasn’t a common side effect of a transfusion. It wasn’t a simple adjustment.

It was a connection.

Something much deeper.

Serafall exhaled slowly.

And then confirmed.

"That direction," she said, now without any doubt in her voice, "is where Victor is."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Natasha didn’t react with surprise.

In fact, the confirmation only seemed to worsen the situation.

Her body trembled more strongly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if the connection had intensified the moment she received a name.

"Victor..." she repeated, softly.

And this time—

The feeling came with more force.

Clearer.

More impossible to ignore.

She gasped for air, her body leaning slightly forward as if she were about to stand up without even realizing it.

"I need to get to him," she said.

Natasha’s body didn’t wait another second after that statement. There was no conscious preparation, no rational decision passing before her eyes before the movement happened. It was direct. Instinctive. As if something inside her had simply taken complete control, ignoring any attempt at logic or restraint.

Her muscles contracted in a way that was too coordinated for someone who, until a few minutes ago, was on the verge of death. The body that had previously needed help breathing now moved with frightening precision, as if it had been recalibrated for something far beyond normal. She rose from the stretcher in a single fluid movement, without hesitation, without instability, without any sign of residual weakness.

Charlotte’s eyes widened immediately, reflexively taking a step back at the sudden change.

"Wait— what are you—" she began, her voice coming out faster than her thoughts.

But there was no time to finish.

The sound came first.

It wasn’t a simple impact, nor something contained within the environment. It was a dry, direct, brutal explosion. The side wall of the medical wing simply ceased to exist at the point where Natasha stepped. The concrete didn’t crack gradually, didn’t break into predictable pieces. It was pierced. Pierced by a body that didn’t slow down for a moment.

BOOOOOM.

The debris was hurled outward in a violent arc, fragments of stone and metal scattered as if too light to resist the force pushing them. The air was displaced along with it, creating a short wave that swept across the room and messed everything around it, lifting papers, light equipment, and even slightly tugging at the clothes of those still inside.

When the dust began to settle, Natasha was no longer there.

She didn’t hesitate as she stepped through the opening she had created. She didn’t look back. She didn’t think to explain. Her body simply followed the direction her mind was screaming, each step carrying an urgency that didn’t come from her as a person, but from something much deeper that now pulled her without resistance.

Outside, the movement continued without slowing down. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground long enough to generate full traction before moving forward again. The speed increased every second, her body automatically adjusting the applied force, optimizing the movement in a way she wouldn’t even consciously realize.

It was as if she already knew how to run that way. As if she’d done it before.

But she hadn’t.

Charlotte stood still for a moment inside the destroyed room, staring at the hole in the wall with a completely lost expression. Her brain was still trying to process what had just happened, rearranging the events into a logical sequence that simply didn’t make sense.

"She... she just..." she murmured, unable to finish the sentence.

Serafall let out a long sigh, bringing her hand to her face for a second before letting it fall back to her side. Her gaze was fixed on the opening, mentally tracking the direction Natasha had taken.

"It seems she’s not exactly... deciding this on her own," she said, her tone more analytical than concerned at that moment.

Charlotte quickly turned her face to her.

"What do you mean she’s not deciding?" she questioned, still trying to regain her composure. "She just went through a wall and ran off like—like—"

"Like she was being pulled," Serafall finished.

Charlotte paused for a second.

Thinking.

Connecting.

And then her expression changed.

"Do you think it’s the blood?" she asked, lower now.

Serafall didn’t answer immediately, but her silence said enough.

She took a few steps to the opening in the wall, looking out, analyzing the destroyed surroundings and the clear trail Natasha had left by advancing in a straight line, without any deviation.

"Her body was reconstructed using his blood," Serafall said, crossing her arms again. "Not just healed. Remade."

Charlotte swallowed hard.

"And that created a connection?" she asked.

Serafall tilted her head slightly.

"More than that," she replied. "It created a response."

Her gaze narrowed a little more.

"Something in his blood... is calling."

Charlotte looked again at the hole in the wall, clearly uneasy now.

"Isn’t that dangerous?" she asked. "I mean, she has absolutely no control over it. What if—"

"It’s dangerous," Serafall interrupted bluntly.

But there was no panic in her voice.

There was... acceptance.

She let out another sigh, this time shorter.

"But it’s not exactly something we can stop at this point," she continued.

Charlotte frowned.

"So we just let her run off like that?" she questioned.

Serafall turned to face her.

"Do you think you could stop her now?" she asked directly.

Charlotte opened her mouth.

But didn’t answer.

Because the answer was obvious.

No.

Serafall nodded slightly, as if that confirmed the point.

"Then the best we can do is follow along," she said.

Charlotte still seemed uncomfortable with the situation.

"Aren’t you going after her?" she asked.

Serafall was silent for a second.

Thinking.

And then she sighed.

"I’ll go."

She approached Charlotte without warning, lowering her body slightly before simply grabbing her by the side of her clothes and lifting her as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Charlotte let out a sound of surprise, her body being pulled off the ground without any preparation.

"Hey—!" she protested, already knowing exactly what was happening.

Serafall adjusted her position unceremoniously, placing her over her shoulder as if she were truly a sack of potatoes.

"Yes, unfortunately," she said, her tone laden with a slight resignation.

Charlotte huffed, clearly annoyed by the way she had been picked up.

"You always do this," she complained, trying to adjust her own position so as not to be completely uncomfortable.

"And it always works," Serafall replied, without paying much attention.

She stepped out of the destroyed structure, her gaze already focused on the direction Natasha had gone. Her body tensed slightly, the surrounding energy condensing almost imperceptibly before being released all at once.

The ground beneath her feet cracked at the point of impact.

And in the next instant—

She was no longer there.

The movement was quick enough to distort the surrounding air, creating a displacement that left a momentary trail in the space where she had been before. Her body surged into the sky at a direct angle, without wasting any momentum, adjusting its trajectory within the first few meters to align exactly with Natasha’s direction.

Charlotte clutched the briefcase lightly against her body, holding on tight as the wind cut around them with increasing force.

"Couldn’t you go a little slower?" she complained, her voice partially carried away by the wind.

"No," Serafall replied simply.

The speed increased. The environment below them began to distort with distance, trees, structures, and terrain transforming into blurry patterns as they were left behind. Serafall’s focus was absolute, her gaze fixed ahead, following not only the direction but the presence she could already sense in the distance.

Natasha.

And beyond her—

Victor.

"She’s going straight ahead," Serafall said, more to herself than to Charlotte.

Charlotte tried to look ahead, but the speed made it difficult to maintain visual focus.

"Can you see her?" she asked.

"I don’t need to see," Serafall replied.

She slightly adjusted her trajectory, increasing her speed even further.

"I can feel it."

The air around them began to feel heavier as the pressure increased with speed. The sound of the wind became sharper, constant, almost deafening, but neither of them slowed down.

Because at that point—

It wasn’t just about catching up with Natasha anymore.

It was about understanding exactly what had just begun.