[Cambodia, Siem Reap, August 20th, 2009.]
Calls kept flooding into 117 people, saying the impossible: glossy, window-like panes tearing through the air.
"Hello? There's- there's a hole," a woman breathes into the phone. "Right outside, in the middle of the street. I'm… I'm scared. I don't know what it is."
The first call is a grandmother, voice small and breaking. "Police? Help please! A hole just ripped through my house and my son… he fell through it. I don't know where he went. Please, come!"
"Okay, ma'am. Stay with me. Where are you? Help is on the way." The dispatcher's voice is steady, soft around the edges.
"Kiri?! Kiri, why are you?! Get back here!" Her panic spikes; the phone rustles as she reaches for someone in the room. "He's outside… on the other side of the street!"
"I don't know where he went! I'll get him, stay on the line with the police!" A man's voice answers, muffled and throat-tight. Then the line snaps. Static. Dead.
The second call is quieter, a hesitant voice that sounds like someone holding a camera phone at arm's length. "Hi… 117? I'm not sure who called first… there's, uh, this big hole in the sky."
"Can you describe it? And where are you?" the dispatcher asks.
"It's glowing red. It sort of ripples… like those ponds at the spas? The koi ponds! only in the sky." The caller laughs nervously. "I'm at Wat Bo. Oh wait… There was a bird. It flew right through and then, like… appeared a few meters away. Like it teleported."
"Okay. Thank you. We have officers on their way. Please stay where you are if it's safe."
The call ends. The dispatcher rubs at their tired temple, the coffee gone cold beside the console. By then, it's call seven hundred sixty four, all reports of the same tears in the air.
[Cambodia, August 24th, 2009]
The Cambodian government ordered every tear quarantined. Within hours, hundreds of people were rehoused or moved out of cordoned neighbourhoods, sometimes with no thought for which house they'd come from. The priority was the anomalies themselves.
Days blurred into weeks as teams of scientists, engineers, and physicists swarmed the sites. Unsure what the tears were or where they came from, researchers could only work with the eyewitness reports collected before the quarantine went up.
"The portal isn't doing anything," one technician complained, tapping at a tablet.
"Seriously! Why are we still watching it? It's like something kids would play with. Nothing we've seen shows it's dangerous," another said, half-laughing.
"Whatever. I heard they're paying us well for the overtime," a third muttered, shrugging.
After the first month, that sort of banter became the norm. Two weeks later, most of the quarantines were lifted. No visible or invisible force harmed the human body. Volunteers who walked through unprotected felt nothing worse than a quick chill, the same sensation as sticking your hand out of a moving car window, ending up somewhere miles away from where you started. It felt, oddly, thrilling.
When Cambodia rolled up its tents and pulled down the tape, reports from other countries started flooding the news. Armed with Cambodia's data, many nations did little more than regulate access. Some turned the tears into public art; others turned them into tourist attractions. For most people, the strange slices in the air stopped being a threat and started being, well, something to talk about on the way home.
[United States, South Carolina, November 11th, 2015.]
Something changed about the portals. Their glossy sheen sharpened into a neon glow. For reasons no one could explain, people either didn't notice or didn't care.
One man, hauling cinder blocks, used a portal to cut his walk home in half. But when he stepped out, his hands were empty. The blocks had vanished — and behind him, the portal snapped shut, stitching the air back together. It was the first time a portal had ever closed.
Within minutes, federal authorities swept in, sealing off the street. A full team arrived, cordoned the site, and stayed two weeks combing for answers. They left with nothing. What they had missed was not the portal itself, but the man who had walked through it.
A day after the authorities packed up, he woke to find himself and his wife trapped inside a shell of stone. Panic turned to wonder when he realized the cocoon moved at his command. He could open and close it at will, even shift its position around the room. In time, he learned the truth: he wasn't controlling a cocoon at all. He was manipulating the stone itself — generating and shaping it.
He was the first of what would be called "Partials."
The U.S. military quickly took him in, pushing his limits with tests while a shadow group dissected his DNA. Their findings shocked even the skeptics: partial strands of his genome had been cut and rewired, surgically altered to give him control over stone. That was where the name came from — partial.
Once the U.S. realized the portals had shifted into this new phase, they wasted no time. They secured every portal on American soil and, quietly, began trying to buy others abroad. For three weeks, deals were whispered, contracts drafted. Then the leak hit. A government official spilled the truth: portals didn't just move people — they changed them.
Overnight, the sales collapsed. No nation would part with a weapon like that.
The world had stumbled into a new age of warfare. A war not for land or resources, but for access to the portals. Skirmishes erupted across borders, hundreds of small battles fought for control of the gateways that could create superhumans.
[June 20th, 2016]
The last portal closed in Türkiye. A failure.
By then, the wars fought over portals had already revealed a new danger: crossing wasn't always safe. It was true that stepping through with an object could reshape you — but whether it worked in your favor or destroyed you came down to chance.
The first partial had been a miracle of luck. The second attempt was anything but.
In Mongolia, following whispers of America's success, a government official ordered an experiment. A man was sent carrying bricks strapped to his back. When he reappeared, he was no man at all; his body was transfigured, every muscle and vein petrified into brick, a statue straight out of a ruined Greek temple.
Word of that failure spread quickly. So did others. The truth became impossible to ignore: recklessness carried consequences. Research estimated the odds of success were barely thirty-seven percent.
As months passed, more portals closed, were used up, exhausted, and the numbers began to settle. Out of the chaos, four countries emerged at the top:
Japan: 8 partials created from 9 portals.
Türkiye: 9 partials out of 17 attempts.
