Lucien learned something important that night.
Power didn't announce itself with thunder.
Sometimes, it whispered.
The rain had stopped by the time he reached the lower districts, leaving the streets slick and shining like black glass. Neon signs buzzed weakly overhead, their reflections breaking under his boots as he walked. This part of the city never slept—it simply waited.
New directive detected.
The Shadow System's voice slid into his mind without warning.
Lucien stopped.
"What now?" he muttered under his breath.
Threat density in this area exceeds acceptable parameters. Recommendation: avoid prolonged exposure.
Lucien smirked faintly. "Then why lead me here?"
There was a pause. A rare one.
Because opportunity and danger often share coordinates.
That answer didn't comfort him.
He adjusted the hood of his jacket and moved on.
From the shadows of a half-collapsed building, eyes followed him.
Not human eyes.
Earlier that day, Iris had felt it again.
That pull.
She sat alone in the academy's upper garden, pretending to read while students passed by, stealing glances they didn't realize they were taking. Some slowed their steps. Others lingered too long. One boy walked straight into a pillar, eyes fixed on her.
Iris sighed and closed the book.
"It's getting worse," she whispered.
The divinity inside her stirred—ancient, patient, hungry.
She hated it.
People didn't like her. They wanted her. Desperately. Irrationally. And the more she tried to suppress it, the stronger it seemed to become, leaking out through cracks in her control.
Someone sat beside her without asking.
"You're frowning again."
Kai.
She didn't look at him. "Am I not allowed to?"
"You are," he said lightly. "But every time you do, something bad happens nearby."
As if on cue, raised voices echoed from the lower courtyard—two students arguing, tension flaring far beyond reason.
Iris stood abruptly. "I need to go."
Kai watched her go, his playful expression fading.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Something's definitely wrong."
Lucien found the mark exactly where the System predicted.
A man in an expensive coat, surrounded by cheap confidence and cheaper muscle, standing outside a black-market augmentation clinic. The kind of man who ruined lives with signatures and smiles.
Target identified: High-value antagonist candidate. Probability of future conflict: 78%.
Lucien leaned against a wall, melting into the darkness.
"So," he whispered, "you want me to what—kill him?"
Negative.
That surprised him.
Observation recommended. Information acquisition prioritized.
Lucien watched as the man laughed, clapped one of his guards on the shoulder, and stepped into a waiting vehicle.
And that was when Lucien felt it.
A presence.
Not behind him.
Above him.
Warning.
He rolled forward just as something sharp sliced through the air where his head had been. Sparks flew as metal met concrete.
Lucien sprang to his feet, eyes scanning the rooftops.
Nothing.
Then a voice drifted down, calm and amused.
"So you're the one the shadows like."
Lucien's muscles tightened. "Come down here and say that."
A figure stepped into view at the edge of the roof—tall, wrapped in dark gear, face hidden behind a mask etched with unfamiliar symbols.
"I would," the figure said, "but I'm not here to fight. Not yet."
Lucien felt the System react.
Unknown entity detected. Threat level: Unmeasurable.
That was new.
"Then why are you here?" Lucien asked.
The masked figure tilted their head. "Because you're going to break things. Big things. And I wanted to see if you'd survive long enough to make it interesting."
Before Lucien could respond, the figure stepped back—
—and vanished.
No sound. No trace.
Just silence.
Lucien exhaled slowly.
"…I really hate this city."
Update, the System said quietly.
The game board has expanded.
That night, Iris dreamed of chains made of light.
And Lucien dreamed of shadows that weren't his.
Both woke up knowing the same truth, though neither could name it yet:
Something had started moving.
And once it did—
There would be no stopping it.