The library still smelled of dust and stale paper when dawn crept through the broken blinds. Light cut the air in pale stripes, catching on motes that drifted lazily through the room. No one had slept well. No one really could—too much power humming under their skin, too many questions about what they'd become.
Marcus stretched first, the movement making the shelf-barricade groan. His shirt strained at the shoulders, muscle thickening where none had been before. When he hefted his hammer, the air vibrated faintly. The weapon wasn't just metal now—it resonated.
He gave it a test swing. When it struck the floor, the impact sent a shallow wave of pressure across the boards, scattering dust in a perfect ring.
Marcus grinned, boyish and reckless. "Guess I wasn't big enough already."
Tina rolled her eyes but didn't hide the relief in her face.
"Bigger makes you slower," Kira murmured from the window. Even so, her gaze lingered. The light caught her eyes oddly—sharp, reflective, predatory. She took a single step and blurred. Another heartbeat, and she reappeared half a pace away, faintly out of focus. Then again, suddenly behind Darren.
He nearly dropped his spear. "Bloody hell—warn someone next time."
"Twice in a breath," Kira said, satisfaction in her tone. "That's new."
---
Ravi sat cross-legged by the far wall, scraps of paper spread like cards. His handwriting was small and fast, looping between diagrams and half-formed equations. "Something's changed for all of us," he muttered, his voice slightly overlapping itself like an echo. "I get flashes—seconds before things happen. Words before they're said."
He looked up, eyes gleaming. "It's not perfect. But it's data."
Caleb stared, wide-eyed. "You're predicting the future?"
Ravi shrugged. "Barely. A whisper of it."
Ethan leaned against the wall, silent, tracing the faint silver threads that still shimmered beneath his skin. Every heartbeat made them pulse. Every breath drew them tighter. Gene Anchor had left its mark—not just in his essence, but in how he saw the world. Threads connected everything now. People, life, corruption—it all moved through the same weave.
He'd tested it once in the night. Just for a moment. The silver light had spilled from his hands like molten wire, wrapping a dying rat caught in a trap. The threads had held it suspended between breath and stillness until the glow burned out. The creature had lived—but barely.
The system hadn't lied: sixty seconds between life and death. No more. No less.
He flexed his fingers again. The threads brightened—and one snapped outward, a flash of light cracking the air. It struck a shelf, slicing clean through the corner before fading.
Everyone froze.
Ethan stared at the smoking wood. "...That's new."
Ravi's pencil hovered. "Describe it."
"I didn't mean to. It just… lashed out."
Kira raised a brow. "So the healer gets a whip."
Ethan tried again, focusing this time. A line of energy coiled from his palm—thin, glowing, alive. It flickered once, then vanished.
"Pulse Lash," Ravi said, already jotting it down. "Secondary adaptation from the Warden line. Pure essence manipulation—offensive sub-skill tied to Anchor control."
Marcus let out a low whistle. "You're full of surprises."
Ethan exhaled, still staring at his hand. "I think the system wanted balance. It gave me a way to fight back."
---
They didn't talk much after that. Words felt small in a room full of quiet power.
Outside, the city stretched wide and hollow, the distant echo of crows breaking the silence.
Maya sat near the door, knees drawn to her chest, watching them one by one. "It's not that I'm behind," she said softly. "You all just jumped ahead. I'll catch up."
Marcus grinned and clapped her shoulder. "Doesn't matter. Power or not, you're one of us."
Ravi's echo overlapped his next words. "You will, Maya. I've seen it."
She frowned. "Still not sure if that's comforting or creepy."
Kira almost smiled. "Both."
---
Ethan pushed away from the wall, stretching the stiffness from his limbs. "We move soon. My sister's still out there—and Tina's boy. The longer we stay put, the more the city changes."
No one argued.
They packed in silence. Shelves were pushed aside, maps folded, bags tightened. When they finally stepped out into the morning light, the air was sharp and cold, the streets empty but watching.
Behind them, the library stood quiet, the faint scorch mark from Ethan's Pulse Lash carved into the floor—a reminder of what they were becoming.
Ethan glanced once over his shoulder.
A healer, he thought, shouldn't need a weapon.
But he did.
And this time, he wouldn't hesitate to use it.