Somalia: 11 partials from 26 attempts.
United States: 15 partials from 43 portals.
No other nation managed more than two, if they managed any at all.
But even those figures told only part of the story. Not every partial was registered, not every survivor revealed themselves. Some melted back into ordinary lives, hiding their abilities from governments and armies alike. Official records confirmed 234 partials working under government organizations. Unofficially, the true number was estimated at 276.
[Bristol, United Kingdom, October 14th, 2036.]
<5:45 A.M.>
Ace slumped over the bathroom sink, spitting out the last of the toothpaste foam. He pushed his black curls back, then lifted his head to the mirror. What stared back didn't look seventeen. With the stubble darkening his chin, the bruised bridge of his nose, and the red-veined eyes sunk in shadowed circles, he could have passed for late twenties.
He pulled his hand from his hair and frowned at the strands clinging to his palm. Stress. It was eating him alive, stripping him of sleep, of peace, of the idea of a normal life.
Tip. Tip. Tip.
Even the light knocking echoed in the hollow quiet of the house. Ace sighed, dragging his feet from the bathroom to the stairs, down through the living room, and to the front door.
Peering through the peephole, he saw a young woman. Late twenties, maybe. Light brown hair braided neatly, golden-brown eyes, and sun-tanned skin. She stood tall, five-seven, maybe five-eight, dressed in a simple black shirt tucked into belted jeans, a cropped beige jacket thrown over it. A bag hung from her shoulder, stuffed full.
Ace cracked the door. A flash of gold caught his eye, a badge on her belt. His stomach sank. Police.
He opened the door wider. "Come in."
The woman stepped inside without hesitation.
"What's with the attitude? No sleep again?" she asked with a chirp, a smile pinned to her face.
"Why would I be happy to see you?" Ace muttered, rolling his eyes as he shuffled toward the kitchen. "Cops only show up to give me bad news or remind me my family's dead."
The woman settled into the living room with a sigh at his depressing remark. She set her bag down, pulled a stack of files from it, and spread them across the coffee table. As she sifted through one, Ace dropped a water bottle onto the pile and sat across from her, twisting his own open.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Reviewing the evidence before we talk."
He narrowed his eyes. His case was supposed to belong to some detective — a heavyset guy with a permanent scowl. The type who saw accusation in every glance, who treated him less like a victim and more like a suspect. Ace hated him for it. To blame him for something like that…
"So, firstly, how are you feeling?" the woman asked, tilting her head toward him, her expression warm, almost motherly.
"Fine."
It was clipped, flat. He didn't want a conversation. He wanted her gone. He had class in a few hours anyway.
"Not the talkative type, huh?" She gave a soft chuckle. "All right. I'll make this quick."
Before she could continue, Ace cut in. "Where's the other guy? Mr. Na—Nacth… something?"
Her face dropped. The cheer she'd brought with her seemed to slip away.
"Nachtnebel," she corrected quietly. Her voice sounded different now, like she'd stepped back into something painful. "He's… retired, in a way."
Ace understood. Retired meant dead. A small, guilty relief flickered through him. One less jackass to haunt his life. Whoever had taken Nachtnebel out, he owed them a quiet gratitude.
Still, the mood had turned heavy, and Ace thought he should say something to lift it, if only a little.
"I hope he's doing well," he said dryly, then glanced at her. "But… who are you?"
The woman's brows lifted. For a second, she looked more offended than surprised.
"You don't remember me?"
She sounded familiar, but the memory danced just out of reach. Ace shook his head, waiting for her to explain why he should know her.
Julia sighed gently, her mood softening.
"I was the one who pulled you out of the car," she said. "The accident. We rode together in the ambulance. You were so vulnerable back then — sweet, even — and we talked for hours."
The memory hit him like a sharp breath. Julia Monet. The French officer who wouldn't stop comparing him to her little brother. Out of everyone he'd met in uniform, she was the kindest — compassionate in a way that felt almost out of place.
"Oh. That was you?"
Julia nodded, her smile blooming again.
"I'm glad you remember now. I'd love to talk more, but you're pressed for time, and these questions can't wait. So let's get through them, okay?"
Ace straightened and took a sip of water. Finally, she'll finish and leave me alone.
7:46 A.M.
Julia gathered the files, slid them back into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. At the door, she gave him a cheerful, "See you later," before stepping out.
The lock clicked. Silence reclaimed the house.
Ace trudged upstairs to change for school. He caught his reflection as he pulled on his shirt: scars lined his body, pale reminders of everything he had survived. His family — gone in the crash. The whispers that it hadn't been an accident at all. Maybe murder.
It didn't matter. The scars were proof he had lived, and he'd carry them. With or without family, even with the weight of that loss pressing down, he would live.
Phone in hand, he checked the time — too late. He rushed out the door.
3:00 P.M.
School bled him dry, the hours long and dull. With earphones blaring, Ace headed home, humming softly to himself as he watched the pavement.
Then something was wrong.
The street ahead was gone. The houses, the road, the trees? all swallowed by black. Pure darkness stretched in every direction.
And then, just as suddenly, the world blinked back.
He froze, heart racing. Did I just go blind? He rubbed his eyes hard, looking around. The houses stood where they should. The greenery swayed in the breeze.
But behind him — just meters away — a tear in the air snapped shut.
Ace stared. He hadn't seen a portal in twenty years. How could he? He wasn't even born yet!
His vision cleared again, but the world wasn't right. The blue house he'd just passed was now four houses behind him.
"…Did I just—"
The words never finished. His mind couldn't process it, couldn't explain it. He decided the only answer was to pretend it hadn't happened. So he walked home.
