Loren's manor had been peaceful for two whole months.
During those two months, there had been no dimensional invasions, no gods descending, no world-destroying battles.
There had only been sunlight, laughter, the clatter of chips on the gambling table, and the watermelon vines growing ever more lush in Ikaros's greenhouse.
Everyone had thought such days would last forever.
Until that Wednesday afternoon.
New York, Manhattan, Midtown.
At 2:17 in the afternoon, a three-story neighborhood elementary school was reduced to rubble by a sudden explosion.
When the explosion occurred, the children were in class.
In the first-grade classroom, the teacher had been teaching the children how to draw rainbows.
In the third-grade classroom, a math quiz had been underway.
In the kindergarten classroom, the youngest children had just woken from their nap, rubbing their eyes as they waited for snacks.
Then, everything was gone.
The explosion had been tremendously powerful, its shockwave shattering every window in the surrounding buildings.
Flames rose dozens of meters into the air, while thick black smoke blotted out half the sky over Manhattan.
When the firefighters and paramedics arrived, all they found was a field of ruins.
Chunks of concrete, twisted rebar, burned schoolbags, and bodies far too small to ever open their eyes again.
Three hundred and seventeen children.
The oldest was eleven. The youngest was only four.
No remnants of explosives were found at the scene, but investigators detected highly concentrated residual energy fluctuations in the rubble.
That was not something any conventional explosive could produce. It was residue from the power of a superpowered individual.
The instant the news broke, the entire United States erupted.
On television news, the anchor's voice trembled. "...Three hundred and seventeen children have died. This is one of the worst school massacres in United States history.
Energy residue