Leena returned to the hospital room as if nothing had happened.
Her steps were calm.
Her expression neutral.
To the nurses, she was just another exhausted daughter refusing to leave her mother's side. To the doctors, she was a quiet attendant to a miracle they couldn't explain.
To the system—
She was evolving.
Her mother slept peacefully, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The machines beside the bed hummed softly, their screens displaying data that no longer frightened Leena.
She pulled the chair closer and sat down.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
The moment her focus settled, the system responded.
Ding.
A translucent interface unfolded in the air before her eyes, visible to her alone.
SYSTEM SHOP — UNLOCKED
Leena's gaze sharpened.
This was new.
She scanned the interface slowly, carefully, like someone handling a weapon for the first time.
Categories appeared one by one.
Consumables
Weapons
Vehicles
Technology
Skills
Special Items (Locked)
Her system points glowed at the corner of her vision.
System Points: 2500
She didn't rush.
She had learned by now—haste led to mistakes.
She selected Consumables.
The list expanded.
SYSTEM SHOP — CONSUMABLES
Minor Recovery PillAccelerates natural healing, restores fatigueCost: 100 SP
Advanced Recovery PillRepairs damaged tissues, enhances immune responseCost: 500 SP
Neural Stabilization PillImproves nerve conductivity, reduces neural damageCost: 800 SP
Organ Regeneration Capsule (Limited)Gradually repairs internal organ damageCost: 1500 SP
Complete Recovery Pill (Restricted)Restores the body to peak healthy conditionCost: ???Status: Locked
Leena's fingers curled slightly.
Her eyes stopped on the third item.
Neural Stabilization Pill.
Her mother's injury wasn't just physical—it was neurological. Spinal damage. Nerve disruption.
This… this could matter.
She tapped the item.
A warning appeared instantly.
Effect depends on host compatibility.Multiple doses may be required.Not guaranteed to restore full function.
Leena swallowed.
No system reward had ever felt heavier than this decision.
She glanced at her mother again.
At the fragile stillness.
At the life that had nearly slipped away.
"How many?" she whispered internally.
The system responded.
Recommended dosage for current condition: 1 pill initially.Further assessment required.
Cost: 800 SP.
Leena didn't hesitate.
"Purchase."
Ding.
Neural Stabilization Pill acquired.System Points remaining: 1700
The pill appeared in her palm.
Unlike the marrow pill, this one was pale blue, warm to the touch, faintly pulsing like it was alive.
Her heart pounded.
She leaned forward carefully, lifting her mother's head just enough. The nurse had stepped out moments earlier—routine checks, nothing more.
Leena dissolved the pill in a small amount of water, just as the system instructed, and gently helped her mother drink.
"Please," she whispered, voice breaking despite herself."Just… come back."
The liquid disappeared past Lussy's lips.
Nothing happened.
No dramatic reaction.
No alarms.
Just quiet.
Leena sat back slowly, hands trembling.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A faint change.
The monitor beside the bed flickered.
Neural response indicators shifted—barely, but unmistakably.
Leena's breath caught.
The system spoke softly.
Effect initiated.Neural repair: minimal but active.Progress will be gradual.
Tears slid down Leena's cheeks.
It wasn't a miracle.
But it was hope.
Real, measurable hope.
She wiped her face quickly as footsteps approached. The nurse returned, glanced at the monitors—and paused.
"That's… odd," the nurse murmured.
Leena's heart skipped.
"What is it?" she asked carefully.
"There's a slight improvement in nerve conductivity," the nurse said, confused. "Very slight, but… it wasn't there earlier."
Leena forced a tired smile. "Is that good?"
The nurse nodded slowly. "It's… unexpected."
When the nurse left again, Leena leaned back, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
She closed her eyes.
She closed her eyes.
For a few seconds, she let the hum of the machines and the steady rhythm of her mother's breathing anchor her.
But rest didn't come.
Something felt… off.
Not fear.
Not anxiety.
Awareness.
Leena opened her eyes again.
The system interface was gone, but the clarity it had given her remained. Her thoughts were sharp, her senses unusually alert—like her body refused to fully shut down.