By the time he reached his door, his body was heavy, yet his head felt light, dizzy. Shivers shot through him, and his skin prickled with cold.
Am I sick?
He stumbled up the stairs, dragged himself into his room, and collapsed face-first onto the bed. His eyes shut instantly, pulling him under.
[October 21st, 2036]
Energized? Exhausted? Sad? Happy? Calm and chaos all at once?
Everything hit Ace like a truck.
The moment he woke, it felt incredible and draining, like every part of his life had chosen this single second to crash down on him. For a heartbeat, he thought he was sick. No… no, he wasn't.
He bolted upright. His body felt light. Too light. Rejuvenated, stronger than he had ever been.
His hands caught his eye first. The thin, bony fingers he'd grown used to were gone, replaced with something thicker, muscular. His forearms too, corded with definition. Lifting his gaze, he realized his chest no longer showed ribs but muscle, his abdomen forming the early outline of an athletic build.
Overjoyed, he stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the sink to face the mirror.
His reflection nearly stole his breath.
His jawline had sharpened, his face filled out with health instead of gauntness. The dark bags beneath his eyes had vanished. His hair, once thinning and dull, now fell in thick curls with a soft sheen. Even his beard had changed — no longer patchy, but full, long enough to clutch in half a fist.
He brushed his chin with trembling fingers, grinning despite himself.
"Holy sh—"
The words broke off as a sudden thought slammed into him. The time.
He rushed back to his bedside table and tapped the screen of his phone. Too lazy to pick it up, he only needed the glow to tell him what hour it was.
8:00 P.M.
Dread knotted Ace's stomach.
Late for school? That wasn't the half of it.
He blinked at his phone again. The twenty-first?
Not twenty minutes late. A week and twenty minutes.
He refused to believe it. His phone had to be glitching. With a sigh, he convinced himself he'd just overslept, nothing more. He hopped into the shower, shaved his new beard down to a goatee, and caught himself grinning at the mirror.
How could he not? He looked like a model now.
Snapping himself out of it, he went to his closet. His clothes didn't fit the same; too tight, too short. Taller, broader. Great. More shopping. He reached for a hoodie, and that's when it happened.
A pitch-black hole bloomed in the air in front of his hand.
Ace jerked back with a shout, clutching his chest. The thing just… hung there, a perfect circle of darkness.
"What the hell is that?"
As if it heard him, the hole sealed itself shut, the edges stitching together in that strange, sewing motion he had seen before.
But where?
Still shaken, he sat at his desk and opened his laptop. His fingers hovered over the search bar. What could he even type? Small black holes? Weird floating voids? He grimaced — that would only pull up nonsense, unsavory to look at. Something nudged him instead.
Portals.
The word felt heavy.
He typed it in.
The first result was an old forum, inactive for years but packed with grainy photos and videos from twenty years back. Scrolling, he froze at a thumbnail; the final portal closing in Türkiye.
He clicked play.
Colors shimmered, edges twisting fluidly, until finally the portal stitched shut. Exactly like the hole he had just seen.
Ace replayed it over and over, his heart hammering. Could he be… a partial?
No. That didn't make sense. His powers should connect to something from what he carried. Tech from his phone, maybe, or even sound from his music. Not… holes.
And anyway, portals were long gone. Everyone knew that.
He searched for "partial experiences." Celebrities had turned into icons for surviving the crossing; surely someone had talked. Sure enough, he found a video interview from November 25, 2019. His birthday. He almost missed that detail.
The woman onscreen was stunning: green eyes, soft brunette curls, natural beauty untouched by makeup. Amelia Silvers, 24, Pop Singer.
Her voice pulled him in.
"When I crossed," she said, smiling faintly, "I felt… different. At first, it was cold, unbearable. I was sick, heavy, dizzy, and everything was spinning. I collapsed into bed. But when I woke up, a week and a day later, I felt like I could carry the earth. Stronger. Healthier. Changed. The person I was before was gone."
Ace's chair clattered behind him as he shot to his feet.
Every word matched what he had lived. Down to the lost week.
He couldn't be… could he? The first partial in twenty years?
Desperate for more, he dove deeper online, but the trail ran cold. Nothing. The government had buried it all — partial capabilities weren't on any database, probably kept off the grid entirely. No leaks. No hacks. Just silence.
Staring at his desk, Ace whispered, "What do these holes even do?"
As if in answer, one rippled into existence beside him.
He jolted, then steadied himself. This time, he didn't back away. He picked up a pen and tossed it in.
The void swallowed it whole.
Ace leaned closer, peering from every angle. Nothing. No pen, no trace.
"Like a black hole…" he muttered, pulse quickening.
Pumph - Tatalink
Something small bounced off the back of his head.
"Ow—what the…"
Ace turned, just in time to see another hole stitch itself shut. On the floor lay his pen. The same pen he had thrown earlier.
His eyes widened. It didn't vanish. It teleported.
The realization hit him like a spark. The holes weren't black holes at all. They were… portals. Just like the ones from twenty years ago—except darker, emptier. Stranger.
But if that was true, why didn't they give him any powers when he tossed the pen? And why were they pitch black instead of glowing like the old stories?
Questions swarmed, but curiosity shoved them aside.
The bigger hole still hung in the air.
Heart pounding, Ace reached in.
His fingers brushed nothing. Not air. Not warmth. Not cold. Just… nothing. A void without texture. No pain, no resistance. Carefully, he slid his arm deeper. Still nothing. It wasn't another side. It wasn't even a place.
