Chapitre 14: Chapter Fourteen: The Hidden Path
After the chaos of the Nightmarionette's appearance and the twelve deaths that followed, there was a strange silence that settled over the world. The media buzzed with speculation, the streets of Musutafu were quieter than usual, and heroes seemed to take extra caution in their daily patrols. It was as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for the next move from the Nightmare Vigilante—or worse, from the terrifying creature that had become a living nightmare.
But Lucas was no longer in the city. He had retreated into the woods, far from the chaos he had caused, far from the people who feared him and the factions that hunted him. There, in the seclusion of nature, with nothing but the sounds of rustling leaves and distant animal cries, Lucas began a new chapter of his life.
The forests surrounding the city had once been a symbol of tranquility, a place where the hustle and bustle of the world could not reach. But now, they became his sanctuary, his crucible. It was here that he would either break or become something more controlled—something that could survive the weight of his past.
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The first few days were the hardest. Lucas struggled not only with the absence of human contact but with the crippling guilt of what he had done. The deaths. The destruction. The lives lost. All of it weighed heavily on him, and yet, in his darkest moments, William's voice would always be there, a constant presence in his mind.
"You're not the villain they think you are," William would whisper, his tone softer than usual. "You're a warrior. A survivor. You've got the power to change your fate. But you have to fight for it. You can't run from your past, Lucas. You have to face it and control it."
The words were always cold, always pragmatic, but beneath the calculated demeanor, there was something else—an odd form of care. William had, in his own twisted way, become a father figure to Lucas. Though their relationship was built on manipulation and control, Lucas couldn't deny the truth. William was all he had. And even if it was twisted, even if it was tainted by the horrors of his own past, Lucas clung to it. William's approval, his guidance—it was the only anchor Lucas had in a world that seemed bent on tearing him apart.
"You've already taken control of most of your forms, Lucas," William continued one day as Lucas sat near a campfire, the flickering light casting long shadows on his worn face. "But you haven't mastered the Nightmare form. Not yet. And you never will if you don't train, if you don't push yourself beyond your limits. We can hunt together. Test your strength. Test your control."
---
For months, Lucas was immersed in the brutal rhythm of survival. His days began before the sun even rose. He would rise, drink from the stream that ran through the woods, and begin his hunt. Quirk-infused animals had become a staple of his training. Creatures altered by quirks—animals with enhanced strength, speed, or defense—were scattered throughout the wilderness. They were no longer merely prey, but tests, challenges to Lucas's growing power.
He learned how to hunt, how to track, and most importantly, how to use his power effectively in a way that wouldn't destroy him. It was hard. It was brutal. But it was necessary.
Using his Mangle form—the twisted, mechanized version of his nightmare persona—Lucas could track these animals with ease. Their heightened senses were no match for his own abilities. The fox-like head of Mangle's form allowed him to listen in on distant sounds, the sharp claws made quick work of tough hides, and the arm-length limbs provided the mobility to close in on his prey quickly.
But each day was a battle. Not just against the animals, but against his own demons. Every time he used a form, the hunger for more power would surface, clawing at his mind. The urge to transform into the Nightmare—the ultimate form—was a constant presence, lurking beneath the surface. He could feel the form, the dark hunger, calling to him. But he knew that if he ever gave in to it again, it might be the end.
Instead, Lucas focused on his training. He was determined to master the others. Slowly, he was able to control his transformations—his Nightmarionette, his Nightmare Fredbear, his Jack 'o's—forms that had once been chaotic and terrifying were now weapons at his disposal, controlled and deliberate. He no longer had to rely on the fear they instilled in others. Now, he wielded them with precision, each form an extension of his will.
It took months of grueling isolation, months of forced restraint, but Lucas began to feel a shift. He could control all the forms for along time or a short time, except the Nightmare, but that didn't matter. At least, not for now. His new form, Mangle, became a tool he used to hunt with, to sustain himself, and to test his control. It was the first time he had truly used the form for something other than self-destruction. And it felt... freeing.
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Yet, as Lucas trained and honed his abilities, the world had not forgotten him. His absence brought a fleeting sense of peace to the citizens of the cities, but the factions that sought to control him never ceased their search. The League of Villains, Overhaul, and even the Hero Association continued to look for Lucas, knowing that he had not vanished for good. They knew he was hiding—waiting. And they were biding their time, knowing that the longer he stayed away, the stronger he would become.
Best Jeanist, Midoriya, and Bakugou—though they hadn't found him yet—were also aware of his existence. Midoriya, driven by the desire for answers, had begun to piece together the mystery of the Nightmarish figure. He couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that there was something deeper behind Lucas's story. He wasn't just a villain. He was something more—a force of nature, a child twisted by his own powers. And Midoriya's conviction only grew with each passing day. He would find him, no matter what.
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Lucas knew this wouldn't last forever. His time in the woods, in hiding, was not an eternal solution. But it had given him something he never thought he'd have again: control. For the first time in years, he felt like he had a hold on his life, on his power, on himself.
But even as he rested by the fire one evening, a single thought lingered in the back of his mind. A thought that filled him with both dread and anticipation.
The world would never stop looking for him. His past, his actions—no matter how much he tried to leave them behind—would always catch up to him. And soon enough, he would have to face them.
But for now, in the quiet of the woods, with only the sounds of his breath and the crackling of the fire, Lucas allowed himself to be still. He would control this nightmare.
And when the time came, he would rise.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone