Dev's hands still trembled.
The pipe was slick with sweat, his knuckles raw and aching, yet he gripped it as though letting go would mean death. The shadow's last hiss still echoed in his ears, fading only when the black smoke dissolved into the night.
He leaned against the alley wall, chest heaving. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with blood and sweat. His lungs burned. The resonance in his veins hadn't fully faded; it was like his body had been rewired, left buzzing with static.
He wanted to collapse, to close his eyes, to wake up in his bed and pretend this was all a fever dream. But the Reader's Window didn't let him rest.
[Sub-Quest "Survivor's Choice" Progress: 50%][Warning: Rift Activity Ongoing]
The words hovered mercilessly before his eyes, as if mocking his exhaustion.
Dev spat blood into the alley and forced himself to move. He couldn't be here when the Association swept the district. Hunters might be too busy fighting to notice him now, but once they secured the rift, they would comb through every street, every trace.
And if they found a civilian who had killed a shadow spawn alone… questions would follow. Questions he couldn't answer.
He staggered forward, dragging his pipe along the ground, leaving faint scrape marks behind him. His legs screamed with every step, but he didn't dare stop until the sounds of battle had faded. Only then did he let his body sink against the rusted shutters of a closed shop.
His vision blurred. His heart thundered. Yet beneath the exhaustion, there was something else—a quiet, dangerous clarity.
He had fought. He had survived.
And a part of him had… enjoyed it.
Not the blood. Not the terror. But the choice. For once, he hadn't been a powerless bystander, waiting for someone else to decide his fate. He had chosen. And that terrified him more than the shadows.
Inside the Association's mobile command tent, chaos reigned. Officers barked orders, screens flickered with the battle outside, and runners carried reports between desks. The rift above the district still pulsed, vomiting out shadow creatures, but the Hunters had managed to contain most of them.
One report, however, broke the rhythm.
"Sir, one of the shadow spawn bypassed the frontline and made it to the eastern alleys. We dispatched a team to intercept but…" The officer trailed off, glancing uneasily at the data pad in his hand.
"But what?" the Commander demanded. His voice cut through the noise, sharp as steel.
The hesitation vanished. "The creature was destroyed before our Hunters arrived."
The tent fell quieter.
"Destroyed?" The Commander's brow furrowed. "By who?"
"We don't know. Signs of combat were found—impact marks on the walls, resonance residue. The shadow's core was shattered."
Murmurs spread among the Hunters stationed nearby. Core destruction wasn't something civilians could manage. It required direct resonance, precise strikes. It required training.
The Commander exhaled slowly. "An awakened."
The word hung in the air like a knife. The Association tracked every registered awakened in the district. If someone was hiding their ability, there was only one reason: intent.
"Run an identification sweep," the Commander ordered. "Check civilian records, surveillance, eyewitness reports. Someone killed that creature, and I want to know who."
Dev ducked into another alley, hood pulled low. Every corner of the district swarmed with Hunters, medics, and drones. The rift might have closed already—he couldn't tell—but the aftermath was as suffocating as the battle itself.
His chest felt hollow, his pulse erratic. Each step was a war. But the fear of being caught was sharper than the pain.
If the Association found him now, drenched in sweat and blood, clutching a broken weapon, they wouldn't even bother asking questions. They would drag him into some room, and what could he say? That a dead author had given him a Reader's Window? That he could see patterns no one else could?
They'd call him insane. Or worse—they'd dissect him.
The Reader's Window pulsed faintly in front of his eyes:
[Notice: Identity Risk 72%]Recommendation: Conceal traces. Withdraw immediately.]
Dev swallowed hard. Even his strange ability was warning him now. He wiped the blood from his pipe and left it behind in a dumpster. Without a weapon, he felt naked, but survival mattered more than comfort.
By the time he slipped into the civilian district, the first rumors were already spreading through the streets.
"Another rift?""They say the Hunters almost lost control this time!""I heard a whole squad was wiped out—"
Dev kept his head down, melting into the fearful crowd. Their voices buzzed around him, feeding into the knot in his chest. None of them knew the truth—that someone like him, ordinary and nameless, had stood in an alley and fought what even trained Hunters feared.
The secret burned in his chest like a brand.
Later that night, the Commander reviewed the report in silence. The details bothered him. The creature hadn't just been killed; its pattern had been disrupted cleanly, almost surgically.
"This isn't an amateur," he muttered.
A calm voice replied through his earpiece. "So you believe a rogue awakened is operating?"
"I'm not guessing. I'm certain. Whoever they are, they're skilled. Too skilled to be unregistered."
"And if they're hiding?"
The Commander's gaze returned to the screen showing the shattered alley. "Then they have a reason. And reasons like that… are dangerous."
Dev finally reached his apartment. He closed the door behind him and slid down until he sat on the floor, his body giving out. The silence pressed in, suffocating after the chaos outside.
His hands still shook. Every muscle screamed. Yet he couldn't stop staring at the faint glow hovering before him.
[Reward Received: Shadow Essence ×1][Progress: Sub-Quest "Survivor's Choice" – 50%]
A small sphere of darkness hovered in his inventory window, pulsing faintly like a trapped heartbeat.
Dev let out a shaky laugh. The world outside thought only Hunters could protect humanity. But hidden here, in a dingy apartment, an ordinary man now held proof that there was another piece in play.
Him.
And the story was only beginning.
