The rain fell like the sky was mourning something sharp, cold, relentless. The college campus, usually buzzing with weekend laughter, now lay silent under a grey curtain of water. Streetlights flickered in the distance, casting broken halos over the wet pavement.
Harry stood alone in the middle of it, completely soaked. His hoodie clung to his skin, heavy with water. In his trembling hand was a single red rose now drooping, petals darkened by the downpour. His sneakers were caked in mud, but he didn't move. Couldn't move. Not yet.
He stared at the old construction building behind the library. She said she'd be here. She promised.
His heart pounded in his chest like a warning drum. Maybe this was a mistake.
Then the door creaked open.
Jessica stepped out into the rain like a goddess from a dream long black jacket, tight jeans, her blonde hair tied in a wet ponytail. Her eyeliner hadn't even smudged. She was perfect. And Harry was not.
But tonight… maybe she'd choose him.
He raised the rose slowly. His lips parted.
"Jessica," he said, barely audible over the rain. "I… I mean it. Everything I told you. I like you. Maybe more than like."
Her eyes sparkled. She stepped closer.
He dared to smile. For a second, the world felt possible.
Then...
Flash.
Bright light. Laughter. Screams of joy behind her.
Harry's heart dropped.
Behind Jessica, the door burst open. Four people stormed out phones raised, filming. Two wore hoodies, one had a Joker mask. The fourth? A tall guy holding a Bluetooth speaker blasting some EDM beat.
Jessica turned toward them, laughing. Full volume. No shame.
"Guys! Say hi to the newest star of our channel—Loser Love Confessions!"
The others howled with laughter.
Harry blinked.
"I... what?" he whispered.
Jessica reached into her coat and pulled out her phone, showing him the livestream.
"Over 80K watching right now. Smile for the camera, baby!"
Then she twisted the knife.
"You really thought I'd fall for you?" she said, voice soaked in cruelty. "You barely exist. You're like a sad background character who smells like old books. I mean, look at you!"
She pointed at the rose.
"Is this a joke? Did you actually think you stood a chance with me?"
More laughter. One of the guys high-fived her.
Harry's face burned hotter than the rain was cold. The rose fell from his hand, landing in a puddle and breaking apart like his chest.
He backed up.
"Stop…" he whispered.
Jessica rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you're such a mood killer. Let's wrap this up. Someone push him or something."
The guy in the Joker mask took a step forward.
Harry turned to run. Too late.
A punch slammed into his gut, winding him. Another caught his cheek, sending him sprawling to the ground. The phones stayed pointed. The livestream didn't blink.
"Stop!" he cried again. "Please!"
"Keep rolling," Jessica said with a smirk, watching from the side. "We might hit 100K tonight."
The third guy grabbed Harry by the hoodie, yanked him up, and shoved him hard toward the stairwell edge. Concrete. Metal. No railings. Just two stories of drop below.
"I said STOP!" Harry shouted, shoving back instinctively.
But the guy didn't expect resistance. He slipped, bumped into Harry and both stumbled.
Harry lost his balance.
Time slowed.
Jessica's face vanished above as he fell backward, arms flailing, head tilted up to the rain-soaked sky.
Then...
Crash.
His back hit first, then his head, then nothing.
He wasn't sure how long he lay there. Seconds? Minutes? Lifetimes?
The laughter above turned to silence. Then panicked shouting. Footsteps. And finally nothing.
They were gone.
Rain tapped against his broken bones. His vision spun. The sky above him blurred into greys and blacks.
He blinked slowly. Blood mixed with rain. His face stung. His ribs screamed. One of his arms refused to move.
Everything hurt.
But he was alive.
Barely.
He didn't know how he stood. Or why. But he did.
Somewhere inside, something refused to die.
He staggered away from the building like a ghost. His body ached with every breath. The streets were nearly empty everyone hiding from the storm. But Harry walked. Head down. Limbs limp.
His ears rang with Jessica's words. Her laughter echoed louder than the thunder.
"You barely exist."
"Sad background character."
"Smile for the camera."
The rose was gone. So was his pride.
He limped through alley after alley, skin soaked, shoes torn, breath shallow.
Each step forward was soaked in memory.
Each drop that hit his skin felt like a reminder cold, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
He didn't even know where he was walking. Only that he needed to leave that building behind. Leave that part of himself behind.
But the pain wouldn't stop.
