Tondo, Manila — Late 2029
It started with a notebook and a pair of sticks.
Levi sprawled on the floor, a pen tucked behind his ear and his battered notebook opened wide. Scribbled maps, cross-streets, gang initials — it looked like homework, if homework included notes like "avoid 10PM Tanod patrol routes" and "kids loitering near station 5 — possible lookout."
Kael stood nearby, checking the tape on his gear.
Arnis sticks, cut from fire-hardened scrap wood, taped at the grip.
A whip, braided from bike brake cables and laundry line, finished with a metal nut on the tip.
A heavy four-finger knuckle, dull brass from old pipe fittings.
He didn't talk. He didn't stretch. Just checked that everything felt right in his hands.
"No solid leads tonight," Levi said without looking up. "But the usual block's heating up. Barangay kids say two new faces are trying to tax vendors near the train tracks."
Kael nodded once.
He walked to the corner shelf and took the white mask.
No logo. No flair. Just blank.
"East side?" he asked.
"I'll watch from the rooftop," Levi replied.
They moved out.
Kael walked alone down the back edge of the train yard.
Night swallowed the narrow alleys. The steel tracks buzzed faintly with heat. Kael moved like someone who belonged to the dark — calm, unseen.
Then he heard it.
A familiar voice: angry, slurred.
"Piso per kilo tax, old man. You want to sell here? That's the rule now."
Two teens — older than him — cornered a vendor and his pushcart. The vendor looked terrified, clutching a bag of onions.
Kael stepped out of the shadows. No warning.
White mask. Hoodie. No words.
One of the teens turned, surprised.
Too late.
Kael snapped his arnis stick forward into the boy's wrist. The thug yelped, dropping his baton. Kael pivoted, punched him in the gut with the knuckle, folding him over.
The second pulled out a slingshot, loading a sharp steel nut.
Kael stepped sideways, drew his whip, and cracked it forward.
The tip sliced the air, slapping into the boy's ribs.
He screamed and collapsed, breath knocked out of him.
Kael turned to the vendor. The man flinched at first, unsure.
But Kael reached out calmly. Pulled him up.
"Next time, yell louder," Kael said. "Not everyone's deaf around here."
And then he was gone.
Two days later…
The rooftop wind bit colder. Levi crouched near a rusted antenna, eyes scanning the nearby blocks.
No noise yet.
Then—
Shouting. Wood crashing.
Kael had moved again.
Behind the old Puregold building, three gang teens surrounded a small fruit vendor. One was already rifling through the cart, another held the vendor by the shirt.
Kael stepped into the flickering alley light.
"The hell is this—costume party?"
The gang laughed.
Kael didn't.
He just moved.
Crack. Arnis to the thigh — first thug dropped.
Smash. Knuckle to the chin — second spun and hit the ground.
Third tried to bolt.
Kael unhooked the whip. Snapped it low.
Snap.
The metal tip wrapped around the boy's ankle, yanking him off his feet with a loud curse. He crashed to the cement.
The fruit vendor stood frozen in place, breathing hard. Kael stepped in, grabbed him by the arm, and helped him back to his feet.
"They'll remember," Kael said.
He turned and walked into the dark.
Two streets over, from a second-floor window, a teenager had recorded the whole thing — shaky footage, low res, but clear enough.
That night, the video was uploaded with the title:
"REAL FOOTAGE: Guy in white mask just wiped 3 dudes clean near Juan Luna Street. Real??"
#TondoShadow #realhero #notascender
It spread fast.
First the City FeastBook group.
Then Installedgram
Then someone reposted it to a local Ascender fan page.
Three days later....
Back in their shared room, Levi tossed his phone toward Kael's bed.
"You're internet-famous now."
Kael watched the video — himself, brutal and fast and silent.
He didn't say anything.
"They're calling you something," Levi added, half-smiling.
Kael just picked up the mask again. Taped the side that cracked in the last fight.
"Tondo's Shadow."
Kael didn't smile.
He strapped the arnis back onto his spine
"I didn't choose it," Kael said quietly, fastening the whip to his belt.
He stood, slipped on the mask, and moved to the door.
"But I'll make it real."