"I'm sorry about your childhood friend, man," Alex said as they both sat on a bench.
"It's okay…" Hernan muttered.
After everything with Clara, they needed a moment of silence.
"So, what do you want to do now?"
"Honestly… I don't know. Part of me just wants to walk away and forget it all. But if I don't try to protect her, both her parents and mine will tear me apart."
Alex sighed. He wished he'd had that kind of resolve when he was younger. Hell, he was older than Hernan now and still didn't.
"You really care about her, huh?"
"We've been friends for more than fifteen years. That's not someone I can just abandon."
"I… don't know how long I'll be stuck here. Maybe the rest of my life. But if you ever need me, you'll find me in this park." Alex smiled faintly. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone beside him.
They weren't friends—not yet—but he felt something he thought he'd lost long ago.
"You're a weird guy, Alex," Hernan chuckled. "But somehow that makes you… endearing. Despite how weird and unapproachable you look."
Alex decided to take that as a compliment. Probably the first he'd gotten in years.
"I'll probably call it a day. Maybe stop by Clara's parents' place, tell them to keep an eye on her."
"There's really nothing else you can do…?"
"It's tough for nobodies like us to take down someone that famous. Big actors are out of our league." Hernan stood, dusting himself off.
"Hey, you said you had business in this park. You helped me—want me to return the favor?"
If Alex could break his curse and leave the park, he would've accepted instantly. But…
"Nah, don't worry about it. I'll let you know if I need anything."
And with that, Hernan left.
Leaving Alex to whatever eternity awaited him here.
He knew exactly how long he'd been in the park—his phone kept track. For food, he managed by spending his modern coins, which were somehow worth more in this time. Stores accepted them, though all that change jingling in his pockets would be useless if he ever made it home. Still, beggars can't be choosers.
He felt like if he stayed much longer, he'd develop the pointless skill of perfectly people-watching without being noticed.
Most passersby gave him odd looks. To them, he was just a weird loner—or worse, a homeless guy who'd made the park his home.
By nightfall, the air grew colder. He hadn't dressed for this. His running clothes left him shivering as the wind bit at his skin.
Was this bench really going to be his new bed? Should he start planning to build a shack around it? Maybe sleeping outside was an acquired taste.
…Yeah, right.
So he lay there, staring up at the starry sky, wondering if his life had actually managed to get worse than when he lived with his parents. None of his thoughts included getting a job, of course. Maybe a family store would've hired him, but… nah.
Classic unemployed twenty-six-year-old logic.
Then he heard a scream.
Alex shot upright, scanning the park. His body moved before he thought, running toward the sound.
What he found made him freeze.
Five people.
Tristan, the serial dater. His three girlfriends from earlier. And Hernan.
The blonde woman sat crumpled at the base of a tree, face streaked with tears, a bruise already swelling where she'd been struck. The shy brunette stood off to the side, paralyzed with fear.
Clara… Clara was caught in the middle.
Hernan and Tristan were brawling, both bruised and disheveled. Blood dripped from Hernan's nose.
"Hernan, stop!" Clara cried, reaching out.
"Don't fuck with me, Clara!" Hernan roared. "You're still defending him? After finding out he was seeing all three of you? After he hit you?!" His voice was pure venom.
Clara just shook her head, unable to answer.
"You bitch!" Tristan spat blood on the ground. "This is why I told you to cut off every guy in your life. And you lied to me! Couldn't you have been obedient like the other two?"
"I… I'm sorry, but he was my friend!" Clara sobbed.
Was. She'd said was. After Hernan fought for her?
Hernan heard it too. He clicked his tongue. "…Such a pain in the ass," he muttered, shoving her aside.
"Hernan!"
At this point, he wasn't fighting for Clara anymore. He was fighting on pure principle—his hatred of Tristan, and because if something happened to Clara, their parents would never forgive him.
"Hernan!" Alex shouted, charging in.
"Alex!" Hernan's eyes lit up at seeing his unlikely ally.
"You…" Tristan seethed, glaring at Alex like he was the source of all his misfortune.
Alex didn't hesitate. He stepped in and landed a heavy punch across Tristan's face. His body remembered how to fight, even if his recent sedentary life hadn't. Fighting was the only skill that had ever kept him alive in his youth.
And once the first punch landed, the rest followed.
Tristan flailed. He wasn't a fighter—just a sweet talker in a suit. Against Hernan, it had been a sloppy brawl. Against Alex, it was a massacre. Every time Tristan tried to recover, another fist sent him staggering back.
Desperate, Tristan reached into his pocket. His manager had always told him to carry a knife for protection. He flicked it open, the blade snapping into place with a click.
He swung wildly, aiming to kill.
But Alex wasn't just some random guy. He moved with practiced skill, and with Hernan at his side, the odds were hopelessly stacked.
It didn't take long before Tristan lay unconscious on the ground.