Not the physical one.
And definitely not the one in his chest.
He didn't see the car wreck until it was too late.
Harry paused mid-step.
Just up ahead, on the rain-slick road, the air shimmered with orange and black. Smoke twisted into the sky like a writhing demon. A sedan had crashed headfirst into a light pole. Its hood was crushed. Flames licked the edges of the shattered windshield. Sparks rained from a downed power line nearby.
The world fell silent around him—no cars, no people. Just the hissing fire and the sound of the storm.
He should've turned away.
He wanted to.
"I've had enough for one night," he whispered to himself. "Just go home."
He took two steps forward, trying to ignore it.
Then he heard it faint but desperate.
"Help… me…"
Harry froze.
"Help…"
The voice cracked with pain. Human. Real.
He closed his eyes.
His entire body screamed from earlier the cuts, the bruises, the humiliation. He owed the world nothing tonight. No one had helped him when he was broken, bleeding. Why should he stop?
But something inside wouldn't let him walk away.
Gritting his teeth, Harry limped toward the crash.
The car was worse up close. Smoke choked the air, and the heat stung his skin. A faint alarm beeped under the flames. Gasoline leaked across the wet ground in rainbow streaks.
"Hello?!" Harry shouted.
A hand hit the window from inside. Weak. Bloody.
"I'm here!" he called, yanking the door handle. It was stuck. He braced his foot against the frame and pulled with everything he had.
It finally groaned open.
Inside, a man lay slumped over the wheel. Mid-thirties. Short black hair, a jagged scar on his temple. Blood poured from his mouth, and one of his legs was bent at an impossible angle. His eyes fluttered open.
"Hold on, man, I got you," Harry said, reaching in.
The man's hand shot out grabbing Harry's collar with surprising strength.
"W-wait," the man gasped. "Don't… run."
"What? No, I'm helping..."
The man's other hand reached into his coat.
Harry flinched, thinking it was a weapon.
Instead, the man pulled out a small metal injector. Like a futuristic pen with a needle tip. No glow, no lights. Just dull steel.
"Take it," the man whispered.
Harry hesitated. "What is it?"
The man didn't answer.
Instead, with trembling fingers, he jammed the needle into the side of Harry's neck and pressed the trigger.
Click.
Harry gasped, staggering back as a cold surge ran through his neck and into his chest. It didn't hurt exactly but it burned. Deep. Like fire moving through his veins.
But still Harry grabbed the man and pull outside from the car but its to late man is now dead
"No. No " Harry stepped back, heart racing.
The injector clattered to the ground.
The fire cracked louder now, a warning. Flames touched the front seats.
Harry backed away fast, his breath shallow. His head felt dizzy. His skin tingled. His heartbeat raced too fast.
He turned and ran.
The world blurred around him as he sprinted through the alleys, unsure where he was or where he was going.
Everything inside him felt… wrong.
His chest was tight. His muscles twitched. His hands trembled uncontrollably. It wasn't fear. It was something deeper. Instinctual. As if something ancient had just been woken up.
He burst out onto his street. The buildings were quiet. Dark. Only the flickering lamplight guided him as he stumbled up the stairs of his flat.
He unlocked the door, slammed it shut behind him, and collapsed against it.
"Shit… what did he do to me?"
He touched his neck. The skin wasn't broken. No blood. But the burning was real.
Harry made his way to the mirror in the bathroom, flipping on the light.
He looked terrible.
Blood dried across his face. One eye was swollen. There were scratches along his cheek. His hoodie was torn and half-soaked. His arms hung limp from bruises. The rain had washed away most of the dirt, but nothing could hide how broken he looked.
But something was different.
As he stared into his reflection, his eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
Not in the mirror but in the air between.
Like a flicker of light, almost like a projection. Faint text hovered in the air in front of his face, glowing in soft red.
[Serum Accepted]
[System Locked: Dormant Until First Combat Activation]
He blinked.
Gone.
"What the hell was that?"
He wiped his face, splashed water, shook his head. Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe it was the head trauma.
He stumbled into his bedroom and collapsed onto the bed without changing. His body throbbed with pain. His clothes clung cold to his skin.
But his mind burned hotter than ever.
Who was that man?
Why inject him?
What was that thing in the air?
And what the hell was a "system"?
He didn't know. He had no answers.
But one thing was certain tonight, everything changed.