He pulled out, staring at his hand like it might fall off. Then a thought struck. Storage?
He picked up the pen again. This time, instead of throwing it, he slipped it into the hole.
It floated there. Motionless. Suspended in midair.
Ace's jaw dropped. Pocket storage. I have… pocket dimensions.
Grinning, he glanced at the space, then at himself. Could he fit inside?
The smile fell. Too risky. No air. No way out if it closed. He shook his head hard, burying that idea for later.
Instead, he wondered how to shut it.
The instant the thought formed—close—the hole zipped itself shut, sewing together like a wound.
Ace froze, then let out a breathless laugh. "It… listens to me."
He pieced it together. The first portal appeared when he wanted clothes that fit better. His power responded to need, not details. That meant less stress, more flexibility. Relief loosened his shoulders.
Stretching with a groan, he decided: today, school could wait. He needed to test this.
***
The kitchen was its usual battlefield. Dishes stacked high, trash overflowing, counters sticky. Probably a bug colony by now. Ace grimaced. Yeah… this has to go.
He started small: dishes in the washer. Then the trash.
As he gripped the bloated bag, a mid-sized hole bloomed beside him.
Ace blinked, then smirked. Without hesitation, he tossed the bag in.
Jogging to the window, he peeked out at the backyard trash can. Sure enough, the bag sat perfectly inside.
"Hell yeah."
Grinning, he moved to the fridge. Empty. Half a water bottle, random condiments. He sighed. Groceries weren't an option—he was broke. Instant noodles again.
He shut the fridge door with a resigned groan—
THUD.
He froze. Slowly, he opened it again.
The shelves were overflowing. Packed neatly with food he couldn't afford. Fresh vegetables, meat, bread, everything perfectly arranged.
Ace stared, then laughed out loud. "Okay, this is insane."
By the time he was done experimenting, the house was spotless. Portals had made cleaning and upgrading effortless.
Finally, he sank into the couch, a satisfied grin plastered on his face.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
"COME ON! I JUST SAT DOWN!"
Groaning, Ace dragged himself to the front door. He didn't even bother checking the peephole — just yanked it open.
Standing there was a tall man, easily taller than Ace even after his growth spurt. Dirty-blonde hair with natural highlights, dull blue eyes, warm ivory skin. Familiar.
Tori Skanes.
Ace scowled. "The hell do you want?"
"Nice to see you too," Tori said, brushing past him with a grin. "You've been gone for a week. No texts. No calls. I was starting to think you joined your family."
Despite the jab, Ace let him in. If anyone had earned the right to say that kind of shit, it was Tori.
"Tsk. Fine. What do you want?"
"I came to check in on you," Tori said, looking him over. Then he smirked. "But judging from how much less… ugly you look, I'd say you're doing fine."
Ace scoffed. "I was always better looking."
"If that's true, then I'm a Black man."
Ace shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. For a split second, he considered dropkicking Tori into the void just to shut him up. Then an idea sparked.
Smirking, he stepped behind Tori. "Hey, I need your help with a test. Cool?"
"With wh—"
Before he could finish, Ace opened a pocket and shoved him in.
Tori dropped a few feet before freezing mid-motion, limbs locked in place. His eyes went wide as he stared back at Ace in absolute terror.
"Can you breathe?" Ace asked casually.
Tori's mouth moved soundlessly. No words. But he looked okay. Ace leaned in, sticking his head through the hole.
Instantly, the silence exploded into raw noise.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT DID YOU DO?! WHAT ARE YOU?!"
Ace winced, closing his eyes against the barrage. When the rant finally slowed, he sighed. "Can I talk now?"
Tori seethed, but nodded.
"This is my pocket," Ace explained. "Pretty sure I'm a Partial."
Tori blinked. Then laughed in disbelief. "A Partial?! No way. That died out twenty years ago. How the hell—"
"I walked through a hidden one, I guess."
"You guess?!"
"It's not like I chose to! It just popped up in front of me while I was walking."
Tori pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, fine. But explain this. How'd that lead to powers? You walk in holding a Ziplock bag or something? Last I checked, Partials don't just… happen."
Ace shrugged. "Not sure. But it's not just pockets. I make portals too."
"…You what?"
"Yeah."
Tori froze. Then slowly shook his head. "So you're a portal maker. The literal gateway for Partials."
Ace blinked. He hadn't thought of it that way. "…Huh. Yeah, I guess…"
"Unbelievable." Tori sighed. "…Anyway, get me out of here."
Without hesitation, Ace reached in, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back into the living room. Tori stumbled, landing hard on the floor.
Silence hung heavy between them.
Ace flopped onto the couch, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV like nothing happened.
Tori climbed up beside him, still wide-eyed, still rattled. He opened his mouth to say something… then shut it again.
The only sound left in the room was the TV show buzzing in the background.
"So… what else can you do?"
"Mmm." Ace shrugged, eyes glued to the TV.
"Food?"
A small hole opened above the coffee table, and a pizza box dropped out with a thud.
Tori jumped, staring at the box, then at the fading hole. "Where the hell did that come from?!"
"The pizza or the portal?"
Tori blinked. "…Both. Why not both?"
Ace smirked. "Portal's my will. Pizza's… probably someone's delivery."
Tori groaned, but opened the box anyway and pulled out a slice. "Guess I'll come to terms with this… just don't use it on me."
Ace turned, eyebrow raised. "Why the hell would I—"
But before he could finish, Tori shot up, eyes lighting up. "Wait. If you can grab food… can't you grab places too? Like teleport?"
Ace froze. His eyes widened. He hadn't even considered that. With all the chaos, the thought never crossed his mind.