Dev sank to the floor, his back pressed against the cold wall. The city outside was quiet now, the rift long sealed, but the chaos of the night lingered in his veins. His fingers brushed against the faintly glowing Shadow Essence in his inventory window, pulsing like a heartbeat trapped in darkness.
He hesitated. The Core Fragment in his pocket throbbed faintly in response, almost as if recognizing a kinship. He had survived by chance before, and by skill tonight—but this… this felt like something else. Something alive. Something that remembered.
He opened the window and summoned the Essence into the room. It floated above his palm, a small orb of writhing darkness. Wisps of shadow drifted outward, curling like smoke around his fingers. He flinched as one tendril brushed his skin; it burned, yet not in a way that would kill. Pain and awe blended, sharp and sweet.
A voice echoed—not his own, not the Reader's Window, but something older, familiar. Soft, sorrowful, and somehow heavy with regret.
"You survived," it whispered.
Dev's breath caught. He stumbled backward, nearly dropping the Essence. "Who… who's there?"
"I am part of what remains," the voice continued. "A fragment of the story left behind. You hold a piece of what I could not finish."
The orb shivered violently, surging with energy. Shadows danced across the ceiling and walls, forming shapes that looked almost human—faces, twisted and fleeting. Dev's heart raced, his body trembling from the raw power.
The Reader's Window flared:
[Warning: Core-Shadow Resonance Unstable]
He swallowed hard. "I… I don't understand."
"You will," the voice said softly, tinged with sorrow. "But it comes at a cost."
The Shadow Essence pulsed again, hotter this time. Tendrils wrapped around Dev's wrist and forearm, sinking slightly into his skin. Pain shot up his arm, fire burning through his veins. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to scream. The orb recoiled and surged again, thrumming with energy.
And then he felt it—the faint echo of another heartbeat, steady, rhythmic, almost human. It was a pulse that matched the Core Fragment in his pocket. His chest throbbed in unison with it, and suddenly, the world shifted.
For a brief instant, he could see the entire city differently. The flow of energy in the streets, the subtle hum of the rift remnants, the lingering traces of shadow spawn dissipating into the night air. He could feel the life force of those around him—the humans, the Hunters, even the beasts trapped in containment zones.
The orb shrank slightly in response, as if recognizing his awareness. Then the voice spoke again, gentler this time:
"Your path is mine to guide no longer, but my will lingers… in pieces. Carry it carefully, Dev Kumar. You are not yet ready. Yet you must act. The world will demand it."
Dev's lips trembled. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away. He didn't know why this power, this fragment, felt like it belonged to someone he never knew yet loved—someone who had suffered, who had lost everything to give him this chance.
And yet, beneath the awe and wonder, there was terror.
The Essence flared violently, throwing him back against the wall. Shadows curled around the room, clawing and twisting as if alive. Pain lanced through his arms and chest, and he gasped for air. The orb was powerful beyond his current strength, and if he misused it, it could destroy him as easily as it could teach him.
The Reader's Window glowed bright red:
[Critical Warning: Severe Core Overload Possible][Recommendation: Withdraw from interaction immediately.]
Dev forced himself to exhale slowly. He could feel the residue of his Core Fragment humming against the Essence, seeking balance. He tilted the orb gently, coaxing it down, allowing its energy to stabilize. The shadows settled, curling like smoke at rest.
When he finally opened his eyes, the room was quiet, the Essence hovering gently above his hand, pulsing faintly but calmly.
Dev sank to his knees, exhausted. His chest heaved, and every muscle screamed in pain. His hands were scorched, the faint outlines of dark burns marking his skin. He pressed his palms together in silent reverence.
"You… I understand," he whispered hoarsely. "I'll carry it. I'll survive."
And somewhere, deep within the Essence, he felt the faintest warmth—almost like a smile.
Meanwhile, in the Association headquarters, quiet alarms rang. Surveillance drones detected an unknown individual near the eastern perimeter during the rift event. Security footage showed only glimpses—a shadow moving differently, faster than any known Hunter, wielding unknown techniques against the spawn.
"They've gone rogue," a junior officer whispered. "But they're… skilled. Too skilled for a civilian."
The Commander's eyes narrowed. "We don't know who they are yet, but they exist. And they won't remain hidden for long. Prepare discreet observation. No confrontation… not yet. Let's watch and learn."
Across the city, rumors spread quietly. Some spoke of a lone figure fighting alongside the Hunters, unseen, almost ghost-like. Others said a shadow itself had protected civilians, leaving no trace.
The world didn't know him. Not yet.
But Dev knew.
He had survived. He had faced shadows alone. And he had touched a fragment of something older, something greater than himself.
Something that carried the weight of an author long gone, whose story had been left unfinished.
And in the quiet of his apartment, Dev realized the truth he could no longer deny:
He could not hide forever.
The Reader's Window pulsed once more, soft and persistent.
[Next Objective: Prepare for Rising Rift Threat][Warning: Shadow Essence Unstable; Core Growth Required]
Dev rose slowly, feeling the lingering burn of the Essence in his veins. He gripped the Core Fragment in his pocket, feeling it pulse in tandem with the Shadow Essence hovering before him.
The path ahead was uncertain. Dangerous. And terrifying.
But for the first time, he felt the quiet thrill of purpose.
He would not just survive. He would grow.
He would carry the story forward.
And one day, he would learn to wield the legacy left in his hands without losing himself to its darkness.