Hernan exhaled, shaky but relieved. "You… you're really weird. But surprisingly amazing."
"I'd appreciate it if you left out the weird part. But thanks."
"Uh—sorry, man. I didn't mean it like that."
"It's alright."
The three women stood frozen, unable to move.
Hernan sighed. "Let's just leave them. Can you help me drag this guy to the police?"
"Sure."
They moved to lift Tristan's body, but Clara's voice cut in sharply.
"Why did you do that? There was no reason to fight and lea—"
"Clara. Just shut up." Hernan's voice was colder than she'd ever heard. "I don't want to hear you defend a man who tried to kill us with a knife."
"H-he was only defending himself! From both of you!"
Some people really were like that, Alex thought.
Then, without warning, one of the girls—the blonde with the big chest—collapsed. Foam spilled from her mouth.
"Huh…?"
The next to fall was the brunette, twitching as froth bubbled at her lips.
"What's happening?"
"Tristan—!" Clara managed to cry before she too crumpled to the ground.
"Alex… I don't feel so good…" Hernan groaned before joining them, his body slumping lifelessly.
Alex turned sharply toward the actor's body.
The once-unconscious Tristan was now standing tall. But he was no longer Tristan.
Veins bulged like cords across his body, his eyes gone blank and pupil-less. His lips dripped with saliva, his grin stretching into something animalistic. His skin darkened to a deep crimson, his frame swelling. Small horns jutted from his forehead, and his perfect teeth sharpened into jagged blades.
He looked like a demon.
"Ah… so you're still standing?" the creature rasped, his voice guttural, inhuman.
Alex tried to brace, but Tristan's body blurred. He didn't teleport—no, the gale-force wind that slammed Alex's face told him otherwise. He was just that fast.
The punch came first, straight to his gut. Air and blood burst from Alex's mouth as his body lifted from the ground. The follow-up slammed into his jaw, snapping his head back.
Every hit felt like being run over by a bullet train.
Still, Alex didn't stop fighting. He pushed through the agony. The monster was still an amateur brawler—just faster and stronger now. Pure strength had carried him this far.
And it was enough.
Tristan's rage burned so red-hot that reason evaporated. His only goal was to kill. The women he'd toyed with, Hernan, Alex—how dare these nobodies interfere with the life of a renowned actor?
He grabbed Alex by the face and leapt, slamming him into a tree.
"Gah!" Alex's skull cracked against bark. Blood trickled warm down his scalp.
The monster didn't stop. He smashed Alex's head into the trunk again, and again, and again.
Consciousness blurred. Flashes of his life spiraled past: the bullying from middle and high school, the isolation, the wasted years locked inside.
And then—
===
Body compatibility with Drift Particles confirmed.
Congratulations!
You've received access to the Drift System.
===
"Huh?"
Had he finally gone insane? A glowing window, like something out of a cheap webnovel, floated before his eyes.
===
Warning!
Insufficient Drift Particles for full Artifact release.
Perform a 5% release to neutralize the threat and finish the event?
===
Another window popped up beside it.
===
Event: "The Murder With No Consequence."
Details: Unknown.
Objective: Prevent the deaths of innocent civilians and bring justice to those abusing their powers.
Rewards: Unknown.
===
Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he was dying. But Alex knew exactly what he had to say.
"Activate… five percent release…"
Blue flames erupted from his body, harmless but radiant. Then, with a hiss of metal, two gauntlets materialized over his hands.
===
5% Drift Release activated.
Default Artifact form equipped: Low-consumption Gauntlets.
===
Grey steel covered his fists, extending up his forearms, plates stacked like armor.
Alex tightened his grip around Tristan's monstrous arm. Metal groaned as he squeezed—then, with a sickening snap, bone shattered.
===
Warning! Drift Particles low.
Artifact will deactivate in 2:00 minutes.
===
The countdown ticked in his vision. But two minutes was more than enough.
The monster shrieked in agony, but Alex didn't hesitate. He drove a fist deep into Tristan's gut. The blow was so powerful the demon's stomach burst outward, chunks of flesh spraying into the night.
And Alex didn't stop.
Punch after punch rained down, a relentless storm of steel and fury. Each hit tore more holes into the monster's body, leaving him a ragged mess of red flesh.
Then Alex paused. Tristan's body swayed, torn apart, seconds from collapse.
But Alex wasn't finished.
He stomped his foot, twisted his hips, wound every ounce of strength into his arm, and unleashed a final uppercut. His gauntlet met Tristan's jaw—
—and his head exploded on impact.
The monstrous body evaporated in a cloud of black smoke, revealing Tristan's broken human form beneath. He crumpled to the ground, bloodied and battered.
===
Warning! Drift Particle overload.
All reserves depleted.
Artifact deactivating.
===
Blue flames consumed the gauntlets, fading away until Alex's hands were bare once more.