"…Huh," he muttered, standing and patting Tori's back. "For once, you're useful."
Tori scoffed. "For once? Bro, I bought every meal we had growing up. If anything, you owe me. Actually," he held up the pizza, "you can pay me back in food now. Forever."
"Piss off," Ace muttered, but a corner of his mouth twitched.
"Alright," Tori grinned. "Pick somewhere. Try the park."
Ace planted his feet, focused hard, veins straining as he grunted, trying to force the portal into being. His body shook from the effort.
"Whoa, chill!" Tori slapped his back. "Don't pop a blood vessel. Looks like it's just stuff, not travel."
Ace exhaled sharply and dropped onto the couch with a scowl. "Tch. Useless."
Tori slid back down beside him, taking another slice, acting like nothing had happened. They sat in silence, the TV buzzing in the background.
Hours passed before Tori finally stood and headed for the door.
"Finally going home?" Ace asked flatly.
No answer. Just the sound of the door shutting.
Alone again, Ace let his body sink into the couch. The truth hit him: every use of his ability drained him more than he realized. His limbs felt heavy, his eyelids heavier.
Too tired to fight it, he slipped into sleep right there, the TV still humming in the dark.
[October 22nd, 2036]
The sun rose behind him, and Ace grumbled to himself, still stewing over yesterday's failure. Sure, he had powers, but what good were they if they couldn't do the one thing he wanted? The thought gnawed at him enough to drag him out of the house early, muttering under his breath the whole walk.
Then came the weight on his back.
"What's up? You seem more pissed off than usual."
Ace didn't have to turn around. That voice was already a headache. Tori.
He kept walking, silent.
"Aw, come on, man. Don't you miss your best friend?"
"Tsk."
That was all Ace gave him, hoping it would shut him up.
"Tsk? That's it? Come on, man, give me more." Tori laughed, completely unfazed.
Somehow, after yesterday's chaos, Tori was back to his usual self. No more yelling, no more panic, just that relentless, easygoing energy Ace couldn't decide if he hated or needed.
Twenty-five minutes later, they finally reached school.
"Well, that was a glorious one-sided conversation. Anyway, class."
"Then piss off."
Tori only smiled at the glare Ace shot him. "I'll see you after."
Ace watched him go until the crowd swallowed him, then sighed and went inside.
That's when he noticed it, the stares.
Every step through the halls burned. Eyes lingered on him, whispering, judging. He'd been used to being ignored, used to the insults behind his back. But today, the air felt different. He caught the tail end of a rumor, one so foul it made his jaw clench.
Someone said he'd killed his own family.
The lie poisoned everything. It ruined the thin scraps of peace he had left, left him seething, left him hating whoever had started it.
He shoved the anger down and pushed into class, heading for his usual seat in the back. But the stares followed him in.
"Ace Soleh…"
He barely heard his name, too lost in thought.
"Ace Soleh."
Nothing.
Finally, the teacher frowned and pointed directly at him. "You there, who might you be?"
Jolting upright, Ace awkwardly pointed at himself. "Who, me?"
"Yes. You look new, and I didn't get word of a transfer."
"I'm not new."
"You're not?"
"No… I'm Ace."
Her eyes widened like she'd seen a ghost. "You're Ace?!"
The scowl slid off his face. He gave a small, stiff nod.
"Well, first… you've changed. A lot. And next time, answer when I call your name."
Ace forced an awkward grin, trying to pass it off, but as he looked around, he saw the same expression on every face. Shock. Disbelief.
Not mocking. Not whispering. Just staring.
And somehow, that was worse.
The rest of the day blurred by in a haze of eyes on his back and voices dying whenever he passed. Only once did someone break the silence, a short-haired girl who tried to talk to him, her words stumbling over themselves while her friends snickered behind her.
It wasn't courage. It was a mockery.
He hated it.
He hated them.
Pissed off, Ace stormed out of school, only to run right into Tori. Just great. As if his day wasn't already unbearable, now he had to deal with him too. Powers or no powers, life only seemed to get worse.
Tori smiled, waving casually as if nothing was wrong. But when he saw Ace's face, the smile slipped.
"What happened?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
"Nothing. Just everyone staring. Rumors are spreading worse than ever." Ace's words dripped with anger.
"… that's it?"
"What else do you want me to say?!"
"… brother, that's not new."
"Don't call me brother," Ace grumbled. "Oh… and some girl and her friends thought it'd be funny to send her over to ask me out. New lows."
For a moment, Tori just stared. Then he burst out laughing.
Ace's fists clenched. "What's so funny, you sack of shit?"
"She was genuinely asking you out! Look at you, man, those stares weren't about the rumors. They were checking you out."
Ace glared at him like he was insane. Deep down, though, he knew Tori might have a point. Not that he'd ever admit it.
"Whatever. I just wanna get home before I start planning murders."
"Alright, I'll walk yo—"
SHHHK.
A portal ripped open in front of them.
Both of them froze. Tori's eyes widened. "You did that?"
"I… maybe?"
Before either could process, a crowd of students noticed. In seconds, what had been just the two of them was now a circle of gawkers, phones already pointing their way. Ace and Tori exchanged a glance, then bolted. They ducked into an alley, chests heaving.
The portal followed, tearing open once more.
This time, without the crowd, it hovered in the air between them—silent, waiting.
"Why here?" Tori asked, frowning.
"I mean… all I want is to go home, so—"
"Your powers respond to your will, right?"
"… uh huh."
Almost at the same time, the realization hit them.
"It's a portal home."