Outside the hospital room, the city lights flickered faintly against the window.
Night had settled.
Elsewhere — Zak Miller
Zak Miller stood in his private office, arms crossed, staring at the paused video on the large screen in front of him.
The frame showed a hospital corridor.
Leena.
Walking.
Nothing about her posture screamed danger.
Nothing about her expression suggested strength.
And yet—
Zak replayed the footage.
Again.
And again.
"Pause," he ordered.
His secretary froze the frame.
Zak leaned closer.
"This girl," he said slowly, "she lifted a grown man's weight while pulling that child out of the lake?"
"Yes, sir," the secretary replied carefully. "Multiple witnesses. Phone footage confirmed."
Zak's jaw tightened.
He hated anomalies.
Money could explain most things.
Power could explain the rest.
But this?
This didn't fit.
"A college student," Zak muttered. "No training record. No athletic background. No history of enhancement."
He turned sharply.
"Where did the hospital money come from?" he asked.
The secretary hesitated.
"We traced the payment trail as you ordered. Officially, it leads to Riya—her close friend. Beyond that… nothing."
Zak's eyes darkened.
"Nothing?"
"No accounts. No loans. No sponsors. It's clean. Too clean."
Zak exhaled slowly.
Clean money was suspicious.
Invisible money was dangerous.
"And her physical condition?" he asked.
The secretary swallowed. "Doctors report… improvement. Impossible improvement."
Zak straightened.
That settled it.
"Bring her in," he said coldly.
The secretary stiffened. "Sir… you mean question her?"
Zak didn't look away from the screen.
"I mean kidnap her," he said calmly.
"Quietly. No hospital incident. No witnesses."
The secretary nodded once.
"When?"
Zak's gaze remained fixed on Leena's frozen image.
"Tonight."
Elsewhere — Ryan
Ryan sat alone in a dimly lit room, multiple screens surrounding him.
One video played on loop.
Leena, knee-deep in water.
Her arms straining.
Her face focused.
The moment she pulled the child free.
Ryan slowed the footage frame by frame.
Muscle engagement.
Posture.
Balance.
"No hesitation," he murmured.
"No panic."
He zoomed in further.
Her grip.
Her stance.
"That's not instinct," Ryan said quietly. "That's control."
He leaned back, fingers tapping together.
She wasn't just reacting.
She was calculating.
Ryan smiled faintly.
"Interesting," he said.
Very interesting.
Night — Hospital Grounds
Leena stood up quietly.
Her mother slept on, unaware.
"I'll be back soon," Leena whispered, brushing a hand against her mother's arm.
She pulled on her black hoodie, the fabric settling naturally over her frame. It felt… right. Comfortable. Like armor that didn't announce itself.
The corridor was nearly empty as she stepped out.
She didn't know why she couldn't sleep.
Only that staying still felt wrong.
Outside, the night air was cool.
She walked without urgency, hands in her pockets, footsteps light against the pavement. The nearby supermarket glowed under fluorescent lights, one of the few places still open.
Inside, she bought a bottle of water.
The cashier barely looked up.
Leena stepped back outside.
That was when she felt it.
A shift.
Not sound.
Not movement.
Presence.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bottle.
She didn't turn.
She kept walking.
One step.
Then another.
Her breathing remained steady.
Her mind sharpened.
Reflection in the glass window.
Movement behind her.
Too controlled to be random.
Too coordinated to be coincidence.
She adjusted her pace subtly.
The footsteps behind her matched.
Leena crossed the street.
So did they.
Her pulse didn't rise.
Instead, her awareness expanded—every sound, every shadow slotting into place.
She passed a parked van.
A car idling too long.
A silhouette near the corner.
Leena's eyes flickered downward, catching reflections, counting shapes.
Seven.
Seven people.
Formation loose.
Spacing intentional.
Not amateurs.
Her grip tightened around the water bottle—
Plastic creaked.
Leena exhaled slowly.
So this is it, she thought.
She didn't run.
She didn't panic.
She simply kept walking, already calculating distance, angles, exits.
Behind her, the group closed in.