The lights in the stairwell died the moment I stepped onto the third floor.Not flickered.Not dimmed.They were forced into zero-permission mode.The whole building's lighting system had just been overridden from the outside.
The air went unnaturally still.Even the traffic outside sounded like someone had sliced away half the frequency range.
I turned the corner.
The pressure dropped.Like an entire layer of atmosphere had collapsed halfway down on my chest.My ribs tightened. The cold ran straight into my bones.
Patch's fur exploded.He was flattened to the ground, limbs locked, unable to even growl.Something was in the dark.
Not one person.
Three.
Their footsteps were identical—same rhythm, same weight, same control.Black clothing.No insignia.No reflection from the lights that weren't even on.
Not ARC.Recovery Division.
I didn't even have time to grab Patch—
Thunk.
A dart tore past my ear and buried into the wall.The next one was aimed straight at Patch.
My chest reacted before my brain did.
The Source point kicked outward.
I stepped in its direction, hand out—and the entire hallway lost a frame.
Shadows lagged by 0.9 seconds.The security-camera LEDs froze mid-blink.The suppressive force cracked backward half a meter.
It wasn't strength.It wasn't technique.The Source was kicking back.
The three Recovery agents retreated in perfect sync.One raised his weapon.
"Target response overshooting. Entering retrieval protocol."
Another opened a containment case.The device inside hummed—low, heavy, the last step before they "took" me.
My chest burned.Delay jumped to 0.93.The world's edges thickened.
Patch writhed on the floor,pinned down by a pressure that didn't come from gravity.
I clenched my hand, ready to push again—
A sharp metal impact cut the air.
Emilia stepped straight into the suppression zone.Her breathing was too steady.Her eyes were the kind that said she expected someone to shoot.
She stood in front of me.Didn't look back.Didn't ask anything.
Only stared at the three.
"He's under my jurisdiction."
Recovery did not answer.But their steps grew heavier—as if calculating whether to take her too.
A second dart gun lifted.
Emilia's voice dropped, icy and precise:
"You were too obvious at the station.If you try again—I'll erase your entire team from the system."
They froze for two seconds.Not fear.An incoming command.
All weapons lowered.
The leftmost agent took out a recording moduleand scanned my chest once.
A dull vibration passed through my ribs.
"B-39 response recorded.Next encounter will proceed with direct retrieval."
They turned and left—footsteps fading into the stairwellas if swallowed by the building itself.
The pressure dissolved.Sound layered back into the hallway—door hinges, heaters, distant traffic, all reconnecting at once.
I exhaled hard.
Emilia finally faced me,her brow twisted around a question she already hated the answer to.
"If they dared make a move on you…that means someone inside ARC has already marked you for forced category."
Patch staggered upright,jumped weakly against my leg.
He stared at my chest—still trembling.
I tried to calm him,but the only thing left in my mind was:
If this was a 4 a.m. test…
What happens after sunrise?