Without hesitation, Ace shoved Tori through.
"ARE YOU SERIOUS—" Tori's voice cut off as he vanished.
Ace stood in the alley, waiting, tense. Seconds later, a hand popped back through the void, giving him a thumbs-up.
Ace let out a shaky breath, then stepped through himself.
He spilled out into his living room. Tori stood there, arms crossed, glaring.
"Hey, jackass. Stop using me as your test dummy."
"You're alive, aren't you?" Ace deadpanned.
"Yeah, but you're unpredictable! What if that thing dumped me at the bottom of the ocean?"
Ace blinked at him, voice flat. "Wouldn't the water have poured through first?"
Tori froze. Not because it was a good point, but because Ace had made a good point. For once.
Ace didn't bother enjoying the moment. He staggered over to the couch and collapsed. That portal had drained him more than he wanted to admit.
Before Tori could say another word, Ace was out cold.
Fire. Blood. Twisted metal. Smoke choked his lungs.
Ace sat frozen in the back seat, unable to move, unable to breathe.
To his right, his little sister slumped lifeless, her small head split open by a jagged shard of glass jutting from her forehead. To his left, his older brother was pinned beneath the collapsed frame of the car, his torso crushed beyond saving. Blood streamed down Ace's lap, pooling, hot and suffocating.
In the front, his parents sat still, hands clasped together above the gear shift, even in death. Their faces were ruined beyond recognition.
Ace finally dared to look down at himself, deep gashes and bruises, his own blood sticky across his palms. Every breath burned with smoke. His chest heaved, lungs on fire.
He blinked.
Suddenly, he was in an ambulance. Julia sat across from him, younger than he remembered, in a police uniform. She was talking, but he couldn't understand. Her voice was muffled, distorted. A high-pitched ringing in his ears drowned everything else out.
He blinked again.
Now he was in a cold interrogation room. The metallic table gleamed under a buzzing light. A rough-looking man entered, dropping a laptop and a stack of papers onto the desk before sitting across from him.
The man cleared his throat, voice gravelly.
"I'll cut to the chase. Your family was murdered."
Ace's throat tightened. He tried to look shocked, tried to play along. His words slipped out before he could stop them.
"What? What do you mean?"
The man's scowl deepened, thick brown brows knitting together.
"We checked the wreck. The brakes were cut. That's why the car never stopped at the light. It explains everything." He paused. "If you're wondering about the other driver, he made it out alive. Can't say the same for his girlfriend."
Ace's face contorted, a wave of nausea rising in his chest. Not just his family. Someone else, too. His fault? No, it couldn't be. His pulse hammered.
The man leaned forward, voice sharp.
"So why'd you do it?"
Ace's stomach dropped. "D-do what?"
"Kill your family."
His whole body shook.
"I—I DIDN'T!"
The man's glare didn't falter. His voice was iron.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'M NOT—!"
Ace jolted awake, gasping.
A blanket slid off his shoulders. Tori must have covered him while he slept. His skin was clammy, his chest heaving. Same dream. Same nightmare. The one that had stalked him since the crash.
Groggy, hollow, Ace sat up. Another day. Another fight just to make it to school.
[October 23rd, 2036]
The day played out like every other, stares, whispers, and snickers that Ace ignored without a second thought. Even when another girl tried to ask him out, he brushed her off coldly.
Later, he found Tori waiting for him outside the school. But this time, someone else was with him.
The man standing next to Tori was enormous, towering even over Tori's 6'3 frame. He had the build of someone who'd spent a lifetime turning his body into a weapon: broad, ancient-looking shoulders, back wide enough to blot out the street behind him. His face was carved sharply, his black hair cut down to a rough induction cut. A thick, scruffy beard hid most of his neck, but not the coiled snake tattoo wrapped around his left forearm.
Before Ace could even open his mouth, the man's piercing green eyes locked onto him.
"You're the other one we saw on the cameras."
Ace froze. The other one?
"One of you was able to summon a portal," the man continued, voice deep enough to vibrate the pavement. "So which one of you is it? …or is it both of you?"
In an instant, Ace understood. The portal he'd opened by accident, the one in front of everyone, hadn't just caused gossip. Someone had been watching.
He tried to slip past, brushing shoulders with the stranger. "Look, I think you're—"
The man's hand shot out like a clamp, grabbing Ace by the collar and halting him mid-step.
"Based on that, I assume it's you."
Ace's stomach flipped. He scrambled for an excuse.
"I—uh… maybe we should talk somewhere more private? High-school reputation and all…" He tacked on a nervous laugh, his attempt at a smile crooked and thin. He prayed his excuse was enough.
The man stared for a long moment, then released him. His glare made it clear this was no kindness. "Lead the way."
Ace guided him to a back alley he knew was camera-free. The stench was enough to make Tori pull his shirt over his nose, but somehow the air around the stranger stayed unnaturally clear.
"We're private," Ace said. "Talk."
The man's gaze never wavered.
"First things first," Ace asked, forcing the words out. "Who are you?"
"Not your concern."
The response landed like a slap. Ace swallowed the urge to throw him into a portal and let gravity do the rest. Instead, he tried again, voice low.
"It's easier for me to talk if I know who I'm talking to."
The man's lip curled. "Answer my questions or get dragged along with your friend."
Ace tried one last angle. "At least tell me who wants to know."
The man exhaled through his nose, almost a growl. "United Kingdom military."
Finally, a crack. Ace's mind spun. At least now he knew who had sent him.
"Well, that's something," Ace muttered. "Go ahead. Ask."
The man's jaw flexed. "Which one of you summoned the portal?"
