Chapter Nine: Shadows Before Dawn
Alex's POV – Brooklyn, New York
3:30 AM
The house was silent.
Only the refrigerator hummed.
I moved carefully through the hallway, hoodie on, mask ready, gloves already tightened. Every step was controlled—no creak, no sound. I can feel my body is a little different.
Something is different.
The moment I opened my eyes this morning, I knew. My entire body felt… tighter. Coiled. Alive in a way it never has before.
The first thing I noticed was the strength in my limbs.
Not the kind of strength that comes from lifting weights—
this was deeper.
Denser.
Like my muscles had been reforged overnight.
When I flex my hand, I can feel the power ripple through my forearm, controlled and heavy, like compressed steel waiting to be unleashed. Even the air feels lighter against my skin, as if gravity had loosened its grip on me.
My senses… God.
I hear everything.
The hum of the refrigerator two rooms away.
Someone's footsteps outside—even though they are a block away, but I am pretty sure it is because it is at night (sound is more audible at night).
My own heartbeat, steady and powerful, like it belongs to someone far stronger than me.
And my breathing—
each inhale sinks all the way into my core
and spreads warmth through my veins like fire.
My vision is sharper too.
Edges are clearer, colors more vivid.
I blink once, and it's like a curtain lifts; the world just… snaps into focus.
But the real change is on the inside.
There's something flowing under my skin—something warm, heavy, alive.
Energy.
Cultivated energy.
When I concentrate, it moves.
I can guide it.
Direct it.
It feels like holding lightning in the palm of my hand—
dangerous, intoxicating, and fully mine.
My body no longer feels like the one I grew up with.
It feels like a weapon.
A perfectly-forged tool of strength and precision.
Even the way I stand has changed. My posture is straighter, more grounded, like my center of gravity has shifted into place. Every movement feels deliberate. Controlled. Dominant.
No fatigue.
No weakness.
No hesitation.
Just raw, simmering potential humming beneath my skin.
For the first time in my life… after regression,
I feel unstoppable.
I needed to slip out unnoticed.
I cracked the door open, stepped out—
But the hairs on my neck rose.
Someone was awake, probably Mia.
Watching.
I didn't turn around, but I felt eyes burning into my back from upstairs.
Still, I closed the door gently and walked down the porch steps, acting natural.
Three seconds after reaching the street, I heard the faint creak of the front door opening again.
So I was right.
Someone was following.
I kept walking slowly…
…then without warning—
I sprinted.
My body exploded forward, legs moving with impossible power.
Wind blasted past me as the street blurred into streaks. I felt my heart pounding, my breathing steady—too steady. I glanced at my phone briefly:
40 km/h.
My eyes widened.
This is insane… I'm this fast already?
Within moments, whatever footsteps were behind me had faded completely. I gained enough distance to slip through two side streets, circle a block, and vanish.
Whoever followed me was gone.
I continued toward the meeting point, mind cold, focused.
I had more important things to do.
Mia's POV – Inside the House
I went to get water from the kitchen, but as I passed the window, I froze.
Alex.
Dressed in a hoodie, masked, moving like he didn't want anyone to hear.
Where is he going at 3:30 AM?
Curiosity burned through me instantly.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I slipped to the front door and quietly followed after him, keeping distance.
I stayed behind the shadow of the house, watching his figure move down the street.
But then—
He ran.
Not "ran,"
not "sprinted,"
but took off like he was shot from a cannon.
"W–What…?" I whispered, stunned.
Alex wasn't an athlete. He couldn't even beat me in a jog back then. But now?
He was fast.
Ridiculously fast.
I chased a few steps but stopped—he had disappeared into the darkness .
I stood on the porch, fists clenched, cheeks puffed out in pure frustration.
What is Alex hiding from me?
I stomped back inside, fuming, unable to sleep anymore.
Alex's POV – 3:59 AM
I reached the meeting point one minute before four.
Mike was already there, standing beside a man I didn't know—large build, hood low, eyes sharp.
"You're early," Mike said quietly.
"You said meet at four."
He nodded, impressed by my consistency.
The stranger looked me over, trying to judge me, but with my mask and hood, there was nothing for him to read. I wasn't worried.
"Follow us."
We moved through side streets until we reached an old bookstore with dim lights and dusty windows.
Mike knocked in a coded pattern.
The door opened.
Inside it smelled like old pages and worn carpet. But once the stranger slid a bookshelf aside, a metal door appeared with multiple locks.
A hidden elevator.
We descended.
Heat hit me first—intense, smoky, metallic.
A forge.
The forge master emerged: thick arms, scarred hands, smudged face, and eyes sharp as a hawk.
"What do you want built?" he asked.
I pulled out rolled sketches.
He unrolled them, brows raising.
A tactical hatchet, perfectly balanced for combat.
A Karambit knife, curved like a claw.
And a full-body armor suit with zero openings, heavy but reinforced with layered plating.
He examined every detail. His frown wasn't disapproval—it was respect.
"Young, but you know what you're planning," he muttered.
"Five days," I said.
"That soon?"
"It's urgent."
He nodded once.
I placed the down payment in his hand, crisp bills wrapped tight.
"Come back in five days," he said. "It'll be ready."
Underground Arsenal – The Bakery
Mike led me to another building—a small, cozy bakery with warm smells leaking through the air.
Anyone would think it was harmless.
We entered the back room. Mike tapped a tile on the wall. A mechanical click sounded.
A hidden door slid open.
We went downstairs.
A cold, industrial room waited below.
Minutes later, two men entered, dragging crates across the floor. When they opened them, metal gleamed under the lights.
Guns. Grenades. Explosives.
I inspected the arsenal calmly.
No hesitation.
I chose:
A compact, reliable handgun.
A lightweight SMG.
Smoke grenades.
Flash grenades.
Two high-impact explosives.
I handed over the second down payment.
"I'll pick them up with the hatchet."
Mike swallowed, nodding slowly. "Alex… you're preparing for something serious."
"In time," I said. "You'll understand everything."
And with that, I left before dawn broke.
Another step toward what was coming.