Ace's heartbeat hammered. This was a game now. "It… just appeared in front of us."
"That's a lie."
"How can you say that?"
"We saw the second one open in the alleyway. A café nearby caught it on camera."
"It happened twice."
"Stop playing games," the man snapped, the wind around him starting to shift, as if his anger had weight.
Ace's pulse spiked. If the military had sent this man, they already suspected everything. There was no way to dodge this anymore.
Without another word, Ace opened a portal behind the man.
SHHHK
Using all his might, Ace shoved forward, trying to push the stranger into the portal. But the man didn't budge. His body didn't even touch Ace's outstretched hands. An invisible barrier separated them, humming faintly against Ace's palms.
The man's smile widened as Tori was suddenly flung sideways, smashing against the alley wall.
"I was hoping you'd fight," he said, voice dripping with sick joy.
Before Ace could react, the ground fell away beneath him. No, that wasn't it. He was being flung upward, hurled into the sky like a rag doll. Wind roared past his ears.
Then, in an instant, the man was there too, flying up with impossible speed. He slammed Ace back down toward the concrete.
But Ace was faster than fear. A portal tore open beneath him just before impact, redirecting his fall through the portal he'd opened earlier behind the man. He shot out like a cannonball, momentum still carrying him forward, straight into the opposite wall.
Thinking quickly, he ripped open a pocket in the wall itself, vanishing into the space and killing his momentum inside its void. His chest heaved as he gasped in the suffocating silence of the pocket.
When he crawled back out, the man was already waiting, a smirk carved deep across his face.
"So it's not just portals," he mused. "How curious."
The man grabbed Ace by the shirt and yanked him out, dragging him across the rough concrete before slamming him into the far wall. Ace coughed, pain screaming through his ribs as the man loomed over him.
"Boy… we could use something like you," the man said slowly, savoring every word. "A partial born twenty years after the last… with abilities beyond anything recorded…"
Ace's mind screamed panic. This is it. This is how I die. All his dodges, all his tricks—they'd finally run out.
Unless…
Groaning, he flicked his finger. A portal yawned open beneath the man's boots. But he didn't fall. He simply hovered, standing in midair as if gravity had given up on him.
"Still fighting?" the man chuckled. "Color me impressed. But a hole at my feet isn't going to save you."
He didn't notice the other portal forming above him.
This one wasn't connected to the alley. It wasn't connected to anywhere safe. It was tethered to the boiling maw of a dormant volcano Ace had blindly willed into being.
In an instant, the man's upper body was consumed, sucked into the glowing red void. The portal snapped shut—taking everything above his waist with it.
For a breathless second, silence ruled the alley. Then the remaining portals blinked out, leaving only Ace, Tori's limp body, and the man's severed legs standing grotesquely in the street.
Ace staggered to his feet, trembling. His veins burned with adrenaline, with exhaustion… and with something else.
He stared at the twitching remains, his face tightening. Then, slowly, a smile cracked across his lips.
It was the same feeling that had haunted him since the night of the crash. The same thrill that whispered when he thought about his family's mangled bodies. That woman in the other car.
Unbridled joy.
He had missed this.
Fueled by that dark energy, Ace summoned one final portal home. He dragged Tori's unconscious body through with him, leaving the alley—and the legs—behind.
***
Hours later, Tori stirred awake on the couch, groaning. His hand clutched his forehead as he blinked against the harsh light of the living room.
"You're awake."
"Yeah… I am."
"Glad to see that."
Tori's voice was calm, even casual. Ace blinked at him, still groggy, his head heavy from exhaustion.
"What happened?"
Ace hesitated. The images of the alley, of severed legs and molten rock, flickered behind his eyes.
"Killed a soldier… basically," he said at last.
"Huh. Who would've known…"
Ace squinted at him, unsettled by his tone.
"You're not bothered?"
"Why would I be? You fought to defend yourself. Plus, I assume you disposed of him?"
"… yeah… I did…"
Tori smiled faintly and stood up.
"Good. Not like I ever doubted your ability to hide things like this…"
Ace's blood went cold. His throat tightened. There was no way Tori should know. No way.
"W-what do you mean?"
Tori's smile didn't change.
"I know what you did to your family."
The words hit like a blade. Ace's heart plummeted.
"H-how long?"
"Same time, Sawyer figured you out. I saw what evidence he had on you."
"Sawyer?"
Tori's eyes widened a fraction, but the smile stayed.
"Nachtnebel, to you… He was my elder half-brother."
Ace stared, stunned. Anger and fear churned in his gut.
"Why'd you hide this from me?"
"At first, when I met you, I took pity on you, the social outcast everyone avoided. But then I noticed it was deliberate. You weren't just lonely. You were a sociopath. I figured I could use that."
Tori chuckled softly.
"But a year changes a lot, doesn't it? You became a partial. And just like that, I struck oil."
Ace's stomach flipped. Was all of it fake? Every late-night talk, every stupid inside joke?
Getting to his feet, Ace let a small black hole bloom in his palm.
Tori looked at it calmly, a smile still in place.
"You won't kill me."
"How do you know? I could do it right now," Ace growled.
"You know if I had ulterior motives, you'd have been exposed a long time ago."
"And how do I know I'm not just being used right now?"
"I haven't asked anything from you."
Ace narrowed his eyes.
"What's stopping you now? You could blackmail me, order me around, but you know I'll just get rid of you…"
"You can't," Tori said evenly. "I'm the only one who's been helping you."
Ace said nothing, glaring in silence.
"I'm not proposing you serve me," Tori continued. "I respect you enough to keep things mutual. So rather than me exposing you, and you killing me… why not upgrade our relationship? A partnership. You and me."
Ace scoffed. The idea was poison, but he couldn't ignore the logic.
"Trust me," Tori said softly. "We could be living the life. With your abilities, no one could stop us."
"And if I refuse?"
"You'll kill me, but you'll be exposed anyway. You'll be on the run. You won't last. After all, you're a partial…"
Ace clenched his jaw. He'd already nearly died fighting one partial soldier. A whole team would tear him apart.
"…Fine," he muttered at last.
Tori's smile widened, subtle, satisfied, but not gloating.
Tori's smile widened, impossibly so, as if his face couldn't quite contain the satisfaction. He had what he wanted: a partial on his side. Not just any partial, but an anomaly.
He leaned back, casual, almost lounging, while Ace stood stiff with rage. That calm, measured confidence was worse than any insult; it crawled under Ace's skin and burned.
Tori patted the empty cushion beside him without looking away.
"Sit."
Ace's glare could have cut glass. Deep inside, humiliation clawed at him. But he sat anyway, muscles coiled tight, as if sitting on a grenade.
"Good boy," Tori said smoothly.
"…I'll fucking kill you," Ace replied, voice low, no hesitation, no bluff.
Tori's expression didn't even flicker. He looked almost amused, as if the threat had been expected.
"Calm down. It's a joke," he said evenly. "But next time, never threaten me like that again."
Ace grumbled under his breath, trying to steady himself. His palms itched to open another portal.
"…Just to be clear," he said finally, "I'll never listen to you."
Tori tilted his head, still lounging, still relaxed.
"As long as you save my ass and help us get rich, I won't order you around. I'm giving you respect—as my partner. Not my slave."
Ace scoffed and slouched back into the couch, glaring at the floor.
For a moment, the room was quiet except for their breathing. Two predators on the same couch, both pretending to be calm.
[July 14th, 2038]
Two years had passed since Tori's ultimatum, and to Ace's surprise, the bastard had kept his word. Not once was he treated like a lackey. If anything, Tori pulled his own weight, always one step ahead, always ready to dive into the chaos with him.
Together, they built an empire. Banks, private vaults, underground casinos—nothing was untouchable. Sometimes they stole for the thrill, other times for the power. Entire crime syndicates fell under their control, their bosses buried or forgotten, replaced with hundreds of men who now swore loyalty to them.
And when Partials showed up? They died just like anyone else. Ace almost enjoyed killing them more—watching the "untouchable" bleed out was too intoxicating to quit.
But it wasn't just blood and money. In those years, Ace learned the edges of his powers, discovering terrifying new depths. The moment Tori nearly died on a botched job, everything changed. Ace's desperation to save him had twisted his portals into something else—something he hadn't known was possible. That single portal remade Tori, the way Ace himself had once been remade.
A week later, Tori woke from his coma. Water obeyed him like it had been waiting all along.
Ace didn't leave it at that. He tested, pushed, and experimented. One of their men was shoved through his portals again and again until Ace understood the truth: he could make Partials. He could strip their powers, too, though the process left the poor bastard a broken mess. It made sense; rewriting DNA wasn't supposed to be clean.
None of it slowed him down. None of it changed the fact that killing old-generation Partials was still his favorite rush. And with Tori wielding water like a king at his side, their jobs became bloodier, louder, more violent. Lives were just collateral.
They weren't men anymore. They were unstoppable.
[August 18th, 2038]
Ace sat idly at his desk, unsure what to do with himself. His life had started to feel… mundane.
Then, without warning, a portal split open beside him.
Julia stumbled through, disoriented, her badge still clipped to her belt. She froze when her eyes met his.
"Ace?!"
A small smirk tugged at his lips. After two years of his disappearance, she still recognized him instantly. She took a step forward—then a second portal opened silently behind her.
A jagged spike of stone shot through.
Julia's body jerked. Her eyes widened as the bloody point of rock jutted from her chest. She staggered, trembling hands clawing at the wound as blood filled her lungs. Each ragged breath drowned her further, foam and crimson splattering from her lips.
Her blurred vision locked onto Ace's face. For a split second, she saw her younger brother again, not the monster before her.
"I'm… sogugy…" she choked, her final attempt at I'm sorry lost in the torrent of blood.
Then her arms dropped. She collapsed, lifeless.
Ace stared down at her, that sick, satisfied smile carved across his face. His day had just gotten brighter. One more loose end gone. One more person to let go.
The room fell silent. A portal swallowed both Julia's body and the bloodied stone, leaving no trace.
Leaning back in his chair, Ace reveled in the emptiness inside him, the heartlessness he had long since embraced. But soon his mind drifted, circling fantasies and theories he'd been obsessing over. Alternate realities. Parallel universes.
Then came the sound.
SHHHK.
Ace's eyes snapped to the portal. Something was different this time. It wasn't pitch black. Inside was a window.
On the other side stood a boy who looked eerily familiar, almost like Ace himself at fifteen, beside a tall girl Ace didn't recognize.
He leaned closer, reaching out. His finger met resistance. The portal wasn't a door; it was a mirror. An observation window.
But still, the possibilities made his pulse quicken. His portals could interact with other universes, even if he couldn't pass through them. And when he imagined stepping into that other world, a smaller rift appeared on their side—brief, but real.
Ace's grin widened into manic laughter.
Parallel worlds. Infinite possibilities. His influence had no boundaries now.
Slamming his notebook open, he scribbled down ideas, his hand shaking with excitement.
There was only one truth left that mattered.
No one could stop him.